Snowglobe (3)
I told the giant my true name. Kim Woojin of the House Yu and True Jin.
It had been ages since those notes had passed my lips.
—······.
The giant smiled. He gazed down at me in silence. His quietude held no threat.
Quite the opposite. It was warm.
—Human. This place is neither prison nor cradle. It is a graveyard.
The giant preempted the question I hadn't voiced but that lingered in my mind.
—A graveyard prepared for me.
I once read the giant's lore.
A race that traversed continents and oceans, beholding the vast world's end with their own eyes. Extrahuman sages who knew all and pierced all veils.
Thus, to the giant, a human must seem no different from an ant to us.
Yet he did not crush me beneathfoot, thanks to his sagely wisdom and benevolence.
—Human······. Seeing you, I realize there are worlds even I do not know.
“······Is that so?”
—Indeed.
The giant spoke, his voice shaking my soul to its core.
—This is my failing. I did not conceal this graveyard well enough.
“······.”
—The passage to the outside lies here. I could open it anytime, but even if I did, you would not leave alone.
There was no need to speak during our exchange. The giant read my heart entirely and offered fitting replies.
Yet one word in his speech struck me as profoundly odd.
“If it is a failing, then it was no mere mistake?”
—······.
The giant smiled once more.
—Precisely. I foresaw that such a meeting would come someday. After living thousands, tens of thousands of years, it happens once or twice.
“······Fascinating.”
The giant's wisdom transcended humanity.
Then, had he foreseen me? Understood me?
Me, from the world called Earth, inserted into this game's lore.
—It is too soon for answers. A human's challenge crumbles upon reaching its end. Just as we giants crumbled before even vaster time······.
Find the answers yourself.
I nodded. Nothing new there.
Since becoming Deculein, I'd always done just that.
—This cliff's height numbers in the tens of thousands. The convection shifts endlessly. As the end of the world I shaped, it will be too much for a human to bear.
I ignored the giant's warning. I simply drove neck steel into the ice wall.
Crack—!
I fashioned a handhold for the climb.
I turned back to the giant.
“I shall return with my companions.”
—······.
The giant closed his eyes with a faint smile.
Meanwhile, Longdalp guided Ifrin aboard some winged contraption. A tiny airship.
“Hop on.”
“······Here?”
“Aye. Back seat.”
Ifrin hesitated before settling into the rear.
“This feels kinda sketchy······.”
The moment she plopped the helmet on, vroom~ they were off.
“Wait, whoa!”
The airship pierced the Floating Island's orbit.
Immense air pressure made her lips quiver.
“Bwaaaaaah— Baaaaah—”
“Keh heh heh. Fun, eh?”
“Bruaaaah—”
“Ain't it thrilling?”
“Bwaaaaaah—”
They arrived at one of the islands encircling the Floating Island.
The Inn.
“There we go! How was it? Fun, right? Keh heh heh heh.”
“······Total snoozefest, gramps.”
“Hm? Snoozefest? What's that mean? These young folks these days and their weird lingo.”
“Means it sucked······ Ow, my mouth hurts.”
Ifrin rubbed her chapped lips and shook her head. Longdalp pushed open the inn's door.
Ding-a-ling—
The bell chimed as he entered. Ifrin lingered outside, taking in the view.
“······Whoa.”
A parking lot for dozens of small airships. Beyond it, not a cliff but open sky. A perfect, bottomless abyss.
“Come on in. Windy out there, dangerous.”
“Yeah, coming!”
Ifrin hurried inside at Longdalp's call.
The interior was surprisingly mundane and quiet compared to the wild exterior. Plenty of tables, and the menu brimmed with mouthwatering dishes.
“Ifrin. Over here.”
Longdalp, already seated, waved. Beside him, a pink-haired woman winked.
“Here she is.”
“······Roserio?”
Ifrin's eyes widened. Ether-rank Roserio picked at her teeth with a toothpick, flipping through a magic treatise.
“Aye. Long time no see. Sit.”
“Y-Yeah.”
Ifrin slid in next to Longdalp and eyed the treatise Roserio clutched.
“Oh~ That?”
Roserio shrugged at her gaze.
