Light of Heritage

Naturally, her body leaned in.

She was curious. But approaching was out of the question.

If the woman talking with Yena really was that Lily, this was a matter of considerable importance.

The Lily she'd searched so desperately for... lives in this apartment?

If that fact ever came to light, attention would come pouring onto the building overnight, and the crowds gathering for even a glimpse of the real Lily would boil it into a sea of humanity.

Because the speculation was already out there — that the real Lily and the Lily of DeoEn were one and the same person.

No, not speculation anymore. Photos and footage were circulating openly for all to see.

Still, whether the 'Lily' who had come to watch the DCK with Yena was that Lily remained unconfirmed.

Yena had been in cosplay as well, and no matter how you looked at it, it made no sense for a woman with that face to be running a broadcast like hers.

A face like a total angel — whose pastime was cracking people's skulls open.

Aisha scanned her surroundings.

No one in the hallway.

Fortunately, this was a luxury apartment with superb soundproofing; short of the two of them shrieking at each other, nobody could have overheard their conversation.

After all, Aisha herself hadn't caught so much as a whisper until she'd opened the door.

─"Go on in, now."

─"Nyoooong~ g'bye to you too, little sis~"

Right at that moment, Lily and Yena were parting ways in front of the elevator.

It was a shame she couldn't see Lily's face, but it hardly mattered.

The soundproofing was excellent, true — but you never could be too careful.

It was late at night, and there was no sense stirring up a fuss.

"Hwaaahm~"

And so...

"Mmnnggh...."

"Oh? Yena?"

"...Eh?"

Yena had run into Aisha by pure coincidence.

At the sudden sight of her standing there at two in the morning, Yena blearily tilted her head back and forth — then her gaze slid down to Aisha's hands.

A small bag dangled from Aisha's fingers.

"Ahh. Booze?"

"I ordered a late-night snack. I've been doing nothing but DeoEn lately, so I figured I'd better ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eat now while I can."

"Ah-haha, really? Same here, hihi."

"Right? This is just something us rankers can't help, you know? The immersion pod manages your body for you at least — otherwise we'd all have gone completely soft by now."

"That's sho twue, nya. As expected of you, Aisha!"

Yena was simply thrilled.

And perhaps because of that —

Her usual caution had loosened its grip somewhat, and her wariness of Aisha had loosened right along with it.

Her questions, too.

"By the way, was that your little sibling earlier?"

"...Sorry? My... sibbling?"

"I overheard a little something while taking the delivery — 'our little sis~' — but I could have sworn you said you were an only child. Did I mishear?"

"Ahh!"

A little sibling.

Not wrong — but not exactly right, either.

"Mmm. To be precise, not a blood sibling. More of a soulmate, bound together by thick-and-thin friendship...?"

"Ooh? What kind of person is this soulmate of yours?"

"A dependable comrade and friend? A sworn shield-sister to fight back to back with. A lovely face, lovely character — in short, a perfect match for this Park Yena... hoooo..."

"Yena?"

"...Ah! Fell asleep again."

"Are you all right? You look exhausted."

"Hihi, gonna shleep shoon, nya. Enjoy your night shnack too, Ashea~"

"...Ashea?"

"Aisha! Abbreviation, abbreviation~"

Humming a tune, Yena swung open the lake door of the House of God and vanished inside.

Left alone in an instant, Aisha glanced once at the delivery bag gone cold in her hand, then checked the elevator.

The elevator, stopped on the 17th floor.

Confirmed.

"It was real."

Lily Elbrit lived on the 17th floor of this apartment.

Wearing exactly the face she wore in DeoEn.

The next day came, and I received the Green Hermit from a thoroughly sheepish Yena.

For the record, Yena couldn't even lift her head — apparently the drunken antics of the night before were too mortifying to bear.

"Raise your head, unnie."

"...Please, I'm begging you, stop."

"You were the one who told me to call you that. Unnie. Unnie unnie unnie."

"UWAAAGH!!!"

Poof.

And just like that, Yena became a runaway ninja for the second time.

