Chapter 263
Chapter 263
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: One Empire, Three Legends (22)
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Aldrich loved his mother.
He loved the moment he was enveloped in her soft embrace.
He loved the gentle voice that sang him lullabies at his bedside as he drifted off to sleep,
and the sparkling golden eyes flecked with faint green, filled with love.
Her eyes still held that love. It was just that, in countless moments he had never seen, something else had dwelled there as well.
Behind those eyes lurked countless gazes. Eyes writhing like ant eggs, brimming with emotions too excessive to call mere love.
“Black magic begins by shattering the soul beyond repair. Did you like the dream I showed you, my child? When did you take your first step? Was it when Meyna burned alive? When Father beat your little sister and plunged a sword into your chest?”
“...”
“Oh. Perhaps... right now?”
Aldrich didn’t want to see that. His greatest despair had been himself, and realizing that twisted truth brought unbridled joy to his mother’s face.
His mother pulled him into a deep embrace, overflowing with that warped affection.
In her loving hug, the sword embedded in his chest pierced through his back.
“Guhk, kuhk, guuuuh...”
“Aldrich. My beloved son. I know it’s hard and difficult to understand... but can you try to understand your mother?”
Not in a million years. Aldrich wanted to ask his mother, who smiled so sweetly. Why? Why did you appear before me like this? Why can I see these things? How can you look so happy in this pool of blood, and why does Neria say nothing, do nothing?
Meeting his gaze, his mother smiled warmly as if she understood everything, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck.
“I really tried to do well this time. Your father, David, was a truly good man. Resolute yet kind. Romantic enough to choose a woman from a family entangled in treason, one who could drag the Teldmayer name down with her. Oh, and his looks were exactly my type, of course. I liked him so much that once my previous family’s accusations were cleared and I inherited their fortune, I brought it all into the Teldmayer house. Remember how roads were paved through every corner of the territory and huge trading posts sprang up? You loved it so much.”
The sharp pain chased away his fading consciousness. The agony dragged his crumbling awareness to its end, but thanks to it, Aldrich barely clung to his senses and could pose a question to the one person who could explain it all.
“Why, Mother... why on earth...”
“...Right? Why, indeed. I thought killing so many before coming here would hold me over for twenty years at least. Why am I so greedy? Seventy years ago, after all that hardship, I swore I’d live quietly from then on. I promised myself I’d be as cautious as possible.”
“So many...?”
“Yes. So very many. This body’s original owner was the daughter of a grand house, far larger than our territory, with twice as many people. No one survived, so the full truth never came out. Ah, they were truly beautiful.”
Mare swept back Aldrich’s wet hair with ecstatic eyes, as if reliving that day.
“Aldrich. When you’re hungry, you eat. When you’re thirsty, you drink. When you can’t breathe, you take a deep breath. That’s how humans are made. Your mother... is just made a little differently. I love you children. I love your father. I love this territory. I love the people here. Truly. But... there’s a thirst that can’t be quenched by that. A massive thirst that wouldn’t be sated even if I drained lakes, rivers, all the seas in the world.”
“So now, I won’t hold back anymore. Thanks to you and Neria, I have both the reason and the power.”
Her hand caressed the cheek of unconscious Neria with a blissful expression. The sight overlapped with the mother who had once stroked his face at his bedside, forcing Aldrich to ask.
“Who... are you...?”
Who are you? Where is my kind, beautiful, warm mother? Where did she go, and why are you, whom I don’t know, claiming to be my mother?
Snap.
His mother’s finger flicked his forehead softly.
“Oh dear. That won’t do. Escapism? Your escape is imagining ‘my kind mother was killed by someone and replaced by another’? That hurts my feelings, Aldrich. A mage mustn’t turn from the truth before their eyes.”
Blood poured endlessly from his gaping chest, flowing toward the altar. His mother crossed the stone chamber teeming with flesh and corpses, drawing a red line from Neria’s forehead to her navel with sharp nails.
