The Last Recording
The sound of rain. A dark room with no light entering. In front of a massive circular table placed alone in the center sat an old man.
"......"
The old man's hair had turned completely white, and his posture was hunched. Thick-lensed glasses rested on his eyes, suggesting poor vision. At a glance, he appeared quite frail, yet the aura emanating from him was nothing short of menacing. Even though he was merely sitting, the air around him seemed distorted by the thick, viscous magi he exuded. The energy enveloping the old man made onlookers recall the Demon King who had met his death a thousand years ago.
The Deceiver of Death. One of the Four Heavenly Kings—Pyren. That was the old man's true identity.
"Hmm...?"
Pyren, who had been sitting motionless with his eyes closed, suddenly let out a questioning hum. With an intrigued expression, he muttered to himself.
"Oh my... The signals from the undead have already been severed."
At Pyren's words, the man standing beside him furrowed his brow.
"What is it, old man? Suddenly talking to yourself... Have you gone senile?"
"Kraxius."
The Black Sun. One of the Four Heavenly Kings—Kraxius. Pyren smiled at his insolent remark and lightly rapped him on the head.
"Hul-hul... Senile, you say. The young ones these days have no manners."
Crack!
The moment the old man's wrinkled fist touched his crown, Kraxius's head exploded. Brain matter and flesh splattered noisily onto Pyren's robes.
"Oh dear... I misjudged my strength. My apologies."
Pyren apologized while shaking the blood from his hand. The old man's calm smile, maintained even with a headless torso before him, was somehow chilling. As Pyren leisurely wiggled his fingers, the scattered pieces of flesh began to twitch and move. They gathered toward Kraxius and tangled together.
Thud, squelch! Squelch!
With grotesque tearing sounds, the face returned to its original form before it had been reduced to pulp. Kraxius, having regained his appearance, rose from the floor while brushing the blood from his sleeve.
"Misjudgment, my ass. You did that on purpose."
"You should have spoken more politely, then."
"Damn geezer."
Kraxius sighed as he looked at the grinning Pyren with cold eyes.
"Anyway... What were you saying earlier? The connection to the undead was cut off?"
"Ah, yes. It seems some remarkable fellow has smashed my creations to pieces."
"Hmm?"
Interest flickered across Kraxius's previously indifferent face. He crossed his arms and tilted his head.
"I don't know who it is, but they've got skill. Weren't the ones you sent this time made pretty strong?"
"Well... They were decent enough."
"The professors must have moved quickly. There's no way the students could have handled them."
"Who knows. I couldn't observe the entire situation, after all..."
Pyren tapped the table thoughtfully for a moment.
"Perhaps... the Academy's forces are stronger than we anticipated."
"Strong? How strong could they possibly be?"
"Krax, arrogance only leads to defeat... I saw it myself this time. I encountered one of the professors, and he forced me to use my arm."
"Oh? He must have been quite strong, then."
Kraxius clicked his tongue. Even bound by restrictions, Pyren was one of the Four Heavenly Kings—a being seated at the pinnacle of the demon race. For someone to have compelled him to use his arm in battle was no ordinary feat.
"Don't forget, Krax. The Hero isn't the only one we need to be wary of."
"Hmph. We'll find out when we clash with them... More importantly, is this generation's Hero really at the Academy?"
"The stars do not lie. We should consider it certain."
Pyren lowered his glasses, revealing pupils that glowed pure white. With his characteristic gentle smile, he stroked his beard.
"There's no need to worry too much. Once we succeed in reviving the Demon King... the Hero will be reduced to nothing but a handful of ash."
The disastrous school trip came to an end, and the students returned to the Academy. Perhaps due to the great storm caused by a professor's death, the atmosphere within the school grounds had grown heavy. I was no exception.
If there was one silver lining, it was that the days that followed were so hectic I barely had time to think. Over the course of about two weeks, many things happened. As both a primary victim of the school trip attack and the one who resolved the incident, I was questioned multiple times. I also had to console Rachel and Ariel, who had been shocked by the news of my injuries, while breaking into a cold sweat. Finally, I was summoned separately to the principal's office, where Korn expressed her gratitude.
—Thanks to you, the damage didn't escalate further.
—To think I had to rely on a student twice... As principal, I have no excuse.
Korn bowed her head respectfully to me. But that only made my heart more complicated. It was because of the face that kept surfacing whenever I looked at her. In the end, I couldn't endure it and fled the principal's office as if escaping.
—I know this isn't much of a repayment, but...
