Chapter 137: Ascension (1)
Chapter 137: Ascension (1)
The son who returned after seven years was a mere shell of his former self.
The pride of the city had lost everything. The striking features that once captivated every woman who looked his way were gone. Most of his skin had been flayed away, leaving raw muscle exposed; he looked less like a human and more like a gruesome, flayed monster.
His brilliance and intellect had vanished as well. The eloquent speech that had once commanded the attention of peasants, nobles, and scholars alike would never be heard again. His tongue had been torn out, rendering him mute, and his jaw was so shattered that he was reduced to a broken shadow of a man, destined to spend the rest of his days drooling uncontrollably.
Because his bones had been crushed and his tendons severed under torture, he could no longer move on his own. To travel even a short distance, he had to thrust his head forward and drag his jaw along the ground like an earthworm. But the most horrific part of it all was that his mind remained perfectly intact. Despite his ghastly appearance, my son’s eyes were still clear—and from those clear eyes, transparent tears fell unceasingly.
My proud son was trapped inside a ruined body, imprisoned within a broken husk. Long ago, during my days as a Ranger, I had seen something similar: taxidermy. My son had been turned into a living stuffed specimen.
It was a nightmare beyond comprehension. A certain noble who had returned with my son explained the reason for his fall.
“Your son committed a crime,” the noble said.
Icarus had dreamed of the sky. He wanted to reach the stars, the domain of the gods, and sought to embrace the heavens. To that end, he had developed a device for flight—the result of his longing to behold the vistas above the clouds and reach the summit of the Sky Mountain Range, a realm of the unknown. Upon revealing his creation, Icarus had declared: The sky has no master, and anyone can become its owner. He claimed his invention would allow anyone to embrace the heavens, ensuring that everyone could dream of the stars and the sky as equals. As he showcased his invention, Icarus spoke of liberation and freedom.
“In the Kingdom of the Sky, he dared to commit sacrilege.”
Icarus’s invention was not permitted. The Lords of the Sky viewed it as a challenge to their authority. Their pride wounded, they decided to make an example of him. They deemed a punishment worse than death necessary. And so, they stripped that brilliant young man of everything he had. Then, they put his pathetic form on display for all to see—a warning to others. Like a beast stuffed for exhibition.
My son was imprisoned in a failing body.
“Consider him dead. Imagine he charged into a battlefield and was struck down by a stray arrow. It will be easier on your heart that way.”
“……”
“Do not harbor foolish thoughts. Swallow your anger and resentment. I know your eyes are turning red and your blood is boiling. But what can you do? Even if you swing your sword, can you cut the sky? Even if you scream, will your grief pierce the heavens and be heard on the other side?”
My son, who craved the sky, desired all things radiant, and loved life like a moth to a flame, ultimately met a moth’s end. Wanting to fly in the high heavens, he could not withstand the sun’s heat and was broken. As his old father, I could do nothing but hold his hand and weep. While I held him, my son made a wheezing sound and pointed at something. It was a pen and paper.
As I brought them to him, I grew anxious. I feared he might ask me to end his life—to kill him so he could finally be at peace. As a father, I could not end my child’s life. Never. Yet, even to my foolish eyes, his current existence was a curse. Death seemed more peaceful. If he begged for death, what was I to do? While I agonized, my son finished a sentence in crooked handwriting. Lacking much education, I took the crumpled paper to a neighbor and asked what was written there.
The neighbor read the sentence aloud.
“Higher, even higher.”
“……”
“I want to fly, Father.”
Ah, it seemed this foolish father still didn't truly know his son. He hadn't lost everything. A single handful of hope remained. Looking at my son, who yearned for the sky even with a body that could barely twitch a finger, I could not find the heart to tell him no.
When I returned home, I saw him wriggling on the floor after falling from his chair. I picked him up, held him in a crushing embrace, and struggled to hold back my tears as I spoke.
“Let’s fly. We shall fly far and wide.”
From that day on, my life began to change.
I became an adventurer. Partly to earn a living using my skills as a retired Ranger, partly because it was a profession that made it easier to obtain the materials needed for my son’s inventions, and above all, to see the ‘wider world’ for the sake of his dream.