“Mare Teldmayer, who carried you for nine months and brought you into the world’s light. Mare Abelladis, the healthy girl who played on the hills of Abelladis territory. Maeira, the woman revered as the saint of the small village Panatol. Menas. Mayla... Dozens more women with similar names. All beautiful, frail, the sole survivors of tragic accidents. And... seventy years ago, the witch slain by the wrathful Saplings of Light. Mea-Maria, and even the worthless name once revered as the Saint of Light. All of me. I’m not not your mother. Your mother Mare simply belongs to me.”
Mea-Maria. The moment the thing wearing his mother’s face revealed its name, mouths in the surrounding pile of flesh groaned in reverence, gathering at her feet.
The things that had devoured each other in a frenzy soon transformed into a slender red staff in her hand. It approached Neria’s forehead.
“Don’t... please...”
“My daughter, my son. Thank you for taking after your mother. The throat of the man I loved. The blood of the child I bore in pain. The soul of a black mage. And Neria, born with sanctity. Everything’s ready now. I’d love to talk more, but the church might catch on.”
Her mother’s hand wiped Aldrich’s tears, then slashed long below his eye. Skin tore under sharp nails, blood tears streaming down.
“I loved you, Aldrich. My son.”
Farewell. It signaled that Aldrich had outlived his usefulness, and that some sinister preparation targeting Neria was complete.
Crack.
The altar split, blood-formed letters rising. They clung to Neria’s body, dragging something small and pure white from her mouth.
It was Neria. Neria Teldmayer. The innocent, fragile girl’s soul he hadn’t asked about then.
‘No.’
The staff with a thousand eyes greedily glared at the soul. Aldrich could see it. What would happen to Neria next. His sister suffering near-eternal torment, becoming one of them.
『-------!』
The soul’s silent scream filled the chamber. Relentless gazes flayed it layer by layer, dark ominous light mixing within. It was staining. Corrupting, becoming one of them.
Aldrich saw the writhing soul desperately reaching toward him.
『Save me. Save me, brother. Please. Save me. Save me. Save me. Save me.』
‘Don’t do it.’
Squeezing every last ounce of strength from infancy, all he could do was scrape the floor with his nails. Still, he reached out. Even a nail’s breadth, a grain of sand more. Forward. Forward.
Ssssl.
In the blurred boundary of life and death, the soul of the boy born with talent shed its heavy flesh, extending a hand on that desperate will.
“...Oh?”
The witch noticed the fingers that had touched her most precious prize without her knowing. A small soul she hadn’t sensed, focused on the ritual.
If a black mage’s soul is a shattered vessel, an evil spirit is the fragments scattered from it. Thus, black mages complete themselves by contracting powerful evil spirits or vengeful ghosts to fill the cracks.
The primal incantation all black mages utter at their inception.
Weaving the tails of two souls, merging them into one— the contract.
The two siblings, born with strong spirit power through the witch’s bloodline.
Aldrich’s freshly shattered soul. And Neria’s origin soul, drawn out by the witch’s spell.
By the time she noticed, Neria’s soul had already blended into Aldrich’s without resistance.
“...I didn’t raise you to be so naughty.”
The witch was displeased. Everything needed was prepared, and while souls of exceptionally sanctified children weren’t exclusively theirs or immediately necessary,
“I wanted to keep you two separate.”
As she’d told Aldrich, her love as their mother was genuine.
Caaack!
The witch swung her staff, and a black shape emerging from the fallen Aldrich blocked it.
“...Perhaps it would’ve been better to watch a few more years and raise you properly into a black mage.”
The witch’s curse clashed with Neria’s evil spirit, shaking the chamber with massive impact. Neria’s now-evil-spirit soul tore into the oncoming wall of flesh, but it was insufficient. Directly infused with corruption from the once Lord of the Dead, against a witch who had lived nearly a century—it was near impossible.
