Dance of the Ghosts
Rain pattered down relentlessly, the sky blackened like ink.
Rumble—!
Thunder roared as lightning slashed through the darkness. Ghosts ignited in the flash, but only briefly. They soon returned, their faces more grotesque and savage than before.
"What a nuisance. Hey. We'll draw their attention, so Syrio, you guide them to the guest room."
Jerun spoke. At once, dozens of Altar members scattered through the corridors.
"Let's go~"
Seizing the gap, Syrio scooped up Ifrin and Lia, soaring like the wind.
Bang—!
Whew~
The door to the guest room shut with a thud, followed by Syrio's sigh.
He set Ifrin and Lia on the bed, flashing a bright smile.
"Lucky. You both look okay."
"……."
Ifrin and Lia stared at him in silence.
Drip, drip…… The rain tapping against the old mansion seeped into the quiet.
"……Why."
Finally, Ifrin's voice leaked out in fragments.
"Why'd you come? Because of that…… so-called god?"
"Huh? Haha. So-called god? That's hilarious."
Syrio chuckled, dragging a chair over. He spun it around backward and leaned his chest against the backrest.
"Well. Anyway, it is because of 'Him'."
"How many temples have been destroyed?"
This time, it was Lia's question. Syrio gave a wry smile.
"All of them. Not a single one left. Shame. Didn't even get a chance for 'prophecy'."
"……So, you're here to assassinate Her Majesty again?"
Ifrin narrowed her eyes. But Syrio just blinked wide and shook his head.
"Us? What are you talking about. We've never killed the Emperor."
"……Not now, maybe. But before the regression—"
"Not then either."
"What? You're lying. No, you guys don't even remember before the regression."
Ifrin dragged out her words, pondering. More precisely, calculating. Whether her magic could beat Syrio.
"No? It's true. We don't remember everything, but we heard it. From the so-called god you mentioned."
"What? Then who assassinated Her Majesty?"
"Simple. The Emperor killed herself. We just staged it to look like murder."
"……."
Ifrin's words caught in her throat.
Lia, who had been watching quietly, blinked. Even from her perspective, it was bewildering.
Before and after regression? Assassination and suicide?
Both strayed wildly from the standard scenario.
Of course, this world's endings numbered in the dozens…… but this was blatantly different.
"Bullshit!"
Ifrin exploded. Syrio shrugged.
"It's true. At some point, for some reason, the Emperor realized who she was. So she killed herself."
"……."
"But you revived her. Or rather, we made you do it. Guided you, you could say."
At that moment, deep wrinkles etched across Ifrin's face. Darkness clung to the window like spiderwebs.
"You probably thought you pulled it off yourselves."
Clap—! Syrio clapped his hands.
"Oopsie!"
A refreshing grin spread across his face.
That smile said it all.
"The scenario was rigged from the start."
Ifrin's eyes slowly widened. Was she realizing something?
Syrio's smile deepened, as if finding her adorable.
"Ifrin. Still don't get it? We set off the 'regress' bomb for you. Desperately killing Deculein every time, wrecking the continent with each loop—it was all us forcing you."
Hurry, hurry and revive the Emperor. Please don't leave her dead.
Syrio's words trailed off into laughter.
"For manifestation, you need a vessel to descend into? We stepped up to get the materials? Who said that? God himself? Nah~ Never happened, not to us."
Syrio swept back his hair. His long locks cascaded down, his eyes sharpening like blades.
"You interpreted our words and actions. Mistook them for the truth. Of course, we believers were sincere. Gotta fool your allies first to fool the enemy, right? And well…… anyway."
He paused, glancing up at the ceiling.
"The point is, every step you took was His design."
His expression turned somber.
"You veered off willfully, U-turned, backtracked, sat like idiots wasting time…… Even that was just faithfully following the path He laid out."
He lowered his head again.
His smile vanished. His calm gaze fixed on Ifrin.
"……The 'Him' we speak of is with the Emperor. Or rather, He is the Emperor. Now that regression's out of the way, it's time for descent."
Syrio smiled again.
