(Note: Credit goes to the original poster. I am just merely providing a translation)
In an eastern part of the city...
In an eastern part of the city on 7th Avenue.
In a corner of a back alley.
It was supposed be a daily stroll.
However, the White Man was stretching his legs.
They were going farther than usual.
To a place they never would go to on a stroll.
A place where not even students could be seen.
Tesla: ...
The White Man sighs.
He sighed, realizing there was a slight lack of electric power.
He leaned his back against the wall of an unmanned building, in the back alley of the Scholar Skyscrapers.
He took out a cigarette...
With a snap of his fingers, he lights up the cigarette between his lips.
Soon after, purple smoke was exhaled.
The White Man...
Nikola Tesla looks up.
The Sky was narrow.
As the name implies, the Scholar Skyscrapers were a cluster of spires lined along with skyscrapers.
At the base was the narrow sky.
Was it something that made most of the sky invisible?
No. It was the same everywhere.
In this era, the true sky can never be seen.
The last century. It was there that the sky became dyed in gray smoke from the steam engines that filled the earth, causing it lose its true color.
It was the same everywhere.
There was even darkness before him when he looks up.
Whether it was narrow. Whether it was wide.
There was no difference between them.
Tesla: ...Do you still remember it? The days of the sky that has gone by?
Tesla: Benjamin Franklin. My second teacher.
The man muttered.
He took out an envelope from his pocket.
There were two postmarks.
One from last month. Another from this month.
Sent by Nikola Tesla.
Delivered to Benjamin Franklin.
It appeared to have been carefully sent back to him after politely refusing to accept it.
Tesla: ...Very polite of you to do that. You haven't changed at all.
Using a little lightning at the tip of his finger, he cuts apart the envelope sharper than a paper knife. The later inside was taken out.
Even without looking at the text, he understood it.
This is what he wrote last month.
The words he had written down were of the vague existence he fought known as the Rosy Eyes in the current Academia.
Having thought of it now, it could even be said he felt some remorse in his anticipation of his defeat.
However, he still remained in this world.
He had slain the demonic terminal of the Rose.
Tesla: It seems like you just sent it back without knowing what it meant, my teacher.
He muttered.
Exhaling purple smoke...
He looks over the text...
"Dear sir."
"In spite of the gray sky having not yet vanished, I hope you are in good health, my teacher."
"This is the third time I've written a letter to you. Do you remember?"
"The first time was when I was cursed by the Thunderbird. That time, I was prepared and vowed to face through the pain caused by the Machine Belt."
"The first time when I tried calling for help as my mind was being shattered."
"The second time was when I swore my parting with you."
"This is now the third time I've written a letter to you. Please, forgive me for my misfortune."
"Stern Lightning Lord. Your Excellency, Benjamin Franklin."
"This Machine Belt that I have inherited from you. It doesn't appear that I will able to safely return it to you."
"It seems that this hidden town where I currently reside is beyond my expectations. It's something that is too much for a demon like myself to handle."
"As for myself on the other hand, I'm incapable of maintaining my own body as lightning anymore."
"It's such a pathetic tale. I made an oath to you to act for justice indefinitely. I made an oath to the Thunderbird..."
"I even made an oath once more with the Goddess."
"...On top of that."
"I intended to use my lightning against the demons. Thus, there lies the possibility of the Machine Belt's complete annihilation. I say for certain that it is very possible."
"The Franklin Machine Belt..."
"Already, you, whose body isn't completely lightning, also have your life here in this belt. Indeed, we are attached to it."
"Should its complete annihilation occur, you won't be able to escape unharmed either."
"Please forgive this unknown disciple's immaturity. And, above all..."
"I held no regrets from everything since my path in lightning up until now."
"From the time I was being guided by you and received the Thunderbird's lightning."
"From the time I settled with the Society and remodeled the Machine Belt with their technology."
"From even the days when I faced off against those demons and great evil."
"I hold no regrets."
"...It would be a lie if I said I didn't have any regrets."
"However. there is something I hold close in my chest. Something I can't tell even to you."
"That is all. Excuse me for the inconvenience. Please be mindful of the gaps in the Western Wall."
"...P.S"
"The young people here have come to refer to me as the Thunder Fiend."
"I think that's a name befitting for you more than it does for me, but what do you think?"
"...March 2, 1909.
...Nikola Tesla."
Tesla: ...Regret, huh?
He mutters while exhaling purple smoke.
To whom? To himself?
Or perhaps...
Tesla: I wrote this letter with such honesty. What exactly do you mean with regret?
That word. Regret.
Only one face came to mind at that present moment.
His very own Radiance.
His greatest, most precious Radiance in the world.
That Golden...
Tesla: ...Neon.
Tesla: ...I...
He looks up at the sky.
A sky that can never be truly seen.
He clutches the letter of the words he tried to send to his teacher.
Echoing a dry sound.
He had two teachers whenever he thought of the sky.
His first teacher. A man who tried to protect the world.
His second teacher. The Lightning Franklin.
And...
The Golden Eyes of that Radiance when he thought of the sky.
The Girl whom he had decided to become his beloved.
Tesla: ...
He took a breath.
Only purple smoke rose into the sky.
To the eternal gray sky.
Just one thing.
Just that rose up.
A purple smoke that had no sound...
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