Rohakan's Words (1)
Rohakan's words.
[I have one last gift for you. As your master, not Rohakan... Ah. Of course I know. That I haven't done enough for you to truly call myself your master. But what can be done? When you were young, I took money from your father and made a promise. To become your master. And I am a mage who keeps his promises.]
It was an absurd sentence. The original Deculein would have ground his teeth in humiliation or shame.
However.
"Premien."
"Yes."
I spoke while reading Rohakan's letter.
"We deploy."
"...I'll prepare the horses."
Premien left the room, and my gaze returned to the sentence.
[My disciple. When I first comprehended the world, I was old. But as the world grew, now I am young.]
Rohakan.
He had awakened his own pal (eight) series, gaining aging as its power. By developing that magic further, he became young again.
His magical origin was world line.
A colossal force superior to Ifrin's origin of time, Eli's origin of space, or even Adrienne's origin of destruction—a power no human could ever wield.
A fate that drew closer to death the higher his realm ascended.
[It reminds me of the first time I met Sophien. She was so utterly perfect. Perfect like a sculpture carved by someone's hand.]
Rohakan's voice faintly echoed.
In the middle of the library, a scene shimmered like a mirage. It was magic infused into the writing.
—You're learning so well? Your magical talent is exceptional.
—...Don't speak informally!
Infinite regressions of poisoning had yet to occur; this was Sophien at her pure five-year-old age, facing the exceedingly old Rohakan.
—Oh my. This little one. Signs of a tyrant already?
—What did you say!
—Come on now. Read this book quickly.
—What did you say!
Rohakan, as a friend of the late emperor Krevaim and invited mage, was teaching Sophien theory. The colors of that past were clear and vividly blue.
[Deculein, I came to understand why you pledge loyalty to the imperial family. You, more than anyone, adhere deeply to the idea of the chosen people.]
With that voice, the scene shifted.
A dark corridor in the imperial palace.
Blood from someone pooled and flowed, staining a child's small feet red.
The child backed away in her blood-soaked shoes, staring ahead with trembling eyes.
—...Rohakan.
Rohakan did not answer the princess's call. Sophien's dazed gaze soon fell on the corridor where blood streamed toward her, and on the lifeless body collapsed there.
A woman with her throat pierced, spilling blood. Pupils that had lost their light.
Her dead mother.
—...Why?
To the child's question, Rohakan silently closed his eyes. He let out a deep sigh like a lament and answered softly.
—Yes. I killed her.
Rohakan, the empress's assassin.
The mage revered by all had, in an instant, become the continent's worst black beast.
[Sometimes the world, and people, need blood-soaked lies more than pristine truths. I think you, Deculein, know that better than anyone. But I don't want to lie to you, too.]
The magical recollection settled like dust, and the scene returned to the imperial palace library.
[Deculein, disciple with whom I have much left to discuss...]
The sentence continued on the next page.
[In the future I see, Sophien kills you. She will kill you.]
A declaration, once again, of Deculein's fated death.
[I don't know if this paragraph alone will change the future, or if the entirety, including this, is a fixed one. Perhaps you won't believe my words at all. You might scorn me as a shaman spouting nonsense. I can't prove what I see to anyone.]
I couldn't not believe.
Because it was Rohakan's words. Because it was the future seen by him, a core fragment of this world.
[Hmm. I can almost hear your voice responding to me. Anyway, now I will wait for you. The northeastern vineyard. You can meet me there anytime...]
The end of what he left behind.
A froth of words and thoughts bubbled in my mind, but I quietly set the document down. Turning, I said to Rexil,
"I'm going. Handle the cleanup."
"Yes. Safe travels."
Emerging from underground, Premien waited with two horses.
She handed me the reins and said,
"Where to, sir?"
......
"Ahh. The Professor is leaving, Your Majesty."
The court lady monitoring the window spoke.
Deculein and Premien's two horses departing beyond the palace gates.
"You, return now."
"Yes, Your Majesty..."
Sophien watched him, then rose.
She left her chambers, passed through the dimly lit corridor flickering with faint lanterns, descended the stairs.
Thus reaching the underground imperial library.
Creeeak—
The opening door.
Rexil, organizing the stacks, approached, and Sophien asked him,
"Rexil."
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
"What did that man read."
"The last document the Professor read was this one."