My son said that to reach the sky, one must go to the place closest to it. Even with my limited learning, I knew where that was: the Sky Mountain Range. It was a place that no adventurer or explorer had ever conquered. No one could act as a guide. There was no Sherpa willing to lead a broken son and an old father up those peaks. To fulfill my son’s dream, I had to become an adventurer myself. An adventurer capable of carrying a heavy burden up the Sky Mountain Range. An adventurer who could achieve what no one else had.
“You are a diligent man.”
I was clumsy at first.
I tried to utilize my skills as a retired Ranger, but most of what I knew was outdated. I modified my traps, my techniques, and my equipment based on my son’s advice. Most of the gear and skills became something entirely creative. After fighting unfamiliar foes time and again to protect my son, my sword also began to grow sharp.
“……Your skill is astonishing.”
I felt like a different person.
In my youth, I had worked as an Imperial Ranger just to earn money. Now, my body was lighter, more experienced, and stronger than back then. Was it because I had something to protect? Was my son’s dream making my old heart beat once more? I didn't know. What I did know was that the comfort I offered my son applied to me as well. I, too, was preparing to fly. With my son, my Icarus.
“O Great Adventurer.”
At some point, the world began to call me that.
It was ridiculous. Calling an old man with white hair and a bent back a ‘Great Adventurer.’ When did it start? The things I achieved were too many to count. My widespread fame was largely due to my son’s influence. I used to record our discoveries using a cipher he taught me. He called it ‘Labyrinthos,’ and no one besides him could decode it. We had many achievements, but that air of mystery likely played a decisive role in boosting our reputation.
“May I ask your name?”
“Icarus.”
I used my son’s name as my own in my life as an adventurer. Whenever his name echoed through the lands, my son would occasionally smile with his ruined jaw. Some found it grotesque, but to my eyes, it was simply lovely. Because long, long ago, when he was just a baby, my son had smiled just like that.
As my reputation grew, so did my skills, until I finally became an adventurer capable of climbing the Sky Mountain Range with my son strapped to my back. From the moment I became an adventurer until now, I had lived only to study the structure of these mountains. Bizarre and fantastic paths became clear to me. My son, carried on my back, would occasionally let out a wheezing sound, and I knew it was a form of exclamation.
Passing the Monks, avoiding the spiritual beasts of the sky, and even crossing the Kingdom of the Dwarves, we finally reached a high altitude where a magnificent vista unfolded.
“How dare wingless things covet the heavens?”
There, we met the Lord of the Sky. A Dragon.
And.
“I find it difficult to overlook your sacrilege.”
I lost my son that day.
* * *
“Phew.”
I fully accepted the pouring memories.
I could still feel the intense hatred and rage toward the Dragon within the Memory of the Sword. What was the cause of this hatred and rage? That part remained unrevealed. I couldn't feel any particular power, either. It seemed the Legend contained within the blade was not yet permitted to me.
However, it wasn't as if I had gained nothing.
The world looks different than it did a moment ago.
The once-unfamiliar landscape of the Sky Mountain Range now felt clear and vivid. It didn't feel like the Sky Mountain Range anymore; it felt like I was running through the hills behind the Caravan estate. The memories of an old adventurer who had invested his entire life into these mountains—his efforts, the fruits of an old father’s labor—were absorbed into my mind.
This is actually quite good.
In this moment, I was no longer a country bumpkin swordsman from the outskirts of the Iron Kingdom who knew nothing of the world and wandered mountain paths. I had become an old man praised as a Great Adventurer, one who had traversed countless Forbidden Zones and planted flags in uncharted lands. An old man who started as a retired Ranger and spent a brilliant twilight as a legendary explorer.
The place I fell from the Cloud Bridge was the foothills of the Sky Mountain Range.
According to the memories, the Sky Mountain Range is divided into the foothills, the mid-slope, and the ‘Azure Sky’ beyond that. The foothills are characterized by an abundance of mana and are teeming with exceptionally large plants and insects. The mid-slope? It is filled with plants as dangerous as monsters, insects grown to the size of giants, terrifying beasts that have evolved into spiritual creatures due to mana, and various disasters caused by the unnaturally high mana concentration. As for the Azure Sky beyond the mid-slope…… I couldn't know yet, as I hadn't absorbed those detailed memories.
Regardless.
If it was just the ‘foothills,’ there was no problem.
Try and run, you winged lizard.
