50. A Noble Soul (4)
In the far eastern reaches of Aiter, on the Isters Plateau.
There was once a beautiful tourist attraction called the “Celestial Dragon Cliff,” so named because whenever the sun blazed down, the shadow cast across the carved, plunging precipice looked exactly like an ascending dragon.
Since a hundred years ago, it had been corroded by dark mana,
and though its lifespan as a tourist destination had seemed all but over, countless adventurers still came here, and so this place had continued to breathe in the breath of life….
As of today, however, that lifespan seems to have run out.
Clouds rise from the ground.
Not clouds as a figure of speech, but actual clouds—the kind that float in the sky.
Only, with space itself twisted, they have become confused about even their own proper place and have settled briefly upon the earth.
As the clouds, scarcely different from fog in truth, were swept away by the wind, the terrain revealed itself, and now
it looked less like a cliff than a basin.
That beautiful, majestic cliff had completely collapsed into level ground,
and the mountain range that had formed the foundation of Isters had been uprooted wholesale and forcibly repositioned, to the point that any adventurer coming here might have to redraw their map.
“…Ah. This is troublesome.”
Rudelik Hollow, Master of the Crescent Moon Tower.
He tried to wipe the blood running from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, but realized that his right arm had long since been crushed beyond a dimensional rift and erased.
“Haha, as expected, the Twelve Divine Moons are still a bit much….”
His duel with Grey Sky October had been quite the valuable experience for him.
The magical battles of spatial mages are utterly unlike ordinary magical combat.
For those who fight while disregarding spatial constraints, even the phrase “seeing one move ahead” loses its meaning.
Step—!
Sweeping aside the clouds, Grey Sky October revealed himself and stared down at Rudelik, collapsed on the ground, his expression frozen cold.
“You do pointless things. Is there a reason for this, magician?”
“Who knows.”
He had challenged him even knowing he would lose, but that did not mean it had all been meaningless.
He had been able to alter a certain “very minor event” that was going to happen next.
If Rudelik’s expectations were correct, then here,
Grey Sky October would have sensed the distortion of fate from Silver Age November.
Of course, anyone around 9-Class could feel that fate was currently twisting, so there was no way Grey Sky October had failed to notice it.
However, he would not have discovered the most critical “cause” behind that changing fate.
The moment one of the Twelve Divine Moons intervened carelessly in worldly affairs, every event and every story became corrupted.
Grey Sky October would never act in ignorance.
Without fail, he would have tried to identify the “single cause” twisting fate through Silver Age November and remove it.
That could not be allowed.
Grey Sky October could survey the entire world, but…
he could not see things that were very small and trivial. They had to exploit that fatal weakness as much as possible.
Until someday…
until that boy could stand against Grey Sky October.
“There are not even ten years left until the flow of the world comes to an end, and yet you struggle so meaninglessly, magician.”
After saying that, Grey Sky October gazed into empty space.
He tried to trace the vanished presence of Silver Age November, but true to the old man’s nimble nature, he had fled in an instant and could not be found anywhere.
“…Next time, I will not let this pass so easily.”
With those words, Grey Sky October disappeared through a gray-hued space.
“Haa….”
Letting out a hot breath, Rudelik slowly pushed himself up and stroked the place where his right arm had vanished with his left hand.
Then a golden shimmer flickered there, and in an instant, the severed arm regrew.
It required an enormous outpouring of mana to restore a missing limb, but that was still better than remaining inconvenienced.
“Even so, you truly are impressive.”
Rudelik spoke into empty space as though muttering to himself.
And then, astonishingly, a silver line was drawn across the air; space split apart, and Silver Age November—who had concealed himself long before—revealed himself once more.
“To think you were skilled enough in spatial manipulation to deceive one of the spatial Twelve Divine Moons….”
“Time and space are inseparable. I’ve spent hundreds of years living on the run. I’d have to become skilled.”
