Demonic Beasts Descend South. (1)
Coo— coo—— coo————
Ifrin had fallen into a deep sleep in no time. I planted Dream Connection in her mind.
It was quite a difficult spell, mismatched to my aptitude, but thanks to the link called Mokgangcheol, it didn't fail.
Whiiiing…….
With the sound of wind whistling through emptiness, the magical connection completed.
Afterward, I looked at Ifrin's peacefully sleeping face.
“……”
She wasn't without her cute side if she'd just keep her mouth shut. Every action was foolish, and she was still a fool who didn't even know her own talent.
This sentiment was probably what I felt as Kim Woojin.
“……Foolish girl.”
I picked up my book again.
Lately, I'd been studying knights. Swordsmanship, martial arts, conditioning methods, breathing techniques—nearly everything. I probably knew more, and more precisely, than the average knight by now.
Flip…… flip…….
I turned the pages, waiting in case Ifrin had a sweet dream. If Dikailen appeared again, Dream Connection would let me know.
Flip…… flip…….
Before long, I'd finished one book and opened a treatise on quicksword techniques.
That was when.
“Hey…… Professor……”
A sudden voice. I lowered my gaze from the book.
“I told you I met Dikailen in my dream……”
Ifrin, who had been asleep, had woken up at some point. She stared at me with wide, sparkling eyes.
“……”
I closed the book. I waited for her next words.
“But here's the thing. That bastard…… no, your father—”
“Call him that bastard.”
As Deculein and as Kim Woojin, Dikailen was someone I didn't want to call father. Deculein himself had led the charge to kill him, after all.
“……Yeah. Do you know what that bastard said to me?”
Ifrin narrowed her eyes, feigning nonchalance. But beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Her heartbeat raced.
“He said my dad hated me! As much as my dad hated you, apparently.”
“……”
“That's ridiculous, right?”
I simply looked at her. I said nothing.
In truth, Kaigan Luna had hated Ifrin. Enough to name her child 'Churak'—Fallen.
I didn't know the reason yet.
No, I had a vague idea.
It was the unconscious application of Understanding. Even facts I didn't know pieced together like a puzzle in this mind.
“Stop talking and sleep.”
Ifrin had no mother. She'd never seen her.
Whether she died giving birth, or some other story……
The reason Kaigan hated Ifrin was surely tied to that……
“It's dawn.”
I didn't want to say such things to her.
“……”
Ifrin's expression darkened. She lowered her eyes briefly. She gripped the blanket tightly.
Then, she smiled faintly.
“……Yeah.”
She closed her eyes again.
Whiiiing—
A gust of wind in that instant. An eerie echo resounding.
“It's here.”
I murmured, and as if in answer, the world flipped. The Voice swallowed me in a heartbeat.
“……”
A darkened space.
An empty cavern.
This place, evoking the deep sea, held only one soul.
A young Ifrin.
—Wah wah wah.
Seeing the crawling, crying infant who couldn't even walk, I intuited. The Voice meant to show me Ifrin's past.
A voice drifted from somewhere.
I turned toward it.
—Hmph.
Kaigan Luna and his mother—Ifrin's grandmother—stood together.
—She's that woman's daughter too.
Kaigan said. He glared murderously at his daughter crawling on the floor.
—That face, that damned ash-gray hair…… I can't stand the sight.
Misunderstanding his gaze, the child just giggled. She reached for her father. Wanting to be held.
—…….
It was overflowing with the desire to be loved, but Kaigan clenched his fist instead. He twisted his face and growled harshly.
—Kill her or save her, do as you like. I won't raise a child like that.
……Did Father really hate me?
Ifrin wondered blankly. That doubt fogged her mind like mist.
She knew it wasn't true, thought it wasn't, yet it kept nagging……
Why would he hate me?
What did I do wrong?
Were Father's smiles, his letters, those lines filled with affection and care, all lies?
If he truly hated me, why didn't Deculein tell me?
Because he thought I wouldn't believe it?
Yeah, probably.
I wouldn't have. I'd have snapped and lunged at him instead.
……Or was it something else?
Ifrin recalled Deculein's words from some time ago. The trigger that made her start magic again.
Father's death.
From that day, she'd resolved to become a mage. Solely to get revenge on Deculein.
……Then, could it be?
Did Dad pass on his revenge against Deculein to me?
Dump his unfinished task on me?
And Deculein knew, yet accepted me anyway?
Why?
How?
“Ifrin.”
“!”
Ifrin opened her eyes. Her body was drenched in cold sweat.
“Uh……”
Deculein sat in a chair. Sunlight streamed through the window outside.
“A nightmare?”
Deculein asked. Ifrin stared at him blankly.
“No…… not a nightmare……”
She shook her head dazedly as she answered.
