Chapter 63
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: My Sister?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Nen, cast a veil of light.”
Said Akirea of Crimson Flame.
“We will need five layers.”
The beautiful woman with hair like blazing fire, Akirea of Crimson Flame, clenched her fist.
Her left hand, however, which seethed with flames, was pressed against her side.
It was a wound from which the Abyss endlessly squirmed, gnawing away at her body from within.
“Sister Aki, was there no other way than this drastic method? The boy’s heart might shatter…”
Though the maggots of the Abyss had been incinerated by her brilliant flames, this Abyss was that of a king.
In other words, immortal.
Burned and burned again, it would only be reborn.
Just as it was now, swirling from the thigh of the young FakeWarrior who had collapsed on the training ground floor.
“Nen, have you ever read that boy’s heart? I imagine you would find nothing but a profound self-loathing.”
“...!”
“How can one who cannot accept himself walk the path of a warrior, who must embrace and lead others?”
The end of her sentence trembled.
Was it because of the pain of the Abyss devouring her flesh?
Or was it the ache in her heart, remembering her brother who had completed his own journey of humanity and experience by his own choice?
- Mir? Mir-mir-mir?
- My name is Mirngadia, which means wisdom. The abbreviation ‘Mir’ is highly inappropriate.
- Mir-mir-mir-mir-mir?
- ?
In their youth, when the three of them were with Yonghyeon, their time together was filled with unreserved laughter.
Amidst that laughter, the three siblings followed at Yonghyeon’s heels, exploring the world, marveling together as they gazed upon mountains, rivers, and seas.
Along that path, Yonghyeon would tell them stories intertwined with those wonders.
He also strove to show the three siblings the smiles that spread across the faces of those groaning in pain, bestowing light upon those they met on their journey.
When the three siblings would tilt their heads, not understanding the meaning of those smiles, Yonghyeon would suddenly laugh out loud.
- I don’t know what I’m trying to teach you. Just looking at you three makes me this happy…
In her memories, Yonghyeon was always smiling, and within that smile, the three siblings were smiling too.
That laughter, looking back on it now, was probably light.
If laughter was light, was Yonghyeon, who protected that light from the winds of the world, a great mountain?
In the embrace of that mountain, the light could burn brightly without a care for the future, then dim, then brighten again, over and over.
Perhaps.
No, certainly.
That must be what it feels like to be with a parent.
- I believe that a parent is a happiness that all dying things on this earth deserve to enjoy.
Mirngadia of the Blue Star had once said so.
- However, this world now has no parents, and those who live in it have either never had parents or have lost them as if it were a matter of course…
When he said this to Akirea, a quiet sorrow had settled upon Mirngadia’s face.
- The memories of days spent with a parent are a worldly paradise that gives one the strength to live in this world, yet these people live and die in this hopeless world without hope… How can we possibly soothe their lonely sorrow?
- Mir, how could that be done by our strength alone?
- Father was capable of it, and he accomplished it.
When he died of old age, on a field lush with the twilight, Yonghyeon had said this:
- I worry so much that I cannot leave you all behind and go first.
At that time, a young Mirngadia had replied.
- Father, I will spread the light I received from you to this world.
- …
- I will see you again in the paradise of creation, after I have become a son of whom you can be proud.
Yonghyeon died without hearing those last words, but Mirngadia took them as the guiding principle of his entire life.
- I made that promise, yet I have lived a life so utterly shameful.
Mirngadia of the Blue Star was brilliant from a young age, reading books from the day he was born.
He read books to accumulate knowledge and wisdom, seeking to establish a moral order upon the world.
To build that world, her brother fought the same battles as their father and died before his sisters.
Dying before his sisters, he completed his calling before them and went to a place that was not of this world.
- Father, guide my final path.
Those were the child’s last words.
The flowers that had bloomed in the colors of twilight on the field where their father died that day unfolded before Akirea’s eyes once more.
And with them, the voice of her brother, speaking those words with a serene, snow-white smile.
The sorrow had nowhere to go, swelling only in her eyes until they were clouded with mist.
