Chapter 44
He was a gray-haired man.
This is not a metaphor, but a declarative sentence.
Unlike Antoine de' Exupéry, who gives off a feeling of "all pale gold", this man lying in the sarcophagus has a grayish-white tone in his clothes, hair and skin, making him look like a photograph that has been exposed after being turned into black and white mode.
The clothes he was wearing were also quite strange—it was a classic (or rather, ancient) cloth robe, a style that would only be popular in medieval Europe.
Now, the man is lying in this stone coffin with his eyes closed and a very peaceful expression on his face.
As Christie walked to the sarcophagus, she looked down at the gray man lying inside.
"Aligieri, wake up."
The man inside the stone coffin remained unresponsive, his eyes still closed peacefully.
When the language failed to awaken her, Christie didn't even think twice before throwing the remaining black asphalt-like "No One Survived" notes into the sarcophagus.
The clump of asphalt-like substance hit the gray-haired man squarely in the face.
"No one survived" theoretically means that even if the ability leaves Christie's body, it will result in instant death. In theory, an ordinary person would die immediately if they were to come into contact with it even slightly.
However, in the UN... there are quite a few people who can ignore Christie's death.
Leaving aside Mary Shelley in her berserk state, which is not her normal state—the normal Shelley cannot ignore Christie's "soldier".
As for the others... Barry shouldn't have any problem defending against them as long as he's prepared in advance. And Exupéry's time anchor immortality bug is even more of a no-brainer; this guy who can shake hands with Christie directly is not worth discussing.
The only remaining "soldier" who could ignore Christie was naturally this guy lying in the coffin.
Dante Alighieri, the "compassionate" hero, is the UN's "ace."
The man in the sarcophagus—Dante Alighieri—swayed, then suddenly sat up straight, reaching out to wipe away the asphalt-like substance that had smeared his face, revealing a face etched with lingering weariness.
The "no one survived" that his hand touched turned into a pile of dust, which then scattered directly into the stone coffin.
Dante, with his eyes half-open and his neck slightly tilted, scrutinized Christie for a few seconds.
"Oh, Christie, it's you again."
Even his tone of voice was slow and leisurely, making it seem as if he hadn't woken up at all, or was still dreaming.
Christie remained remarkably calm in the face of Dante's performance.
Or rather, we've become accustomed to it.
"Yes, UN is doing quite well right now, and the members' enthusiasm is still high, so they won't disband for the time being."
"oh..."
Dante, still tilting his head, stared at the sky with his dead fish eyes for a few seconds, then looked at Christie again.
"So, are you free this time?"
Christie's face was tense and expressionless.
"No."
"All right..."
Dante answered Christie with increasingly soft voice, then sat in the sarcophagus, lost in thought.
Christie once again threw the tar-like mass of dead man into Dante's face.
"Dante, I woke you up today because I need your help with something."
This time, Dante didn't even reach out. "No one survived" turned into scattered ashes from the point of contact with Dante.
Dante's dead fish eyes soon reappeared.
"Okay... what do I need to do?"
Christie turned to the side, revealing the battlefield behind her.
On the battlefield, this time Don Quixote was not torn apart by Shelley... This time it was Christie's "soldier" who was being torn apart by Shelley.
Don Quixote was flying above the battlefield, gesturing wildly, while Barry was floating beside him, watching the battlefield intently.
Below, the "soldiers" composed of asphalt-like "no one survived" exhibited astonishing resilience. Even after being repeatedly struck by Shelley, they did not disintegrate but instead continuously deformed and reassembled.
On the other hand, Shelley's arms became noticeably stiff during her rampage, seemingly a combination of joint discomfort and muscle weakness.
That was the combined effect of Shelley's constantly dying organization due to the influence of "No one survived" and Shelley's own constant regeneration.
However, as Shelley continued to attack, the black smoke emanating from the "soldier" became even more exaggerated, and its figure visibly shrank.
"As you can see, my 'soldiers' have limited effectiveness against Shelley; without establishing a defensive position, they simply cannot kill Shelley. As for the others..."
Shelley suddenly flew up and kicked the "soldier," sending his tar-like body flying.
Just then, Barry descended from the sky with Don Quixote in his arms. In an instant, Don Quixote swung his spear at Shelley, who was unguarded from behind.
The blow produced a sound like metal clashing, and amidst the violent impact and sparks flying, Don Quixote successfully slashed a gash behind Shelley.
Shelley, seemingly oblivious to the wound on his back, turned around and threw a punch at Don Quixote, who was flying through the air.
The wound on her back regenerated at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"They couldn't inflict any 'effective' damage on Shelley,"
Christie turned around and looked at Dante, who still looked bored.
"So I want your help to keep Shelley in check."
Dante carefully examined the battlefield before him and slowly stood up.
"As long as it's suppressed, that's fine, right?"
He finally straightened his head, but still opened his arms listlessly, with grayish-white smoke drifting down from his arms.
"Although I think killing him directly might be more convenient."
"We need a body, so we'd appreciate it if you could help us."
"That works too, anyway..."
Gray dust rose from Dante's feet, lifting him up like a gale and carrying him toward the battlefield.
As Dante walked, dust fell continuously, creating an effect resembling an explosion.
Large swaths of ground were thrown up when they collided with the fly ash, turning into a sky full of ashes.
Dante's journey left a deep ravine.
Barry, with his sharp eyes, spotted Dante rushing towards them and hurriedly flew back into the sky with Don Quixote.
Shelley, who was exchanging blows with Don Quixote, was about to give chase when a strange sensation suddenly came from her chest.
Without even looking down, Shelley's brain, which had long since stopped working, used its last bit of remaining energy to conclude that his chest had been pierced.
Dante's arm pierced Shelley's chest with ease, and the force of his charge sent ashes flying into the air in front of him.
The edges of the ash had a faint reddish tinge, which comes from burning at high temperatures, like the ashes of paper that had just burned.
Behind Shelley, Dante maintained his listless expression.
"I'm so bored."
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