The Heretics (2)

A space devoid of even a single ray of light. A place so silent it was filled with utter stillness.

In that location where not even traces of human passage existed, a silver-haired woman slowly moved her footsteps.

Though it was a space where one couldn't see even an inch ahead, this level of darkness was nothing to her—her "eyes" were far too keen.

The distinct scent of old books brushed past the tip of her nose. Walking quietly, Estelle began searching for the book she desired.

The Holy Kingdom's library—deep within its hidden depths lay the Record Archive.

The Akashic Record.

Unlike the Empire's library, where information was selectively edited, this place held only books containing objective truths.

Under the protection of the Goddess, the Holy Kingdom's scribes were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bound to record only the truth. It was an absolute law—one that even those who seized the Holy Kingdom's power could not defy.

In other words, this was one of the very few places the Emperor could not interfere with.

And if there was any information the Emperor desired to control above all else, it would undoubtedly be...

'Information about the Magic King.'

Thinking this, Estelle pulled a book from the shelf. One of the numerous records from the Age of Magic—the era in which the Magic King had lived.

Among them, it was one of the rare few books that centered on the Magic King himself.

'It must be here.'

Thanks to the help of Lev, the Tower Master, she had managed to reach the library's deepest layers. Had it not been for him, she likely would have failed to get this far.

Just moments ago, he had been by her side, but now his figure was nowhere to be seen—had he disappeared somewhere in that short time?

Well, considering his strength, the one who should be worried was probably her, not him. Letting out a sigh, Estelle began reading the titles one by one.

Unlike the upper layers, lined with books focused on gossip and entertainment, the books here could all be considered nothing but the truth.

After all, the Holy Kingdom's library itself wasn't all that different from an ordinary library—save for this place.

'The reason the Emperor is so wary of the Magic King... it must be...'

The Emperor was a powerful being.

So powerful that those who could oppose him wouldn't even fill five fingers.

The reason the Imperial House had maintained its grotesque structure for so long was ultimately due to the Emperor's overwhelming force.

It was the same reason they could commit such madness—calling themselves the Emperor's Eyes, the Emperor's Sword, and the like.

Yet, when it came to the Magic King, the Emperor had obsessively censored and concealed information.

Even though erasing and disparaging him to this extent only made it more conspicuous.

As if he had to do it—as if there was no other choice...

Estelle quietly opened the book.

With a soft flap, the contents entered her vision. Though written in the Holy Kingdom's language—unintelligible to most—she had her "eyes."

She didn't need to understand the characters. Her eyes were conveying the book's information to her perfectly.

They were unbelievably convenient eyes, but she didn't exactly welcome their existence. After all, they were proof that she was bound to him.

The Magic King was more human than anyone.

There was likely no one as sincere and pure in their emotions as he was.

That was why his death was tragic.

Denied the desires that any human would naturally possess, he had to lose everything he had.

The Magic King cursed the one who killed him and scattered his own emotions as fragments across the world.

The so-called Magic King's Legacy was, in the end, the scattered emotions of the Magic King.

There was a rumor that gathering all these fragments would resurrect him, but whether that was true or not, even I do not know.

After all, I am merely a wandering bard who happened to form a deep connection with the Magic King by chance. I wonder if there's anyone who would even believe what I'm writing now.

Take heed.

The Magic King's Legacy is not something to be carelessly tampered with.

The Magic King was one who lived a human life with purer emotions than anyone. For ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an ordinary human to handle his emotions...

Estelle's eyes stopped at that passage. From that point onward, the ink had smeared haphazardly, rendering the characters illegible.

It seemed someone had carelessly rubbed the page while reading.

Had they done so unknowingly, unaware that most old books smeared when touched? Or had they deliberately erased it despite knowing?

She had no way of knowing, but she wasn't too disappointed—she had already obtained the crucial information she sought.

After all, what she had most wanted to know was the truth about the Magic King's Legacy.

'The Magic King's Legacy...'

Fragments of pure emotion.

That was what it was?

Only after reading the book did she begin to understand.

If gathering all the fragments of emotion would resurrect the Magic King, then from the Emperor's perspective, it was something that had to be prevented at all costs.