A chilling curl, like mockery.
"So why tell you this? Simple. Cooperate. Help us, and even if He manifests, you'll survive. Otherwise—"
"Hmph. What if your so-called god can't manifest? What if we win and block descent forever?"
Ifrin cut in. Syrio raised a brow and nodded.
"That'd be worse. Sophien's endless hatred would burn this continent. She was 'made' that way from the start."
"……What?"
"Right now, that rage targets Altiegue. Altiegue gone? Next, other tribes. Tribes gone? Kingdoms. Kingdoms gone? Duchies."
Sigh…… Syrio exhaled.
"Truth is, her last shot at victory was that suicide. We were thrown too. Never expected her to die like that. But…… thanks to the Professor, she'll never suicide now."
"……."
"The Emperor has a reason to live. Even if she's a disaster, a monster to scorch the world, even knowing it all—she won't kill herself now."
Syrio flashed a bright smile, spreading his arms wide.
"See? Your 'best efforts' eliminated the one variable."
"……No, they didn't."
"They did. Don't deny it."
"Didn't~?"
"Yeah~"
"Nope."
"Yup~"
"Nuh-uh."
"……Pfft."
Syrio let out a hollow laugh. Then he held out his palm.
"Anyway. Get it now? Everything you did, on God's palm. Everything you believed, bent to our will."
—Is that so.
A voice approached from outside.
Ifrin and Lia startled, turning to the door.
—Not there.
Not the door—the window.
The three heads in the room whipped toward it.
They stared at the figure—no, the ghost plastered to the window.
—Long time no see, Ifrin.
"……."
Ifrin swallowed hard in tension, while Syrio hardened his expression and drew his sword.
—Stay there, and you'll be dragged away.
A ghost resembling Deculein, but older, icier.
Still lingering in this world, refusing the afterlife…….
"……Dikailen."
—Rise and come here.
He extended a hand through the window.
—Or be toyed with by them. Fleas, worms, maggots—not even worth that.
"Wow. Same old mouth."
Syrio laughed in disbelief. He squinted one eye, glancing between Ifrin and Lia.
"But come on, even so, we're better than Dikailen, right?"
Then Lia poked Ifrin's butt. Ifrin jolted but cleared her throat.
—Fools. No baser creatures exist in this world or the next.
Red light gleamed from Dikailen's eyes. In that instant, Syrio's armor warped. The metal came alive like flesh, tentacles binding him.
"Whoa? What the hell is this creepy magic!"
"Ifrin! Hurry! Go!"
"Got it!"
In a flash, Ifrin and Lia rushed to the window.
Shatter—!
Glass exploded as they plummeted; Dikailen caught them. Syrio smiled.
To the two living and one dead, he said:
"Doesn't change a thing."
* * *
Julie treated her wounds in the old mansion's guest room.
At her side were Gawain, Adrienne, and Helmir. Exhausted by undying foes, they had retreated briefly.
"Fortunately, Her Majesty is safe. Professor Deculein sent word."
Gawain fiddled with the crystal orb. Helmir sneered.
"You trust the guy we're accusing? Really?"
"……I won't deny the Professor's loyalty to Her Majesty. He simply bears many sins."
"No! More importantly, why drag me here? I'm not one for worldly affairs!"
Suddenly, Adrienne placed a hand on her hip. Her face flushed with fury.
"I'm really pissed right now?!"
She huffed and snorted.
Her anger was so adorably external it seemed a pat on the head might soothe her—but no. Dangerously so. Helmir, Julie, and the knights knew it well.
At the pinnacle of destruction magic, with only her archmage ascension left before retiring from the world…… If she got truly angry…….
"Please, Chairman. Living or dead, we'll all get swept away."
Helmir clasped his hands pleadingly. Adrienne's brow furrowed.
"Then do something about it!"
She fumed, practically spewing fire—no.
She actually did.
Whoosh—!
Like a dragon's breath.
Helmir whispered to Gawain.
"……Gawain, knight. Send word to Professor Deculein. He's probably with Her Majesty in some safe spot—get the Chairman there too……."