Anyway — at long last, all eight Masterpieces had been gathered.

"Not yet."

I had to turn the stream on first.

"LilHa~ welcome, everyone."

I twirled the freshly returned Green Hermit as I waited for my viewers to file in.

Whiiir.

Still spins like a dream.

"How did I get it back? Well. There's always a way."

Reality doesn't let you run away, after all.

"The quest completion did pop up, but I honestly don't know how this will play out yet."

The Multicolored Successor's trial was still in progress, and I had no way of knowing whether this would fold into it, or whether the Masterpieces and the reward were separate matters entirely.

I'd know for certain once I met Drak in person.

Chime!

"Yes."

The moment I accepted, I was whisked straight to the forge's front door.

Its exterior was more ordinary ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than I'd expected.

Barring its sheer size, it looked little different from the forge where I'd once taken my class advancement.

The ground around it was blanketed in neatly kept grass.

As for the location... an island?

No.

Kang. Kang. Kang.

It was the sky.

To be precise, the forge stood atop a sky island.

"A sky island, huh. Doesn't feel like it's over the central continent..."

The altitude was far too high, and I could sense none of the distinctive mana or aura that hung over the continents — this had to be an island floating above some other landmass entirely.

Pushing open the forge door, I spotted a gray-haired man in the middle of hammering away.

"...You're here already?"

"Didn't you foresee all of this?"

I knew he had the gift of foresight, after all.

Thud! Drak set down his refining hammer and wiped his face with a towel.

"The only future I see is the ruin of Talikal. No other qualification has been granted me."

"And who granted it?"

"Curious, are you?"

"Yes."

Drak's secret.

No celestian, he — and yet one who inherited the authority and power of the celestials.

Someone in the distant past had bestowed upon Drak the mission — and the might — to ward off Talikal's destruction, and that charge had been carried unbroken down to the present day.

I'd asked about it back when he forged the White Savior, too, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he'd only told me the time wasn't right...

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Sorry, but the time to speak of it still hasn't come."

"Even now that I've gathered them all?"

"Gathering them all is no reason to tell you. Conversely, even without them, if the time should come, then I may speak."

"Hmm..."

So curious, though.

"By the way — have you always worked here? I thought you were somewhere else last time."

He had clearly been at a forge near Talikal, and now he'd popped up on a sky island out of nowhere.

A sky island floating above a different continent, no less.

"I have always worked here. I descend only when I must seek out a worthy bearer."

"I see. Then what do I do now? I brought everything, but..."

"Set them over there."

Drak gave a light jerk of his chin toward the back of the forge.

Where an ordinary furnace had once stood, eight anvils had somehow taken its place.

The name of a Masterpiece was inscribed upon each one.

The first Masterpiece — the Multicolored Successor.

"Come to think of it, the trial isn't finished yet. Is it really all right to melt it down as is?"

"Hm? Melt it? What nonsense are you spouting."

Shff. Drak, trundling over with his arms piled high with something, set it down beside the gathered anvils as he spoke.

"You do not gather the Masterpieces to hammer out some mighty weapon. They need only rest where they are."

"Ohh?"

Well then. All that worrying had been for nothing.

"Vlack's is not coming back."

That trade was already done and dusted — and what I'd obtained through it was the price Cheonma was owed, claimed on her behalf.

I had no reason to hand it back. And I shouldn't.

The moment I laid the Multicolored Successor upon the anvil, a soft voomm! sounded out, and a many-hued radiance washed gently across the metal.

An instant later, the anvil — shimmering in every color of the rainbow — blazed with light.

"Oh."

Quite a lot had popped up.

First: this place, with its eight anvils, was something called the Mysterious Crafting Table — a station that could produce finished works without consuming a single material.

I was the first to discover it, and given how sloppily it was labeled, it seemed to be a system that would only properly come online after the Great Cataclysm.

Systems that existed within DeoEn but had yet to open were almost always marked up exactly like that.

And the grade of the item being combined was anything but ordinary.

"What's the Light of Heritage?"