Chapter 40
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Glorious Farewell (2)
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Arsius had originally shown little interest in the people conversing within this stele.
He knew only that Anonymous (2) was prickly and that (0) knew a great deal.
And he suspected that '0' must have summoned them for some clear purpose.
But after several exchanges, their identities were starting to reveal themselves naturally, without him even prying.
Anonymous (2) belonged to a race settled in the north. From the way they observed Palewood—the ancient elven homeland—their unique magic, and their insular nature, he was certain they were an elf.
'0' ... he still couldn't pin down their identity.
Still, asking if '0' was the ruler of the south had been a welcome surprise. If there had been no interest at all, such a question wouldn't have come up in the first place.
The fact that they knew of the ancient hero's tomb meant they had been alive long before that.
To have lived from that time onward meant they were either sealed away like him ... or not wasting time on pathetic experiments like Philip Deran's.
Yet '0' possessed a dignity that Philip could never hope to have.
Dignity only emerged when one gazed beyond the fleeting moment, into depths others couldn't fathom.
If that's all they were, they never would have known of the hero's tomb.
The only possibility that came to mind was that freak living in the desert.
He had suspected as much at first, but no—it couldn't be. That one wouldn't have been able to lure him in with something this unique.
There was only one answer left.
A supreme powerhouse of the great ranks, a level even he hadn't attained.
Those who reached such heights had lifespans as endless as the wind itself.
'Then they must command an entire system ... maybe I should seek their guidance later.'
Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation washed over him, like he'd regressed to his childhood.
It was a feeling he only got in the presence of the strong—a rare thrill.
But he had no time for leisure.
Right now, he was scouring the entire continent like a rat hunt to find the hero's tomb.
Two days was tight, even for him.
'The sword is in a place no one can find, so I can set it aside for now.'
Arsius had only learned of the hero's death a short while ago.
'I thought he was still alive.'
After their final battle—where the hero had triumphed—he'd assumed the man had ascended to the ranks of greatness.
But dead?
Then that overwhelming power must have been borrowed from somewhere.
The source of that borrowed might.
The sword.
There was nothing else but that blade radiating brilliant light.
His reason for seeking the burial ground was precisely to find that sword.
With the sword, birthing a new hero would be child's play.
But if it was hidden where no one could reach it, there was no need to go searching.
It would appear when the time was right.
And with ties to this '0' ... he would learn of it eventually.
Not that he planned to hunt down any budding new hero and crush them in advance.
That old conflict had simply been the flow of the era.
No, he was purely, genuinely curious.
Even after the conversation ended, Celine couldn't bring herself to set the stele down for a long while.
Her gaze remained fixed on the words '0' had left behind.
Unity is just the beginning, not the end, right?
At first, she'd thought it was just doubting their strength.
She could assert with certainty that wasn't the case.
Her father had already been convinced. His mind was preoccupied with another prophecy from the World Tree, and when Celine actively persuaded the elders one by one, he ultimately didn't resist the tide.
The decision itself was the hardest part—once resolved to fight, they had more than enough power to stand against the forces of evil.
They'd already grasped the enemy's identity and scale, to a degree.
But that wasn't what '0' had meant.
Don't wait—strike now.
They'd even specified the date.
As if they'd been waiting for it.
Setting aside how they knew ... she couldn't help but wonder what their true goal was.
'What consequences will this bring?'
If they struck first, they'd draw the sharp scrutiny of the other Transcendents.
Those who had remained hidden, indifferent to Transcendent affairs until now, suddenly stepping into the open.
They had prepared for the forces of evil's invasion, but up to this point, defense provided at least some justification.
Yet as '0' said, there was no better opportunity than this.
This moment when chance and peril flooded in together.
Celine couldn't shake the feeling that their own resolve was being woven into some vast current.
Of course, this was the elves' affair.
But '0' had warned not to mistake it for an elves-only matter.
Then on a grander scale ... the first to crumble would be the pact.
That order, upheld across generations, would shatter.
'No way ...'
Was that '0's real aim?
Intentionally breaking the pact.
'Why?'
Not merely to shatter it ... but as the first step toward establishing a new order?
Was the reason to crush the forces of evil simply because they were a nuisance?
Or perhaps '0' despised the current chaos—where even the forces of evil ignored the pact—and sought to impose order anew.
Did that make '0' someone connected to the hero?
No—such assumptions might be wrong from the start.
What she'd sensed from '0' was greatness.
If they had ascended to those supreme ranks, they would be stronger than the hero himself.
The hero might not even register to them.
The thought sent a chill racing down her spine.
'... What if even the forces of evil are just part of their design?'
Were the forces of evil merely a tool to amplify the chaos, with '0' poised at the end to draw a new order themselves?
In two days, the forces of evil's regular assembly would convene.
They now knew my solid capabilities, as well as the central hierarchy.
I'd boldly attempted to create a clone, but the remaining time proved too short.
The corpses Lina's group brought were from a minority race in Evanveil.
The Pale Water Tribe dwelled beyond borders, making corpses hard to obtain. Even if I'd gotten Rangin Clan or gremlin bodies, turning them into clones in such a brief window was impossible.
Evanveil's minority race was a bit different.
Less human or beast, more like a consciousness dwelling in an ancient tree.
Their hair swayed like grass in the breeze, their torsos resembled sturdy trunks.
'Come to think of it, the Rangin Clan ... they're humanoids, aren't they?'
Why the resentment toward humans?
Seeing humans as far inferior struck him as absurd.
Though as a minority race persecuted by such humans since ancient times, there wasn't much to say.
... Yeah, if that's really the case, nothing to say.
I didn't know the full history between Transcendents, but piecing together scraps, human Transcendents had held prominent positions in the past.
Thanks to the ancient hero? Or the colossal tree that backed them afterward?
In any case, I'd pushed to make a clone as best I could, but two days was still too little.
Maybe it was because things weren't as urgent as before.
Anonymous (2) had all preparations complete; now it was just about timing the ambush.
Still, I kept at it—who knew when it might come in handy.
A day passed like that, and word arrived that the task I'd requested from Anonymous (1) two days prior was done.
Gremlin. Dealt with it, but ... just leave it here?
Leave it where anyone can find it.
Got it. So I'm square now?
Yes.
Anonymous (1) handled things reliably.
Now what remained was simple: show up at the regular meeting as Philip Deran, feigning ignorance.
Time to steel myself.
Prepare to bid Philip farewell.
If they realized the gremlin was dead, the assembly would descend into chaos.
Either way, Philip would draw all eyes.
In a situation where even a Transcendent had perished, his survival alone would breed suspicion.
I hadn't even tinkered further with Philip's functions—just left him near the swamp.
If he was still slurring after a week, anyone would sense something off.
No matter how grave the injuries, could a voice stay that garbled?
Especially for a lich?
The suspicions already bubbling up would only thicken.
So yes, mental preparation was key.
Still, being a lich had its advantages.
Liches had separate life vessels, didn't they?
Of course, Philip didn't actually have one, but the enemy had no way of knowing that.
I could leverage it for one more chance to bluff, wagering my "life."
'Is this it ... the Transcendents' battle finally unfolding?'
A touch of tension crept in.
But remember—my real body was far, far away.
I took a deep breath to steady my thoughts, then roused Philip.
The screen filled with his normal field of vision.
Good—no one had spotted him.
The moment he rose, he stashed the magitech tome he'd been holding right there.