The Barren Outer Edge of the World
The outer edge of the world is barren.
This place is no longer part of the world. Neither the mirror's opposite side nor the center of waves—it is simply a world that is not a world.
A desolate lake where no life can exist, haunted only occasionally by wandering spirits.
……Is this truly acceptable?
A follower of the Altar asks from within the lake. The god, still fishing, replies.
"It is fine. Why worry so much."
Whether the footsteps taken are advances or retreats, they will ultimately follow the natural order. The conclusion will come as the god wills it.
He has never failed to foresee, nor has he ever not foreseen.
This entirety is but one process.
Yes, my god. Through this incident, we have certainly recovered the energy needed for your descent.
God.
At the follower's call, he briefly recalls someone.
The child who said that truly good people do not call themselves good, and thus he, who named himself a god, was no true god.
Simple logic, overlooked because he had taken his self-awareness as a 'god' too much for granted.
"Indeed. The proverb will be fulfilled."
As she said, he is still merely a relic of the divine era.
One among the many followers who served the true 'God' in that age.
Yes. The faith of the Altar remains unchanged.
Yet in this era, there are no gods.
The god who once heeded his followers' words, who cared for their lives and deaths, is gone.
"I know."
The god is dead.
Killed by the followers.
That tragic moment remains vivid to him. Clotted rage and despair cling to his heart, unyielding.
"Immerse yourselves in the doctrines and scriptures."
Thus, this continent is an isolated island built by apostates and godslayers.
A symbol of original sin from the very beginning.
Yes. We shall withdraw.
The voice fades, and silence settles.
He, once a follower of the god, gazes back at the lake. He contemplates the imperial palace reflected within, the heart of the continent.
"……The primordial faith still resides in my bosom."
Murmuring softly, he touches the embers in his chest.
"Now is the time to spread them far and wide, to revive the faith."
But a dead god cannot be resurrected. He alone remains to carry out, inherit, and stand in for their teachings.
Thus, he has no choice but to become the god himself.
"The secular world shall once more be steeped in divinity. I shall uphold your will……."
The vow of a faithful shepherd ripples outward like waves.
Meanwhile, in the Round Table chamber of the Imperial Knights.
"Lately, a considerable number of dungeons thick with demonic energy have been appearing."
The room, filled with many knights, buzzes with an ongoing meeting.
During the university's opening season, not only the university but also the knights and the tower are busy setting quarterly goals and missions.
"Thus, I have summarized the Imperial Knights' main initiatives into three."
Today's presenter for the Imperial Knights is Gawain. With his outstanding looks and skills, he frequently appears in external lectures, media, and radio—the so-called face of the palace knights.
Favored most by Vice Commander Izac, he is leading this meeting assertively.
"First, the resolution of dungeons."
At Gawain's gesture, a map of the empire floats in the air. Certain points stand out prominently.
"We estimate 23 dungeons in the empire's outskirts and slums, and 5 within the capital. Our first goal is to clear all these before the quarter ends."
No objections. Dungeon destruction is one of the knights' basic duties, and the byproducts are quite lucrative.
"Second, connecting the capital to outlying areas with advanced communications."
Snap—he flicks his fingers, and the map shifts.
"First, Recor Dak. With the Yukline family holding 51% ownership, it is ideal as a base for the 'Mieolji Expedition.' Therefore—"
"Mieolji Expedition?"
This anticipated objection arises. Gawain turns toward it.
"Is the empire truly launching a Mieolji expedition? What for, that worthless land?"
One of the knights' factions, 'Valerian.'
Prioritizing imperial citizens' safety and the knights' prestige, he is not favorable toward the Mieolji expedition.
"The Mieolji expedition is not yet confirmed. However, even if it falls through, communication links are necessary."
"Hmph. But why Recor Dak of all places? Isn't that knight Dayah a corrupt one? Kicked out of the Imperial Knights—why her?"
Gawain's expression hardens noticeably. He shakes his head.
"Knight Dayah's skills are reliably renowned. Moreover—"
"Ha, skills. I've seen that woman's spars. Sharp as a blade, wasn't she?"
"……."
The reason Valerian is acting so sharply now is likely because one of his disciples lost to Julie. Famous for raising hundreds under the 'Valerian school.'
Gawain does not point that out.
