The Ashen Flame
Granbipra and Ropena’s reunion had been fascinating in more ways than one. Granbipra kept shifting between his true form and his human shape in response to her reactions, deliberately creating and dismissing multiple clones, while Ropena repeatedly dismissed his abilities as nothing more than cheap tricks.
I could have recounted the subtle war of nerves and precarious standoff between them, but unlike last time when it had little to do with me, this time I was caught up in it to some degree. I had little room to spare for observation.
Fortunately, the time we could spend in the study had been short. Granbipra and I left the room, and I had to return to my bed before the others grew suspicious.
When I got back to the house, the people who had been in the living room earlier were already asleep again. The lights were off and everything was quiet—so quiet that I felt self-conscious about the sound of my own footsteps as I walked to the bedroom.
The night was already fading, yet I still tried to sleep amid the irritating creaks of the old beds. Judging from yesterday’s atmosphere, there didn’t seem to be any strict daily schedule. Unlike at the academy, no one would punish me for sleeping in, and with everyone else awake there was little I could actually do anyway.
All I could do now was kill time, so I decided to sleep until noon for the first time in a while. Ever since returning from the great war, I hadn’t slept late unless I was ill or Rowell and Aegina were away.
I dreamed. It was a very old dream—an event that had already happened, yet also the most calm and bitter of all my nightmares.
I stood alone in a space that felt both like darkness and like an entirely different kind of light. It was nothing like ordinary darkness hidden behind closed eyelids or deep underground caves, nor was it like the dazzling flashes or lamplight one usually imagines.
It was a sense beyond physical sensation, something impossible to explain to anyone who had never experienced it. Most people could never understand—not because it was too complex, but because it was too natural and simple.
It was like trying to explain “sight” to someone born blind. Those with eyes see constantly, whether awake or asleep, yet describing that sensation to someone who has never known it is impossible. The congenitally blind have never experienced vision, and any conceptual guess they make will always fall far short of the truth.
What I was seeing now—what I had seen then—was exactly like that. At least among the living, only exceptional summoners, priests, shamans, necromancers, prophets, and sages could ever feel it, and only in very special circumstances.
What I saw in the dream was a memory from when I performed the Soul Link Ritual. Though filtered through the form of a dream and imperfect recollection, the vast sensation, mystery, and clarity I had felt back then still overwhelmed me.
It was the process of my physical senses gradually fading as I descended into the depths of my own soul, a journey toward the places connected to that soul.
In that infinite, distant space, my body grew fainter, as though melting into the space itself. Yet at the same time my consciousness grew sharper. No—sharper was the wrong word. I grew clearer.
With that clarity, the scenery around me changed. Countless indescribable colors filled the space. Time and space intertwined. They were all my emotions, my memories.
The colors gradually vanished until I became the space itself—an absolute observer watching it from outside. And in that moment, I finally beheld one aspect of my soul.
Describing it as mere color or light would have been foolish, even blasphemous. Even a single facet of the soul had no precise word that could be given to it in this material world or to mortals.
Yet if I had to choose the closest permitted expression, it was like an ashen flame burning inward.
For an instant the ashen light seemed bright, but the ominous hues that occasionally flickered along its edges and the deep, heavy darkness at its core never felt bright at all.
Yes—that was the color of my soul. Though it was not the essence of the soul, nor its entirety, it was undeniably the part that determined a summoner’s power and direction, my own unique trait that connected me to other summoned beings.
I remembered how shocked I had been the first time I saw it. And how disappointed. Yes, I had been both shocked and disappointed. An ashen flame? And what about those ominous colors and the darkness at its center?
Yet even then I had to admit that some part of me had already vaguely expected this and had accepted it long ago.
Of course it was this. I had known for a long time that I was different from that radiant light. I had known for a very long time that I was different from that warm, beautiful light.
I calmly steadied my mind and tried to remember why I had begun the Soul Link Ritual in the first place. Back then I had needed power. Rowell and I had gathered other companions, our enemies had grown stronger, and the hope entrusted to us had become even greater.
Rowell and our companions kept moving forward, adding to that light, while I remained standing in the same place. If I didn’t want to become a burden, if I wanted to help Rowell and the others, that couldn’t continue. Being merely a skilled summoner or a half-baked mage wasn’t enough. To stand beside the sun, moon, and stars as their equal, I too had to advance.
I followed my soul along the connections extending from it. I saw the countless summoned beings that answered my soul’s call—dark spirits, beings from the demon realm, entities from Niflheim and the underworld. But it wasn’t enough. I went further. Even more summoned beings appeared. None had yet noticed my existence or approached first, but I knew they would answer if I called.
By facing the color of my soul and truly recognizing the depths of it, my soul had grown stronger than ever, and my connections to them were far stronger than when I still possessed a physical body. We would form contracts within those linked souls, and they would not refuse.
