Chapter 141
Chapter 141
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 141
Chapter Title: The Past, An Even More Distant Past (4)
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There was once a party formed to sever the Demon King's neck.
It was a party formed bearing the expectations of the entire world.
Hero, Ganikalt van Galatric.
Sorcerer, Belial van Dragonic.
The First Saintess, Glerea Bell Armias.
Grand Sage, Cardi van Armiel.
No one on the continent had not heard their names. Even before being chosen by the stars, they were superhumans. They gathered under the Hero, each with their own purposes.
"I lost everything to the Demon King. I hope no one else ends up like me. The world as it is now is wrong."
The shadow sorcery called dragon magic.
The sorcerer Belial, who wielded it freely, had lost his own child to the cursed army led by the Demon King. He sought revenge on the Demon King. And he hoped no one else would suffer like him.
"Praying to Delorhim doesn't mean Delorhim will save us. Wouldn't it make the world more beautiful if I run out there myself instead of holing up in a cathedral praying?"
The Saintess called the incarnation of Delorhim.
Glerea, the church's first Saintess, wanted to save as many people as possible. She sought to embrace those suffering from curses. With the miracle granted by her god, she wished to make the world beautiful.
"If what I've built can help the world, then I'll gladly do it."
The master of Galatric, the sword sanctuary.
The first superhuman to reach the pinnacle of the sword simply wished to be of use to the world. He hoped the sword of the stars he wielded would cleave through the darkness enveloping the world.
And.
"I have to look after this klutz."
"Ow! Why'd you hit me, Armiel!"
"How many times have I told you not to call me by my baptismal name? This is the 3,752nd time already. Once a day—that makes nearly ten years of just this one phrase."
"Just give up already!"
"You give up. Elves don't know the meaning of surrender."
The pinnacle of magecraft, a mage approaching the truth.
The lord of the grandest tower in the capital joined the journey for a truly trivial reason.
Each one a genius born of their era.
Superhumans who had honed their talents beyond satisfaction through relentless effort. They were stronger than anyone.
-Hero, Ganikalt!
It was only a matter of time before the party of those four made their name across the continent. Wherever they went, victory reports filled the air.
Slash.
Every time Ganikalt swung his sword, the Demon King's forces parted. Already called the strongest swordsman, now blessed by the stars as well—few could stand in his way.
The Hero clears the path.
The Saintess guards his side.
The sorcerer secures the rear.
The mage turns the battlefield to ruin.
The simplest, yet most efficient strategy. They pierced through everything with frontal assaults. Cleaving the curses left by the Demon King, they advanced—forward, ever forward.
They dropped suns to illuminate the curses.
They purified the curse-infested earth.
They burned the lakes consumed by curses.
They subjugated the king of beasts.
They achieved what all deemed impossible. They became symbols of victory. Thus, they were called heroes.
"A hero isn't something someone decides. A hero is something made by the world."
Ganikalt, always leading the way, said.
"If someone finds solace looking at him. If the path he walks is right. And if he restores light to everyone, then that person is the hero."
It didn't have to be him.
As long as someone could light the way ahead, that person was the hero. It was Ganikalt's constant refrain. That was why he was more heroic than anyone.
"That was long-winded. Let's move."
And so.
"Cardi!"
"I'm on it! Just hold your sword straight!"
They fought.
"W-what do we do... Belial, your arm...!"
"Save your strength, Glerea. I know my body better than anyone. It's the price of my sorcery... I was prepared for this. It's not your fault."
"But..."
"If anything, having both arms turn into dragon limbs? I like it even more. Now I can stick by that absurd Ganikalt a bit longer."
They fought, whittling themselves down.
"...Too late."
"......"
"Sob, sniff..."
"Stand up, Glerea. Don't even think of using the miracle of resurrection. Even if revived, they can't live normal lives."
They witnessed countless atrocities.
They saw hell, and crossed through hell.
"I see."
At the end of it all.
"...We've arrived."
"Finally, urk. We've made it. Gruk..."
"Just as the rumors said. This is the Temple of Shade. The prophecy of the stars clearly pointed here too..."
"What a foul place."
They arrived at the Temple of Shade.
Before the throne of the King of Ten Thousand Demons, they steadied their breaths.
Shing.
Ganikalt gripped his sword firmly. Belial loosened his half-dragonized body. Glerea scattered blessings, and Cardi prepared spells to overturn the temple.
And then.
Screeeeech.
Screee, screeeeech.
With eerie sounds, the temple doors opened. What writhed within was darkness. Deep, profound darkness. Endless darkness. Thus, an indescribable being revealed itself.
"It's coming."
It.
"I'll go first."
That was the last sight Cardi remembered.
There, their journey ended.
Or rather, it should have ended in some form.
2.
"I'm sorry."
Atop the Kurakt Mountains stood a mage tower.
Cardi bowed his head and murmured.
Sorry, I couldn't keep my promise, so I couldn't protect you. Like a broken machine, Cardi repeated the same words.
He had failed.
He had ground his teeth at Skeval calling him a failure from midway up the mountain, but it was undeniable fact. Cardi had failed. Utterly, miserably.
