EP.218 The Aftermath of Calamity (5)
An old throne stands at the end of a road paved with corpses.
In the place where human resentment converges, a shadow sits. Resting its chin on its hand and crossing its legs, the shadow smiles at the guest who has come to find it.
“Welcome.”
The shadow opens its arms wide, dramatically announcing the name of the human who has come.
“Raniel van Trias, the Ashen Mage.”
Raniel furrows her brow.
“You know me?”
“Of course. Skebal, that overly enthusiastic friend of yours, talks about you often.”
“My story?”
“He seems to have much to say. Every time he mentions your name, his jaw shakes with excitement.”
The shadow’s voice is unnaturally calm.
As if it knew all along that she would come here. Raniel feels uneasy about the shadow’s nonchalance.
‘Braver.’
Raniel senses it.
She knows that the one sitting on the throne is the Braver that Cardi mentioned. The shadow that introduced itself as the First Light…
“This place.”
“Did you create it?”
Raniel is certain that this shadow is the one who made this hellish spectacle.
“I’ve heard that question for centuries.”
In response to her question, the shadow shrugs. With an air of boredom, it exhales lightly.
“Is there anyone else here besides me? Oh, Ashen Mage, please refrain from asking questions that are so painfully obvious. It is hardly entertaining to give the same answer to a guest after centuries.”
As a sigh escapes, a smile forms on the shadow’s lips. The shadow points to the ground beneath Raniel’s feet.
“So.”
It tilts its head.
“The fact that you have come this far means you must have seen the laws of this place with your own eyes. I cannot hide my joy that a mage like you has come to this place.”
Like an artist presenting their work.
Or like a Braver seeking understanding.
It gazes at Raniel with a smile. The finger slowly raised by the Braver points to Raniel’s heart. Indicating the curse that resides there, the Braver speaks.
“What does it feel like to experience the scratches of human resentment?”
Taken aback, Raniel’s brows narrow.
“The curse that tears apart the soul of a strong mage like you… is not an incomprehensible fate outside of nature…”
The shadow’s lips stretch into a grin.
“Now that you realize it’s merely human resentment, what do you feel?”
Raniel feels no value in answering that question. She pulls down her gloves a touch more firmly than usual.
“First Prince, Izak.”
“Just a name for a transgression.”
One step forward.
“The First Light.”
“A title bestowed upon me by the Grand Magus himself. What an honor it was…”
Another step forward.
“No matter the name…”
Raniel approaches the Braver.
She transcends over the grasping hands of humans, moving beyond the vibrating stench, and continues onward.
“I want to ask something.”
“Ask away.”
An ancient being.
The Braver who formed the foundation of the Demon Lord.
Raniel poses her question to the ancient mage.
“What were you thinking?”
“What do you mean?”
“What were your thoughts when you created this? You must have had a purpose, otherwise, why would you make such a shadowy presence like this?”
Raniel halts her steps.
Her blue eyes shine in the darkness.
“I simply can’t understand.”
What sits within her blue eyes is disgust.
Because she cannot comprehend this figure from any perspective, because there is no room for understanding, Raniel harbors a more intense disgust toward the shadow before her than ever before.
“Why in the world…”
The screams of humans echo in her ears.
Countless vengeful spirits clawing at the ground, drowning between life and death, exuding curses.
“What did you hope for? What were you trying to achieve? Why go to such lengths…?”
“Is a reason really necessary?”
“…What?”
The shadow’s voice sharply cools.
“I asked if a reason is truly necessary, Ashen Mage.”
With a tone of boredom.
As if the anticipation of facing a being that could be its own kin had flown away… the shadow speaks without any trace of warmth.
“Reaching the truth is the goal of every mage.”
It casually states.
“I sought the truth alone. What more reason is required? I thought you, being a mage, would understand.”
“…Ah.”
Raniel bows her head.
A smile forms at the corners of her mouth.
“Then it makes sense.”
She raises her head.
Sweeping aside her fallen bangs, she rolls up her sleeves and murmurs softly.
Cursed mana.
Ashen mana rises above her body. The eyes of the shadow, which had been looking at Raniel nonchalantly, shake with surprise. Pulling its hand away from its chin, the shadow asks with a voice mixed with astonishment.
“…What is that?”
“What do you think, you bastard?”
Thud, Raniel pounds the ground.
Summoning the ashen fire, she opens her mouth.
“It’s made to deal with assholes like you.”
The ashen mana strikes the shadow.
2.
Boom, kaboom!
The ashen mana lashes out along the corridor. Trying to smash this place to bits, Raniel swings her fist, but the result isn’t as loud as she anticipated.
The impact hits.
It does break something.
However, it feels like she only scooped a handful of seawater from beyond the horizon. What she shattered is merely a tiny fraction.
Countless human resentments.
The cacophony ringing in her ears.
She only wiped out a mere thread of it.
‘…In theory, it can be destroyed.’
It could actually be destroyed.
This special mana, created to confront the Demon Lord, surely has an effect on this altar as well.
‘But…’
The absolute output is lacking.
Even if she burns this place to the ground until her strength runs out, it will not solve the fundamental problem, Raniel realizes. Having come to that conclusion, she gazes ahead.
“How surprising.”
The shadow seated on the throne.
“How surprising indeed.”
Although it had touched her fist, it merely scattered momentarily before quickly regaining its form.
“But this isn’t enough.”
It whispers as it wraps its own shadow around Raniel’s arm.
