Icarus's Wings (5)
There are any number of ways to define a genius.
Someone once declared, "To dismiss an ordinary person's entire lifetime in a single instant—that alone is genius." Another proclaimed, "To set foot where no one has ever walked before—that is what makes a genius."
And Icarus was a genius.
In both senses of the word.
From seventeen to twenty, across three years of his life, Icarus forged a single spell. A magic that had never existed until then—his own unique magic.
"He created a unique magic?"
"At a mere twenty years old?"
"Don't lie. That's impossible."
In an age when forging a magic of one's own was the dearest wish of every mage, Icarus had, in a mere three years, stepped into the domain other mages spent entire lifetimes chasing. It was the sort of feat that would turn the continent's magic towers upside down.
Mages who had believed themselves geniuses denied reality at the appearance of the real thing. As people of that sort always do, they tried to dismiss and diminish the genius's achievements.
Creating a unique magic is impressive, sure—but it's not a particularly useful spell, is it? What does a twenty-year-old youth know of magic?
With such thoughts in mind, the mages came to visit Icarus one after another. And the moment they witnessed his unique magic, they had no choice but to shut their mouths.
"…"
Icarus unfurled his magic before them.
It was an intuitive, simple spell—the kind even someone with no knowledge of magic would understand at a glance.
"Wings."
The magic that would later bear his name and be called Icarus's Wings. Its effect was simple: wings woven of mana that let one fly through the sky.
As the mages watched, Icarus took to the air. He soared freely dozens of meters above the ground. Some jaws dropped open; the mouths of those who had been grumbling that it would amount to nothing snapped shut.
They stared at him with eyes full of astonishment.
Daedalus was not among them. Having developed the magic alongside Icarus, he watched the flying figure as if it were nothing special… and the same held true for Najin, who was playing Daedalus's part.
Is that really so impressive?
"Hmm?"
Najin gestured toward Icarus with a flick of his eyes.
Isn't flight magic common? Even I could jump a few dozen meters if I put my mind to it.
"You're a transcendent, you know. And that's leaping—not flying."
Isn't it the same thing?
"Ah, this is why sword-swingers…"
Merlin shook her head.
"As you say, it's common magic nowadays. But this is the world of nine hundred and eighty years ago."
She went on.
"In this era the sky belonged to witches and dragons. Only a handful who had reached transcendence could fly. For an ordinary human to take to the air was impossible."
And in such an age, Icarus had created it.
"A way for ordinary humans to fly as well."
Icarus's Wings, Merlin said, was the origin of every flight, levitation, and leaping magic commonly used in the present day.
What feels natural to you now—
The one who made it natural is that being right there.
Najin slowly nodded. Seen from that angle, their reactions made perfect sense.
Then this must be even more impressive.
"Yeah. Even to my eyes, this looks more impressive."
Najin pointed to what he held in his hand—an artifact of Daedalus's design. Without a word he strapped it to his wrist and leapt from the cliff.
For a moment the mages watched with eyes that said, Is that idiot trying to kill himself? Then Najin rose into the air above the cliff. Their mouths dropped a little wider.
What he wore on his wrist was an artifact crafted from Icarus's magic—a device that let anyone fly simply by inscribing the spell. Some of the mages turned even greater interest toward Najin.
It was an invention that could rewrite the world's paradigm.
An artifact that allowed even non-mages to fly. If it were ever commercialized, the world would change beyond recognition. The mages' eyes lit up; they began shouting every condition they could think of to recruit the two of them…
"…"
But Icarus's gaze never turned their way.
He was still looking at the sky.
Wordlessly he reached a hand upward. Even while already flying, he stretched toward a still higher sky—as if measuring the distance between himself and Arthur's star shining far above.
"Ah."
Icarus sighed.
"It's high."
The sky was high.
The star hung in the highest place of all.
"It's going to be a long road."
His body was too light to be bound by gravity; his world lay in the sky, not the earth, too free to be constrained by the turning of worldly affairs. Nothing on the land held enough charm to hold him.
Money, power, honor…
None of it could draw his eyes. They were always fixed on the stars. Brushing aside the hands of mages and the powerful alike, Icarus flew on.
Toward a place a little higher still.
Najin watched Icarus's life unfold.
Scenery rushed past at dizzying speed. Those landscapes were Icarus's memories, preserved inside the Great Labyrinth. The finely fragmented recollections assembled themselves of their own accord as Icarus walked, piecing together into a single path.
Along that path, Najin walked.
It was possible only because he had been given the role of Daedalus.
If I hadn't received the role…
It would have been an extraordinarily complicated and brutal conquest.
There was a reason this place bore so grandiose a name as the Great Labyrinth Labyrintos. In the ordinary course of things, one would have had to collect the countless shattered memories one by one, assembling a map the way one pieces together the torn fragments of a chart.
"It's not called the Great Labyrinth for nothing."
