Chapter 125: The Half-Baked Magus (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 125: The Half-Baked Magus (4)
The Duke stared blankly ahead.
Before him lay a world of ash.
Beyond that was a parched wasteland where not even a single blade of grass could grow.
A void.
A land where everything had vanished.
As a face familiar to the Duke—to ■■■—began to appear over that horizon, he realized one thing.
This was a memory of the past.
A faded past, now difficult even to recall.
Yet, through the impartial flow of time, it had become something that could only be seen in dreams.
It was the reason ■■■ had survived until now, and simultaneously, the yoke within his memories that tormented him.
The Duke could not tear his eyes away.
There, he saw the backs of the Magi he knew so well.
Among those fragments, various faces appeared.
From the face of the Magus who had been there since before he became his Master’s disciple.
To the face of the one who had become a Magus around the same time as him.
And even the face of the one who had become another Magus’s disciple later than him, yet surpassed him to become a Magus sooner.
They were all walking past the barren land, heading into the Abyss.
Next, he saw his Master’s smiling face.
Her smile was as benevolent as ever.
‘It can’t be helped, ■■■. The moment the Soul of the World overflowed, it became inevitable.’
If she hadn't been shedding tears, he might have been fooled for a moment.
‘■■■, I’m glad you didn’t become a Magus.’
No.
That wasn't right.
He should have become a Magus.
He, too, should have been of help.
Because he thought that way, the version of him in the memory had surely said something.
What had he said?
He couldn't remember.
If he had to guess from the blurred fragments, he had probably thrown a tantrum, saying he wanted to follow them.
But unlike his own forgotten words, his Master’s image remained vivid.
‘If you aren't a Magus, it would only be a futile death. So instead, I’ll leave what comes next to you.’
His Master’s face, wearing an expression as if she had no choice.
‘You must survive. And in doing so, protect this world. The world that we—’
The world the Magi had protected.
Her final voice, speaking as she stroked the head of the boy who had grown taller than her.
With that, his Master and the Magi left him behind and stepped into the Abyss.
To stop the Sin that was crawling up from the Roots.
To protect this world.
To protect humanity.
To protect a half-baked Magus.
They left him and moved forward.
And so, the last thing he saw was────────
“Cough—!”
As the ash-faded memory distorted and blurred, the Duke coughed up blood.
He looked around with hollow eyes.
What he saw was a world of ash.
And a parched land.
“…….”
Yet, despite the similarity, he realized this was not within his blurred memories of the past.
Though it resembled that time, there was one distinct difference.
“…….”
Duke Comallon—
■■■ stared blankly ahead.
In the spot where the Magi had stood in his faded memories, a man was standing.
A half-baked Magus was looking down at him silently, his expression devoid of emotion.
Marquis Palatio stood there, gazing down at the Duke.
The Marquis’s condition did not look good.
Though he couldn't see clearly before, the skin on the man’s hands and neck, not covered by his black coat, was tinged blue.
It was a case of mana poisoning so severe that it would have been strange if mana hardening hadn't already set in.
Was that all?
Most of the wounds visible near the blue skin were minor, but his right arm had sustained a heavy injury.
However.
That didn't leave much of an impression on Duke Comallon.
“……Cough.”
After all, unlike the Marquis who could still stand, Duke Comallon himself was slumped on the ground.
He lowered his gaze.
There was a massive hole there.
A hole so large that it was impossible to sustain his life any longer—even as a human who had utilized an Abyss Body—was pierced through the center of his abdomen.
“Ha—”
The Duke let out an involuntary laugh.
Duke Comallon didn't even realize why he was laughing.
Was it because his mind had finally broken?
Or was it the sense of liberation from finally being able to set down his heavy burden?
What was it?
What could it be?
………
……
…
In truth, Duke Comallon knew.
He knew very well why a hollow laugh was forming on his lips.
To be precise.
‘You must survive. And in doing so, protect this world. The world that we—’
The fragments that had functioned as nothing more than a blind obsession rather than a memory for hundreds of years suddenly surfaced clearly in his mind, allowing him to understand at last.
‘—The world the Magi had protected.’
His Master’s face in the resurfacing memory was wistful.
And within that wistfulness, another emotion was contained.
The emotions of pity and sorrow.
■■■ knew why his Master had made such a face.
She had never expected anything from ■■■ in the first place.
His Master didn't think ■■■ would be able to protect the world.
He was far too weak for her to place such expectations on him.
Even ■■■ had recognized that his Master’s words were merely spoken to soothe a child throwing an unreasonable tantrum.
He might have lacked talent, but he didn't lack intuition.
But even if his Master hadn't expected it, even if no one had expected it, he had made a vow to himself as he watched the Magi enter the Abyss.
That he would surely protect this world they had saved.
He vowed that he would not let their sacrifice be in vain.
However, the start of such a vow was, ironically, born more out of self-satisfaction than a sense of duty.
It was a vow made so that a half-baked Magus, who had never once been recognized, could finally be acknowledged as a Magus.
So that he could proudly think of himself as a member of the Magi.
Even if there was no one to acknowledge him, he wanted to at least believe it himself.
In other words, the smile currently on his lips was one of self-mockery.
“In the end, I’m just a half-baked failure—”
■■■ let out a weak chuckle, blood trickling from his mouth.
Because, in the end, he had achieved nothing.
Just as his Master had expected.
……Just as the Magi had expected.
Exhaling a dry sigh, he realized his vision was slowly blurring.
The death he had deferred for countless years for a single purpose was now before him.
“Duke.”
At the voice that reached him, he turned his head.
