Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Death, and the Mother of Old Darkness
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“Lady Orelia, for the crime of impersonating the ‘Holy Maiden,’ was accused of witchcraft…”
Dale said.
“Here, in the frozen lands of Sachsen, she was burned at the stake and reduced to a few handfuls of ash.”
The official end that the ‘Holy Maiden Orelia’ had met.
“So I have become a dead woman.”
“A fitting end for one who claimed to be a puppet of the heavens.”
Orelia smiled bitterly. But she was no longer a puppet of the heavens. Orelia knelt, plunging her sword into the ground before her.
“From the shadows, show me where my sword must be wielded.”
This was not the sword of a noble and proud knight. She no longer denied her own dark desires, her own shadow.
A blade of an assassin, hidden in the darkness to be wielded at the will of the ‘Black Prince’—for her own revenge, and for the ecstasy of slaughter.
The Black Holy Maiden.
In the shadows of Sachsen, the nameless assassin smiled coldly.
* * *
Explaining the events on the Britannia Isles, let alone the existence of the Holy Maiden Orelia, was not easy. Especially not before Duke Sachsen.
Therefore, Dale decided to confess the whole truth.
From obtaining *The Book of the Black Goat* in the Sistina Papal State after the victory in the Black and White War. To defeating ‘Cardinal Nikolai’ in the Library of Hell and engraving a geas of absolute obedience upon his heart.
Duke Sachsen was no longer someone he needed to deceive.
Beyond the relationship of father and son, they were partners sharing a single purpose. Just as Lord Black had told him about the ‘World of Truth,’ Dale, too, needed to tell his own truth.
“...*The Book of the Black Goat*?”
Hearing those words, his father, Lord Black, froze.
“I had no other intention of deceiving you, Father.”
Dale answered cautiously.
“It was merely the weight of this grimoire's name, and my concern that you would worry—”
Paradoxically, by hiding himself behind the shield of a twelve-year-old boy.
“I was afraid to reveal it honestly.”
Like a child confessing his wrongdoing before his father.
In the face of such cunning, Lord Black remained silent. The jet-black tentacle clutching Dale's heart. Because he was not unaware of the meaning behind the legacy of Sachsen's founder, Frederick the Undying Duke.
“Is ‘it’ with you even now?”
“Yes.”
“...I see. Now I understand.”
After hearing Dale's explanation, Lord Black smiled as if his curiosity had been satisfied.
“Finally, your exploits make sense.”
As one who inherited the blood of Sachsen, and considering Dale's outrageous talent, it was not so strange that he had formed a contract with *The Book of the Black Goat*.
Reprimanding Dale for his recklessness could wait. No, wasn't that very recklessness undeniable ‘proof of Sachsen’?
The clan of darkness that willingly leaps into the abyss to obtain the truth.
*‘I suppose blood cannot be denied.’*
—And so, by the time Dale reached the story of the Britannia Isles and the Holy Maiden Orelia.
“Regardless of whether her abilities are truly a ‘revelation from the goddess’ or not.”
Dale said.
“As a knight who has reached the state of an Avatar, the value of her combat prowess is beyond words.”
“You took a truly dangerous gamble.”
Duke Sachsen laughed bitterly. But in the face of the absurd audacity Dale had shown, he couldn't even muster the energy to scold him.
No, what Duke Sachsen felt was, in fact, awe.
The ability to control the battlefield on the Britannia Isles as if it were the palm of his hand. The ‘Black Prince's’ exploits, echoing throughout the Empire, were no longer just for the sake of House Sachsen.
An Imperial war hero.
“Let us test her abilities against the Ducal Castle's «Grave Guard» and then slowly decide her fate.”
“I leave it to you.”
“Do you pity her circumstances?”
“...”
After a moment of silence, Dale nodded.
“She was nothing more than a puppet of the heavens.”
A puppet who didn't even know what she was doing.
“Therefore, I merely showed Lady Orelia the path forward, according to her own will.”
“...By borrowing the power of ‘it’?”
“What I showed her was her shadow.”
Dale replied.
“It was Lady Orelia who encountered her own shadow and dark desires, and made the decision.”
“I suppose so.”
Lord Black nodded nonchalantly.
“Since you have seen ‘it,’ this will be quick.”
He nodded and continued, recalling the promise made between him and Dale.
The promise that Lord Black would teach him the power he obtained from the ‘World of Truth,’ so that when the Empire tried to shed blood again to reach it, they would not repeat the same wicked deeds.
It was then.
The world beneath their feet shifted.
Suddenly, they were no longer in a room in the Ducal Castle of Sachsen, but in the ‘world of thought’ manifested by the greatest black mage on the continent.
*Flap!*
From behind Lord Black, several crows took flight with a flutter of wings.
They stood on land bathed in the twilight of dusk.
—The ‘world of thought’ of a high-ranking mage does not have a single, fixed form. It is possible to freely change its shape and purpose as needed.