But Aldrich, Neria—even the once Saint of Light turned witch—had overlooked something.
Crunch!
“Why... already!? The barrier was perfect!”
The witch, leisurely admiring the flesh pile encasing the two, suddenly twisted her face like a demon and raised her staff.
“Pray and temper yourself—your spirit is indomitable!”
Boom!
With an explosion, a massive greatsword shattered the ceiling, embedding in the bone shield.
“Courage Church... how did you filthy priests find this! With your pathetic skills!”
“The Empire’s knights receive baptism from the Courage Church upon knighting. For one purpose! If death comes by the impure, that life rings the warning bell! Cedric the Knight’s righteousness! It rang the Church’s bell!”
Thud! Thud! Thud! Crash!
As if on cue, enormous iron stakes pierced the ceiling one by one, embedding throughout the chamber.
- A resilient spirit is indomitable!! -
- Striking the flesh tempers the mind!! -
Clank.
“That is—my prayer.”
No radiant divinity like others, but the power in that holy writ drew fierce vibrations along the blade’s edge.
- Latura!!!! -
“Latura.”
“You dare—mere toys of a false god packaging madness as faith—!!!!”
“Laturaaaaa!!! De Kaaaa!!!!”
The greatsword laden with immense power collided with the witch’s curse.
Confirming Neria’s soul asleep in his arms, Aldrich lost consciousness.
****
.
.
.
.
The quiet sound of Aldrich sipping his drink arduously lifted the silence inside the carriage.
“That’s the end. Neither I nor Nell saw the conclusion. But I heard the rumors. They took me because I was the witch’s blood kin.”
The holy knights had already pushed into the plague-ridden city. Lacking healing powers, they desperately requested aid while trying to alleviate the curse-mingled disease.
An ancient curse burrowed into the city’s wells, soil, bread, and livestock over a decade, awaiting its moment—not so easily lifted.
The stalled exorcism and the madness-spreading plague left the Courage Church no choice but to purify the city before the disaster spread outward.
“My homeland, Teldmayer territory, remains vacant to this day. A juicy unclaimed land, so rumors say vagrants, criminals, and slash-and-burn folk gathered in droves. At the same time, heretics accused of human sacrifice or low-god worship keep getting caught there. The Fallen Saint. Mea-Maria’s power doesn’t fade even after decades.”
“The Fallen Saint...”
“She concerns you too. Seventy years ago, the Radiant Church lost their saint. They claim they thoroughly killed and purified the Fallen Saint themselves. But whether the seal failed or sentiment stayed a hand, the Fallen Saint—now witch—lives on, continuing her evils. Seeing her perform mass sacrifices by changing identities, it seems she’s restoring the power she nearly lost to Radiance’s hands seventy years ago.”
Rattle!
The cup slipped from Aldrich’s hand. Not drunk—his hand simply trembled too much to hold. Lucilla’s small hand gently overlaid his aged one.
“Aldrich...”
“...I didn’t mind being treated as the witch’s spawn. I’d seen the Courage holy knights’ power. I thought a lifetime under their watch, confined to a temple, meant I’d never fear Mother again. If not for that young priest’s beaming good news.”
Perhaps he wouldn’t have become a black mage. Like a sinner locked in a monastery. Praying and training daily, wandering as a ghost through endless years.
If not for that news.
=========
‘Good news!’
‘Ah, yes. Thank you. But... good news for me...?’
‘Yes! Your sister, Neria Teldmayer, has regained consciousness!’
‘...No.’
‘Pardon? Oh, no other worries needed! Priests from various churches confirmed—no signs of black magic or curses remain, just some shock...’
‘No, no!!! Get me out of here. Please! That woman will come for us!’
‘Ah, Aldrich! Calm down! As one with thick black mana, violent behavior is a sign of madness...’
‘I need her back. No, we have to run! Give her back! Let me out! That woman, that woman again...! Aaaah!’