"Forget it! I'm sleeping! Can't even look at the Emperor right now!"
Adrienne flopped onto the bed. Julie eyed the map, tracing Igiris's mark with her finger.
Suddenly, Deculein's voice echoed.
'If you go to Igiris, you'll die.'
"……Father."
The father she could never call Father.
Who never once smiled at her, blaming himself for stealing her mother away.
If now he sought to end her life too…….
"Are you alright?"
Gawain asked. Julie nodded silently.
She pocketed the map, checked her wounds one last time, and rose.
"I'll go. Rest, everyone."
"Where to?"
Gawain, Helmir—even Adrienne from the bed—turned to her.
"Somewhere I must go."
Julie gripped the doorknob. Gawain sprang up, following.
"I'll come—"
"This, I handle alone."
"……."
Gawain gazed at her.
Her eyes were clear, resolute.
Pure resolve, embracing even death.
"……Yes. Please…… return safely."
No more words. He couldn't ignore such knightly determination.
Gawain simply bowed calmly.
"Thank you."
Julie bowed back and opened the door. Her first step snagged on a pebble.
"……?"
A magic stone.
To Knight Julie, from your guardian angel.
She pocketed it. Consulting the map, she walked. She might have lost her way, but a ghost guided her.
……Thus.
The map showed no such place—at the wall's edge.
Likely a passage to the afterlife.
She arrived.
"Thank you for guiding me."
Shiii…….
The guiding ghost vanished. Julie opened the door.
It swung silently.
"……."
The sight beyond stole her words.
Candlelight flickered over a long wooden table—this was Phairden Castle's dining hall. Where she ate with Father, Zeit, and Yuseffin.
Exactly as before.
—You've come.
Igiris sat in a chair, gazing at her.
His once mere 'aura' now appeared vividly.
"Patriarch. Where is this place?"
"Can't you tell? Where I dwell."
His voice rang clearer too. Meanwhile, Julie felt her mind drifting faintly.
"Sit."
"……Yes, Patriarch."
Julie sat facing him.
Only candlelight danced in the darkness. Igiris sighed softly.
"Julie. You came seeking me out of resentment toward Deculein."
"Yes."
Julie nodded firmly.
Igiris asked again.
"Did you hate him enough to kill?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Many reasons. But I seek no borrowed power from you. I……."
"Who said anything about lending power? You still cling to misconceptions."
A reproachful tone. Julie swallowed quietly.
His scoldings felt as ever—familiar.
"Take out that magic stone."
Igiris pointed to her pocket. Even the scar on his finger matched his living days.
"……Did you send this?"
"No. I asked an old friend."
Old friend. Igiris peered into the stone, then spoke to Julie.
"Julie."
"Yes."
"Do you blame Deculein for your shattered dantian, your dying body?"
His question shook her heart. That day she loathed recalling, speaking of.
Julie hesitated but shook her head.
"I blame myself."
"Truly? No fault in Deculein? Not even a little?"
"……."
"Can you swear it?"
She couldn't answer. Her lips wouldn't move.
Even Julie…… no, any great knight. Even a saint from scripture.
None could forgo blaming the one who shattered their dream. Forgive as nothing. Shoulder it all alone.
No matter the denial, a spark lingered in the unconscious.
Deep in shadowed awareness…… rage knotted at her heart's core.
"……Perhaps I do think that."
She clenched her teeth, trembling, head bowed.
"Maybe all my grudges stem from that incident."
With tear-choked confession, she probed her heart's depths.
"No…… I think they do."
Julie looked up. Her mana bloomed like an aura.
"Yes. I've just been seeking reasons to resent him. Still clinging to that day……."
Tears traced from her eyes, freezing slowly.
Facing those clear crystals, Igiris shook his head firmly.
"No."
"……."
Julie didn't yet grasp what 'no' meant.
To ask what wasn't, she looked up.
……And then.
"It was me."
Igiris said.
"Not anyone else. Me."
The sin he committed against his own daughter…….
"I did that to you."
That gravest crime.