‘And so now, are you in Father’s arms somewhere in that high, distant sky…’
Just then, the vortex of the Abyss erupting from Kaisen’s chest wrapped around his body, unleashing a powerful shockwave.
It had begun.
The internal struggle with the Abyss that whispers from the depths of the heart.
“Nen, that boy’s good fortune was being born with the greatest talent in history. He reached the pinnacle before even becoming an adult.”
“Yes…”
“And being born with that talent is also his misfortune.”
“Why?”
“Because he gained the power of a warrior before enough experience could temper his heart, mature it, make him an adult.”
But you can’t call that a warrior. He can’t spread light to the world as a warrior.
Just like he is now.
The stage of a lost soul, where the corrosion of the Abyss spreads throughout the body and its wicked nature begins to move the flesh.
Aradamanthel began to scream under the influence of the Abyss and was flung from his grasp.
The young FakeWarrior, emitting a dark blue light from his eyes, stared directly at Akirea.
“Right now, that boy is nothing more than a swordsman wearing the shell of a warrior…”
So brutally broken.
Not spreading light to the world.
But consumed by his own darkness, fated to sow that darkness.
“That boy is, right now, literally a fake warrior.”
The very ‘will’ he etched into his heart when he first took up the sword was a fake.
‘Will’ is a lantern.
Because the lantern is fake, he suffers as if floundering in darkness when he walks that path.
“Therefore, this fight is the first step he must take to find the lantern of his heart.”
“Sister, Kaisen has already been walking that path…”
“No. He has always been pushed along by hatred, by anger, by such inertias. This path cannot be walked to the end in that way. He will only break again.”
“Then what should he do?”
“He must be honest with himself.”
As a warrior, everything has been skewed from the very first step he took.
The cause of that misalignment is the wedge driven deep into the boy’s heart…
Because he won’t look at that wedge properly, because he can’t face it as it is, he hasn't been able to pull it out.
That wedge is his own true heart.
‘It’s an expected outcome for one so young, but…’
You must open your eyes, Kaisen.
You must confront that wedge, and you must pull it out. Before the heart impaled by it rots and festers completely.
That’s why I’ve made you meet yourself now. So that you can face your true heart.
Akirea finished taking a deep breath.
The flames that had been protectively enveloping her body grew transcendentally powerful and fierce.
“Given my condition, and the fact that you also harbor the Light Dragon’s power, controlling our strength will be difficult.”
The Fate of a Time Limit,
The Warrior’s Path, The Warrior’s Heart (2)
“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to avenge them?”
‘I’ said.
I realized my breathing had stopped.
Across my entire inner world, hallucinatory landscapes of memory spread out wide.
“If you keep spacing out like that, you’re going to die.”
‘I’ charged, drawing my childhood tachi, but Aradamanthel would not come out of its sheath.
“Hahaha! What are you doing! This is so easy!”
It was because of the whisper of spring.
The rustle of grass, the whisper of insects, the sound of the wind sweeping across the field.
In my youth, I used to lie down on the soft, sinking blades of grass and fall asleep. That way, I could be awakened by a warm rhythm.
- Kai, are you awake?
- You little troublemaker. Were you sleeping here again?
The one who carried me on their back was usually my mother, and sometimes my sister.
The feeling of someone carrying me home on their back was simply the best.
That hill overlooking the sea, the evening glow that set the shimmering water of the horizon ablaze, my mother’s humming, my sister’s nagging.
“Haha, so you do know!”
Into the heart of that beautiful sound.
A crushing, splintering noise erupted.
Cracks spread across all those landscapes of memory, the melody of memory twisting into a horrific cacophony.
“That you’re the one who broke it all!”
No, it wasn’t me.
It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it.
Even as my right arm was severed, the tendons in my legs cut, and I collapsed wretchedly to the ground, my limbs refused to obey.
【Volcanic ash covering the heavens and the earth.】
【The glint of an axe blade.】
【A scream, shouting, ‘Mom.’】
【The weight of death crashing down upon my mother’s body.】
【Kai, could you come here? Mom doesn’t have much time…】
My mind is collapsing.
