Chapter 248
Chapter 248
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 248
Chapter Title: 71. Virtues of the Crown Prince (4)
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It was late afternoon, with the sun not yet fully set, but the woman's face was shrouded in the pale moonlight of deepest night.
And the thick darkness enveloping her body—what about that?
The sight was so eerie that I couldn't help but frown.
"You could have appeared in a somewhat more normal way."
As I grumbled softly while sheathing Duskmire, the woman—Ophelia—responded nonchalantly.
She explained that she'd appeared in her living form to avoid shocking me with her true appearance, but I just snorted.
"You call that considerate?"
It might have been better the other way.
Facing a pale-faced woman popping out of the darkness was far worse for my heart than confronting a walking skeleton.
"Just how long have you been waiting for me?"
Her words sounded like nagging—why couldn't I stay put for even a moment?
"Anyway, what's this about... surprise."
I pretended to gauge the time by looking out the window, then turned my head and found Ophelia had reverted to her true lich form.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack."
The conversation felt oddly superficial, making me frown.
Then my gaze fell on her hand, and I froze.
"You..."
In the past, Ophelia had lost her sense of taste and touch as punishment for glimpsing a truth she wasn't permitted to see.
Now, another finger was gone from her hand.
Her middle finger had vanished cleanly, leaving only one joint behind.
Anyone who took her words at face value didn't know how vital fingers were to a mage.
I wasn't that ignorant about magic.
Complex, profound spell circles that were hard to complete even with ten fingers—she now had to manage with seven.
Her magic couldn't possibly be the same as before.
As if reading my thoughts, Ophelia spoke up.
With one joint left, the loss wasn't as great as it seemed, unlike before.
I knew how hollow that claim was, yet this time, I desperately hoped it was true.
At the same time, I suspected her missing finger and reason for leaving her dungeon to seek me out in the distant central region were connected.
I waited silently for her to get to the point.
Finally, Ophelia spoke.
Her words echoed like a chilling dirge, making the nape of my neck stiffen.
She continued her song of the world's changes, her jaw clattering.
I didn't even need to think of the Fire Dragon's or Plague Lord's return.
My journey here was to clean up the ominous event in Count Bramburg's territory.
Ophelia was saying such things would happen across the world.
I shared her concerns.
But not everything born from this changed world was malign.
This incident proved it.
A horrific entity had razed a village, but conversely, beings who could become excellent cavalry appeared—if persuaded properly.
Though the current Europas and Centaurs had no such intentions.
While I pondered, Ophelia kept speaking.
Mostly about chaos from past entities.
She'd mentioned auspicious events, yet every word dripped with doom and disaster.
A groan escaped me.
She'd cited countless disasters, but this was the most terrifying.
At the end of the Great War, countless non-human kings and nobles inscribed their names on the Armistice Declaration.
Some to forests, some to earth, some to deep darkness.
Exiled to the world's corners by the victors.
Now, they might all be unleashed at once.
Sig rune and her wicked, cunning fairies came to mind first.
I didn't know how many Elder High Elves remained.
Perhaps just Sig rune.
That alone would be a catastrophe.
Fortunately, not all their chains had broken.
In a world where few remembered the declaration.
Most survivors were the exiled non-humans, but some were not.
Witnesses and guarantors of the oath.
I was one.
The promise wouldn't be fully forgotten while I lived, nor would the declaration lose all power.
As long as I remembered it and their vows.
That was why I'd been there.
The issue was how many other witnesses and guarantors survived.
Probably few. Maybe just me.
Either way, the oath's compulsion had weakened—that was clear.
Regrettable, but my options were limited.
Just proclaim the oath's sanctity where I could and send non-humans back.
Even that wouldn't last long in this changed world.
I gritted my teeth.
I needed to grow stronger for the day that would surely come.
The king and others would freak out, but I couldn't waste time lounging in the palace.
I quickly planned in my head.
Quell the kingdom's chaos swiftly, and find ways for me and my knights to gain much.
Lost in thought, my expression must have darkened.
Ophelia spoke in a hopeful tone, unlike before.
She gazed at me with hollow eyes, as if offering comfort.
She chuckled softly, as if sharing an amusing inside joke.
I found nothing funny.
It only annoyed me.
In life, it might have been charming, but now it was just a grotesque skeleton clattering its jaw.
Not a pleasant sight.
"Hmph."
I was dying to know what she meant, but I didn't ask.
If she could tell me, she would have already. If not, it meant a heavy price for revealing the truth.
Lost in those thoughts, I suddenly remembered something to confirm with her.
"Ophelia."
She stopped laughing and looked at me.
"Was I human before I became a sword?"
She, who always pitied me and called me pitiable, might have glimpsed my past with her divine eyes.
I believed she could give me the answer I sought.
As expected—no great shock.
Just amplified curiosity.
If those visions were truly past-life memories, why had I died alone on the tundra? What life led me to end it myself?
What sort of being was I back then?
As I poured out questions, Ophelia stared intently.
She spoke softly.
Her unexpected words widened my eyes.
She met my gaze steadily.
The High Lich's once-cold eyes were profoundly warm.
Her eyes told me: The body is mere shell. You were, and are, more human than anyone.
"Arwen, who always nagged me to live humanely, would never agree."
Feeling oddly embarrassed, I joked lightly, and she clattered back.
Ophelia straightened rigidly and looked at me.
She gazed at me again.
Her hollow sockets overlaid with her living self's image.
A woman looking at me with eyes full of pity and compassion, face etched with sorrow.
She was no longer a grotesque skeleton.
"I see."
I turned away from her face, identical to her living one.
It felt awkward and uncomfortable.
"Was coming to see me just to warn me?"
Changing the subject, she laughed again.
This time, a mischievous smile like a playful boy's.
"What?"
Ophelia continued in a bright, lively voice.
The High Lich, who escaped death for eternity but became a prisoner in a wind-swept mountain range, had regained her freedom.
She told me with refreshing cheer.
"There were such restrictions?"
I was genuinely surprised.
"I thought you just holed up in your dungeon for magic research."
To her bemused look, I rambled excuses.
She'd always been obsessed with magic in life, so I assumed the same as a lich.
Four centuries ago, she'd joined an unwanted expedition and suffered, so I hesitated to burden her further with requests over her beloved research.
Sacrifice and devotion were enough once.
A small smile spread on her incredulous face.
Her words meant nothing to me.
"First time hearing that."
I chuckled.
Montpellier's lot, who saw me as a viper, or others—they'd have priceless faces hearing this.
Unfortunately, they weren't here.
Only Ophelia was before me.
And even she was about to leave.
Her form faded into the darkness.
Only then did I realize our conversation had been with an illusion, not her true self.
For an illusion conjured from afar in the White Night Tower to be so vivid.
"At least eight circles."
I expressed quiet respect for her achievements over four centuries.
**
In the deep dungeon, the High Lich's eyes flashed open.
[Knight of the dawn who drove out the abyss's night.] [Great hero betrayed and abandoned.] [Last witness remembering the oath alone.] [Counterweight to the coming chaos.] [Pitiable soul left at the boundary of past and present.] [May all you achieved in your past life return as grand glory.] [May life no longer leave you bitter, painful dreams.]
⟨ Gruhon, the First Knight ⟩
Fragmented words spilled from her bony jaw.
They formed deep sighs,
Then fervent prayers.
When those prayers touched a long-forgotten ancient name,
Rumble rumble rumble.
The world shuddered.