EP.190 Each Stage (4)
I shoved the sword hilt in.
Without obstruction, the blade smoothly pierced through Lif Vessel.
Ahhhhhhh!
Skebal let out a monstrous scream.
Starting from the right eye where the blade was embedded, cracks began to form in Skebal’s skull. I tightened my grip on Skebal’s skull even more.
Kruack!
Eventually, Skebal’s skull smashed completely.
As black sludge flowed down and his form was about to collapse, Skebal’s mental wave shook the area.
It’s too late, Ashen! It’s too late!
Laughter.
It’s far too late…!
“Stop the nonsense and just go quietly, okay?”
It wasn’t worth listening to.
I waved my hand and flung the remaining sludge around. The only thing left was a sword clattering to the ground.
“…”
Silently, I picked it up.
Flesh was stuck to the hilt. The joint connecting the hilt and blade rattled, as if the blade would come off any moment.
It was broken.
It wasn’t just Kalt’s sword that was broken.
The Central Plaza, once the pride of Apuria, had turned into a mess. The cobblestones were all overturned, and the ground had grotesquely bulged. Bloodstains and soot filled every corner, painting a clear picture of the battle that had taken place here.
I walked through the center of the chaos.
As I walked along the bloodstains, I opened my mouth.
“Kalt.”
“Yes, Senior.”
At my call, Kalt smiled wryly.
“Did you finally show up?”
“Yeah.”
“You should have been resting.”
“I can only rest if the situation allows.”
I looked at Kalt.
Leaning against a shattered wall, Kalt was a complete wreck. His whole body was covered in wounds, and one of his arms hung limply, showing no signs of movement.
It was a serious injury. But if you asked whether it was an injury that couldn’t be healed, the answer was no. With the potions I had stockpiled in the mansion, I could certainly treat him well enough.
‘The problem is…’
It must be that eye.
I looked at Kalt’s left eye. Blood red streaks flowed through the slit of his closed eyelid. That was an injury that couldn’t be fixed in a normal way.
“You…”
“It’s just one eye.”
Kalt waved his hand.
“Surviving against a disaster is something, isn’t it? One eye is nothing… Let’s call it an honorable wound.”
Cough!
Kalt coughed up blood.
“And, you see…”
That eye wasn’t looking at me.
I turned my head in the direction Kalt’s gaze was fixed. It was behind me.
Creek, creek.
What I saw was distortion.
The space wavered and torn gaps oozed out black fog. Kalt pointed towards it and spoke.
“It seems the situation isn’t over yet.”
2.
The black fog seeping out from the rift.
Black Mist.
This was the third time I had encountered what was essentially the Demon Lord’s emblem.
The first was when I faced the Demon Lord’s true form.
The second was when I got caught in that damned bat woman’s trap.
And now, the third time in Apuria.
I stood still, watching the fog attempting to squeeze out from the rift, slowly opening my mouth. I felt something odd.
“…Hey, who’s holding that?”
The fog couldn’t descend to the ground.
The black mist was repeatedly seeping out from the rift and being pulled back in, as if someone on the other side was keenly holding it.
“It must be Kelharlem, I guess.”
Kalt answered my question.
Then, Kalt briefly summarized what he had seen. The explanation wasn’t long. After hearing it all, I murmured softly.
“Kelharlem sacrificed himself.”
“I saw him dive into the hole while dragging something like a shadow.”
Is that so?
Was ‘devouring’ meant that way?
I let out a short sigh.
I roughly grasped how things were turning out. And, what my role was to be.
Hoo…
I exhaled briefly and relaxed my wrist.
As I loosened my wrist, I took steps towards the seeping fog. After taking a few steps, a voice came from behind me.
“…Are you okay?”
It was Kalt.
He spoke to me with a worried tone.
“I don’t know what that is. But, there’s something related to what’s stuck in your heart…”
“Yeah, it’s related. What’s stuck in my heart is that.”
I paused for a moment, then I walked again.
“So, I know it well.”
Walking towards the distortion, I said.
“I know it well enough to know how to stop it.”
Taking a breath in front of the black mist.
The circuit engraved on my chest reacted to the shadow. I shrugged and looked back.
“So, it’s my turn to handle this.”
I smiled at Kalt.
“Good job, Kalt. Leave the back to me.”
“…Tch.”
With an incredulous look, Kalt stared at me.
“Just like you, Senior.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Would it be a compliment?”
Kalt sighed and released his body from tension. Having pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion, he would probably faint for a while.
“Oh, right.”
Just before Kalt closed his eyes.
“Let me ask you one thing.”
“…Yes?”
“Where are the students you dropped off at the altar?”
I threw Kalt a question.
Kalt counted off on his fingers as he answered.
“One near the bushes by the Central Academic Hall, one by the training ground stump… and one each outside the Alchemy Division.”
“What about the Fourth Princess?”
“Central Academic Hall. She should be around here.”
“Alright, thanks.”
“But why do you ask that?”
I looked up at the sky and said.
“Because I need them, Star.”
3.
It’s dark. It’s suffocating.
Breathing is hard and every step wobbles.
Stumbling, the girl walks through the darkness.
The Third Princess, they say…
Completely unnoticed.
Like a desiccated mummy.
Every time she takes a step, the scenery shifts.