—If you ever need anything or have a request, please tell me directly.
—I will do everything in my power to fulfill it.
Korn held onto me until the very end with those words. Though I tried to refuse, I had no choice but to nod when she said that for the sake of the Academy's reputation, I should accept. Korn Ronesia, one of the strongest beings in this world. An opportunity to borrow her power at any time had presented itself. Yet I felt no joy. I only wanted to escape from her face, which smiled faintly with clouded eyes.
—Please come find me anytime.
The two weeks passed in a blur of activity. Just as things were beginning to settle, a new notice appeared on the bulletin board in the Academy's main building.
[Funeral Schedule]
We will hold a funeral to honor Head Professor Lucas, who departed for the side of the stars during the recent attack. We ask for the students' attendance.
...
Tap, tap...
Raindrops fell sporadically from the sky. The sudden autumn rain showed no sign of stopping. The weather was steeped in a thick melancholy. Over the field streaked with thin lines of rain, a procession of people stretched out. In the park near the main building of Reynolds Academy—the Plaza of Seasons. Normally, it was a place that radiated a different beautiful vitality with each season, but today, no trace of life could be found. Was it because of the dark clouds blocking the sunlight? Or because of the shadows cast by those beneath them? I pondered for a moment but ultimately gave up and lowered my head.
"......"
I could feel the rainwater soaking into the awkwardly worn black mourning clothes. The cold downpour gradually ate away at whatever warmth remained in my heart. The raindrops grew heavier, pouring down as if to devour the people. Before long, it had become an autumn storm. As I stared blankly into the air, a faint voice soon reached my ears.
—We extend our gratitude to everyone who has attended today.
—In memory of Head Professor Lucas, who returned to the side of the stars due to the tragedy two weeks ago......
With a creaking motion, I turned my head to the side. There stood Professor Sharon on a small platform, reciting the eulogy in a trembling voice. I quietly etched the image of the shaking woman into my mind. In front of me stood a neatly arranged gray tombstone.
[A hero who saved the Empire from danger, and a teacher who gave his life for his students.]
[Lucas Creighton rests here.]
Those words were engraved plainly on the stone. As I took in the letters devoid of any color, I felt my stomach churn.
—Professor Lucas was an example to all educators.
—To his fellow professors, he was a reliable colleague, and to his students, a respected teacher.
Sharon's voice intertwined with the sound of rain, creating a chaotic noise. I had to struggle to keep my legs from giving out. As I hid myself behind a blank expression and emptied my emotions, someone spoke to me from my immediate right.
"......Bastard, you okay?"
It was a familiar yet strangely unfamiliar voice. Perhaps because the usual flippant tone was absent, the impression felt especially strong. I gave a flat reply to Gold Tae-yang, who was glancing at me.
"I'm fine."
"I see..."
Gold Tae-yang turned his gaze away without further comment. He seemed to lose interest in me for a moment before speaking again.
"There's something I want to ask."
"What is it."
"Why are we even here? You told me to stand in the front row, so I followed, but..."
"There was no choice."
The spot where Gold Tae-yang and I stood—right in front of the tombstone—was originally where Principal Korn should have been. We were filling in for her, who couldn't attend due to unavoidable circumstances. If asked why it had to be us......
—I would like Raiden and Tae-yang to stand in for me.
—As the key figures who resolved the school trip attack, others will find it acceptable.
—I'm sorry for burdening you with even this task.
I couldn't refuse that request. After all, the one suffering the most right now was none other than Korn. She was in a position where she couldn't show her grief even at the death of her beloved. I wanted to give her at least this small breathing room. I brushed back my damp bangs. The tears falling from the sky ran down my forehead. While I was lost in thought, Sharon was already preparing for the end of the ceremony.
—Professor Lucas always enjoyed recording things.
—He would always leave his stories in crystal orbs.
—When asked about it, he would say it was a habit from leaving wills during the war that has continued to this day.
It was a story I already knew. It was something he had told me himself. Sharon then took out something familiar from beneath the platform. The moment I saw it, I couldn't help but flinch.
—This is... the crystal orb Professor Lucas left behind most recently.
—It was recorded on the day this month began.
—Before we send Professor Lucas to the side of the stars, we brought it so you could hear his voice one last time.
It was that crystal orb. The one he had shown me in the training grounds while we rested together, in response to my question. Sharon moved her lips and imbued it with magic. Then, the screen within the crystal orb rose into the air and expanded so everyone could see it.
—You don't look well, Raiden.
The recording began with the exact same first words as the scene I remembered from that day.