Perfectly, the document in Rexil's hand—the paper Deculein had read before leaving.
Sophien took the paper.
"......"
Flip flip— the loud rustle of pages.
Scanning through in the silence, she soon found Rohakan's sentence in one corner.
[Hmm. By now, you're reading this paper, right Deculein? It's me, Rohakan.]
Sophien read slowly.
Silently, in utter quiet.
[...In the future I see, Sophien kills you. She will kill you.]
The words written there.
An unchangeable trace.
Sophien closed her eyes tightly, then opened them. She gritted her teeth.
"...Your Majesty."
Rexil's tone laced with concern. Before Sophien could respond, his magic dyed the document blue.
Within that mana, someone's thoughts and sentences bloomed.
—Rohakan, the future you saw is no illusion. It is likely real. No mage can measure the depths of your insight.
Words continuing as if responding to Rohakan.
—However, Rohakan. I am Deculein. I will not bow to a future not yet come. I cannot. It is my self, my pride.
Deculein's voice echoed in her ears.
—If Her Majesty truly harms me, I would accept it willingly. As you said, due to the ideology deeply embedded in my bones.
Clearly, as if murmuring right before her eyes...
—Chosen people. A class distinctly separate from the common rabble. Nobles who are never ordinary, never corrupt. The head of the great house Yukline, bearing an ancient history.
Self-praise.
—Such noble concepts define me, so if there is one I serve, they must be greater, more honorable and pure than I. They must be, without fail.
Continuing on the next page, his heart.
—Thus, I chose to become Her Majesty's subject. Your Majesty is proof of this world. The most noble and solitary sovereign, in need of a guide. Therefore, I will remain by her side.
Sophien crumpled the document in her distant grasp.
—Rohakan. A subject merely waits. If my sovereign is my fate, I wait for her approach. However...
There were remaining sentences, but they felt like a loophole.
As emperor, as sovereign, her self would not permit it.
"...Even if you die."
Sophien murmured softly, then smirked, twisting her lips. Idly rummaging in her bosom, she pulled out the snow globe.
"Kairon."
The one she could somewhat confide in during such a moment, the tight-lipped one. The wicked knight trapped inside.
But the snow globe's entrance remained firmly shut, with no sign of Kairon emerging.
"...Deculein says he waits for Us like fate."
Sophien placed a hand on her heart. The bizarre rhythm of beating, stopping, repeating—it still felt unaccustomed. Unexplained heat gathered in her trembling breath.
"Are you making Us wait there."
She had only two subjects to consult, and this was an issue with one, so she needed the other.
"You damned fool."
Sophientap—struck the snow globe.
Rohakan gazed up at the sky.
The pale canvas of the northeast, still lingering with winter's chill. Looking up at that high ceiling, searching for something, still wandering.
Life.
The life of this entire continent he had once promised Deculein.
But no matter how he thought, Rohakan himself was not included in that 'all'.
"......"
He suddenly lowered his gaze to the vineyard path. He sensed approaching presences.
Just clumsy, rude business focused solely on stealth and ambush.
"...Hey~! Over here~!"
Rohakan waved his hands flappingly, announcing his presence. Shadows hidden in the gloom assumed alert stances.
The Imperial Intelligence Agency.
They were indeed masters of tracking, always uncannily swift.
But one problem—no, fortunate point—was their intense obsession with monopolizing achievements.
They pretended to cooperate externally while acting independently, craving the imperial family's attention and favor. Trained as hunting dogs from the start.
"Hundreds of ya? Yet you always come alone!"
No chivalry, nothing.
No, he thought there was none.
"I am not alone."
The speaker was Gawain, the imperial family's first-class knight.
Along with Vice-Captain Izac.
The dozen or so knights appearing with the agency's chief agent were certainly no riffraff.
"Ho ho. Quite the preparation~ I didn't foresee this."
Deculein hadn't arrived yet. That one would take a bit longer.
Well, this was the north, after all.
"You are surrounded, Rohakan."
Gawain declared, drawing his sword. Vice-Captain Izac's body was already brimming with fighting spirit and aura.
Moreover, the agency's killing intent from the shadows pressed in, ready to pierce his throat at any moment.
"It's been a while, Rohakan."
Izac said. The anger in his voice bordered on fury. Izac was also an old connection of Rohakan's.
The novice knight who had once pursued him, the empress's killer. That kid had grown into the vice-captain of the imperial knights.
