Chapter 465
Chapter 465
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 465
Chapter Title: Another Solo Play (24)
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Dariq. The suspicious black mage whose face had nearly melted away. Come to think of it, he had said he had business in the Imperial Palace and insisted on following me.
"You've finally made it this far."
My head felt like a lump of stone, heavy as it dragged my weary body toward a new question. What had we talked about when we met?
"Your face looks burdened from every angle."
"...I was dazed until just now, but suddenly I've got too much to think about."
"Too much of anything is harmful. Money, greed, words, thoughts... sometimes even expectations, hopes, or mercy."
The black mage glanced at the pile of rocks I'd left behind, then sighed as if dusting off invisible ashes.
"You know what's needed to open the gates of the Imperial Palace, right?"
...Rustle.
His question came as if it were obvious, and I pulled a pendant from the pocket of my cloak.
When I brushed away the flowers and petals littering the ground with my toe, a groove matching the pendant's shape appeared.
An old memory surfaced: me running from the collapsing Empress Dowager's Palace, clutching a pendant just like this in my crying hand.
'If I could have taken it out from the start... would I have sold it?'
To 'poor Pathfinder Hyde,' always scraping by for train fare, an artifact with no special utility was just something to sell to collectors. Only after my memories returned did some design allow me to hold it again.
-Thud. Thuuud.
Massive statues emerged from the wide moat separating the Imperial Palace from the underground city.
'The statues would clasp hands to form a bridge to the palace.'
Crack, rumble!
It didn't go so well this time.
The statues, covered entirely in curseblossoms, cracked and shattered with every step, and the bridge they formed ended up a ruined mess, broken in places just like them.
"...If even the Imperial Palace is like that, it might already be too late. Step back. I'll handle the curseblossoms covering the gates."
The black mage looked up at the palace, worry lacing his cracked voice, then extended his gaunt arm toward the gate entangled in roots. As the roots binding the gate recoiled like they'd touched fire, I replayed my conversations with Dariq.
[You know what's needed to open the Imperial Palace gates, right?]
He knew I had the imperial seal. Even I had only retrieved it upon regaining my memories—how had he mentioned it first?
[I have business in the Imperial Palace. If someone clears the path, I'll follow as a symbol. I can't appear where the emperor's curse lingers.]
Likely someone deeply tied to the curse over the capital. A black magic being.
[Heh heh heh heh. Lost, are we? Shall I help?]
The moment I'd wandered lost in the twisted capital, he'd appeared out of nowhere and led me to the Temple of Mercy.
"Ah."
The thoughts brushing my fingertips, just out of reach, coalesced into a hazy frame.
[Gotcha! I've caught you! I can't hand you over to that damned thing. No way....]
'When was this memory?'
Unexpected recollections settled into the empty frame.
[Think of it as a relay race. Administrators, dragons, or magical beings like me... You've entrusted your memories to those unbound by lifespan or time's frame. To revive them upon reuniting.]
My subconscious had surfaced this before my thoughts could: that all these memories formed one bundle.
I approached the black mage mid-incantation, following the memory.
His gaunt, withered arm.
His shattered voice.
His face melted by curses.
And...
[...I'll leave the first words of gratitude that will echo through my life right here.]
The black mage's back, departing with a face light as if unburdened of everything.
"Damn it all. Aside from the magic, these curseblossom roots over the gate are too thick. It'll take a bit to open properly."
"Dariq."
"I know. No time to catch your breath—you have to head straight for the emperor. I'm just as pressed for time, so don't nag."
"I'd like to, but too much has happened today."
"Hm?"
Blood dripped from his fingertips—likely a catalyst for black magic.
"Pretending not to notice and moving on, then wondering why he did it... I don't have the luxury."
"...I see."
I reached to wrap his bleeding fingers but realized no unbloodied cloth remained on me.
Instead, I clasped his bony hand with mine.
"Why are you doing this here?"
He'd sent off his lifelong object of love-hate—his mother—and his lifelong burden—his sibling.
With nothing left, he'd ended his life's goal by concluding that long tale.
He was someone I'd never see again after he left. Even at the end of the Mute tribal war, he was absent, so I'd thought he'd truly departed to tend forsaken souls and live his own life.
Why, then, had even you—who left it all behind—ended up like this.
Entangled in this wretched fate.
"Were you... the final runner? Aldrich?"
Why did everyone I drew in end up on such thorny paths?
His bloodied, bony hand descended upon me as I couldn't lift my head.