“It's all the rage on the Floating Island lately. Folks wear badges showing how far they've read. Can't join convos without knowing it.”
“······Ah.”
“So I'm giving it a shot~ But they say it's no biggie for me?”
“Haha······.”
Ifrin gave a wry smile and nodded. Of course—a treatise on transmutation wouldn't suit Roserio, the transmutation specialist.
“Keh heh. But this one's already grasped up to page 130?”
Longdalp boomed it loud enough for all to hear.
The inn's air froze. Eyes flicked our way.
Ifrin panicked, but the mood thawed as if nothing happened.
Dismissed as absurd, no doubt.
Roserio narrowed her eyes.
“······For real?”
“Y-Yeah······ I got it a while back, so—”
“Even ages ago, page 130 ain't comprehensible. Anything past 30's a feat now.”
Down in the Floating Island's depths, addicts raced through treatise relays, even seeing it as a shot at rank reversal.
If a mere Soda-rank truly grasped page 130—
“Keh heh. We'll talk that later. Now, Ifrin. This inn's special. Look around.”
Longdalp cut in, pointing somewhere. Ifrin's eyes followed.
“Over there~ Kalra and Jakal.”
“!”
Ifrin's jaw dropped.
Kalra and Jakal from Ghost Isle. Jakal yawned around a twig; Kalra stirred sugar into her latte.
“That's Jukaken of the Six Demons.”
One of the Six Demons' leaders, Jukaken.
The long-haired hunk chatted with fellow male mages—all strikingly handsome.
“And over there······ Keh heh. Even in an inn, they let that guy in.”
“Who is it?”
Ifrin peered. Roserio smirked over her coffee.
“Gerek. Person of interest.”
Gerek. A strikingly handsome man cooed “Oppa—Appa—” in bizarre fashion, with an unnamed old woman beside him.
“And Ihelm's in the back.”
Roserio thumbed the inn's corner. Ifrin glanced over.
—······So we need analysis here. Floating Island fools aside, we can't lag behind mainland tower mages.
Ihelm, hair slicked back, huddled in the dimmest spot studying the treatise with disciples.
Probably hiding that he pored over Deculein's work himself.
—Round up everyone under you for grunt calc work. Leave it to them.
—Yes. Contacting now.
Longdalp stroked his goatee.
“Keh heh. Impressed? Any 'mage' can enter this Floating Island inn. Even 'Volcano' mages without tower sanction.”
Volcano. Ashes Heap's formal name. Ifrin's face tensed.
“Especially Glipher, Helgan. Memorize those faces. Totally unhinged.”
Longdalp pointed to two rough-looking, tattooed, scarred men.
“Got it. But gramps, why bring me here······”
“Hm. Don't you feel this inn's crushing pressure? Each one's aura prickling your skin?”
“······Huh? Oh, yeah. Breathing's tough.”
Ifrin nodded. That explained the chest tightness.
Longdalp continued.
“To face that man—Dikailen—you need mental fortitude training. Face powerhouses head-on—”
Ching-a-lang—
The bell rang.
Inn custom: ignore newcomers. Ifrin, unaware, glanced casually.
“Whoa!”
She shot up unwittingly. All eyes converged.
Ifrin beamed at the familiar face.
“Sylvia!”
Sylvia.
She wore a robe of black with pure gold embroidery. Monarch-rank garb.
“······.”
Sylvia, expecting lunch with Idnik, eyed Ifrin with exasperation.
“······Foolish Ifrin. Don't act like you know me here—”
“Here! Sit here!”
Ifrin grinned brightly, patting her table.
Sylvia tried ignoring, but.
“Hmph.”
“Perfect!”
Idnik grabbed her arm and dragged her.
“What's perfect.”
“Come on. Meet your friend.”
“Not a friend.”
Sylvia was all but forced to sit.
Ifrin beamed, pointing at the papers in her hand.
“Deculein Professor's treatise too?”
Sylvia's teeth ground. She shook her head coldly.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“None of your business.”
Idnik answered instead.
“A novel.”
“Oh.”
ZZZing— Idnik brushed off Sylvia's glare.