Now it’s the Second Princess.
The princesses in turn…
The royal family is cursed.
As if torn apart by beasts.
The scenery shifts, but it’s not the first time she’s seen it.
Familiar landscapes.
The girl finds herself walking down the palace corridors. With each step, the attendants fall silent. They hold their tongues, avoiding meeting the girl’s gaze.
What a pity.
While they don’t meet her eyes, the girl understands how they must look at her.
Cheap pity.
Or, greedy gazes.
The girl has lived her entire life in such stares. The place she was born was a battlefield of power struggles. Attendants’ faces change multiple times a day. The attendant who had a joyous conversation with her last night could be found dead by morning.
Wear a mask.
Hide yourself.
If you want to survive, you must do so.
Ironically, the first thing the girl learned was how to hide herself. She remembers what happened to her sisters who didn’t hide themselves.
The star of the masquerade, the flower of the royal family.
The beautiful third sister.
The flower of the royal family who flaunted herself.
Everyone praised her beautiful platinum hair and snowy skin, but her corpse was anything but beautiful. Her withered end was horrific.
The second sister, who always told her to hone her martial arts.
The noble second sister.
The one who told her that honing oneself was the way to survive, teaching the girl about sword and magic.
She was torn to pieces by an unknown beast. She met her end without wielding the sword she had boasted about. Without reciting a single line of magic, she faced death.
Who’s next?
Who comes next?
Is it the only remaining first sister, or is it herself?
Or is it her brother?
Who’s next? Whose death?
Hiding her blood-related deaths only thickened the girl’s mask. It was around this time that the Star descended upon her.
“Do not set foot in the Royal Quarters.”
The Star advised the girl.
Though it was a rare and random piece of advice, it repeatedly saved the girl’s life. On the day she didn’t step into the Royal Quarters, it was engulfed by flames.
“Do not speak.”
“Beware of the sword nearby.”
“Today your ears will hear lies.”
Occasionally, those snippets of advice would reach her.
Eventually, the girl realized that she was loved by the Star. The blessing that had been passed down through generations of the royal family had settled upon her. Since then, the girl had to live a more suffocating life.
“That person…”
“…”
“I don’t know what they’re thinking.”
“Like a puppet. No change in expression.”
Everyone focused their attention on her.
The girl pressed her mask deeper. The mask grew stronger day by day. She spent her childhood without revealing herself anywhere.
It was a suffocating life.
An uneventful life, and a life in a cage.
The girl looked around. There was no color. She walked through the colorless corridor again and again, wandering blindly toward a place where no eye could reach.
“The Library.”
That was the library.
The girl often tucked herself into a corner of the vast library to bide her time. It was a space where she wouldn’t attract suspicion and where she could breathe a little.
“Excuse me.”
And then one day.
“You can’t block the bookshelf, can you?”
Someone spoke to her.
The girl tilted her head. She saw a young man looking down at her. A young man with an apathetic expression as if the world was a bother. He waved his hands at her.
“I need to get a book, so please step aside.”
So annoyingly indifferent.
That gaze was fascinating to the girl.
From that day, she followed the young man around. Every day upon coming to the library, she would find him reading a book.
“What do you want now?”
In a colorless world, only the young man had color.
“You want me to teach you how to read? No, can you really not read this? It’s basic spell language. Basic. It’s common sense.”
Showing an attitude of annoyance, he still answered her questions silently.
“What is it today?”
When she brought a book, he would sigh and put down his quill. Pushing aside papers filled with words, he would place the book she brought on the table.
It was a joyful memory.
One of the few joyful memories.
The girl thought of that as she rummaged through her past memories. Time flowed on. The young man learned that she was a princess. Yet, his behavior did not change.
“I’m told I’m the princess’s teacher. Should I take that as an honor, or see it as a hassle I’ve taken on…?”
Time flows and flows.
One day, while the girl wandered seeking color.
“Princess, run away.”
The corridor was stained red.
The girl saw the faces of knights for the first time that day. She saw those she had deemed untrustworthy sacrificing themselves for her.
“You must flee and survive.”
The mask the girl wore shattered. The girl gasped for breath as she ran down the corridor. Crying, she ran. To survive.
And then.
“Princess?”
There he was.
The voice echoed in Ayla’s ears.
Colors returned to the colorless world. With her mask shattered, the girl met the young man’s gaze.
Ashen hair, blue eyes.
Ice-cold blue eyes.
“Princess.”
His voice rang in her ears.
“Are you alright?”
“Open your eyes.”
With a voice similar to that time, but saying something entirely different, it soaked into the girl’s ears. That voice had wrapped around her softly. Then the voice now coming to her?
“Stay back.”
“Quickly.”
She felt someone supporting her.
Blink.
As if waking from a nightmare, the girl opened her eyes.
In her dreams, the girl gazed at the figure holding her arm. In the darkness, the blue eyes shone.
“…Professor Rania.”
The Fourth Princess Ayla.
The girl looked at the professor in front of her.
The icy blue eyes were gazing at her.
“Princess.”
She said.
“I need your help.”
As Ayla was about to ask what for, a voice slipped into her ears.
“Run away.”
A long-awaited voice.
The voice of the Star whispered in Ayla’s ears.
“Get out of here at once.”
To run away from here.
