The Abyss Where No Life Has Trod
Even gazing upon the same tree, the hue humans perceive differs from that seen by birds. The Lake Goddess showed this to me directly, declaring that in time, my own gaze and those of others would diverge just as vastly. Deferring the question of what this might mean for my future, I focused on the visions beginning with the bird's perspective and culminating in the world as seen by the Goddess herself.
Plunging my hand into the lake and closing my eyes summons the visions she sends, rising within the darkness behind my eyelids. Then, one of her meticulously crafted video letters—packed with profound truths—begins to play slowly. It was there she revealed this path of mystery to me.
Do you know the world was once filled with water? Can you comprehend that the ground you tread is firm, yet beneath it flows the water that once saturated the entire world?
The emotions stirred by beholding, hearing, and feeling the Goddess's video letter were like those of a deep evening under a pitch-black night sky, huddled by a solitary campfire with my small head resting on my mother's lap as I drifted to sleep. She would sing an ancient lullaby, occasionally stroking my hair, weaving in old tales that stirred her own distant memories. Sleep would claim me then—but instead, I awoke from dreams. Opening my eyes, the lake would bubble and boil with heat, steam rising warmly, and I would find myself rousing.
Some visions I grasped, others eluded me. Fortunately, this path was among those I understood.
"Is this it?"
I voice it aloud for no reason. Gon-ga—gon-ga—gon-ga— The echoing tremor of my words spreads, granting a faint sense of the vast space around me. My voice fades without resistance, with no intent to return. It couldn't be otherwise. This was a profoundly deep path opened by Caliburnus through the lake, straddling the boundary between reality and mystery.
This was water deeper than the ocean—another sea lying below the deepest seas. No life had ever set foot here before. She had proclaimed me the first.
"..."
The surrounding darkness lacks even the hint of bubbles or ripples, resembling an inky sky. Without the glowing Caliburnus and the translucent membrane reflecting its light, revealing form, I might not have known this place as real. Utterly black, heavy, profound, indifferent—it was a realm where the value of humans, of all life, converged infinitely toward zero.
The deepest place in this world, yet paradoxically more akin to the cosmos than any land or sea upon it. Like dark matter, the pitch blackness held no interest in trifles like humanity. It simply flowed there. This deep sea did the same. And amid that utter indifference, I felt a thrill of adventure in encountering the new, mingled with vague fear.
No human could survive in such a world. Humanity's place was merely atop the surface, beneath the sky. With that realization came pity for the Lake Lady—the Goddess—who had slumbered alone in this space for eons. Our visions differed as greatly as bird from man, our sense of time even more so. Yet as a human, I could only see from a human vantage.
Was she not lonely?
"Lady of the Lake, guide me. Caliburnus, show me the way."
Caliburnus shuddered like a steed snorting eagerly, then directed its light unilaterally toward one direction. The still black waters surged in unison, slowly pushing the translucent sphere enveloping me.
[---!]
A colossal motion stirred in the silence. Soundless, yet I vividly sensed the swirling, potent force. Caliburnus thrummed with excitement, as if returned to its homeland—like a dog reuniting with its long-lost master, tail wagging furiously, panting wildly. And I felt a similar thrill. For in the force propelling my sphere, I intensely sensed that presence—one I'd only glimpsed through visions until now.
With darkness and weight all around, and nothing visible within the sphere, gauging speed was tricky. But through this faint mystical gaze, it felt impossibly swift for reality—or wait. What even separated reality from mystery now? Having confronted and felt it directly, this place too was now my reality.
[---! Chapak!]
The viscous push ended with a final flick, like fingertips delivering a finishing nudge. Ripples sounded next, and a brilliant blue sky burst into view.
[Fwoooong—]
As Caliburnus dimmed and quieted, the sphere faded, cold water tentatively lapping at my skin, wetting me everywhere. Damn it all.
[Shwaaa—shwaaa—]
A couple strokes of my arms, and the rippling sky above rushed closer.
"Puha—"
Surfacing, I beheld a familiar landscape surrounding me. Where was this?
[Chapak—chapak—]
Swimming doggy-paddle faster than any fish, I reached shore and knew at once. This was the river curving north of Deva Victrix, flowing westward. Judging by the sun's position and my shadow's angle, scarcely an hour had passed traversing the mystery path.
"...So it was all true, then."
When something astonishes or defies belief, we gape vacantly, muttering to ourselves unwittingly. Though I recited her daily video letters aloud, had breathed mystery into knights' blades myself, even witnessed my own birth's secrets—still, this was... hard to credit. Yet I couldn't deny it. If this weren't a dream, those soldiers approaching warily yonder couldn't be illusions either.
