The Madman's Whisper
“……”
“Hmm? What's wrong?”
“No, it's nothing.”
Following them, I found it difficult to stop my gaze from drifting backward. They were definitely following, yet the complete absence of presence or sound stirred an odd unease while endlessly piquing my curiosity.
Their destination was the forest. I had no precise knowledge of the surrounding geography, and the coordinates from the teleportation spell only gave a rough location. That left me with no choice but to simply follow them.
Fortunately, after seeing my dark fairy earlier, they showed no further suspicion. In fact, they paid me little attention at all. Only the middle-aged man occasionally tossed out a few dull jokes; the others walked in silence.
I was curious about the identity of the one called Olsidra, but I couldn't risk arousing suspicion by asking. Even if things were going well, I couldn't expect him to be the mastermind right away, yet he was clearly an important lead that would take me there.
Meaningless conversations passed between the speaker and the responder until, just as boredom began to set in, something came into view. It was a wooden pillar slightly shorter than waist height, its upper part carved to resemble a grotesque face.
‘Somewhere……’
It looked familiar, but nothing surfaced from my hazy memories. Rather than something I had seen directly, it seemed like an image left in my mind from a book or a story someone had told. Of course, if it was merely decoration or a marker, it wouldn't matter, but the faint mana and the strange spellwork lingering around it bothered me.
I definitely knew this. Moreover, my subconscious was treating it as something quite important. Yet no matter how far I reached into my mind, the truth remained just out of reach.
Then one of the three approached the pillar and placed a hand on it. The eyes carved into the pillar seemed to glow, the surrounding scenery blurred and shifted, and soon a small house revealed itself.
Judging by the cracks running across its exterior, the house had been built quite some time ago. The pillar outside could have been installed even after the Dark Temple was established, but building a house like this in the middle of an empty forest was hardly a natural choice.
“Are there others here as well?”
“Yes. About four or five more have gathered.”
“Thanks to that, we're short on rooms.”
“The women have it better. Two sharing one room, and a big one at that. The men are crammed three to a narrow room.”
We stepped inside and opened the door. Though called a small house, it was larger than my own or Rowell's. Still, aside from having multiple rooms like an inn, the interior decorations were those of an ordinary home—nothing that suited a secret society or dark priests.
“Ah, welcome back.”
The person inside was a man with tousled hair, seated on a small wooden chair and reading a book.
“Where is Lord Olsidra?”
“He's praying in the basement.”
True to the name dark priests, they held faith in Urshus. However, the prayers they performed were different from those of ordinary priests or believers; it was a ritual in which they gazed into their own souls and channeled the dark flames dwelling in their hearts throughout their entire being.
“Is that the newcomer who just arrived?”
“Yeah, that's right.”
The ones who had brought me nodded lightly at the question before heading off to their respective rooms. They showed no further interest in me, but it wasn't only that. Except for the very beginning, they hadn't even glanced at the tousled-haired man, as though they found the mere sight of him unpleasant.
Interestingly, the man responded to their attitude with a faint smile.
“Come in.”
He gestured toward me. His tone was gentle and there was no malice in his eyes, yet I disliked him.
“So, this is the second gathering place?”
“Yes. It is.”
I thought it would be another round of meaningless questions and answers, but the way his eyes sparkled suggested it was more than that.
“Then you've been doing those prayers and meditations since the first gathering?”
“Yes. Something like that.”
It didn't apply to me, but for dark priests there was no other way. Even if they had accepted the dark red flames into their bodies, that alone only meant borrowing power. Only by gradually staining their own souls with those flames could they wield that power properly—and keep it from fading.
Embracing the flames was merely the beginning, never the completion.
“Right. Everyone's like that. But do you know? There's another method besides that.”
His eyes gleamed even brighter, yet they only looked darker.
“What is it……?”
At the same time, I couldn't deny my interest. I had seen eyes like that, dark and glittering, many times during the Great War, but the mention of another method intrigued me. As far as I knew—and according to the forbidden texts I had read—there was no other way for summoners whose souls weren't already dark to become dark priests.
If there was any other path, it would be to follow in the footsteps of the first dark priest and carve one's own way to darkness, but that required both long years of training and exceptional talent.
If there was yet another method, I wanted to know it as well.
“Want to know?”
He asked even though he already knew the answer. He was enjoying the situation. Though I didn't like that attitude, I nodded.