Merlin pointed at Najin's feet.
"Finding the path through Labyrintos is nearly impossible. Of course, if it were me it would be possible—but guides as capable as I am are rare, you know."
Setting aside her boasting, the words themselves were true.
The Great Labyrinth—Labyrintos.
Even if one managed to pierce through hundreds of thousands of whales and reach this place, the conquest was far from over. One still had to wander the labyrinth where memories swirled and discover the path that led to the true body of the Wandering Star.
And most died in the attempt.
They lost their way, wandered until erosion claimed them, and became food for the sky whales. Merlin said the number of constellations who had met that end alone ran into the dozens.
Can't I just smash the whole sanctuary to pieces??
"Ah, of course it's possible."
Merlin shrugged.
"If you're as strong as I am, it's possible."
Ordinarily Najin would have answered with a soulless "Ah, yes, I see," but having just witnessed Merlin's magic, he could not quite manage it.
"Hoo…"
Be that as it may.
He exhaled and set his feet moving again.
At times it even felt as though he were swimming through the sea. Currents of memory brushed past him; some of them shoved him aside.
The rapid flow of time slowed.
Najin concentrated on the role of Daedalus. He had to, if he did not want to be swept away.
Blink.
When he closed his eyes and opened them again, Najin—Daedalus—was standing in a field. It was a field in his hometown, and the one where the sky showed most clearly of all.
And…
It was also the place where Icarus always took his naps. Tracing Daedalus's memories, Najin moved. Sure enough, Icarus lay sprawled across the grass.
"Icarus, you were here again."
"Oh. Daedalus."
Icarus waved a hand.
"The wind's nice, you know."
"That same line again."
Najin sat on a tree stump. Icarus remained lying down, eyes fixed on the sky.
"Looks like I'll have to go on a journey."
It came out of nowhere. There was no context.
But Icarus had always been that sort of man—someone whose thoughts one could never quite grasp. Najin asked the question.
"Where to?"
"I've been thinking. If I want to reach the sky, this body of mine alone isn't enough. It's time I needed a splendid ship."
"A ship? What, are you planning to ride a dragon or something?"
Was he saying he would ride a dragon?
As Daedalus tilted his head, Icarus crooked the corner of his mouth into a smile.
"A dragon could make a splendid ship—but it wouldn't be enough."
He sprang to his feet and threw both arms wide.
"Flying by riding a dragon that can already fly isn't all that impressive. Anyone can do it. I have no intention of doing something so dull."
"Then what?"
"I'll fasten wings to a being that looks as if it could never fly, and make it soar. Only then can it be called a true achievement, don't you think?"
At the word "achievement," Najin finally understood what Icarus meant.
"You mean to obtain a star?"
"Of course. If I want to reach the star above that sky, I need a star of my own."
"You're seriously saying you'll reach Arthur's star?"
"I've always been serious, Daedalus."
Icarus's eyes shone—as they always did.
"…"
In that moment Najin felt a question rise.
And it was the same question that Daedalus, the role he had been given, was feeling at the exact same time.
"Why?"
A simple question: why.
"Why are you so obsessed with the sky? What meaning does reaching King Arthur's star hold for you?"
"Well."
Icarus jumped in place. After a brief leap he set his feet back on the ground. Having managed only a few seconds of hang time at best, he let out a long breath.
"There's far too much on this land that binds us. Power, status, rank, honor, money… As long as our feet stay on the ground, we have no choice but to be tangled up in those things."
He leaped again—this time with magic.
"But the sky is different."
Floating aloft, Icarus spoke. This was no mere few seconds of hang time. Tens of seconds passed, then minutes; still he did not fall.
"Freed from gravity, unbound by status, rank, honor, money—those useless things—the sky is beautiful. Beautiful and…"
The blue sky stretched without end.
Gazing upward, Icarus shouted.
"Free! Freer than any other place!"
Born in a city piled high with refuse, Icarus had spent his life seeing only cramped things: a city choked with trash, narrow alleyways, stifling spaces where garbage rose so high one could scarcely find a place to set a foot.
But the sky was different.
Nothing blocked the sky. The first open vista Icarus ever saw was the sky itself. On the field atop the cliff that the trash had never managed to invade, he had faced it for the first time.
"If the first thing I'd seen had been the sea instead of the sky, I might have become a sailor."
He gave a short laugh.
"But I saw the sky first, and I saw the stars."
"So?"
"I have to travel that endlessly stretching sky. And Arthur's star at the end of it—that is my destination."
Destination, he said.
"I'll carve proof that I flew through the sky. Proof that I reached the highest place no one else has ever touched."
He pointed at Arthur's star.
"I'll carve my star in the highest place of all."
Smiling as he pointed, Icarus went on.
"Here was a fool who tried to fly through the sky. A fool who flew all the way to the highest place. So that whenever anyone looks up, they will remember my name."