But I went even further. I needed greater power—the power to help my companions, no, power equal to theirs. I wanted to stand closest to Rowell, right beside that brilliant sun, as though we were equals.
Yes. That had been my greed. My foolish desire. While gazing at my soul, I had been somewhat entranced by the ashen flame within it. Instead of opposing thoughts, reason, and sincerity, I had drawn too close to the fragments of emotion and desire steeped in that ashen flame and darkness.
And in that moment, my soul began to fly somewhere. It felt as though something at the far end of a connected thread was pulling me rapidly toward it.
Connections to other summoned beings and higher entities quickly receded behind me. Like arrows, like countless shooting stars falling across the night sky, they vanished farther and farther behind me until they could no longer be seen.
Finally, when my soul stopped, I stood before a vast black-and-red flame. Within that enormous, distant black-red blaze—where I was little more than a speck—a pair of colossal eyes looked down at me.
“……”
I opened my eyes. Emerging from that calm nightmare and its memories, I stared blankly around me. I couldn’t easily recall what time it was or where I was, nor why I was here. I even felt confused about whether the great war had ended.
It took a little while before I came to my senses. The war was already over. I remembered where I was and why.
Looking out the window, I saw that it was nearly noon. No one had woken me, and no one had paid me any special attention. The others who shared the room had already gone somewhere or were playing chess, enjoying a leisurely time as they had the day before.
“You’re awake? You should’ve gone for a shorter walk yesterday.”
“Ah, yes.”
My voice was slightly hoarse from sleep. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I had talked so much while being tossed between Granbipra and Ropena yesterday, or because of the dream I’d had after so long, but even to my own ears it sounded rather strained.
If Aegina had heard it and seen the unease in my eyes, she would have brewed that special tea made from bitter herbs and that unappetizing extract, no matter how much I begged that a few hours would be enough.
Fortunately, none of them paid any attention to my voice or my eyes. There were no suspicious glances about my long nighttime walk yesterday either. Perhaps my ability to sleep until noon or my outward demeanor had helped.
“We’ll be having lunch soon, so get ready.”
I got out of bed with messy hair and headed to wash up. I had already heard where the bathroom was and what the washing schedule was like, so there was no difficulty. I needed to wash away not only the grime but also the remnants of that dream.
Knock, knock—
Still, I didn’t forget to knock first. There was only one bathroom and one toilet in this house, and with so many people—especially women—sharing them, caution was the only way to prevent unnecessary accidents. There was no answer, so I went inside.
The water container in the bathroom was quite full, but I didn’t need to use it. With a gesture I summoned a water spirit and used it to wash myself lightly. I had considered taking a full shower, but with so many people around it seemed impractical.
After tidying myself up and staring into the mirror several times to clear my head, I stepped out of the bathroom. As expected, a woman was walking toward it. She was quite large and plump, looking about ten years older than me.
The hallway was narrow, so I had to step back slightly from the bathroom door. It would have been difficult to pass her unless she went inside.
When I lightly bowed my head in greeting, she smiled and waved her hand. Though the situation might have been somewhat embarrassing or awkward for a woman, she showed no concern at all.
“Hello? You’re the new guy who arrived yesterday, right?”
She spoke in a cheerful, friendly voice but didn’t give her name. By now I was curious whether there was some unspoken rule about introductions or names that I hadn’t heard, but it didn’t really matter. She mentioned that she and a few others had prepared today’s lunch and that it would at least be better than yesterday’s, then entered the bathroom. Only then could I pass through the hallway.
Though she had told me to look forward to it, honestly there wasn’t any particularly appetizing smell coming from this cramped house, so I had no expectations. Besides, I didn’t have much of an appetite to begin with.
The dining table was small, so most people ate in the living room. As expected, the plates held dried foods—jerky, bread, and what looked like homemade fruit soup. Some were eating with half-dried fruit or cheese they had brought themselves.
I had definitely found plenty of edible grass, berries, and mushrooms during yesterday’s walk, and they had been fairly close to the house. Even if hunting and butchering meat was troublesome, they could have made something different using the dried foods and fresh ingredients. Yet none of them seemed interested in doing so.
“What, no appetite, newbie?”
Someone tapped my shoulder and asked. He was a brown-haired man with a somewhat intimidating appearance—one of the people I hadn’t seen yesterday.
Without asking, he picked up one of my pieces of bread and broke it in half as if to show how hard it was. The completely stale bread split with a sound like dry wood cracking, and he placed the pieces back on my plate.
“You shouldn’t have come here empty-handed. It’s obvious we’d have to wait a few days before performing the ritual, yet you showed up without any preparation.”
I had never intended to wait in the first place. That was why I had no reason to listen to this sarcasm, and even those who claimed to have prepared their own food were only adding a few extra items to the same basic meal.
