BBYW Vol. 2 Chapter 62 (WN)


Chapter 62 – The Other Conclusion


Some distance away from Dyngir’s landing spot…

In the thicket lining one of the imperial court’s gardens, a man was collapsed on the ground.

“…I am…alive…?”

The second imperial prince, Grett Baal. The man who had taken the throne by force, abusing the power of “Zeus”, propped his back against a tree trunk.


The thunderbolts launched by Zeus and the flames from the Golem’s explosion engulfed the top floor of the tower completely. How could Grett be still alive?

It was an unlikely series of coincidences, practically a miracle.

The blast had flung Grett out of the tower through a gap freshly opened by a thunderbolt. By sheer coincidence, a powerful air current rose upwards at that very same moment, breaking his fall. Carried by the winds, Grett ended up on the branches of one of the tallest trees in the imperial garden. He then slid down along the trunk, bumping against the branches, in a relatively gentle descent.

On top of all that, the burns suffered from the explosion also sealed his gaping wound, minimizing his blood loss.

A true miracle. A one in a million, perhaps even a billion, chance. Grett Baal managed to escape the reaper’s scythe.

“Indeed, I am a man loved by the gods…no.”

Grett, still breathing heavily, gazed up at the sky.

In stark contrast, the sky was painted a beautiful, vivid blue — not a single cloud in sight.

“No, that is not it…I was allowed to live, in order to atone.”

Rejected by the woman he loved, abandoned by his vassals and retainers, all he had gained — divine power, the title of emperor — lost forever.

Strangely enough, Grett found no hatred in his heart.

There was no more obsession for Rossellia, no more envy of Dyngir Maxwell within himself.

He felt only a calm, peaceful breeze. As if the thunder and flames had purified him.

“How mysterious…only now that I lost everything, do I realize my foolishness…”

Grett could not comprehend how he could have been so blind, so idiotic.


To kill his siblings to attain the throne.

To fall in love with his own sister and throw a tantrum once rejected.

To make a mess of the country he was supposed to rule.


Grett truly could not comprehend.

How could he never realize the foolishness of his actions? How could he believe he was in the right, without a doubt?

The present Grett did not have the slightest clue of the reasons behind his past behavior.

“I see…that must be why I was allowed to live. To understand the weight of my sins…to atone.”

There was no other explanation for such a miracle.

“From now on, I shall think of myself no more, but live for the sake of others. I shall atone, for the sake of those I hurt, even if it takes my whole life.”

Grett made his resolve and pulled himself up.


The moment he started moving, his whole body screamed in pain. He had probably broken a few bones: there were no visible wounds, but the pain was real.

“Ha…haha…I should be thankful just to be alive. If this is punishment, I shall endure it…”

Grett grit his teeth and stood up. He headed for the court, dragging his legs.

If he encountered Dyngir Maxwell’s group, they would surely finish him off. He felt no hostility for them anymore, but could not allow himself to die before he atoned for his misdeeds.

“I must live…to fulfill the destiny…the heavens spared me for…”

Luckily enough, he had landed relatively close to his private room. There, he could find a “Potion” to heal his wounds.

There was also a secret passage leading out of the court nearby: he could probably escape safely.

“One day, I will properly apologize to Rossellia and Dyngir Maxwell…but only when I can meet them with my head held high.”

Until that day comes, I must live.

Grett reaffirmed his resolve in his heart as he trudged toward the court.

Eventually, he reached his room. Servants, functionaries, all people working at court had fled: he managed to not meet anyone on his way.

Grett entered the room and sighed.

“Well…I should be safe for now. The Potion was…”

That instant, something shot up from the desk, towards his chest. Lines of gold streaked at the edges of Grett’s sight.


Grett was pushed backwards and fell on his back. He had no clue what happened though.


Something burned on his chest. He looked down and found a pair of metal chopsticks, the type used to handle charcoal, bright red with heat.

“Gh…! It hurts…! I’m burning…! What…wha…”

One of Grett’s lungs was crushed: he couldn’t speak properly anymore.

Even so, he desperately tried to produce sounds.

“…I stabbed him. Yes…!”


Grett looked at the aggressor. It was a young, blonde-haired girl, wearing some sort of nightgown.

One of the girls Grett had bought from the slave trader. One of the “dolls” he used to play with.

“I stabbed him. I really did…!”

“You stabbed him well. Well done.”

“He’s weak. Good.”


From behind the desk, behind the bookshelves, behind the pendulum of the wall clock — the blonde maidens crawled out, one after the other.

Their muddy eyes, burning with resentment and killing intent, all focused on Grett, with no exception.

“You…you are…”

Grett whispered, trembling.

They too were part of the victims Grett had to atone for.

He had used and played with their bodies to his heart’s content, sometimes beat them, choked them, even killed some of them.

The blonde maidens surrounded Grett and spoke, their expressions firm and cold.

“He’s really weak.”

“Yes, weak.”

“He can’t get up.”

“Yes, he can’t.”

“We can kill him.”

“Yes, let’s.”

“Kill him.”

“Let’s kill him” “Kill him”

“Kill him” “Kill him” “Kill him” “Kill him” “Kill him” “Kill him” “Kill him” “Kill him” “Kill him” “Kill him”


The doll-like girls sentenced him to death. Their monotone voices wished for his life, in unison.






It was just like Grett’s sins had taken human form and had come to deliver judgment.

“S-Stop! Please! Don’t!!”

Grett shouted, desperate.

If he died there and then, he could not atone for anything.

He would die as someone who accomplished nothing, except harming a great number of people.

His life had been saved by a miracle: he could not let it go to waste like that.

“I must…apologize to you…I know…! I will repent, I will atone…so please…”

Grett was speaking from his heart.

His words were born from sincere feelings.

“Let’s kill him.”


One of the girls lowered her hands, which were holding a wooden object.


“Kill him.”


Another girl kicked his stomach. The nails dug into the wound caused by Rossellia.

“Kill him”

“Kill him”

“Kill him”

“Kill him”

“Kill him”


Grett’s feelings might have been sincere, but no one was there to listen. No one was there to forgive him.

The girls continued to torment the defenseless Grett. They did not stop, no matter how much he cried or pleaded.

“S-Stop…please forgive me…!!!”

His desperate screams echoed for about one hour. The girls took their time tormenting Grett to death, but they did not stop even after he died. They sliced him with knives, cutting him into more than one hundred pieces.

They then discarded all of them into the fireplace, as if to erase them from existence.

After exacting revenge for their murdered “comrades”, the blonde maidens took everything of value they could find and vanished.

The corpse of Grett Baal could never be found in the ruins of the tower of Babel. His pitiful demise remained a mystery for all posterity.

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