Chapter 86
Chapter 86
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: The Name of the End: Johan (7)
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There are monsters in the Great Forest—.
That was the thought harbored in the chest of Acheronar, the exile of the Great Forest, as she emerged from the lush woods.
On a certain day hundreds of years ago, Acheronar had committed an unforgivable sin in the Great Forest and was banished.
She had perpetrated the horrific act of attacking the Mother Tree—the World Tree—worshipped by the elves.
Only two elves had been exiled for breaking this absolute taboo, one that could never be forgiven.
One was Acheronar, the solitary elf mage.
The other was Rafaria, the rigid guardian who trained in swordsmanship.
Her kin had pointed fingers at Rafaria and Acheronar, calling them the shame of the elves and hurling insults.
—'You have tarnished the pride of the elves.'
—'Half-formed rejects who were never chosen by the spirits have finally committed this atrocity.'
Countless condemnations and curses rained down upon them.
Rafaria, who had honed her sword every day with relentless effort, eventually left the forest with her head bowed.
Acheronar, the loner, had to flee the Great Forest without even gathering her belongings.
However, Acheronar clearly understood that her circumstances were not the same as Rafaria's.
She alone had committed the crime.
Proof of that was the vivid brand seared into the back of her hand, one that would never fade.
"......"
The traditional ritual in the Great Forest.
In the midst of it, attacking the World Tree and wounding it had been little more than an impulse.
For her, who had long studied magic, things invisible to other elves had begun to appear.
The black shadows spreading through the Great Forest.
The tree endlessly mimicking the role of her kin's mother every day.
To her eyes, accustomed to handling countless puppets, the majestic World Tree began to look like just another puppet.
Someone watching over the vast forest and the elves, moving a grotesque puppet with some intent—.
Acheronar's dangerous thoughts grew larger with time.
—'Acheronar? Are you out of your mind?'
Countless clues supported her suspicions.
Shallow knowledge consumed her.
The curse of knowledge gnawed at her endlessly.
At some point, even her own kin began to appear as puppets in her eyes.
Puppets manipulated under the guise of unity beneath the rule of the great elf queen.
Pulses beating, red blood flowing, yet unable to escape the bonds of the World Tree.
Perhaps Acheronar herself would ultimately become someone's puppet.
That thought planted a single possibility in her mind.
—Maybe I can save them all.
If she burned the World Tree with her own hands—.
Then perhaps she could free all the elves from its shackles.
Even a solitary mage rejected by the spirits might one day earn her kin's regard.
Impulsive heroism reared its head.
As a result, Acheronar paid the price for her folly.
The great Mother Tree did not let the puppet who set fire to its body go unpunished.
Thus, Acheronar became a criminal.
The brand on the back of her hand was proof of her sin.
"......I want to live."
A sobbing voice leaked from the lips of the elf bound in thorny vines.
Hundreds of years had passed since her exile from the Great Forest.
Acheronar had resorted to any means necessary to survive.
Yet now, a sharp blade hovered at her throat.
"I don't want to die like this......"
The exiled criminal walked the path of the Mother Tree she had so feared.
She built a sky fortress inhabited solely by puppets.
A sanctuary for herself alone, beyond the reach of massive tree roots.
Acheronar was afraid.
Afraid that the World Tree, which had branded her a criminal, would one day steal her time again.
And so, she abandoned her name.
Locked away alone in her sky citadel with no one else, she waited only for the day freedom would come.
- "......"
She fled from the tree on the ground.
She repeatedly attempted to gain the same status as the master of the tree she feared.
And now—.
Hot tears streamed from the eyes of the failure.
"What have I... how long until......"
- "......"
"How long do I have to keep... running away......?"
Acheronar's eyes turned to the magitech puppet before her.
A knight in black armor emitting purple glow from its eyes.
He gazed down at Acheronar with the cold stare of an executioner.
Unlike the citadel's puppets that had treated her with kindness and obedience, this magitech puppet before her was different.
With a sharp blade at her throat, it stood ready to sever her at any moment.
"That damned World Tree—! My kin in the Great Forest—! And now even the monsters from the outside world......!"
The legendary citadel no longer existed here.
"Every single one in the world... nothing but things trying to kill me... crawling everywhere......"
Now, only the scattered ruins of the citadel burned around her.
Crunch—.
Blood burst from her clenched fist.
The forbidden technique she had used to preserve her body during the great ritual.
Its backlash was now returning to her.
Gazing at the blood flowing from her grip, words laced with regret spilled from Acheronar's lips.
"I didn't want to live like a coward, hiding away......!"
Her trembling voice warped the air.
Sobs like screams followed.
Hah, haa—.
Emotions mixed into her ragged breaths and leaked out.
She was a coward.
A coward terrified of everything.
A frail elf who could find no peace unless she excluded everything approaching the citadel.
The mage's confession poured from her lips as she huddled in fear.
"Yet I... have no choice but to keep living like this forever......"