“Even the First Hero, Ganikalt, couldn’t cut through it. Although he completed the blade that cleaved the curse in his final moments… even that couldn’t sever the source.”
The shadow chuckles derisively.
“If it were the remnants of a shadow, it may apply, but not in a place where the origin exists. It would be best not to waste your strength, Ashen Mage.”
Crunch.
With gritted teeth, Raniel strikes the shadow once more. But the result remains the same as before. The shadow takes no damage. It merely scatters.
“It’s useless.”
The shadow continues to laugh.
“This special mana you’ve developed has quite piqued my interest. Honestly, I’m quite astonished.”
It analyses Raniel’s mana nonchalantly.
“Though you likely didn’t understand the shadow, nor did you fully grasp the origins of the curse… you’ve managed to create this type of mana. I feel like I should give you a round of applause.”
“Are you mocking…”
“I’m not mocking. I’m amazed.”
The shadow’s voice drips slowly.
“You imitated something you didn’t understand, didn’t you? How? This must be your first understanding of the shadow since you came here. Yet, it seems you’ve crafted this spell long before then.”
The shadow’s empty sockets, its black eye holes, bore into Raniel.
“You’ve mimicked a perplexing, very perplexing circuit without properly viewing or understanding it. Impressive. But at the same time, lamentable.”
“What do you mean…”
“That your time is short.”
Raniel’s eyes narrow.
“It means it’s quite unfortunate that you will pass away, incomplete, right before completion. How cruel the stars can be.”
With a tone of lamentation, the shadow speaks.
“Why not come to me? I could prolong your life indefinitely if you wish…”
Once again, Raniel answers with a swing of her fist. The shadow laughs, glancing at the deeply sunk throne.
“How prickly you are. Your approach of throwing a punch first reminds me of my sister.”
Knowing she will not yield to temptation.
Thus, the shadow dissipates from the throne and stands beside Raniel. For the first time, the shadow that had pompously sat on the throne rises.
“I’ll say it in advance, I’m quite favorable towards you.”
At those words, Raniel struggled to suppress a sigh. Favor, that annoying favor.
‘Is there some connection between crazy bastards?’
Starting with Gletus, that lunatic… now even the First Light claims to be favorable towards her. Naturally, the favor of the Bravers doesn’t operate in normal directions.
‘It’s probably the same this time.’
Raniel planned to listen to the shadow’s voice with one ear and let it out the other. However, the words that reached her were not easily dismissed.
“Existing in an imperfect state between death and life, I shall never cease to exist. Even if you complete that spell, nothing changes.”
Raniel turns her head.
She gazes at the shadow standing beside her.
“There are special conditions under which you must fulfill to cease existing.”
The shadow shrugs.
Astonishingly, the shadow pronounces that condition with its own mouth. Without a trace of caution.
“Only the child of the star can kill me.”
Child of the star.
“Only one with a brilliant starlight, loved by the star… Like my sister, only such a child can shatter my soul. It is an impossible task for you.”
“Why are you telling me that…”
“You must know as well.”
The shadow states.
“The Fourth Princess, Ayla.”
“…”
“That child you are raising might just be able to kill me.”
Raniel cannot understand the shadow’s intent.
As always, the Braver merely smiles. No one knows what lies beneath that smile.
“In three years, Ashen Mage.”
The shadow’s lips stretch into a grin.
From that torn lip, a soft voice emanates.
“In three years, the dark age of humanity will come, the time when starlight weakens the most.”
The periodic transition period of the Hero.
“In three years, that is the time granted to you, and it is the time it will take for me to move to the next stage.”
Why is it revealing this?
Unable to grasp the reason, Raniel questions the shadow. In response to that question, the shadow answers.
“Humanity struggling to leave something behind in the face of their impending death is indeed beautiful.”
Only incomprehensible answers return.
It is through such perplexity that one becomes a Braver.
“Perhaps, it might be a tribute to you for creating a chance to break the centuries of silence.”
As that remark fades away, the shadow disperses. As if it had never existed here from the beginning. Where the shadow dissipated, something clinks and falls.
Raniel silently picks up what has fallen.
It was a key.
A key to open a door.
3.
Following the path behind the throne, Raniel walked. The human resentments had gathered toward the throne because the shadow seated there was drawing them in.
Once the shadow disappeared, the curse drifted a little deeper. Raniel continued onward.
As she walked along the corridor reeking with foulness… she arrives at a firmly shut door. Surrounding the tightly closed door were thirty-seven broken pillars.
‘A sacred number.’
Pillars broken to desecrate the number thirty-seven.
Squeezing through the gaps of those pillars, Raniel approached the firmly closed door. There was a small keyhole drilled into the door.
Click.
With the key she picked up moments ago, Raniel opened the door. The door opened smoothly, and a different foul smell circled around her nose.
“…”
There lay the answer.
Raniel stood for a while, staring blankly at the scenery inside the room. After what felt like an eternity, she let out a hollow laugh.
“…Ha.”
Why had they harbored such resentment toward the stars while becoming bodies that could neither die nor live? How had such death been allowed to occur in secrecy?
“Born of human hands, yet…”
Raniel murmured.
“Not only humans sought the origin.”
The conditions have been fulfilled.
Thus, Raniel reaches the second truth.
‘I’ve found the answer.’
She feels the traces of contracts knotting at the root of her tongue. A sensation akin to what she felt in the tower of the North. Having gained the right to know the truth, Raniel turns back and exits the room.
Now, it was time to confirm what she had learned.
‘Cardi.’
There was much she had to hear from him. Quite a lot.