Black mage Aldrich said,
"That's why I tried to stop you. Let's not do this."
In a voice cracking like dry wood, as if exasperated.
****
"About five minutes until the gate opens. The emperor sealed the palace with life force gathered from across the capital, but I haven't been idle these past few years. I wedged a spike into that brute-force formula of his. Bad luck it got exposed—can't go near the emperor's curse now."
"The Mute elites we roped in on grit will take a bit longer. That fool emperor pissed off Her Majesty the Mute Queen more than expected. Wouldn't like someone using 'Her Majesty' on his turf, I suppose."
"He probably thought turning the palace into an impregnable fortress of muscle was enough. Only that damned emperor inside. Tough, but easier than facing hordes of knights' sword strikes."
Crackle, crackle.
Aldrich rekindled the campfire I'd kicked over, mocking the emperor's curse as the work of a novice who'd only brute-forced power. The fog around the fire receded slightly—perhaps due to some magical enhancement.
'Five minutes.'
Words welled up like a tide, then ebbed away. They rose to my throat but were blocked by the flickering face under his hood and his coughing fit.
"...Yes. I'm the final runner prepared for you."
"Like Ottoman...?"
"Exactly. I had to be the last."
"Why?"
"The system started moving in earnest, raising the odds you'd get caught in some irrational event and die."
What did that matter? Hadn't I succeeded in standing in the same era as the Professor? If I died, wouldn't it all fail?
Before that—could NPC Aldrich, not an administrator, even perceive the 'system'?
He nodded silently at my doubtful expression, though unspoken. A deep sigh escaped his throat-clearing, as profound as life's twists.
"System, outer world, divine beings, your brothers... Yes. I know it all."
"How... did this happen?"
"What do you mean? Among those skewered by that Professor bastard, is there anyone as tangled as our party? It means I've become an exception the 'system' god despises too."
"An exception...?"
"God. A half-god unworthy of the name, but divine essence passed through your mother and Neria's souls. Enough to guide forsaken souls like hers."
Forsaken souls. Data souls left in the world, escaping the cycle back to the server room upon death.
"...Fragments?"
"Yes. Souls I was meant to guide originally. That damned system blocked the path to the spirit world, leaving them like that. The western imperial territories got by with me around, but I couldn't tend other continents."
"That's why fragment knights and such were rare here."
"Shoving the dead's memories into your own body? What else is that but madness? Artistic suicide at its peak."
Aldrich grumbled about shard knights, then fell silent glancing my way. We both knew who reached the pinnacle of that suicidal art.
"Anyway... After your 'first life,' the system realized someone was thwarting its plans. From the second, it vaguely grasped the method—leaving traces at the spirit world's thresholds, what you call the 'server room.'"
A chill ran down my spine. Hadn't I reached here perfectly evading the system's eyes? Had it tried intervening in my death and rebirth?
"Wh-what then?"
"What do you mean? I blocked it—that's why you're here. Strictly speaking, aren't you, Hyde, a 'forsaken soul' too? An anomalous existence without a named slot in the server room. The moment my minor divinity sensed you, I snatched you before that mad god could."
Aldrich swung his hand like casting an invisible fishing rod.
=========
'Gotcha! Caught you!'
'I can't hand you over to that damned thing. No way....'
=========
Ah, so that's how it was.
"It was you."
"No matter how fast that system flies, being an outer existence, it's slower than me."
"...It slipped you a few times. You flowed to wrong places, reborn oddly many times."
"That remote island. The magitech engineer!"
"Or in a forest. Or as a beast. Or an insect."
"?! "
"Think it was only five times? Really? Know you still flick your head like a bird of prey when scanning around?"
"No way, don't tell me."
"...There are gaps in those 220 years of memory. My failing. Curse me now while you have time."
"If not for the 'obsession' etched in your soul, the magitech engineer on that remote island might've whined through a boring routine with locals for 60, 70 years. You drove yourself to death, shortening it to just shy of 17 years."
"The system's will intervened after all."
"The Professor fell there too—that northeastern archipelago. Suspect the system isolated it for its schemes. Rough seas by ship; stirring a storm when needed is trivial."
Crack, craaack—
The curseblossom roots on the gate withered. Five minutes given. How many passed, how many left?
"In case you died before reaching the empire, I waited here to rebirth you nearby somehow. Call me Aldrich, the final breakwater."
"Rebirth as a newborn, though."
"You know I dabble in alchemy? Black magic has growth potions aplenty. Six months tops before lifespan ends."