Demon King.
A being that defied providence itself.
'We never should have thought to seize it.'
The approach was wrong from the start.
They shouldn't have tried to catch the Demon King by uprooting the curse. They should have sealed it to prevent its growth. Wrong method meant inevitable failure.
He realized this much later.
"Glerea, Ganikalt, Belial."
Cardi saw illusions before him.
Illusions of the past. Staring at phantoms he could only brush past, Cardi spoke.
"After losing you, I saw so much. I had to see it alone, endure it alone."
The illusions didn't hear him.
Knowing that, Cardi continued anyway. He spoke as if in confession.
"No one remembers us. That was the price of the contract. Your records were erased. The kingdom we stayed in... you tore it down with your own hands."
The Hero's journey vanished as the contract's price.
No one remembers them as heroes. Turned to calamities, they burned kingdoms.
"I couldn't stop you."
Everything was meaningless.
"Ganikalt, you asked me to protect humanity. I'm sorry. I couldn't keep that promise."
"Belial, you hoped no one else would lose family. I'm sorry. Countless nations vanished. Streets are filled with the wails of those bereft of kin."
"...And, Glerea."
Cardi's voice trembled.
"I couldn't protect you. I had to watch you cease being you. I'm sorry."
His confession continued.
"I sought answers."
"The contract with the Demon King, ways to reverse it, ways to restore you to humanity... I pondered endlessly. I sought answers."
He researched without end.
Ways to twist the contract, pry open cracks, restore them to humans.
"I built a new mage tower, delved into new studies. I even touched alchemy, which I'd never bothered with in my life. I truly, truly tried everything."
But.
"I couldn't find a way."
In the end, he could do nothing.
Helplessness sickened Cardi. He gazed at his hands with hollow eyes. Scars from corroding reagents covered them.
"...I just couldn't find it."
Step. The illusion of Glerea before him moved. She walked away from Cardi. Reaching the dais, she turned back briefly. It was a scene etched in Cardi's memory.
"Take care, Armiel."
"Take care, Armiel."
She smiled.
"I'll be counting on you."
"I'll be counting on you."
Words from Glerea—still pure white—at the journey's start, turning back to him. With that, her illusion faded.
"......"
Cardi closed his eyes, savoring her words.
"...I couldn't find it."
He opened them.
"But I couldn't give up either."
Step. He took one forward.
His hollow eyes were like ash piles. His jaundiced gaze had lost its light. Like embers remaining after fire, he staggered toward the church's heart.
Thud.
With each step, circuits etched on the church walls glowed. This place was a sort of 'archive'. A repository of history nowhere else preserved.
'Known only to me.'
Erased history lived on intact here. Records of those once heroes remained pristine.
Scrape.
Cardi traced the wall circuits.
The walls chronicled his adventures with comrades. Recalling the past, he kept walking.
After many steps.
Click.
"Ganikalt, you said it."
He stood at the church's center.
Where Glerea had vanished. There, Cardi drew a wooden urn from his bosom.
"Humans live but a fleeting moment, so we vow the next. So much undone in short lives, we vow the next next."
He placed it on the altar.
"...If not by me."
The altar glowed.
"If even I, who lives eternity, cannot, then I'll follow your words."
The next. Again, the next.
"...Someone."
Cardi etched circuits into the light.
"Someone will learn our history. Someone will finish what we couldn't......"
Reach the truth thus.
"For the first time, I pray to a god."
The mage who never believed in gods prays.
"I offer."
Ashes become fertilizer.
Ashes settle below to kindle new flames.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ The contract has been established. There, the contract was forged. A new clause born under the pact with the Shade. In a place untouched by any gaze, the contract deciding humanity's fate was sealed.
No one knows of the contract.
No one knows the truth.
Thus, time flows.
Countless histories pass. The Demon King merely exists as such. Nations burn and vanish. Humans die in droves. At that point, the four calamities gain names.
Black Storm.
Apostate.
Sword of Death.
Ancient Lich.
At first, even their names were unknown. But through an ancient dragon mage who remembers that era, their names spread.
Black Storm, Belial.
Apostate, Gletus.
Sword of Death, Ganikalt.
Ancient Lich, Skeval.
Chaos descends. Heroes appear and vanish repeatedly. Humanity's history marches endlessly to the next, again the next.
Time keeps flowing.
From humans living fleeting lives back to humans. Their spilled blood flows on, to the next. Endlessly to the next, the next...
And so.
"......"
Even endless time finds an end.
After centuries, someone reaches the truth. She is human. Not living an elf's long life. Not a Hero chosen by the stars. Just an ordinary human.
Because she is ordinary.
Because she staked her life every moment.
Thus, the shining human reaches out. She reaches for a history left nowhere else. She claimed the right to receive it with her own hands.
"Cardi."
The tale of ancient heroes, brilliant yet with an unbrilliant end. Standing at its final page, she slowly closed and opened her eyes.
"Is this what you wanted to show me?"
The human who touched the truth.
Ashen Mage, Raniel van Trias.
She sees it before her.
Four brilliantly shining stars.
Four stars resembling the Hero's starlight.