Interlude: The Mystery She Chose
Roselyn had chosen her own Mystery.
Not something she had been born with, but a Mystery she had selected for herself.
There was no case of a human acquiring a Mystery after birth. There were rare instances of someone belatedly awakening to a Mystery they had carried from the start, but never a human born without one who obtained it later.
Yet Roselyn had gained a Mystery after birth.
By her own will, she had chosen it.
It was proof that half of her was a witch, and proof that she had finally affirmed the half of herself she had denied until now.
"That's impossible."
Merlin's eyes went wide.
Because she hated Mysteries more than anyone in this world, and because she had studied them more deeply than anyone, she understood exactly how absurd the situation before her truly was.
"Choosing a Mystery? A human? Even if she's half-witch, how is that even possible…"
What unsettled Merlin most was that the Roselyn standing before them was still human. Even after awakening a Mystery, her soul retained the form of a human being.
The outer shell of her soul was human.
The interior was filled with witch.
A contradictory existence that was human and witch at once, witch and human at once. Merlin could not understand why the two had been left distinct—separated into "outside" and "inside"—rather than blended together.
Because that was the only way to protect her.
Najin understood.
From the witches' taboos.
The rules and taboos laid down by the witches of Camlann.
Anyone who violated them became the enemy of every witch and was dragged to the Black Spire. Refusal of punishment led only to an even more wretched end.
And Roselyn Ascalo's very existence defied taboo. A being in whom witch and human were mixed—clear proof that a witch and a human had loved each other.
The kind of existence that would make the witches foam at the mouth.
"…That's true enough."
So they hid it.
Just as a father might shield his child with his own body, Roselyn's "witch half" had been covered over by her human half. What formed that covering was Albert's soul.
Incredible, Najin thought.
People called parents would do anything for their child. No matter how complicated, difficult, or perilous the task, they would see it through. The world called it paternal or maternal love.
Not that I really know what that feels like.
Born alone from the start, never even knowing his parents' faces, Najin felt a faint bitterness.
"Roselyn."
Najin called her name.
Roselyn, who had been staring fixedly at the Masterpiece, lifted her head to look at him. Confusion lingered in her eyes, along with a faint sheen of tears.
"Your mother is imprisoned in a place called the Black Spire."
"Where the hell is that?"
"Deep in the Outer Land, on a remote island in the middle of a great lake. A kind of prison built to punish witches who broke the taboos."
That was where her mother was locked away.
She had been confined there for six hundred years.
"I received a letter from your mother. And I made a promise—to deliver the letter to you, and then to tell you this story."
Roselyn wiped her eyes with her sleeve and nodded. Najin relayed exactly what he had heard from the red-eyed witch, Lena.
If you ever grow strong enough to set foot in the Outer Land, my child…
Come find me someday.
Whether it takes ten years, a hundred years, or even longer than that—it's fine. I'll wait for you forever.
When Lena learned that Roselyn had been born safely into the world and had inherited her father's talent intact, she had allowed herself the dream of an "if."
If her daughter grew strong enough—strong enough to set foot in the Outer Land, cross the great lake, and challenge the Spire… then perhaps they could meet again.
"Those were the last words she spoke before falling into a deep sleep. Dreaming of her reunion with you."
"…"
"It will also serve as a means of recovery. She endured a curse that ate away at her body for six hundred years, but she no longer needs to accept it."
Lena had said she would prepare to leave the tower. Yet leaving the tower meant denying her nature as a witch, and that path ordinarily led only to death.
But there was a way it need not end in death.
A way for this story not to become pure tragedy—Najin already knew it.
Just as Anton and Lapis had done, if Roselyn supported Lena, she could survive. Najin had told both Lena and Roselyn that truth.
"Your mother said she did not want to burden her child. That simply seeing your face would be enough. So what remains is your choice."
A guide only shows the path.
"What will you do?"
"You're seriously asking me that?"
Roselyn crooked the corner of her mouth into a grin.
"You don't know my personality? I'm a greedy bitch. I scoop up this and that and everything else—won't be satisfied unless I take it all."
She spoke with a smile that was pure mercenary, pure Roselyn.
"The resonance that came all the way from that tower in the far Outer Land reached me. And since it reached me…"
She tapped the Masterpiece in her hand—Echo.
"I have to send it back."
The Mystery Roselyn had chosen was Resonance.
Roselyn, the Witch of Resonance, clenched Echo tight.
"To my mother."
Roselyn Ascalo was a genius.
Of course, that reputation had dimmed somewhat thanks to the natural disaster named Najin, but before he appeared she had been regarded as a symbol of success in Cambria.
She had founded her own mercenary company at a young age and reached the realm of Sprouting while still young among warriors.
Not merely a talent limited to Cambria—even looking across the entire Continent, people who reached that level at her age could be counted on one hand.
But that had been as far as it went.
Roselyn had found no reason to push further. She had risen to Sword Seeker, passed through Sprouting, and even seen the realm of Blooming ahead of her—yet she had not advanced.
She had found no reason to train harder.
Her present life had been more than satisfying.
Running a mercenary company, drinking and carousing with her people—creating a place where she could laugh and talk freely. That had been Roselyn's dream, and becoming a Sword Master had not been necessary to achieve it.
Sword Seeker.
That level had been enough, so the moment she reached it she lost her driving force. She was content with the present and settled into it. No matter how great a genius, growth stops the instant one grows complacent. And so Roselyn's growth had stalled.