But there was no need to say that now.
“I planned to prepare things on the way.”
“Ah, right. That’s what I heard too. Of course, you might think there’d be markets or shops around here. Secret gatherings are always like that, aren’t they?”
In truth, there were countless secret meetings and rendezvous held in busy downtown areas, back rooms of taverns, or hidden warehouses inside markets. Not only various illegal trades and arrangements, but even the rebel forces active in the Demon King’s territory during the last war had operated that way. Yet the man in front of me didn’t seem to be thinking of any of that.
“Or gathering things directly from the surroundings.”
Another man sitting farther away added.
“Well, you were sleeping until noon, so that would’ve been difficult.”
Bullying the newbie. It was childish, nothing like academy students. I raised my head slightly and looked for Olsidra. Judging from his tone and attitude yesterday, he didn’t seem like the type to just watch this kind of behavior, yet he said nothing. I wondered why.
As expected, Olsidra wasn’t here. Whether he was praying, walking, or doing something else, his absence was probably why they were acting this way.
This was probably a form of entertainment for them. In this cramped house with nothing else to do and so many people gathered together, there weren’t many ways to release their energy. That was probably why even academy students did foolish things.
“I suppose the others who woke up early were different?”
I asked with a hint of irritation. The dream I’d had that morning was part of it, but memories of unpleasant incidents from my academy days also surfaced, making it worse.
“We don’t need to. The bread and jerky you’re eating right now were bought by us.”
At his words, several people nodded as if proud of the fact. Ah, now I understood. They had pooled the things each of them had prepared and were sharing them like this.
That was why a young newbie eating for free didn’t sit well with them. And though I hadn’t noticed until now, I saw that none of the people here were wearing clothes better than mine.
They weren’t my dawn clothes, but most of my outfits were made of light yet sturdy material designed to help in combat, and they were quite functional. Even my casual clothes had been made by renowned artisans as gifts celebrating our victory. Of course, the artisans hadn’t added flashy decorations or embroidered their names, considering Rowell and the others’ preference for simplicity, but they were clearly different from ordinary clothes.
A newbie wearing expensive clothes, younger than them yet more skilled. It would have been stranger if I had made a good impression.
“If you want, I could pay…”
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Money? That would make me look like nothing more than a bragging brat.
“Ha!”
Some of them snorted, and others openly expressed their displeasure. Even most of those who didn’t react didn’t look particularly happy.
Yes. After the great war, most people were still living without much financial leeway, and there were many who had even less. These people were probably the same. No—the very fact that they had come here proved they weren’t living satisfactory lives.
“Money? Sure, paying would be fine. So how much can you give? Half a gold coin?”
Half a gold coin was enough to provide better meals than this three times a day for ten days for this many people. It was pure sarcasm.
I decided to keep my mouth shut. The irritation I felt was slowly fading. Yes, they were all victims of the last war as well. Moreover, they hadn’t committed any particular crimes yet, nor had they done anything especially bad to me.
“That’s enough. Is bullying the newbie really that fun?”
“You’re old enough to know better.”
Some of the women eating at the kitchen table—including the one I had seen earlier by the bathroom—raised their voices.
“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
The man walked out. It wasn’t because the women had said anything in particular, but because he himself had nothing left to say. But none of that mattered to me. Only then did I look at each of their faces one by one.
Until yesterday, their existence had meant nothing to me. They were just passing figures, potential watchers I had to deceive. After saving Kainaknus, they were people I could simply forget. They were meaningless, just faces passing by.
But looking closely at their faces, I could see the pain and wounds each of them carried. If Alsh Unak collapsed and this Dark Temple disappeared, what would become of them?
Once their soul’s color had been dyed by black flames, returning to normal would be difficult. It would require tremendous effort, and most ordinary summoners would probably find it impossible. Yet advancing further as Dark Priests would also be hard. There would be no one left to guide them, and self-study was difficult at their level.
What did they hope to achieve by becoming Dark Priests? And what would they lose and despair over when the Dark Temple fell? What were their desires, their hopes?
Suddenly they looked pitiful to me. It wasn’t the genuine compassion Rowell or Aegina would feel—it was merely my own whim.
I had already seen so much pain and tragedy during and after the great war. Even if they experienced one of those pains and tragedies, it wouldn’t hold any special meaning for me. Yet right now, they no longer felt like mere obstacles. For the first time, they felt like real people.
Yes. At the very least, they weren’t my enemies. No—they were weaklings who could never reach me. No matter how much they tried to dye their souls, they would remain nothing more than that. (Of course, the madman sitting alone in the corner chewing bread was a different story.)
I forced myself to bring the bread and jerky to my mouth. My appetite was gone, but there was no other natural way to leave this place.