"Memories?"
"Eh, well... I'd pray you manage. Worst case, soul-summon for consent and make you a wrathful spirit. By then it'd be ruined anyway, but can't give up when failure means world's end."
"Why not reveal you were Aldrich from the start instead of that weird act?"
"Fooled you, didn't I?"
"Tried killing you several times."
"Heh heh heh heh! Didn't die, so no issue. A being stitched from saint and wrathful souls can't stand wholly in life or death."
"As I said, I'm the most exposed to the system among us. Half in this world let me evade its gaze, but fully manifesting would catch it immediately. Like if someone calls 'Aldrich.'"
"Uh... Aldrich?"
"Yes, like that. Right now, that rotten hag's decayed mug is probably turning blue yelling, 'How's that bastard there!' Quick kids like you are the worst."
Unlike my fluster, Aldrich seemed unshaken.
Eccentric, cheerful, deep-hearted—as always.
"It's fine. This is my limit anyway."
Crack—craaaack!
Deep roots piercing the gate withered, tearing it open.
"Hm, time's up. Go on. Do your best."
"Aldrich, what do you mean 'your limit'!"
"What else? Exactly as you heard."
Aldrich rose, brushing his dustless robe, then kicked the campfire like I had.
Whoosh—
His foot passed through the coals and rocks without effect.
"I'm half a ghost now. Can't exert force on worldly events. Best I can do is pull you from the spirit world's flow before that hag."
"B-but the capital's gates, you clearly..."
"Must've been exhausted all day? Even that fine brain's gone dumb. Forgot this curse's origin?"
Aldrich pointed to his chest.
"It's pus from Mother's rotting soul. Though a small shard, her spirit dwells in me, faintly linking my soul to this curse the imperial house toyed with."
"Thanks to it, a near-ghost like me clings to the world. In the curse-saturated capital, I can half-manifest. My soul in the spirit world, the threadbare curse dangling in the palace depths. Half and half."
"Then..."
"...If you're capable enough, I'll vanish from the world soon."
Breath caught.
"It's fine. Not vanishing this instant. Said I have business in the palace depths, remember?"
"...Can't you just tell me before it's too late?"
"No. What if that vile system eavesdrops and scatters countermeasures? Even here, beyond its reach, who knows. The world moves as the world wills."
"Urgh... If it's that tough, take this at least?"
Seeing me rigid like a statue, gasping, Aldrich thrust something from his black robe.
A glass vial sloshing with mud-brown liquid.
"Remember this?"
"Yes..."
"Miracle cure when chest tightens, neck throbs, future and doom be damned. Rare stuff—recipe lost forever."
Clink!
Before refusal, he pulled a similar vial, toasted, and downed it.
Sizzle—
The potion passed through his insubstantial body into the campfire behind. How had he endured till now like this?
Instead of drinking, I tucked Aldrich's potion safely into my subspace pocket.
"Why not? Allergic to something I don't know? Picky eater?"
"No. Feels like I don't need it."
Precisely, drinking wouldn't lighten this stone in my chest.
Crack! Craaackle!
Rumble rumble ruuumble!
"This is..."
"Someone in the palace noticed the hole in their fortress. Hurry. Life force around it surges to one spot."
The palace cracked like the gate had crumbled, fierce winds swallowing surrounding fog.
Blood from living flesh and curseblossom petals swirled in, grotesque yet beautiful.
I etched Aldrich's ruined form into my eyes.
'Another burden added.'
Or perhaps, a pillar.
"I'm going."
"Do well. Memories not settled yet, but in the great imperial war, you sliced airships solo—a madman."
"Me?"
"Recall why you ditched overflowing magic talent for the sword. I regretted it but understood. A black mage perceiving subconscious stages... Ugh. Still stings."
"...Ah, um."
Aldrich seemed to swallow words.
"What?"
"...Nothing. Just held back a sigh—bad omen."
"You're leaving soon. Half-heard tales lingering in my head forever would be worse."
"...Sorry."
Aldrich's labored apology was unexpected.
"I opposed your reckless plan from the start. Not just opposed—I cursed Atlahheva and the World Tree with every slur and hex I knew."
"That little faith?"
"Knew it'd end like this."
His bony hands stroked my cheeks, shoulders, arms.
"I know too well the responsibility felt by the one left behind after all depart, that lonely weight."
"Even now, I can't bear you'll remain in pain. This is our world's affair. You and the Professor... outsiders? Here on a trip?"