"The Black Spire holds the Trial of Reminiscence."
But now, in this moment—
"It's a trial you must overcome alone, without anyone's help. According to the testimony of someone I traveled with, you need to be at least a Transcendent or your mind will break under it."
"…Then what about you? You went there, didn't you?"
"I'm an exception. My circumstances were special."
"Yeah, figures. So?"
"It means that if you intend to challenge the Black Spire, you need to reach the realm of Transcendence."
Roselyn now had a goal.
"Once you meet the minimum conditions, go there. There are allies waiting who have already promised to help you."
"Allies?"
"Anton Quijano and Lapis."
"…That guy who fell in love with a witch?"
"Yes. He was my companion."
She now had a reason to move forward.
A reason to look higher.
"Right."
With her mother's letter tucked against her chest and her father's Masterpiece, Echo, at her hip, Roselyn rose to her feet.
The late night was ending; the sun was rising.
Sunlight slipping between the curtains filled the room as Roselyn yanked them open. She threw the window wide, letting the trapped air out, and stretched under the warm light.
…She had a goal.
Parents are ordinarily the first guides a child ever meets. They are the first to show a child how to grow and what to become.
It had taken Roselyn forty years, and her parents six hundred, but Lena and Albert had finally shown her the path.
Looking down that path, Roselyn smiled. It was a path worth walking. Picturing the mother waiting at its end, Roselyn Ascalo closed her eyes.
"Najin."
Perched on the windowsill, Roselyn pinched a cigarette between her fingers. With a soft click she lit it and spoke.
"Hey. Wanna make a bet with me?"
"What kind of bet?"
"You said you're right on the verge of Blooming too, yeah?"
"I've got a general sense of it."
"Same here."
Same starting line, then.
Muttering that, Roselyn exhaled a long stream of smoke and crooked her mouth into a grin.
"How about we bet on which of us reaches Sword Master first?"
Najin's eyes widened at the proposal.
"With me?"
"What? Think you can't handle me?"
Chuckling, Roselyn flicked ash from her cigarette.
"Sure, you're growing ridiculously fast. At eighteen—an age when just hitting Sword Expert would flip the Empire on its head—you not only reached Sword Seeker but stuck five stars on yourself."
But, she shrugged,
"I'm pretty special myself, you know."
Among the witches—including those of Camlann—Lena, the Witch of Solitude, had ranked among the top five.
And Albert, the hero of the Allied Kingdoms, had been a powerhouse who survived a thousand duels against her.
Half of each of them had melted into Roselyn's soul. Children rarely inherit a parent's talent in full, yet in Roselyn's case she had received it completely. She had simply turned her back on it until now.
"Watch this."
Roselyn lifted Echo and lightly flicked the blade with her finger.
Ting.
A light resonance—yet it echoed and re-echoed until it filled the room. Then, with a high keeeeen!, the aura coating Echo bloomed like a flower.
Blooming.
Watching Roselyn casually leap an entire realm in an instant, Najin's eyes went wide—then he burst out laughing.
"Didn't you say we were on the same starting line?"
"We were, until just now. Not anymore."
Roselyn shrugged.
"I'm one step ahead, brat."
The most important thing for sublimating the soul and reaching Transcendence was confidence in oneself. And Roselyn Ascalo had spent her whole life denying half of who she was.
No longer.
The witch's soul that formed half of her was not the mark of a curse. It was not evidence of black magic, not something filthy or repulsive or horrible. It was a gift left by her mother—proof of love.
What had always remained a wound—
the distrust and hatred toward her own half—was gone. Even if someone pointed at that half and insulted her, she would no longer be hurt. No matter what anyone else said, she herself would never think of it that way again.
"Ha."
Najin laughed as if he could not believe it.
A genius who had been called one even while denying half of herself—a being close to a miracle born among Transcendents—was now volunteering to be his rival. The situation filled him with pure delight.
Until now, no one had ever kept pace with him as a rival.
No one had even thought of trying.
And now, for the first time, a rival had appeared. Najin laughed aloud and rose to his feet.
"I should've told you not to drop the honorifics."
"Uh—uhhh…"
At that single remark from Najin, Roselyn broke into a cold sweat, wondering whether she had overdone it and should have bowed and thanked him first.
"Just kidding. Fine. Let's make the bet."
Najin stuffed the postman's cap and bag into his coat. Then, with a flick, he released the transformation magic that had been clinging to it.
Whoosh.
The only garment on the Continent that only Najin was permitted to wear—the Free Knight's uniform—settled over him. He raised one hand.
"Free Knight, Najin."
His raised hand came to rest on the horned-helmet pauldron that covered his shoulder—the pauldron that symbolized his master.
"I accept that bet."
He smiled confidently against the pauldron that stood for his teacher.
"If you plan on beating me, that much won't be nearly enough."
"I'm higher realm than you right now, you know?"
"I've beaten Transcendents before. Think you could win a duel against me right this second?"
Roselyn shook her head.
Even if they fought ten times, she would lose all ten. The man before her was a Sword Seeker, yet he possessed strength that rivaled a Transcendent.
Even so, Roselyn said,
"Goals are better when they're high, right?"
"Yeah. I can agree with that."
The bet was sealed.
The next time he met her, Najin was certain, it would be in the Outer Land.