“One she 'wrote' herself.”
“······Why say that.”
“Everyone'll read it once published.”
“Idnik, why are you like this.”
Idnik ignored Sylvia's irritation; Ifrin couldn't let such news slide.
“You wrote a novel?! Lemme read! Gimme!”
Her smile ear-to-ear, hands outstretched.
······Another week passed.
Sophien concluded there was no point waiting longer.
“I cannot allow it.”
But Kairon disagreed. He could not accept her resolve.
“Hmph. You dare speak thus to me, your emperor, knight though you are.”
Sophien's lips twisted as she stared him down. Yet Kairon stood firm.
“Forgive me, but this is my duty. Protect Your Majesty at all costs—”
Sophien intoned a word of command. Kairon's body slid. He rose swiftly, gripping his sword.
He would not yield that, at least.
“Kairon. Mistake not to think mere absence of that blade suffices. I have seen you bash your head against rock unto death.”
“······.”
“Why rage? We shall meet again regardless.”
Kairon froze at his liege's order. Nay, transmuted to statue.
A nigh-indestructible statue forged of mighty body reinforcement.
“······Frustrating fool. I pondered too. Even without suicide, no path out. Starve or end it—same difference.”
Kairon made no reply. Sophien sighed in exasperation, then a whimsical notion struck.
Even a word of command—would it work?
Curiosity piqued.
“······תעשה חרב”
A single syllable wrought phenomenon.
Mana bloomed from her voice, soaked into snowflakes, sharpened them to cohesion, forged a blade purer than steel.
A sword of snow.
“No!”
Kairon awoke in alarm, lunging to seize her sword. Sophien slid him away with another word.
“Enough stubbornness. 'Tis done. Farewell again, Kairon.”
As she drew it across her wrist.
“······You learned well.”
A voice arose from nowhere. Startled, Sophien and Kairon scanned about.
No one.
Not east, west, south, north. Nowhere.
“As expected of Your Majesty.”
Praise persisted; she looked skyward.
Nothing. Just blindingly clear azure.
“······.”
Then.
Not sides, not above—only below remained.
Sophien glanced unthinkingly into the crevasse depths.
“Ha.”
A genuine scoff escaped her.
It was Deculein.
From the seemingly bottomless abyss, using neck steel as pitons, he had clawed his way topside.
“······.”
Kairon exhaled quiet relief. Sophien smirked.
“······You truly test one's patience. Yet if no escape, suicide remains. What did you learn below?”
Deculein straightened his attire. Thawed his frozen body. Nay, it thawed naturally.
Thanks to his Iron Man physique.
“I found the way out of this snowglobe. However······.”
Deculein eyed Sophien's state with the naked eye. How much cold she could endure was key.
“It will be bitterly cold.”
“Worse than death? If too cold, I die—that suffices.”
“No. I will not let Your Majesty perish.”
Deculein drew the Frost Stone from his breast pocket. A tiny shard, imbued with Iron Man authority, thinned and affixed to Sophien.
This secured her somewhat.
However······.
“Kairon.”
Deculein turned to him.
Could he endure? The depths harbored merciless cold.
Even a continental knight, sans trait aid—
“I fear not.”
Kairon declared steadfastly.
“······Very well.”
Deculein nodded, meeting his gaze. Kairon reciprocated. Sophien eyed the pair askance.
Deculein spoke first.
“······We go now.”
“No respite first?”
“Rest changes naught without rations.”
The instant Sophien agreed, her body moved of its own.
The Frost Stone had pinned her to Deculein's back.
“······Explain.”
A bizarre, unforeseen plight. Affixed to his back, Sophien queried calmly.
She sought pure explanation. No fluster.
Deculein replied thus.
“Stay as close to my body as possible to avoid the cold.”
“'Tis cold enough now. That excuses naught.”
“······You'll see en route.”
“What—”
“Trust Professor Deculein.”
Kairon chimed. Oddly, suppressing a smile.
“He who ascended from the depths speaks.”
“······Fine.”
Sophien scowled in clear displeasure but relented.
“Yes. Let us go.”
Thus, Deculein descended into the depths, emperor astride his back.