Silver Age November murmured bitterly.
“Have I been too complacent, setting everything down and living so irresponsibly?”
“…No, you have not.”
Even as he denied the old man’s words, Rudelik could not suppress the sorrow in his heart.
Most likely…
Silver Age November had seen some horrific scene that Rudelik did not know of. Something even more dreadful and cruel than the destruction of the world that was supposed to occur ten years from now.
That was why he had given up his future sight.
He had even left his memories in his own “fragments,” abandoned everything, and chosen a life of running away—and as a result, things had come to this.
‘Just what did he see, that even Silver Age November could not overcome his fear and turned his back to flee?’
It was the question Rudelik had always carried.
“Are you worried?”
At Silver Age November’s abrupt question, he nodded.
“…Yes.”
At that, the old man gave a bitter smile, turned away, and started walking somewhere.
“I really am a pathetic sight.”
And yet why was it that his back did not seem heavy?
As though he had cast off every burden he had been carrying.
There was no doubt.
He had resolved himself to something.
And most likely…
it was a decision he had made even before meeting Rudelik.
What had changed him?
The moment the question arose, the answer followed.
Was there not only one person in this world who went around shaking fate itself?
‘He’s only been out in the world for half a year….’
That boy really did move fast.
Thinking that, Rudelik closed his eyes.
He was far too exhausted from the earlier battle…
he ought to rest for a while.
Compared to the modern age, Aiter’s means of communication were truly inconvenient.
Never mind the fact that there were no personal cell phones; if the other person was not near a telephone, getting in touch with them was extraordinarily difficult.
— I’m fine, so you don’t need to worry about me.
Especially if the other party happened to be the Elf King, then what?
For an ordinary student to contact them personally without even arranging a schedule was absurd on its face, but I still managed to get in touch by asking Alterisha for help and having her pass along the number of the personal phone I had set up in my dorm.
“Are you really sure nothing’s wrong?”
— Of course. Are you worrying about me?
When Kkotseorin spoke in a teasing tone, I answered casually.
“I guess I am.”
— …Oh my, is that so?
They fell silent for a moment, then let out a soft laugh.
— Hehe, I don’t know why, but it makes me feel good.
Even after hearing the answer, I could not feel reassured.
Not just because I was worried about Kkotseorin, but because I was worried about myself.
Recently, something had gone wrong with my mind.
More precisely, it would be more accurate to say that something had gone wrong with the skill [Blessing of Crimson Spring March].
I know my own mental strength well.
It is ridiculous to assign an average to one’s mind, but I can at least say I was born with a reasonably strong will and had overcome an unfortunate childhood in a positive way.
On top of that, I had received the Blessing of Crimson Spring March, so I had thought that by now I possessed a mind of steel—one that would neither panic nor break under any circumstances.
And yet one negative emotion kept seeping into my head.
‘Despair.’
If that was the case, then it would be correct to conclude that something had happened to Crimson Spring March…
— Anyway, I’m doing just fine without a single worry. Lately I’ve had more time with my mask off, so I even feel refreshed.
But Kkotseorin, who had received the blessing of Crimson Spring March just like I had, was having no problems at all.
That meant it was not Crimson Spring March that was the issue, but my mind itself.
In that case, there were two possible causes.
Either I had become such a negative person that even Crimson Spring March could not handle it, or something had gone wrong with someone whose mind was connected to mine.
The first was not it.
I was the sort who enjoyed life’s affairs without overthinking them, and even when something immediate came at me, I tended to live with the mindset of, ‘What’s the worst that can happen? I die?’
Which meant that “Iphanel,” whose mind was connected to mine, was clearly the cause.
“Hm, are you perhaps free sometime?”
— …Free?
Kkotseorin paused as though thinking it over, and only then did I realize I had misspoken.
Unlike me, a mere student, the Elf King was always busy.
To ask whether they had time—good grief, not even a chimpanzee would ask something that stupid.