For a climber the destination is the mountain's summit.
For a sailor it is some far continent.
For Icarus, the destination was Arthur's star.
"Let's go, Daedalus."
Icarus cried out.
"To the highest place."
Those who shout their dreams shine. And the world is full of people drawn by that light into attempting foolish things.
"Yeah, well."
A snort of laughter slipped free.
"I'll play along with that foolishness."
Daedalus was one of those people too. Drawn by Icarus's dream, he set out on the journey with him.
Daedalus was drawn by Icarus's dream and admired him. Najin, playing the role, felt something slightly different.
Not so much admiration as kinship.
He felt a deep sense of kinship with Icarus.
"He does resemble you, certainly."
What Najin felt most keenly as the journey with Icarus began was that the man was utterly, hopelessly free of common sense.
"We've got to go first."
"Preparations?"
"Those? We'll figure them out as we travel."
Even with the kindest words it could not be called a promising start. They were still boys who knew nothing of the world, and of course the road was anything but smooth.
"Oh, fuck."
"Wait, Icarus…"
They got pickpocketed; they thrashed a man who picked a fight in a tavern only to discover he was a noble, and so ended up in prison…
"Nothing can cage me!"
Icarus suddenly roared for freedom and smashed the iron bars, forcing them into a prison break. In countless ways it was a journey that drew long sighs.
At first the whole thing was clumsy beyond description.
But time passed. Icarus grew, and Daedalus began to bloom into his own talent. The two of them traveled the world and left large and small stories in their wake.
"Two adventurers save a city about to be submerged! Overnight it becomes a floating city! Look at this, Daedalus—we made the newspaper!"
"Thanks to my artifact."
"Thanks to my magic, Daedalus."
"Ha. Your magic would have run dry in a day or two at best. What made it semi-permanent was none other than my artifact."
They saved a city on the brink of drowning.
"Now, Icarus!"
"Ah—this one!"
They dropped a massive quantity of stones they had floated high in the air all at once, crushing a beast assault. After that they began to be called heroes in several villages.
"I want to fly through the sky one last time."
"That's not a difficult request."
They flew with a princess who was dying of illness.
"How is it? Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yes… truly…"
And so they became benefactors to the king of a small nation.
"So this is that floating ruin?"
"The place where a Masterpiece is said to be hidden."
They conquered the Floating Garden no one else had ever conquered and claimed a Masterpiece.
"Now it's time to step onto a bigger stage."
"You're saying you'll go to the Outer Land?"
"Of course—because that's where the ship I'll ride is waiting!"
Having achieved great and small feats and obtained a star, Icarus set his sights on a greater stage still. As if it had been the goal from the very beginning, he headed for the sea of the Outer Land.
The sea—or a vast lake.
At that enormous lake Icarus suddenly set out to find a whale. Relying on a single sailboat, he and Najin crossed the waters and at last stood before the oldest whale of all.
"Are you the oldest whale?"
Before a creature ancient and powerful enough to swallow even Icarus in a single gulp, he made his declaration.
"Hey, friend."
Smiling in front of the whale, Icarus said,
"Fancy flying through the sky?"
The mother of all whales had lived long enough to understand human speech. She also knew exactly what to do with a human spouting nonsense in front of her.
With a thunderous splash she slammed her tail against the surface.
The moment that massive fluke struck, a wave reared up.
Icarus and Daedalus, adrift on their sailboat, nearly became fish food—but rising into the air in time, they escaped that fate.
"…"
The whale found herself intrigued by the two humans who refused to vanish from before her. As if inviting them to speak, she regarded them. Icarus opened his mouth and began.
"You said you can only swim in the sea?"
A sailboat floating in the sky.
With a solid thump he set one foot on the gunwale and threw both arms wide.
"Friend, we need to break the frame of our thinking."
Before a whale that had lived thousands upon thousands of years, a human spoke.
"It isn't that you swim in the sea. The place where you swim is the sea! The blue sky, the withered land, the desert—anything at all can become the sea."
Icarus crooked the corner of his mouth upward.
Smiling as he spoke of his dream.
"Isn't rotting away in a tiny lake like this boring? The world is far wider than you think, friend. Truly, it stretches without end."
He held out his hand to the whale.
"So let's travel."
Sail with me.
"Until we reach the star in that sky."
A human who speaks of dreams shines. But the whale had lived far too long to be drawn by mere light.
A low, resonant heartbeat rolled through the air—something close to a sneer. Try it if you can. Only the sea can bear a body this vast; by what means do you propose to move me from here?
Icarus answered the unspoken challenge.
"Well, I'll have to start thinking about that from now on."
He said,
"I promise you, oldest whale."
Pointing at the sky, Icarus declared,
"I will definitely make you fly through the sky."
Twenty-six years later.
⟨ Mansangdaehae ⟩
Sea of All Phenomena
Having reached transcendence, Icarus kept his promise.