"Though the author of this text claims it's merely a legend..."

If it were truly just a legend, the Emperor wouldn't have so obsessively controlled all information about the Magic King.

Nor would those so-called Descendants of the Magic King have burned with such fervor to gather his legacy.

'Magic King...'

One of the few kings whose true name remains unknown.

The ruler of the Magic Kingdom Triphen, a genius of the century who single-handedly pioneered magical research and ushered in an era of sorcery.

So prodigious was he that he even created his own independent magic system—Blood Magic—which alone speaks volumes of his stature.

In terms of sheer martial might, he stood toe-to-toe with the Martial Emperor Yud von Shpenheim, who commanded tens of thousands of troops.

In terms of magic, he was a being who had nearly reached divine heights.

"Huu..."

The objectives of both the Descendants and the Emperor were now clear. If this book on the shelf held any truth, their inevitable enmity made perfect sense.

In a way, her first purpose for coming to the Holy Kingdom had already been fulfilled.

"Wouldn't you agree, Iron-Blood Duke?"

"Are you expecting me to answer without even speaking?"

Estelle quietly slid the book back into place and turned her head. At that moment, a man materialized out of thin air.

He had approached her unnoticed while she was reading.

Ashen hair, moonlit silver eyes, a scar tracing his brow, and sharply defined features.

Abel Hardenberg.

One of the four dukes of the Empire, and one of the rare few who had reached the realm of an Archmage. In terms of raw power alone, he might even rival—or surpass—the Tower Master.

Under normal circumstances, she would have been wary of him, given his allegiance to the Empire.

But through Adel, she had confirmed that Abel, too, harbored hostility toward the Emperor. After all, there was no way Adel could have ventured alone to Ark, the Emperor's hometown.

"Your goal aligns with mine, does it not?"

Nothing.

Her Authority as a member of the Imperial Family failed to penetrate him. The same phenomenon had occurred with Adel, suggesting he might be a similar case.

The only beings her eyes couldn't read were those who didn't belong to this world.

Other examples might include spirits or gods, but there was no reason for such entities to wander the world in human form.

In truth, her earlier words to Adel had been more of a probe. Given the intensity of her reaction, her deduction was likely correct.

"Yes. Our goals align."

Abel nodded slightly as he answered.

"However—"

Tap.

He flicked his finger, and a crisp pang reverberated in her ears. The defensive spell Lev had cast on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her was instantly dismantled.

Shattered so thoroughly that not even a trace of mana remained.

Estelle swallowed hard and looked up at Abel. True to his epithet as the Iron-Blood Duke, his expression was frigid.

"The Tower Master—no, the Emperor's Sword, Lev."

'...Just how much does he know?'

She had assumed he was aware of some of her cards, but she hadn't expected him to see through Lev's true nature.

Cold sweat trickled down her forehead. Struggling to steady her tense breath, she met Abel's gaze. His silver eyes, glinting with killing intent, made her fingertips tremble faintly.

"You claim our goals align, yet you collaborate with a pawn."

"That's—"

"At this rate, I might begin to doubt your true intentions."

A chilling laugh froze the air. An immense surge of mana gathered around him, roiling like the violent currents she had witnessed during the Hunting Festival.

One wrong word now, and...

Her carefully laid plans would collapse entirely.

With her Authority—her eyes—she could survive, but provoking Abel into hostility was something she wanted to avoid at all costs.

This entire situation had stemmed from a misunderstanding, after all.

"The Tower Master's goal is to resurrect his master."

"And?"

"He has entered into a contract with me. Sealed by the Oath of Mana."

The Oath of Mana.

A vow that stakes a mage's very lifespan. Breaking it means instant rejection from mana itself—the most binding oath a mage can swear.

Yet even after invoking it, Abel's expression remained utterly unmoved.

"Someone of the Tower Master's caliber wouldn't be shackled by something as trivial as the Oath ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Mana."

His words made her flinch involuntarily.

"What do you—"

"True, the Oath is an inescapable chain for most mages."

Abel smirked, glancing at her as if she should have known better.

"But it holds no real restraint over those who have transcended the realm of an Archmage."

"Then you mean—"

"It means he may not truly be on your side."