“Ah, sorry—”
— I think I can manage.
“…You can?”
— Yes. I don’t think I can spare much time, since work has piled up badly….
They let out a deep sigh full of worry.
It seemed the gap left by Aide Oranha’s retirement the other day was quite a large one after all.
“Um… even just for a very short while would be fine. I was thinking of going to see Iphanel.”
— Oh my, really?
Kkotseorin had said Iphanel was one of their very, very close friends.
…Perhaps their only friend.
In any case, they treasured Iphanel dearly, and as a high elf, they were bound to be extremely sensitive to changes in a spirit’s condition.
Aside from that reason, I also wanted to make time for the two of us to go see Iphanel together.
— I’d love that. When shall we make it?
“Would this weekend be okay?”
Only after I said it did I wonder whether a king would still be just as busy on the weekend as on weekdays, but Kkotseorin answered without hesitation.
— Yes! Then I’ll see you this weekend.
After ending the call, I checked the time.
It was about time for me to head out to eat with Ma Yuseong and Eizel for what we were calling club activities.
Since it was summer, I did not need an outer coat, so I just threw on my school shirt and vest and stepped outside, only to see several second-year upperclassmen crowding down the hallway toward somewhere.
Judging by how they were dressed, I could guess immediately.
‘League of Spirit.’
If soul chess was the top cerebral sport of the magic world, then League of Spirit could be called the top physical sport of the magic world.
Naturally, Stella had a League of Spirit club as well, and its scale was so enormous that it could not even be compared to my restaurant club.
It received support on such an astronomical level that it was practically comparable to a professional team franchise, which made sense when one considered that every year the youth teams of magic schools gathered for a tournament of tremendous size.
And given that this school bore the supreme prestige of the name “Stella,” even that astronomical support was, in a way, only natural.
This was a battle with the pride of schools on the line.
“Mm, this is troublesome….”
“What do we do?”
“I’m telling you, let’s just bring in Malek sunbae from third year.”
“That sunbae’s individual skill is excellent, but his teamwork is… not great. Besides, he doesn’t follow calls very well.”
“And we absolutely have to fill the remaining slot with a first-year. If we bring in a third-year, there’s a penalty.”
“What choice do we have?”
I was about to slip quietly past them, but it seemed some troublesome issue had arisen.
And I could tell by instinct.
‘A sub-episode flag.’
If you played the game Aiter World Online as the character Flame, it was an event that occurred quite frequently.
A perfectly ordinary commoner girl named Flame, who had little interest in clubs, would end up playing substitute in League of Spirit by chance, and then her dazzling talent would burst into the light.
A very common and obvious setup.
It functioned as a sort of prologue event before players played League of Spirit matches online, and it was an episode that over ninety percent of players experienced.
And this time, that event—
“Oh, aren’t you Baek Yuseol, the first-year?”
“That’s him. I heard he’s smart.”
“I don’t think he’s ever played League of Spirit before, but… wouldn’t he be okay?”
As they said that, the upperclassmen came over and asked me.
“Hey, have you by any chance played League of—”
“I haven’t.”
I refused quickly and bolted.
“H-hold on! At least hear us out! It doesn’t matter if we lose the match!”
“I’ll buy you something tasty afterward!”
“No thanks.”
It was truly unfortunate, but I had no interest in League of Spirit.
More precisely, I was “sick of team games.”
There was one truth I had realized after playing 5-vs-5 team battle games until I was sick of them back when I lived in Korea.
‘If you gather five humans together, one of them will definitely be trash.’
Even among those upperclassmen, there was no way to know which one might be the troll.
If I played my heart out and still lost because my team luck was bad, nothing was more infuriating than that.
As expected, 1-vs-1 individual play suited my taste best.
“Just once—”
I shook off the arm of an upperclassman reaching out from behind me and quickened my pace.
Sorry, but they should go make that kind of request to Flame instead.
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