"...Deculein isn't here?"
Rohakan scanned the presences, but indeed, no Deculein.
"Don't wanna let Yukline steal the glory? Makes sense. You all crave the Emperor's love. How'd you hold back that jealousy all this time? Or couldn't, and are starting now?"
No answer came. Only silence.
Foolishly, it meant agreement.
"But... do ya know?"
Rohakan looked around them with a generous smile.
"That I didn't foresee you in my future~"
Mana rose from every part of his body. It didn't roar wildly or shake the earth roughly.
Transcendence was perhaps this.
No need to whip mana into nature's frenzy, no need to explode it outward, no need to forcibly assert one's strength.
Simply natural, like a river flowing.
"It meant you lot were of no consequence to me."
Snap—!
A single snap of thumb and middle finger.
That resonance formed circuits, manifested grand magic, created waves that spread. Like a planet's rings, extending across the vast vineyard...
...Dawn passed, morning sun rising.
When we arrived at the northeastern vineyard where Rohakan waited.
The quiet one-on-one meeting was already impossible.
"Too late, it seems."
Premien muttered like a yawn. I nodded. The situation left no choice.
"Professor! Professor!"
A knight approached from somewhere.
An nameless palace knight.
He introduced his name and rank with a panicked face, but no need to remember.
"What happened."
"I, I don't know exactly. Just... I was watching from behind, and Rohakan snapped his fingers—snap—and suddenly..."
The vineyard.
The entire vineyard had become a magical space. Vines grew like world trees, tendrils exploded like jungle, and the mana density, shimmering brilliantly, was over 1% thicker than outside.
"Wh-what's the situation, Professor?"
I peered into the vineyard. Even with Understanding, it was convoluted.
Rohakan had created some magic cavern.
"The vineyard has become a magical space. Dyed in Rohakan's mana."
"...Many knights are still trapped inside."
Premien asked the knight,
"Reinforcements."
"Yes. Northern knights including Sir Zeit, and the Red Garnet waiting nearby..."
"Unnecessary."
Whoooosh— wind blew from the vineyard. Cold wind laden with mana.
I straightened my great tiger leather robe. Planted my wooden staff on the ground.
"I enter alone."
"...Pardon? N-no, Professor! Rohakan is practically rampaging—"
"Rampage is a word for mindless vermin."
Rohakan.
If he caused this, he had another purpose.
Above all, since he called me, I would enter there.
"Professor. Are you sure?"
"...I can't be certain."
The vineyard. That place swallowed by mana was exceedingly dangerous. And remnants of injury lingered in my body.
However...
I tore the Rare Trait Catalog from my bosom.
Rare Trait Catalog
Resilience
The reward from the previous quest clear. The trait acquired with this was, as mentioned before.
Resilience.
Simply adding one more drop to my already overflowing 'mental strength'.
The changes it would bring, even I didn't know yet.
The reason I'd delayed using it was that uncertainty.
To face Rohakan, who had already reached—no, transcended—the archmage realm.
This much preparation was necessary.
Meanwhile, in Recorak, Julie engrossed in livelihood recovery and village reconstruction, widened her eyes upon receiving certain news.
"Is that true!"
"Yes, it is!"
The shocking report: Rohakan appeared in the northeastern vineyard, dozens of knights and hundreds of intelligence agents sacrificed.
"That place with the white grapes! The delicious ones that grow only in winter and early spring!"
"I know! I've eaten them!"
Julie hurriedly donned her armor. Too rushed, the knots wouldn't tie properly. She tied them roughly and dashed out.
"Horse! Horse! Hurry!"
Julie, uncharacteristically rambling, demanded a horse, and the warden handed one over in bewilderment.
"Hyah!"
"I'll go with you!"
Julie's horse galloping urgently. Reyli's horse chasing its tail.
And on Recorak's ramparts, a certain mage watching the two.
"Rohakan..."
Sylvia. Having overheard Julie's words, she pondered briefly, then created a small airship. Goggles and helmet as a set.
Vrooom—
She hopped into the cockpit, pursuing Julie, surveying the distant land with Wind magic.
"...?"
In her view: Rohakan's magical space, impenetrable even by Wind.
And—
Deculein entering alone.
"Ah."
Seeing that insanely reckless figure, Sylvia murmured softly.
"...No."