“……I was just thinking. Professor…… were you here the whole time?”
“Magic requires proximity to maintain.”
“Ah……”
“Your condition seems quite serious. From now on, sleep where I can see you.”
“Y-Yeah…… wait, what?!”
Ifrin bolted upright.
She flinched. Her sweat-soaked clothes clung transparently.
“Eek!”
She hurriedly covered herself with both arms—perfectly. Deculein looked at her with exasperation.
“Wh-where are you looking?!”
“Before I kill you.”
“Wh-what?!”
Snap—!
Deculein flicked her forehead. Hot pain rang through her skull.
“Ow!”
“Get up.”
“Ack! Aaaack!”
“From today, you'll have much to do with me.”
“……Ow. Ack.”
Deculein stood abruptly and left the room. Ifrin rubbed her swelling forehead and followed.
“Oh, right. What about the Voice? I slept fine.”
“You call sweating like that 'fine'?”
At Deculein's words, Ifrin shot back.
“Still, it wasn't a nightmare.”
“I handled the Voice alone.”
“……Huh? Why? Weren't we going together?”
“The Voice showed your past. You can't enter your own past.”
“?”
She tilted her head, not grasping at first.
“……”
Then her face flushed red, and she grabbed Deculein's suit.
“Ack! What the hell! How much did you see?! Why peep?!”
“Quiet.”
“How much! How muuuch—!”
Deculein ignored the beastly girl.
Recor Dak, now sheltering mountain folk, had become like a city.
The savory smell of cooking rice rose every morning, filled with vitality and laughter. Not just guards and residents—even prisoners smiled.
They all knew the barriers' fall meant death.
“Are the automated crossbows all installed?”
I patrolled the barriers from early morning. The wall-top path was bitterly cold, but padded clothes made it bearable.
“Yes! We've installed a total of five hundred crossbows on the barriers. With residents gathering firewood and ore daily, arrows should replenish without issue.”
The guard reported energetically. Secretary Ruina asked.
“My, there's a mine here too?”
“Apparently.”
Secretary No. 2 Ifrin looked curious too.
“Haha. We didn't know, but the residents did somehow. Thanks to them, we found out.”
“Aha~”
The two nodded at the guard's words. Then Ifrin asked.
“So, can I try shooting one of those crossbows……?”
Curious as she was, I looked down from the wall.
Julie was in the training grounds.
—Hup! Hup!
Running mindlessly.
With waves imminent, her routine seemed pure training and sparring……
That training wasn't good.
For Julie with her weak heart, better methods existed.
From observing her spars so far, her swordsmanship had issues. Specifically, a ku-se.
Her kind heart manifested as a terrible habit in spars and duels.
“……”
I wanted to convey and correct it, but lacked a method……
I'd found one.
“Syrio.”
“……Huh?”
Syrio, the clear-skinned handsome quickswordsman leaning against the wall, enjoying the breeze. Vice-captain of the Illayde Knights, but also Deculein's peer.
I told him.
“As Recor Dak's overseer, I assign you a mission.”
“Haa.”
Julie ran. Stamina was her biggest issue, so naturally, emphasis on cardio.
“Haa, haa……”
Recor Dak shrine's training grounds were absurdly vast, but her daily goal: 100 laps.
Even when her heart felt like bursting, she pushed through sheer grit. When grit failed, she thought of Deculein.
His face glaring with scorn and contempt……
“Hup!”
Fueled by that rage, she completed 100 laps.
“Kuh…… fu.”
Sweat poured like rain. Clutching her chest that felt ready to shatter, a clear wind whooshed in—whiiiing.
“Julie~”
Quickswordsman Syrio. She wiped her sweat first upon his sudden appearance.
“Yes, Syrio. What is it?”
“Wanna spar?”
“……Spar?”
“Yeah!”
Syrio answered brightly.
Wasn't it not sparring time?
Julie blinked and asked back.
“Why so sudden…… sniff sniff.”
Instinctively, she sniffed.
A familiar scent clung to Syrio.
The noble fragrance everyone in Recor Dak knew.
“……You met the Professor.”
“Huh?”
Syrio panicked greatly. Lacking talent for lies, he broke into cold sweat first.
Julie's eyes narrowed.
“You did.”
“H-how'd you know?”
“……Just a guess.”
She didn't reveal how. If she said scent, he'd fix it next time.
“What does the Professor want now?”
“Well……”
Syrio scratched his neck and pulled out a sheet of paper.
“What's that?”
“Script.”
“Script?”
“Yeah. Everything Deculein pointed out about your swordsmanship is here.”
“……What. What do you mean, swordsmanship critique?”
“Yeah. Not just you. Deculein gave feedback on other knights' swordsmanship too. Weird, right? He's got theory down pat—”
Whoosh!
