<Episode 109>
Although the situation had improved compared to before…
I swallowed my complex emotions and opened my mouth to persuade Rezeck.
‘Rezeck, they will never give up. Her Majesty the Queen has promised that she wouldn’t reveal to Khalid Ilkai whether it’s me or Marie who possesses the relic. So… we must buy time and distract their attention as much as possible.’
‘But you can’t even summon a spirit. Wouldn’t it be better for you to stay here, and for me to leave? I could make them think I’m with Marie.’
My mission wasn’t just to protect the relics of water and forest.
I also had to locate the remnants of relics that had already been destroyed and taken by Arkane, hide them in a safe place, and prepare for the future.
These people couldn’t join me on my journey.
…I didn’t want to influence the past any further.
‘Rezeck, don’t stop me. From now on, protect Marie with all your strength. Now that she holds the relic of water, she is the rightful heir of the Principality of Hacardella.’
‘Rose, what are you saying? The rightful heir to Hacardella is you—’
‘Rezeck, stop clinging to the past. Think about the present.’
Perhaps I might never see them again. So, as a substitute for a farewell, I smiled at him and said,
‘The one who will share the future with you isn’t me, but Marie.’
‘Rose…’
There was no time left to delay. That conversation was the last we shared before I left, leading to where I am now.
“…Forget it.”
I muttered quietly, staring at the horizon where the red sun had sunk.
“Anyway, the real problem now is where to go next.”
While I had been preoccupied with protecting the relics, the messenger of death had once again disappeared, nowhere to be seen.
I gazed up at the sky, tinted with the fiery hues of the sunset, searching for a dark figure amidst the blaze, but I eventually gave up and lowered my eyes.
How could I possibly locate the remnants of the broken relics, and by what means?
The uncertainty of the path ahead consumed me.
“…There’s no time to be afraid.”
I had to fulfill my mission. I pushed aside my worries and took a step forward.
The second act of this journey, which began with me wandering through the past, was unfolding.
***
Interlude
In a rare occurrence, the King of Death Spirits retains the memory of his birth.
[So… you’ve finally come into being.]
The words, tinged with unfathomable sorrow, were the first thing he heard as he became aware of his existence.
Dark black eyes gazed downwards, reflecting his own form for the first time.
Overwhelmed by the lingering strangeness of his newly awakened state, he couldn’t think or feel anything—only staring endlessly into the eyes that gazed down at him.
[What was that disturbance just now?]
In those primordial times, before cruelty and distortion had tainted him, a vast, gentle darkness emerged to enclose the universe, exclaiming in surprise.
[You are…]
The young, naive Death knew neither beauty nor ugliness. But when he later looked back, he thought the darkness he first encountered was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Their eyes, which would one day plunge fragile lives into a void without mercy, were white yet impossibly dark, endless in depth.
The pale face of the darkness, which stared blankly at the young Death, soon blossomed with radiant joy.
[Vanus, look at this child. We have a new family member.]
The darkness, unable to contain its delight, approached the young Death and gently caressed him, smiling warmly.
It was the first act of pure affection he had ever experienced.
***
[Ashmed.]
A cold voice, like frost, pulled him out of his reverie.
[…]
The Spirit King of Death, whose appearance seemed to be painted in pale blue hues dropped into a void of blackness, turned silently toward the one who called him.
[What are you thinking about so deeply?]
A gaze like the deep ocean and hair as white as snow cascading to the ground made it momentarily impossible to discern whether the figure was a woman or a man.
As if their very existence was an illusion, the ethereal and delicate being before him resembled fragile ice crystals and was staring intently at the Spirit King of Death.
It was none other than the Spirit King of Ice, Prinscher.
[Nothing…]
Ashmed, the Spirit King of Death, replied quietly, erasing the remnants of emotion from his expression.
[You seem to be lost in thought more often than before.]
Prinscher studied him intently, as if trying to piece together his thoughts.
[It’s nothing.]
Ashmed firmly denied it, though he subconsciously acknowledged Prinscher’s sharp intuition.
He turned his gaze beyond the icy wall toward the open sky.
The messenger should have arrived by now.