‘B-Brother! The black mage reveals his true colors! Brother!!!!’
=========
“Neria... If your sister regained consciousness...”
“Then it’s Mother, that witch, inside. Neria’s with me. That’s her method all along. Absorbing entire groups she infiltrates via sacrifice. Discarding old bodies that could be traced, taking suitable new ones. When surveillance slipped and she escaped the temple using Nell’s power, the last we heard was Neria being adopted by a border noble with the family fortune.”
The Professor read Aldrich’s fear in his trembling hand, quaking eyes. Decades later, just recounting it made him shudder.
“As a black mage and spirit summoner watching this world and the next, I believe in fate and inevitability. That’s why I share this story I’ve never told anyone.
The surviving Fallen Saint of Radiance. Mea-Maria.
The Saint of Mercy nearly suffering the same, saved by Radiance’s Saint.
And that bloodline’s black mage siblings, riding in this carriage with you. Coincidence? Hmm?”
He couldn’t say yes. Too cunning, too perfectly fitting.
‘The Fallen Saint from seventy years ago. She survived and is regaining power.’
‘After that massive sacrifice, hiding century-old curses and black mana from all, adopted into nobility. Planning the same. Or perhaps already done, reborn in new guise.’
‘...Sorry to Borca, but the scale’s different.’
In World 2, that nightmare curse and corruption vanguard: the Fallen Saint.
Her surviving, growing stronger, appearing before players with personal history—highly plausible.
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- Speed Wagon: ....Be cautious. Could be bigger than the elf reinforcements issue.
- Take a Look: Agreed. In World 2, they called it internal church business, excluded Rabbits, handled it themselves—now it spills over. Big events need player involvement, always.
- Take a Look: Think ahead. If not ending on World 3, prep for World 4. That’s unpaid debt from World 2 Rabbits couldn’t handle. Probably rolled over with insane compound interest called ‘karma’.... Ignore for ending, and it’s game over.
- Jokasss: Clear happily, heart pounding to next world, then [3 Years Later] everything’s ruins. Like natural disaster—after Mutation Defense drains national power, gasping, then Apocalypse again. Could be worse than Thousand Stream Emperor’s World 4.
- Take a Look: Thousand Stream Emperor’s World 4 had queen beheaded, rampaging Mutation Wave killing most civilians before sacrifices even started.
- Number Three: Better than undead-head grasslands. Desert sans grass preferable. Yup.
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World to world carries not just heroic lineages. Saved heroes build houses, passing teachings on. Surviving villains grow will and power, returning stronger.
Even if it’s her. Inheriting the saint’s soul-transmigration trait, seizing bodies via repeated sacrifices, amassing immense power: the Fallen Saint.
If such a thing builds enough power yet hides, stacking infinitely, emerging precisely between player-absent worlds in the gap....
‘Next doom start. In Fallen Saint Mea-Maria’s name, annihilation begins!’
My eyes darted at the all-too-plausible speculation. Aldrich nodded at my expression.
“...Your face says you get it. Yes, she lives boldly in the Empire still. Thanks to traveling with you, Professor, I gathered courage to confirm. Sent a letter from Storm Hill.”
I knew what followed without hearing. His grim face showed the letter reached its mark.
“Somewhere in this Empire, the witch breathes. That massive evil, condensed from city-worth of lives. The one who devoured a count’s house alone fifty-two years ago. A monster craving kills by instinct. For greater power, more people. Guess: after count’s house, needs bigger prey. No mysterious marquess or duke disappearances found. So one of two: witch finally quit, or...”
“...Or preparing to devour a massive meal to sate fifty-two years’ hunger.”
“Yes, the capital. Empire’s heart. City with most people. The witch is where we’re headed.”
Click.
Aldrich’s locket closed, sealing his words with Neria’s portrait.
Deep night. Some sleepless from terror, others worry.
The carriage, its burning innards unknowable, pressed steadily toward the capital.
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