"Yes. However, Recor Dak is—"
"Recor Dak belongs more to the Yukline family than to Knight Dayah."
The interrupting voice is Delik's.
Until now silently stroking his mustache, he sweeps the round table with a haughty, dignified face.
"Recor Dak is a key outpost with 51% stake by the Yukline family. That makes it a valid candidate for a direct 'hotline' to the capital and His Majesty. Isn't it?"
"……."
No rebuttals to Delik. Even the stubborn Valerian purses his lips and endures.
Though the Imperial Knights uphold 'merit above all,' they cannot entirely ignore connections.
"Next would be Hadekan as a proper candidate."
Delik, somehow under Yukline's protection, is now the perfect power player in the Imperial Knights.
"I recommend establishing hotlines at Hadekan and Recor Dak first."
Of course, Delik was previously just one of the 'vice commander candidates,' never thought to actually become one—merely that level of status.
Now, his influence in the palace and knights rivals or exceeds Izac's.
Aware of his own power, Delik actively intervenes in internal politics.
"……Yes. We'll table this for now. Third is the erosion of the 'Voice.'"
The 'Voice' erosion. A phenomenon lately plaguing people's minds.
The decisive reason the entire continent avoids gossip or whispers.
"The Yukline family has officially recognized this as a 'demon' phenomenon. To Professor Deculein—"
"Ahem."
Suddenly, Delik cuts in. Gawain looks at him puzzled.
"Is Professor Deculein your friend?"
"……."
"We're in a time when we must watch our words because of the 'Voice'—don't you even know the basics? Change your words."
Delik leans back in his chair smugly, his subordinate knights nodding vigorously.
Gawain swallows a sigh.
"……Yes. We plan to commission Professor Deculein. Yukline are authorities on demon hunting, a traditional house."
"Fine. I'll handle the third one, so don't worry."
Speaking as if granting a favor, Delikbangs the table and stands.
"Then, I'm off—busy. Continue the meeting without me. Ahem."
Delik and his subordinate knights. Two months ago, a small faction of about ten; now swollen to thirty, they file out en masse.
The knights watch them go and fall silent for a moment.
"……Sigh. Should've gone to the Recor Dak front myself."
Afterward, grumbling complaints spread like sighs around the table. Rumors abound that Delik built ties with Deculein at Recor Dak and even snagged a role as His Majesty's guard knight.
"Tch……."
Vice Commander Izac presses his temple.
Knights favoring specific families or nobles over the order itself is a headache for a vice commander.
"Gawain."
Izac says.
"Continue the meeting."
"……Yes. And this is a prototype, but a radio transceiver directly linked to Recor Dak."
Gawain places a crystal orb radio on the table.
Crackle—crackle—
Tuning to a specific frequency yields a clear voice.
77th floor of the Tower, the chief professor's office.
"Indeed. No need to even ask. Dealing with the 'Voice' has always been Yukline's duty."
I nod. Delik across from me grins broadly as he places some radio on the desk.
"Yes, thank you. And this is the palace's hotline. Special radio transceiver? Transmitter? Anyway, that."
"I see."
"His Majesty personally instructed me to deliver it. You can communicate with His Majesty anytime, and by tuning the frequency like this."
Crackle—crackle—
"Like this. You can monitor all lines connected to the capital. If you detect anything suspicious while listening, it can be recorded for immediate action."
"More importantly, how is His Majesty?"
"Ah, yes. His Majesty is sleeping in his chambers now."
"Then return before he coughs."
"Yes! Loyalty!"
Delik salutes sharply and exits.
The office falls quiet again. I pick up the [Magic Competition Participants] submitted by Ifrin.
Magic Competition Participants
Ifrin, Julia, Drent…… Maho.
The semester hasn't even started two days ago, yet they've grown close.
Includes the super named Maho.
Of course, it's good. Maho needs special management as a named, but if she's with Ifrin and the group, easier to handle together.
……Shoooo.
Then, I feel a strange sensation creeping over my skin. Waves whisper in my ear.
"……The time has come again."
This is the call of the 'Voice.'
Not immediately, but soon a signal that I will enter the world of the 'Voice.'
"……."
I briefly check my body.
"Hm."
3rd Grade mana quality. My skill and capacity in handling it are at their peak, the mana racing through my veins under perfect control.