Julie snatched Syrio's script. She read the ground-scribbled contents with bulging eyes.
Julie's swordsmanship has a terribly crude habit. A pathetic, disappointing one. No different from a stubborn fool.
First, Julie telegraphs her path before even swinging. Master this, and all her trajectories become predictable.
Moreover, she bizarrely spares foes' weaknesses—unprecedented cases abound—so pretend to be hurt on purpose. Amusing results will follow.
This much is ku-se issues; next are technical swordsmanship problems……
“Stubborn fool…… technical problems……”
Her muttering face chilled coldly. Freezing aura spread. Syrio shivered.
“A man who's never held a sword……”
Julie ground her teeth. Dizzy, she pressed her temple.
Syrio grinned wryly.
“Ha, haha. I get it. I'd be mad too if someone critiqued my swordsmanship. But read closely—it's not wrong—”
“……”
Flames ignited in Julie's eyes. Syrio shut up.
Crumple—!
Julie crushed the script viciously, grinding her teeth as she intoned.
“Syrio. Are you in league with Deculein?”
“Nah~ In league? We're all peers.”
“Enough.”
She stuffed the script in her pocket. Then, thump—bang—thump—bang—she marched like a giant gorilla.
“Wh-where?!”
“If the Professor's great enough to analyze my swordsmanship, I should spar him, not you. I didn't know he majored in swordsmanship too.”
“……Huh?! W-wait! You gonna beat a mage?”
“Sparring.”
Julie began climbing to the barrier where Deculein waited.
……Imperial Palace, the Hall of Learning.
Far from the north, in that cozy, warm place, Sophien still read Deculein's memorial.
But not alone. With a dozen retainers.
“A splendid passage, Your Majesty.”
A scribe said. Sophien glanced his way. Those three scribes, tasked with recording Deculein's memorial, had been exclaiming nonstop.
“The prose, of course, but this calligraphy is truly beautiful. Harmony of famed brush and famed words, and a memorial format never seen before.”
Dozens of pages. Sentences elegantly penned in his own hand, letter by letter.
They dissected Deculein's memorial with magnifying glasses.
Sophien muttered curtly.
“Is it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Unprecedented. Bares unfiltered loyalty, humbles himself while brimming with noble pride, filled with novel, profound phrasing……”
Then, old minister Romelock spoke.
“Moreover, Professor Deculein subtly beseeches Your Majesty not to despise your subjects too much.”
Sophien glared. But it was true.
Over-trusting subjects was unwise, but utter rejection wasn't right either. Just root out Altar puppets.
Truthfully, gathering retainers like this was partly inspired by him.
“Yet I wonder. Why does Professor Deculein defend Recor Dak so fiercely? For mere chairman position……”
An unnamed retainer murmured to Romelock.
Romelock shook his head. Rumors swirled of Deculein's chairman obsession and astronomical investments, but he couldn't relay blindly.
Sophien said.
“I have discussed the Mieolji expedition with Deculein.”
“……Pardon?”
Romelock's eyes widened.
“Your Majesty! Such vital talks, alone with that professor—”
“Recor Dak is needed for the Mieolji expedition.”
“……”
All retainers looked up at Sophien.
Sounds ceased. Silence fell.
“He filled my memorial with verbiage, but his true intent was resolve to aid me.”
“……Heh.”
“Defending Recor Dak manifests that sincerity. Without my order, even. Foolish man.”
Sophien continued calmly.
“He is no power-mad fool. Tower chairman? With my leave, tomorrow even. No need to risk his life at Recor Dak.”
“……”
Retainers fell silent. Solemn hush enveloped them.
Only then did they grasp why Deculein went to Recor Dak, why he obsessed over it.
Far from rumors of madness, honor, ambition.
Rather, utmost loyalty.
“I surmise he hid his knowledge of my Mieolji plans. Forced the chairman excuse, spreading rumors of guarding for personal gain. He is political, like me.”
Deculein's every word and deed holds political intent.
The palace buzz lately.
Sophien felt pride in reading his mind.
“True vassal's heart, Your Majesty.”
A retainer said, voice wet with emotion. Romelock glared. They must check Deculein regardless.
“However, Your Majesty—”
“Depart now.”
Sophien issued dismissal. Unrefusable. Retainers withdrew.
“““Yes, Your Majesty. Rest well……”””
Behind their low bows, alone Sophien sat, gazing at the memorial.
Dozens, no, hundreds of readings today alone.
Mysterious letter revealing new meanings each time.
“……”
With a soft sigh, Sophien thought of Deculein. The one who'd spent centuries with her.
Though that time absent from his mind now…… She simply wondered.
“For what reason do you serve me so loyally. That is what I wish to know……”
Murmuring softly, she took pen and paper.
To her distant northern vassal, the Emperor wrote her reply fluidly.