"You there! Who goes?!"
"Taking a bath by the river in this winter chill, skipping the public baths!? If you're suicidal, at least do it outside our patrol zone—... Huh?"
"...Huh?"
"Huuuh?!"
"Huuuuh!?"
When shock overwhelms, we sometimes just gawp, blubbering idiotically. To spare my stunned friends further alarm, I approached slowly, arms raised like a bear spotting a rival encroaching on its salmon hunt.
"You recognize my face?"
"Uuuuh—"
"Waaaah—"
"Aye, no two souls match this build and mug in the world. I'm Magister Militum Artorius. Tough duty in this cold, lads."
"M-Magister Militum!!"
"Gaaah!"
[Chak!]
[Chakchak!]
One thumped fist to chest, the other to hip, chests puffing out.
"!?"
"?!"
[Chakchak!]
[Chak!]
Spotting their mismatched salutes, they swapped and retried, faces paling to winter sky blue. Their comedy was amusing, but I had work to do.
"Enough, enough. I get it—stand at ease."
"Sir!"
"Just to confirm—is that city yonder Deva Victrix?"
"Yes, sir! Magister Militum! The city of Minerva, it is!!"
Deva meant goddess. Which one? Some said the river's lady I'd just emerged from; others, Minerva. The city still housed her temple.
"Good. Then could you escort me to Comes Eturnus?"
"An honor, sir! Magister Militum!!"
"Thanks. Shall we head out straightaway?"
"Sir!"
"Yes, sir!"
[Clack-clack—clack-clack—]
A chuckle escaped at the soldiers marching rigidly ahead, steps synced at perfect right angles. How startled must they be? The realm's top commander popping from the river unannounced... I felt a twinge of guilt—daggers and gloves as gifts, perhaps.
[Thud-thud—]
Striding the orderly streets of Deva Victrix, I entered amid folk who parted, hands over mouths.
-----
"Coordinate with Isca Dumnoniorum's prefect for another check on Manavia-bound supplies next week—note that, and next—"
[Knock-knock-knock—]
"Hm?"
Urgent raps at the office door. Unusual—something dire, surely. As Comes and prefect of Deva Victrix, Eturnus—swamped countering western barbarian raids—leapt up, bellowing.
"What is it?!"
"Comes Eturnus! Coming in!"
A pallid aide burst through the flung-wide door. Just like when Hibernia's outpost fell. Instinctively, Eturnus's hand went to his belt—only a small dagger hung there now.
"Another raid!? Where this time? Hibernia north? South?"
"No, sir! The Magister Militum—he's heading here right now!!"
"Magister Militum?"
Dominus Artorius? Aye, word must've reached Avalonia by now. Pigeons thrice over, rider dispatched too. Time had flown. Perhaps he'd heard en route of Comes Caius's stellar defense. He'd be pleased. But truly, Dominus Artorius? Eturnus fancied himself a fierce warrior in youth, but that man was... a roaring inferno, a wall of fire, an active volcano spewing crimson lava. An unstoppable force of retribution, like natural disaster.
"Word of his departure? Five days, then? No—his marching pace means three at most. You, prepare immedia—"
"Comes! Not that— he's here now! In the city!!"
"—tely. ...? Here? In Deva Victrix?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Now?"
Now? Impossible. Had he already set out? Winter march west from Avalonia planned? Secret op? No.
"Now...?"
[Chak! Chak!]
[Magister Militum!]
[Dominus Invictus!]
From beyond the open door, up the stairs below, hearty salutes boomed in chorus. This real? Stunned, Eturnus shoved past the frozen aide, bolting from the office. And beheld.
"Ah, Comes Eturnus. Keeping well? First since the wedding."
True! The genuine Magister Militum!
"M-Magister Militum..."
"Ha. Came in haste, eh? Unusual for me, but the situation seemed urgent—and truthfully, I wanted to try it once."
How? Eturnus clung to his reeling wits. No matter how, that physique and aura were inimitable. Dominus Artorius was perhaps the world's sole man impossible to impersonate. Thus, this moment was real.
"Come in, Magister Militum. You—summon all centurions and above at once. Handle the rest as needed. Understood?"
"Y-Yes, sir! Comes! An honor, Magister Militum!"
[Chak!]
The never-uniformed aide, swept by the vibe, botched a salute and scurried off. Salutes required superior acceptance, but what did he know...? Watching the flustered retreat, Eturnus felt reality snap back.
The Magister Militum was here now. The exhaustion of grueling logistics—harsher than frontline scraps—vanished in an instant.