Perfect Understanding of the Frost Stone is not far off.
The intensifying erosion of the 'Voice' will soon swallow the world, yet I possess more than enough power to counter that moment.
The emperor's voice crackles from the radio.
I reply briefly.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I hear you."
Sophien laughs silently.
"Do you have separate words for me?"
"Altiegue, Your Majesty?"
"……."
Altiegue. What Sophien's decree regarding that tribe will be remains unknown.
But whatever it is, the crux will be throttling Altiegue's neck.
In a more lethal, more ruthless manner.
"Your Majesty."
"Not all Altiegue conspired with the Altar."
No reply from Sophien to my words.
She merely falls silent, and I add a sentence defying the 'flow of history.'
"Please consider at least that point."
……Bang!
In the palace, Sophien slams the radio. Communication with Deculein cuts off naturally.
Ahan, tidying the table, startles and turns to her.
"Your Majesty. What is it?"
"……That fool defended Altiegue. No, told me to consider them."
Sophien rages strangely at the fact. Even Ahan finds it puzzling.
Her Majesty is always indolent and sly, yet uniquely strict regarding 'Altiegue.'
"……Your Majesty."
Ahan bows cautiously.
"Why so?"
"A mere trifle of curiosity, perhaps."
"……Why I loathe Altiegue."
The emperor whips around. Ahan quickly bows her head.
"……Yes, Your Majesty. I shall tell no one. No, forgive my foolish curiosity……."
"No need. After all, the only one your mouth would speak to is that professor."
Sophien brushes back her hair, looking at Ahan's bowed back. She picks up the discarded pipe from the corner. Lights it.
"I shall tell you. The reason I, loathe that Altiegue tribe……."
Afternoon at the university. In the heart of spring, Ifrin walks the campus with her teammates.
The world is peaceful, students bustle by, the breeze is pleasantly cool.
"So, let's apply tri-series. At least aim for mid-to-large scale magic."
Discussing the ritual for the magic competition with Drent, Julia, Maho.
"Huh? Ifrin. That's Knight Delik over there."
Suddenly Drent spots a knight.
Straight-backed, striding haughtily down University Road, Delik.
With subordinates trailing like a tail, he locks eyes with Ifrin.
About one second.
His face brightens instantly, waving with a beaming smile.
"Ah…… yes."
Ifrin waves back. Then quickly averts her gaze.
Watching, Julia asks.
"Wow, Ifrin, you're close with Knight Delik?"
"Huh? Well, we were close before…… not sure now. Why? You know him?"
"Of course. He's His Majesty's guard knight. And I'm about to enter the media world."
Julia's sudden declaration widens Ifrin's eyes.
"Media? You?"
"Yeah. Mage reporter—not common, but sounds fun. Gonna try it."
"Whoa…… cool. First article on 'Pig's Flower'? Roahawk, Roahawk."
"So cool~ Totally cool, Julia-nim!"
Maho beside her nods enthusiastically.
Truth be told, this princess Maho cheers loudly at everything.
At first, thought she was manic.
"Anyway. Princess Maho. Shall we go to our supervising professor now?"
"Yes yes! Yay! Wanna meet Professor Deculein~ Meet him~"
Maho's eyes sparkle, Ifrin smiles wryly.
Deculein as supervisor will be tricky. No, extremely tricky.
"Yes. Follow me."
Ifrin clenches her fist.
"This time, I'm confident."
……That confidence lasts five minutes.
Precisely, until Deculein skims the ritual outline in three minutes flat.
"Many errors. Especially here."
Check one.
"Here."
Check two.
"And here."
Check three, four, five, six, seven, eight…….
"Revise and bring it back."
Thirteen checks total. Flaws in the outline Ifrin and her team pondered for three days, spotted in mere three minutes.
—But.
"……Setting errors aside?"
Ifrin adds cautiously.
"Can't fill up on first try……."
Muttering, she looks up at Deculein.
The professor nods, as if sneering silently.
"In principle, these errors cannot be ignored. But purely evaluating the idea……."
It's rejected, but Ifrin watches his lips.
Imagines the follow-up.
"Not bad."
Not bad…… not bad…… not bad…….
Three times, blankly echoing.
Probably the first praise.
No, is it praise?
Anyway, at those words.
"Waaaaaah———!"
Ifrin feels like she's soaring.