“Bring out the grimoire.”
Within that sunset twilight, Lord Black spoke.
“Understood.”
Dale nodded, focusing his consciousness on the tentacle clutching his heart.
“Shub.”
—Yes.
A girl with the horns of a black goat had appeared by Dale's side.
Beneath the hem of her jet-black dress, innumerable tentacles writhed.
—But to Lord Black's eyes, it was nothing but a loathsome abomination from another world. A monster composed of a colony of tentacles, like thousands of writhing earthworms.
But even that form was surely just a tiny fragment of its projection in this world.
“Iä Shub-Niggurath.”
Lord Black bowed his head calmly.
“Our Mother of Old Darkness.”
As if he knew her.
—Ah, a child of Sachsen has come.
And Shub replied. She was not the innocently smiling little girl she usually was.
“...!”
A mature, graceful, and beautiful woman stood there. The horns of a black goat rose from amidst her black hair. With the hem of her jet-black dress fluttering, she smiled like a graceful lady.
“O, Death.”
At the same time, Lord Black spoke.
“...!”
The surrounding twilight vanished. This was not the darkness of night. It was an indescribably deep, ominous, and unknown darkness of indeterminate nature.
Within the pitch-black darkness, Lord Black's grimoire—*The Scales of the Heart*—revealed its form.
It was a man in a suit.
An old gentleman who looked like a British man from the Victorian era. He wore a fedora and an all-black suit.
In his hand, he held a cane adorned with a skull.
But his face was so blurry that it was impossible to remember his features. No matter how long one looked, it couldn't be recalled.
*Flap!*
Once again, several crows took flight from behind him with a flutter of wings.
*‘Death.’*
—You have called me too soon, little one.
The old gentleman in the black suit spoke calmly.
“Please forgive my rudeness.”
Lord Black bowed his head.
“O, great uninvited guest, whom all wish to avoid, yet none can escape.”
After bowing, he turned his head toward Dale. Toward Dale and the abomination from another world behind him.
“What do you think a grimoire is?”
Lord Black asked.
“Is it not a vessel that projects a mage's ideology?”
“Then what do you think ideology is?”
“It is the systematic collection of our consciousness, built through experience.”
Dale replied.
“Then these beings behind us.”
Lord Black asked again.
“Are they merely the product of the consciousness we have built through experience?”
“...”
For a moment, Dale looked at the old gentleman in the suit, who was called ‘Death.’
Death.
He felt as if a small piece of Lord Black's secret had finally been unveiled.
Then he looked at the being behind him. Shub was once again the innocent little girl, smiling sweetly.
Dale shook his head. He knew instinctively. These beings were not something that could be brought forth by a mere mage's ideology.
The final destination of thought, something that a ‘mere grimoire’ like *The Book of Carnage* could never even hope to imitate.
“At the end of thought, the consciousness of humanity reaches a single origin point.”
The end of thought, in other words, the final destination consciousness can reach.
The collective unconscious.
In the deepest part of the unconscious, a common image shared by all of humanity.
Even between nations, continents, and even worlds with no point of contact, there are ‘stories created in similar forms’—such as myths or legends—that transcend time and borders.
For example, gods, demons, mother goddesses, heroes, monsters, saviors, death…
Archetypes (primordial types) that have existed since ancient times, before history even began.
“Furthermore, in their pursuit of the pinnacle of magic, there were those who succeeded in drawing out those very ancient images.”
And now, those very ‘ancient images’ stood behind the two of them.
Just as Frederick the Undying Duke had done, the final destination of thought that Lord Black had obtained.
Death, and the Mother of Old Darkness.
“Then where do you think that image, shared by all of humanity, originates from?”
Lord Black asked, and Dale finally gasped.
“The World of Truth...”
The World of Truth was not something external.
He could finally understand why this world had religions and ideologies similar to Earth's, and why it repeated a similar history.
The World of Truth, which lay beyond the collective unconscious shared by the creature known as human across worlds.
What mages drew upon was the power of that very world, and what guarded the backs of these two were the beings of that very world.
“Are you prepared to handle these ancient beings?”
Lord Black spoke. Again, his father had given Dale the same warning several times. And each time he heard the warning, Dale's answer did not change.
“A fragment of the 4th Circle has formed in my heart.”
“...!”
“This seems like a good opportunity.”
For the current Dale, it was the most certain form of magical training.
“If only to draw out more of Shub's power than I can now.”
Dale nodded.
“May I entrust my son's education to you?”
Lord Black said to the man in the suit who stood beside him.
—How rude and audacious you are, little one.
The man in the suit, who looked like a British gentleman from the Victorian era.
‘Death’ laughed, as if amused.
—However, this child's appearance is not so bad.
As if satisfied.
—And as it happens, my ‘old friend’ is here as well.
*Flap!*
At the same time, several crows took flight from behind Death.
—But you must be prepared, little one.
‘Death’ said.
—For no one can stop Death.