Monolith -5-
[Rohan's story has been unlocked.]
Rohan's Story
My gaze was fixed on the dungeon sky, but the things seeping into my mind made me forget the scorching heat pouring down.
Rohan's consciousness began drifting somewhere entirely different.
Even though I'd never experienced it firsthand, a vivid moment started painting itself in my head.
Was something that hadn't existed coming into being? Or was something forgotten resurfacing?
I couldn't judge it yet.
[Restricted Video #1 (Non-Authorized Personnel Prohibited) - Playing]
With the alert window, my consciousness flickered briefly.
And then Rohan began taking in a completely different place—not the dungeon.
"…."
Clack. Clack. Clack.
I was walking through an antique building whose location I couldn't pinpoint.
I didn't know the exact spot.
But I recognized it as some structure that had existed in Solarea.
No.
This wasn't me. Same gender, but someone else.
I was clearly borrowing someone else's viewpoint. My role was just to observe without interfering.
"Hmm."
The man naturally halted, admiring a large painting hung in the corridor.
A oil painting depicting a horizon at dawn. The title "Radiance" was inscribed at the bottom.
Rohan, with no choice but to watch, could tell.
...I can feel the emotion.
This man seemed to love the painting dearly.
Briefly appreciating the artwork in the corridor was the start of his daily routine, firming his resolve.
"Patriarch!"
The man, quietly savoring the painting, turned at the voice from the presence he'd sensed earlier.
Is this how it works?
The man lending his sight seemed to be conveying this to Rohan. The rising information felt certain.
The woman approaching with a greeting was Pailer's adopted daughter.
"■■■. You're out early."
He'd clearly called her name. Yet, filled with tinnitus and noise, Rohan watching couldn't make it out.
Moreover, the woman's face, who had come calling the patriarch, was shattered like a mosaic.
I could only determine her gender from below the face.
Was this deliberate information blocking?
Or perhaps a result of this man's perceptions and emotions.
...Who is Pailer's adopted daughter? First time hearing of Pailer himself.
Rohan felt a strong instinct that he needed to identify this woman.
He tried to absorb even the trivial surrounding details without missing any.
"It's not early—I haven't gone back since yesterday."
"Take care not to wear yourself out. Pailer will worry."
The man smiled and turned back to the painting. He offered no further empty words.
The patriarch had suspected this woman from the start.
But he believed it didn't matter.
No matter what intentions ■■■ had in pushing to work here, he just needed to uphold one thing and give face to his friend Pailer.
As long as that child isn't exposed.
After a short exchange with ■■■, he moved on.
He checked his surroundings repeatedly, confirming no one with mana.
No one in Solarea could evade his senses. Not even ■■■.
Creeeak—!
Only after multiple confirmations of no eyes on him did the patriarch enter his office.
He slumped into the chair, basking in the sunlight with a smiling face.
Prosperous Solarea, unseen in Abyss City, filled his view.
"Fine weather."
The patriarch lounged in worldly ease, but Rohan felt his emotions.
His heart is uneasy. Why?
His chest brimmed solely with the word "guilt."
An inner truth unconnected to his habitually smiling face.
How long did he gaze at the sky?
"…."
He rose, standing before the bookshelf.
Grabbing a book and infusing it with mana, the shelf turned translucent.
The patriarch passed through casually, entering the secret space.
"Why so late?"
A woman chided him immediately upon arrival.
Unfortunately, this one's face was also invisible to Rohan.
But different from the previous woman. Her face wasn't shattered and unrecognizable.
It was blurred hazy, like smeared with tears.
Still.
I could tell she had a cigarette in her mouth.
The patriarch brushed off the question with a laugh and asked her.
"Status?"
"Same as always."
"Good. Thanks for watching, but no smoking in front of the kid."
"Sigh... This wasn't the deal."
Grumbling, she stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.
The patriarch nodded in satisfaction, then glanced aside.