"You owe us no duty to suffer this for all, yet you two endure more than us combined. I, I couldn't accept it. World fate or whatever—loading that burden on just two isn't right. I, I..."
Fierce winds engulfed us, silencing Aldrich.
From his featureless face, from the faint eye sockets, tears streamed endlessly.
"Sorry, sorry, truly sorry..."
Damn it. I'd come to vent my exhaustion, but now what could I say.
"...What can you do. Family tradition, I guess."
Suddenly, respect surged for those hiding good deeds namelessly.
Just one person acknowledging my toil lightened my steps this much—how do they live concealing it?
"If sorry, publish my book later."
"... "
"Honestly, reincarnation and systems are hard to believe, so... like an ancient legend from afar. Carve murals in temples, yeah."
What else? Our deeds demand this. Hope someone appreciates later.
"I'm off. Heard plenty."
I'd chat all day if possible, but the palace atmosphere brooked no delay.
'Feels classically apocalyptic.'
Crumbling palace at the center of blood-red and violet storm.
Fierce winds sparked ominous energy—like a demon king about to emerge.
Demon castle on collapse's brink, lone knight facing it...
Hm...
"Hup!"
Last, truly last time, I gripped my sword hilt.
Springy, amorphous liquid power spread from chest through body, the sword—forged like a knight's perfected soul—charged with that fearsome energy—
...Snap! Pop! Fizzle!
"Son of a—"
They said I was no joke back then. Slicing airships with a sword even.
White flames flared briefly, then exploded small and scattered.
"Situation's classic, but I'm no classic hero, it seems."
...No choice.
Sheathing the disappointing blade, I untied my cloak from shoulders, knotting it at my waist.
Sword would snag a bit, but this was handier for pockets.
"Let's see. Toughest fortress on the continent..."
Rummaging pockets, my eyes caught the palace radiating menace.
Centuries of layered wards, ancient rituals, imperial symbolism.
"Curseblossoms ate most."
Dwarf master—could build walls in three months—melted for decades into peak architecture.
"Roots pierced every building, cracking all."
Still, myriad chambers, pillars, anti-collapse structures for worst case.
"That was before they dug the depths insanely for curse research, right?"
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Oh."
Empty but cracked skyscrapers, maelstrom centered on palace.
.....Whiiiir!
"One, two, three, four..."
"...Gonna be left, huh?"
Sorry, Lucilla.
I bowed toward the old Empress Dowager's Palace site, juggling colorful magitech bombs from my cloak pocket. She'd tried so hard to preserve the empire whole.
"Ruined anyway. Rebuild after."
Combat expert Professor said: walking prepared into familiar enemy terrain is like pressing gun to own head.
"...Loved that Ian guy's line."
Steel-jawed bomb maniac beside advised: stuff enough explosives in their foxhole, problem solved.
Fingers crammed with island-Hyde's mad magi-chemical high-explosives, I grinned for first time in the capital.
"Exception my ass. I'm truly outside the game."
Island-Hyde unaware, but his reality-knowledge peeks birthed bombs blatantly breaking Gedroits's game rules.
Something like 'tech devil' system dumping massive gains on opposing formations exceeding player knowledge.
No matter, no magitech tool from scraps matched this power.
Unwittingly, deranged island-Hyde tapped my cheat-like ability.
Enough to fill a cramped shed on his lonely isle.
No need for heroic charge now.
Detour tough paths.
Blast precarious obstacles?
"My way. My way."
Not Professor's—mine.
Steps light.
Downed all holy water, poured one over head, but fog still burned nose and throat on breaths.
"Should've broadcast good deeds."
Felt wronged then. World mad, every try failing, hardship literal death thrice over.
But facing Aldrich's tearful apology, built-up grievance sank away.
Did nothing special—just knowing he truly got my pain did it.
Ha, really.
"So simple."
Professor healed too after ordeals, folks fawning 'Ooo, savior~'
Aldrich's soul-sight bared my pain raw—full recovery.
What cost-performance family.
Steps to ominous palace light, jaunty.
Sizzle, crackle.
.
.
.
.
Fwoosh.
Aldrich, watching Hyde's back with mixed eyes, spotted trailing white light like a tail.
"...Sorry."
Two steps ahead.
Proud, admirable,
Pitiful.
His eyes on end-bound Hyde brimmed with sorrow.
That flame's meaning: Hyde vaguely knew his end too.
Yet advanced regardless.
****