“Yes. I want to know.”
At my reply, he smiled broadly. It was a comfortable smile that might have seemed gentle to someone else, but to me—who had seen truly gentle smiles up close—its falseness was glaringly obvious.
“It's simple……”
As he gradually lowered his voice, I wondered if this was all just a joke, but there was no sign of that in his eyes. Behind his smile, I could see an unpleasant anticipation rising.
“You just have to kill someone with your own hands.”
I stared at him in silence as he whispered the words as though revealing a great secret. He held his breath, waiting for my reaction. Whether it was shock or dark agreement, he didn't seem to care. He simply delighted in having said it and in the fact that I would react.
But I merely looked into those eyes without saying a word. Not only did I remain silent, I didn't even change my expression. At that, he tilted his head slightly.
Of course, I understood what he had said. I also knew what a natural reaction would look like in this situation. If it had been the old me, I probably would have feigned a bit of confusion.
Yet I couldn't do that—because if I didn't hold back, I felt I would burst out laughing right then and there.
‘Ah, I see. So there are low-level fools like this mixed in as well?’
Yes. There were many who held that misconception—that a dark soul color was the same as being “evil.” Souls were never something so simply defined. But for a summoner—not an ordinary person, but someone directly connected to others' souls—to hold such a belief, he was clearly a third-rate summoner who had never even performed the “Soul Thread” ritual.
“Ah, really…… is that so?”
I barely suppressed my laughter and feigned confusion. Though my acting was a bit awkward, he responded with a satisfied smile.
“Of course! Absolutely!”
I hoped this was just part of hazing a newcomer, but looking into those eyes, that possibility seemed unlikely.
“Ah, of course, it doesn't count if you kill through a summon. You have to do it yourself. Killing with your own two hands is best, but stabbing with a knife works too. When you feel the hot blood splatter and the desperate thrashing of someone drawing their last breath……!”
He was sincere. More than that, this was clearly an account of personal experience. Not only the half-mad gleam in his eyes, but the direction of his gaze, his voice, and every detail spoke of vivid memory rather than some petty delusion or fantasy.
“That's when you understand what kind of being you truly are. You can feel your soul being stained in real time.”
He was insane. Whether he truly believed this or was simply rationalizing it in his own way, one thing was certain: something in his head was broken.
Staining the color of one's soul didn't mean that. Though we called it soul color for convenience, it was merely one of the many outer layers of the soul. It had nothing to do with good or evil. While it might be somewhat related to temperament and disposition, deliberately committing evil acts and becoming so wicked as to enjoy them had no bearing whatsoever on the color that affected a summoner.
That wasn't being stained by darkness. It was merely losing one's light.
“Come to think of it, where are you from?”
“Ah, Borepi……”
“Then you must have seen plenty of people die in the last war.”
Without even waiting for my answer, he launched into another round of his nonsense. Now I understood why the others had hurried into their rooms and why he had been left alone in the living room. Being in the same space as this madman was deeply unpleasant. Especially when he kept spouting such drivel.
“Lord Olsidra and the others don't acknowledge it, but at this gathering, I'll make sure Lord Alsh Unak recognizes me directly! I'll prove that I'm the greatest priest of Urshus!”
Alsh Unak. The intense reverence and fear contained in that name told me he was an important figure—far more important than Olsidra.
“Hey! Keep it down, will you?”
The inner door opened and a man stepped out. He was small in stature, short, and looked somewhat frail, yet he glared at us—or rather, precisely at the man who had been spouting nonsense—with open contempt.
“Oh dear, did I raise my voice again?”
Even under that gaze, the man remained unfazed. He casually tilted his head, then tried to resume his nonsense.
“You! Are you the newcomer?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Stop listening to that garbage and come carry some luggage over here!”
Though he looked younger, his tone was quite domineering. Not that it mattered. I couldn't stand listening to that drivel any longer.
When I showed my willingness to go, the man finally shut his mouth. He flashed the same smile I had seen earlier, then reopened the book he had been reading. Now I could see the title: The Song of Blood.
“What the hell are you doing? A newcomer arrives and you leave him with that lunatic instead of showing him around?”
“Hey, if I hadn't, that guy would've come into this room and started talking. Besides, you were sleeping well—I didn't see the need to wake you.”
Once inside the room, I saw the middle-aged man and the tall man from earlier sitting on the edge of the bed.