He approached with a smile.
And greeted.
"Good morning."
"…."
A boy sat in the chair. Clearly, he wasn't well at a glance.
No visible wounds, but dilated pupils. No response to the greeting, no gaze.
Like a hollow doll.
What is this?
Rohan, watching the scene, was flustered.
No denying it, despite the boy's youth. That was definitely Rohan himself.
"Hey. Talking to him won't stick in his memory, I told you."
"You, loyal only to theory, wouldn't get it. I'm certain he'll remember."
"Bullshit again."
"Tsk, cursing in front of the kid."
The patriarch held endless gratitude toward the woman glaring sharply at him.
Rohan could feel it too.
This man found a sliver of peace with her.
"And that's for me too."
"Whatever, idiot..."
Sighing as if hopeless to stop him, the woman pulled out another cigarette and walked off.
Probably to chain-smoke in the next room.
The patriarch knelt, gently taking the hand of the boy in the chair.
Without force, softly.
Gazing into the unfocused eyes, he spoke like a vow.
"Remember this. You must never forget this mindset."
"…."
"Unlike us, you're not at war with them."
Never stand on equal footing. You can't win that way.
Humanity still doesn't truly know the Abyss.
"You simply hunt and trample them."
When the dark kin committed their obsessive sins, we were certain.
They fear this power.
That's why they swarm desperately.
The turbid waters roil to cross the line.
The patriarch sensed an unknown end approaching.
Yet he didn't care. No thrashing.
He could gladly give his life. Joyful, even ecstatic.
Because the path they forged now instilled fear enough to unsettle them.
"And…."
The patriarch had words—not a story—for the boy. Something personal. He bit his lip, wondering if he should voice it.
Words he'd never said before.
But today, he'd try.
"You… of all people, you must never forgive me."
"…."
"When I die, come to my grave, stab it with a sword, curse me. That'll ease my heart."
Those words scarred into Rohan's mind.
His consciousness swirled, vision blurring.
Ah.
Finally, it flickered.
[Restricted Video #1 (Non-Authorized Personnel Prohibited) - Ended]
…
…
"Kuh!"
Rohan, murmuring dazedly, staggered hard.
Sion and Clara reflexively kicked off the ground.
"O-Oppa!"
"What happened all of a sudden?"
Their voices supporting him pierced his ears.
Rohan slowly lifted his tightly shut eyelids as his consciousness floated up from the depths.
Ah, the video ended... back now?
Rohan slumped to the ground, rubbing his dry face repeatedly.
A sticky mire clung to body and mind. Not easily shaken off.
"Hoo…."
Perhaps from borrowing someone's sight and tasting their emotions. Heavy sighs poured out endlessly.
A strange sensation as tangled senses slowly unraveled.
"Can't even stand? Maybe heatstroke."
"Oppa. You okay?"
Clara hesitated to approach, unnerved by Rohan's unusual aura.
She crouched worriedly, trying to meet his eyes.
"I'm fine. Just need to catch my breath."
Rohan tried reassuring the flustered girls, lifting his head and forcing a smile.
But contrary to his belief it looked normal, his face struck Sion and Clara as profoundly alien.
Convincing them it was feigned.
"No good. I'll scout a safe spot nearby. Better rest."
"Y-Yeah... do that…!"
Rohan insisted he'd recover with a short break, but the girls ignored it.
He truly couldn't stand, head spinning.
Not in great shape.
"Clara. I'll check the building. Until then, move to shade and give first aid."
"…First aid?"
At Clara's questioning tone,
Sion calmly explained, handing her a canteen with cold water.
"Heatstroke first aid is simple. Loosen the clothes first. Wet the body and fan it."
"Ah…!"
"Use this canteen like an ice pack on the neck, armpits, groin to lower body temp."
"!?"
Sion finished and entered a small shop to check inside.
Clara alternated glances between the canteen in her hand and Rohan slumped on the ground.