The knight in jet-black armor watched the scene.
A steel knight stripped of blood, heartbeat, and soul, imprisoned in metal.
He stared at Acheronar as she spoke.
- "......"
Whirr—.
The knight's eyes flashed briefly as it regarded her.
Soon after, a stiff voice emanated from the magitech armor Sirius.
- "I wouldn't know."
"......"
- "I don't understand what you're talking about, or what you're so afraid of."
Acheronar's eyes blankly stared at the knight.
Beyond the armor steeped in darkness.
From there came a feeling as if some warm emotion overflowed.
Thump—.
An impossible heartbeat from the magitech puppet echoed through.
- "But I know what it feels like to want to live."
"You, right now......"
- "I know there are times when you have no choice but to run away like a coward."
Acheronar gaped blankly, listening to the knight's halting voice.
Before her was undoubtedly a puppet.
A cold one without boiling blood or beating heart.
Yet the knight's voice was more human than anyone she knew.
- "I wanted to become a noble holy knight. I wanted to be a hero praised by all."
"......"
- "I wanted to be a partner my loved one could be proud of. I wanted to decide my final moments with my own will."
"Ah, ahh......"
- "But my weak lingering attachment wouldn't fade—and so I chose to remain in this world in this form."
Creak—.
The sound of metal friction rang out.
The fallen holy knight's gaze fixed on her.
The thick blade no longer carried killing intent.
Only pity, in his stead, reached her.
- "Is being a coward truly so bad?"
The heretic who betrayed his guide spoke.
- "Is this lingering desire to survive at any cost, this feeling of wanting to face tomorrow, nothing but worthless, pathetic thrashing?"
"......"
The dead man's lingering attachment was there.
The folly of craving what came after sacrificing everything for duty was there.
Facing it, Acheronar quietly bowed her head.
Stab—.
The shadow cast on the ground met her.
- "I decided long ago to face tomorrow. Even if someone points fingers at me, I resolved to survive somehow and see Mary's face."
"......"
- "I believed a chance to fulfill my will would come someday. That's why I couldn't let go of my attachment."
It felt like peering into a mirror at the image on the other side.
Something heavy settled in Acheronar's chest.
- "And what of you now? Are you prepared to abandon everything and embrace death?"
The question directed at her flowed out.
No hesitation, not even a moment's pause, was needed for her answer.
Bloodshot-faced Acheronar met Sirius's gaze.
"Not yet... I can't die yet......"
- "I see."
"Until I prove I wasn't wrong... I absolutely can't die like this......!"
Her voice, soaked in attachment, echoed.
Hundreds of years of pent-up emotions poured into the world.
A roaring echo.
A wail like desperate flailing spread beneath the dark sky.
His following advice was exceedingly simple and light.
- "Then surrender. The master of the library awaits you."
Clank—.
The jet-black knight sheathed his blade.
* * * * * *
The poignant dream of freely wandering the ground.
At the end of that sweet scene, as always, I faced a vast forest filled with pristine white.
Sky and earth. Trees and grass.
Even the animals bounding around—.
In this world where everything was dyed white, I sat quietly on a familiar white chair.
"......"
Just examining the chair I sat on made it easy to guess who it was for.
The mysterious girl dwelling in the white forest.
The being who granted a fleeting white dream to a mage who dreamed not—.
The girl beyond the noise had invited me here once more.
"This is the second time I've come here, I suppose."
Her intrigued eyes scanned the surroundings.
It was rare for me, staying in Celestia, to fall into a dream.
Thus, my impressions of the white landscape spilled from my lips.
"Not much different from last time."
—A lucid dream.
The far side of a world where one recognizes everything as a dream.
It seemed I had encountered the nameless girl there once again.
Hah—.
White breath leaked from my mouth and spread.
Today, as always, I lifted my head, thinking of the mysterious girl who would nag me.
"Hey, you know—."
"......"
"Does a great mage produce great magic?"
Swish—.
With a familiar voice, a white finger extended from the corner of my vision.
The girl's finger approached slowly, naturally overtaking my view.
Yet I did not reject her touch.
Even as darkness covered my vision, she continued her enigmatic questions toward me.
"Or does great magic lead to a great mage?"
The great magic that tests worth.
Or the great mage who conjures it.
The girl's hand, speaking of fate-like causality, soon gently caressed my cheek.
"I truly hope that one day you can reach great magic."
"......"
"Magic that declares the end to eternal fate—. It won't be a miracle happening right now, but I firmly believe you will reach it someday."
Cold touch.
A motion as if carving something.
A stark chill, devoid of any body heat, brushed my cheek.
It felt somewhat inhuman.
Along with it, the girl's whisper rang in my ear.
"But you know, Johan. It seems you've drawn too much attention this time."
The story from the lips of the girl stroking my cheek with unfamiliar hands.
It contained an exceedingly familiar name.
My name—Johan.
A name I had never once told her.