[If you say so, I won’t press further. But it’s undeniable that you’ve been acting strangely lately.]
The cold, elegant voice pointed out the change in Ashmed.
The deep ocean-colored eyes disappeared momentarily behind a white veil.
[Be careful not to let your ‘brother’ sense this disturbance.]
The words that escaped his lips were a stern warning.
[He would never let someone who caused even the slightest change in you go unpunished.]
[…I’ll keep that in mind.]
Brother.
Ashmed reflected on the meaning of that word with deeply sunken eyes, recalling the one being in this world he could call a brother.
[You, like me, exist in this world by your own free will, Ashmed,] said the one who occasionally showered him with overwhelming affection, only wishing to remain together for eternity.]
That being was Arkane, the Spirit King of Darkness.
[Therefore, those born of Ilipia are inferior to you. They are not your equals, so don’t waste your attention on them.]
It was during the early days of the universe, shortly after it had been filled with vibrant light, that Ashmed heard this advice.
As a young being, Ashmed had naturally grown curious about other beings, particularly the Spirit Kings who were said to be his “equals,” such as the Spirit King of Light, who had been born after him.
But the darkness of the universe disapproved of Ashmed’s interest.
Gripping the young Spirit of Death, Arkane repeatedly advised him.
[We and they are not equals. You must not associate with them.]
Arkane was the one who loved Ashmed most in this universe, so his words were something Ashmed naturally felt compelled to follow.
Thus, Ashmed refrained from interacting with the other Spirit Kings, and they, in turn, kept their distance from the Spirit King of Death, who was so deeply loved—almost obsessively—by the Darkness.
All of them, except for one peculiar spirit, who had shown interest in the deathly figure everyone else avoided.
[Why are you looking at me like that, Ashmed?]
[It’s nothing.]
Prinscher was the only Spirit King with whom Ashmed could use the word “close.”
Thankfully, his brother had not commented on this relationship, allowing them to continue meeting.
But…
Caw!
[…!]
As Ashmed tilted his head in thought, the cry of a messenger echoed from the distant skies.
It had returned—to deliver news of what it had witnessed in the mortal world.
Ashmed extended his hand to allow his servant to perch.
The messenger met its master’s gaze and shared the scenes it had captured in its eyes.
The protagonist of all those moments was Rose Hacardella—or, more accurately, the mysterious soul that inhabited the human’s body.
It had claimed that the Spirit King of Wisdom had given it a mission.
‘According to the value you place on life as the King of Death Spirits, I am but the soul of a lowly creation. Yet, the Spirit King of Wisdom himself sent me into this woman’s body.’
‘I reside in her body to fulfill the mission given to me by him. So, even as the Spirit King of Death, can you so easily take my life without the Spirit King of Wisdom’s permission?’
‘As soon as I leave this body, the original soul that has vanished will inevitably be drawn back to it. When that happens, you may claim that soul’s life as you see fit.’
‘Until then, watch me if you must, but do not interfere with my mission. After all, is it not your role to take only the lives of the dead?’
The human was unnervingly bold, speaking to him with unflinching confidence.
[…]
That had been Ashmed’s initial impression of her—a peculiar human, bold enough to address him without hesitation.
At the time, he had considered her little more than an intriguing anomaly in his otherwise stable and uneventful existence.
But now…
Ashmed watched the woman struggle to climb a treacherous mountainside, overcome by an unfamiliar emotion.
He had felt nothing—until he saw her.
‘Nyad… Cough, urgh…’
The soul whose life he was supposed to claim was nowhere to be found, and in his distraction with the strange human, he hadn’t realized something peculiar about her.
That woman, Rose Hacardella, bore a familiar power within her body—a dark power that consumed life, disrupted the flow of mana, and rendered the summoning of spirits impossible.
How had such a power ended up in a human?
There was no time to ponder the question.
The woman, coughing up blood over and over, continued to attempt spirit summoning.
Even for the Spirit King of Death, it became increasingly unbearable to watch.
Whatever was driving her, it was pushing her to a level of desperation beyond comprehension—a desperate, almost maddening effort.
Sorry for the delay~ I had my finals and my schedule turned into a mess.
So I was right…..😟
Yes, he was Ashmed.