I slowly closed my eyes.
And in the next moment.
Do you really think you can escape me here?
I became the old adventurer who had dedicated his life to the Sky Mountain Range.
And for a Great Adventurer, catching a young dragon that had lost its wings and was fleeing pathetically was an easy task. Truly, an incredibly easy task.
* * *
“Kek, keeeek!”
The young dragon, Aion, cast aside the dignity befitting a dragon and fled pathetically. For a Dragon, a Lord of the Sky, running on four legs was a humiliation. Perhaps within their own nests it was different, but when moving outside, a dragon was always supposed to move with grace. Tearing through a filthy mud path with claws and running like a common beast was unthinkable. But to Aion, none of that mattered in the slightest.
“That—that blade touched my skin. My scales, my scales……”
Aion couldn't keep his wits about him. As a young dragon, Aion had never once felt a threat to his life. The sensation of the blade touching him was far too chilling. It was strange. No creature in the mountains should have dared to threaten a dragon. Feeling stifled in the nest, Aion had always enjoyed flaunting his power in the foothills, acting like the absolute ruler of the area.
He had intended to do the same this time.
Curled up and sleeping near the foothills, Aion had seen insignificant humans daring to use the dragons' passage and decided to show them his greatness. Among the humans, there was even one who gave off a ‘terrible smell of iron’ that couldn't be ignored. From that smell of iron, Aion felt an emotion he had never experienced in his life. Not knowing what it was, he simply felt unpleasant. And because he felt unpleasant, he tried to crush the human.
But.
“Ugh, uuu. Uuuuu.”
Only now did Aion realize. The emotion he had felt from the smell of iron was fear. An inexplicable terror engraved into the very blood of dragons. A horrific dread etched into his cells by a distant history of unknown origin.
“No, I hate it, I hate it!”
Aion ran pathetically, heading higher and higher. He wanted to flee to the comfort of his nest immediately. Once he reached his nest, he planned never to come out again until he reached his adult form. Perhaps he wouldn't even leave then. The sensation of that blade touching his flesh was so horrific he would never forget it for the rest of his life.
Yes, as a young dragon not even two hundred years old, he was still too weak to face the world. The old Ancient Dragons were right. The world is dangerous. Young dragons must stay in the nest. Safety exists only beside one's kin……
“Keke, kek!”
Aion ran with all his might. The thunderous noise created by his massive body caused the surrounding mountain animals to howl and scatter in all directions.
And then—
“……!”
In front of Aion, that human with the unpleasant smell appeared. Aion’s eyes shook for a moment. How could a mere human reach this spot faster than a dragon? It defied common sense. Even if Aion had lost his wings, a dragon’s running speed far exceeded that of a human. Furthermore, there was no way a human could know the geography of the Sky Mountain Range better than a dragon. Just how?
“Get—out—of—the—way!”
Aion tried to shove the human aside and flee as quickly as possible. Pride and dignity were gone. From the moment he felt his life was in danger, only escape remained in Aion’s mind. Aion charged straight ahead. Seeing Aion’s charge, the human pulled something from his cloak and threw it. They were fruits—fruits that grew in the foothills of the Sky Mountain Range. After throwing four fruits, the human yanked on a swaying vine and shot up into the trees. Like a monkey.
And then.
“Kek!”
The fruits that hit Aion’s snout exploded. They were fruits filled with sweet and sour juices, but when four of them burst simultaneously, an extreme stench erupted. The spreading stench momentarily paralyzed Aion’s sense of smell. The moment Aion squeezed his eyes shut, the ground beneath his four feet suddenly gave way. As Aion collapsed, losing his balance, the human leaped onto him. The human’s form looked strangely blurred. Like a ghost from the spiritual world.
The golden-haired, blue-eyed, noble-looking human……
For a brief moment, took on the appearance of a seasoned old adventurer.
A moment later, the sword in the human’s hand flashed as it swung. Aion tried to dodge, but the human’s strike was uncannily precise. It wasn't a sword meant for fighting other humans; it was a sword crafted for dealing with massive beasts and monsters. Like the techniques learned by an Imperial Ranger. The human’s blade drew a perfectly fluid arc.
And then.
“……Keeeeeeeeek!”
Aion’s left hand was severed.
It fell to the ground with a dull thud.