There stood Marquis Palatio, looking down at him with the same emotionless face as before.
The Marquis soon spoke.
“You are indeed a Magus.”
A low, quiet sentence.
He couldn't tell what the Marquis’s intention was in saying those words.
But regardless of the intent.
“……Ha.”
■■■ couldn't help but let out a faint smile.
Whatever the intention, it was quite sweet to the Duke.
……Because those words the Marquis uttered were words he had wanted to hear, even if they were a lie.
And so, the smiling Duke spoke.
“……The eastern end. Go south of the ‘Border.’ Since you’ve received the Sentence, you might be able to get help. You might even be able to see… the truth.”
He closed his eyes, offering his own form of repayment.
As the Abyss arrived, his consciousness began to sink slowly into sleep.
And finally.
What he recalled was, ironically, the very last part of the memory.
The part he hadn't been able to remember until the very, very end.
‘You must survive. And in doing so, protect this world. The world that we—the world the Magi had protected—’
The final words his Master had said.
‘—You are a fine magus.’
That was the last memory ■■■ recalled as his consciousness fully submerged.
‘I see. You did… believe in me….’
Finally, the half-baked Magus fell into an eternal sleep.
With a small smile lingering on his lips.
And.
───The ‘Eye’ that the half-baked Magus had failed to see quietly watched his death.
* * *
Exactly three days had passed since Duke Comallon died and the Artificial Outer God incident, which had threatened to destroy the entire Ashtalon Kingdom, came to an end.
In conclusion, peace had returned to the Ashtalon Kingdom.
Although there was chaos due to the mass death of nobles at the ball the Duke attended and the total destruction of several territories, the immediate fire had been extinguished.
Furthermore, other countries where Artificial Outer Gods had appeared also found peace as the creatures were defeated around the time of the Duke’s death.
And amidst that peace.
“……I’m going to die.”
Marquis Palatio, Alon, had been groaning for three days from the terrible pain racking his entire body.
It was only natural.
In the battle against the Duke, he had downed no fewer than thirteen bottles of mana potions.
His insufficient mana holes had certainly expanded, his magic efficiency had become overwhelmingly better, and he hadn't even used Self-Embodiment that much.
However, the battle with Duke Comallon had forced him to use far more magic than his limits allowed.
“Whew—”
The pain remained unchanged.
As Alon let out a groan, Evan, who was attending to him, spoke up.
“Still, look on the bright side. The priest said you could have kicked the bucket right then and there. It’s a relief. Until yesterday, you were groaning so much you couldn't even open your mouth, but now you can at least talk.”
“……I suppose so.”
Alon recalled the priest who had looked at him with a horrified expression the other day and cautiously asked, ‘Are you… perhaps not human?’
According to the priest, his mana poisoning was so severe it was a miracle he was even alive.
“Still, you should probably be more careful with this kind of thing from now on, Marquis.”
“……I’d like to be.”
“You jump into dangerous situations far too often.”
“Are you worried?”
“Of course I am.”
“……Is it not because you’re worried about having to follow me around?”
“Ahem—honestly, there’s a tiny bit of that too.”
Alon, who was smiling inwardly at Evan’s joke, soon saw the door burst open.
“Mentor—!”
It was Seolrang.
“Are you okay!?”
As soon as she saw Alon, she rushed over in a flurry.
“I’m… fine, but,”
Alon nodded, but his gaze soon fixed on Seolrang’s collarbone.
There was a large scar there that he hadn't seen before, one that even the priest’s treatment hadn't been able to fully heal.
“That wound—”
“Oh, this? I messed up a dodge during the fight! But it’s okay, Mentor! It doesn't even hurt!”
Watching Seolrang laugh it off as just a mistake, Alon’s stoic expression masked a heavy heart.
No matter what she thought, that scar was a result of her helping him.
“……I’m sorry.”
“Huh? Why are you sorry, Mentor? It was just my own mistake.”
She looked genuinely confused as to why he was apologizing.
However, Alon’s gaze didn't easily pull away from the scar.
“It’s a wound you got while trying to help me. And a scar like that can look unsightly. I feel responsible.”
At those words, Seolrang’s smile faded for a moment as she looked down at her own collarbone.
Staring at the scar that ran from her right collarbone to the tip of her shoulder, she eventually looked back at Alon and spoke.
“Um, Mentor.”
“Yes?”
“How does it look to you?”
“……To me?”
“Yeah. In your eyes, Mentor—does this scar make me look unsightly?”
Alon remained silent for a moment at Seolrang’s question before shaking his head.
“No, it doesn't.”
“Then it’s fine!”
“……Is it?”
Alon was inwardly bewildered, though his face remained unchanged.
However.
“Yep! As long as it doesn't look weird to you, Mentor, I don't care at all!”
Seeing Seolrang shout cheerfully with a smile back on her face, Alon felt another pang in his chest.
And then.
“Huh?”
Evan wore a look of utter shock as he watched Alon’s face.
And for good reason. Though it was incredibly faint.
‘……He’s smiling?’
Alon was, indeed, smiling—ever so slightly.
Evan, who had served him for nearly ten years, had never seen anything beyond minor shifts in expression.
While he stood there dazed by the rare sight, Alon saw Seolrang off as she left for further treatment. Then, he received an unexpected visitor.
The troublemaker, Karsem.
He had come to visit.
In reality, Alon had no connection to him other than the fact that they had traveled together because of Seolrang.
Why was this guy showing up here…?
“Are you feeling alright, Big Brother……!”
“???”
Seeing the Colony royalty suddenly prostrate himself with eyes full of respect and goodwill, Alon couldn't help but be bewildered once again.