The awareness from a distant day, which I tried so hard to forget and leave behind, surges like a tidal wave, sweeping over my entire being.
I know.
I do, too.
The truth is.
I know who the real enemy is.
Yes.
In my heart of hearts, I knew.
But that.
I just couldn’t, I couldn’t…
【My mother, covered in blood】【is smiling】【smiling】【smiling】【smiling…】
It was the question of a lifetime.
Mother, why were you smiling then? How, just how, how in the world, could you smile at that moment?
Why were you smiling?
But the person to whom that question could be directed no longer existed. Now… if I call out… Mother… the mother who would smile and say… yes… is no longer…
***
I had a dream.
On that spring day, I was sitting in a field of silver grass that stretched to the horizon, eating a sandwich with my mother.
Beside her were my father, my sister, and Camilla.
***
When I regained consciousness, I was once again lying in a hospital bed.
Akirea of Crimson Flame was leaning against the doorway of the room, exuding the warm scent of a winter hearth.
Just opening my mouth required an effort bordering on desperation.
“Your Excellency, even as we… are doing this… my time is approaching zero…”
“…”
“Please, let me go… I am not like you… I cannot control the Abyss within me…”
No matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t do it.
The pain of reliving that day’s memory, the awareness beyond the memory, was simply unbearable.
I would rather die than face it again…
- Mommy’s hands are healing hands. There, there, it’s okay, it’ll be okay.
Suddenly, within Akirea’s transcendent heat, the warmth of my mother surfaced as a phantom.
Even if I was just a little sick.
Even if my body felt just a little off.
How wonderful would it be if I could meet my mother just one more time, the mother who would never leave my side, always holding my hand tightly.
How wonderful, just how wonderful would it be…
As I thought of that joy I would never know, my mouth fell open slackly, my innermost thoughts spilling out on their own.
“Why did it have to be me…”
Why, of all people, did this have to happen to me…
Never once in my life had I wanted this kind of power. Not before I knew the price of that power was the fate of losing my entire family, and not after.
An echo returned to my unanswered monologue.
“Living for so many years has led me to this thought. Perhaps the gods give trials befitting the power to those they deem worthy of possessing it.”
“Trials…?”
“Trials to test whether they can use that power righteously or not.”
“If I have to go through such trials as the price for getting this damn power… I don’t, I don’t need it! I never wanted this damn power from the beginning…”
If a flame could wear an expression of sorrow, would it look like that? Akirea looked at Kaisen with a serene smile.
“Are you saying you resent the gods for having you be born as Raminea’s child?”
“What?”
“The power you gained, and that tragedy, all came about because your mother was Raminea. If you could be born again, would you wish for your mother not to be Raminea?”
What in the world was she saying?
I didn’t know what she meant, yet I felt like I did, and I couldn’t answer.
I just wanted to scream like a child throwing a tantrum, asking what she could possibly know.
“I know it well, Kaisen.”
Then, a sorrow that had quietly accumulated over long years like geological strata flowed out, carried on the trembling of the flames.
“My mother died right before I was born. She was murdered by the Old Nobles. They say she wanted to meet me so badly, but that dream was never fulfilled.”
“…!”
“But because of that, I was able to meet a father named Yonghyeon, my father’s friends, and my younger siblings. That is why, even if I could be born again, I have no desire to change this fate.”
Why was it?
As Akirea spoke, why did my own connections overlap with that warm, hazy flame?
When she said ‘father,’ Camilla came to mind, and when she said ‘friends,’ Johan, Jean of the Long Rifle, and Eltram the White Bear overlapped.
When she said she was able to meet her younger siblings, the faces of the deceased Seira, Isla, Roveris, and everyone from the Iron Cross floated above them.
“Kaisen, your life has certainly been a series of tragedies. But what about the connections you made within those tragedies? Were all of those connections tragic as well?”
It was difficult to even move my body, yet tears flowed endlessly, soaking the pillow.
“...No, they weren’t.”
“Now, be honest with yourself. What is it you want to do? Do you simply wish to die with that sorrow in your heart? Even at this very moment?”
I thought blankly.
Knowing that this wish I was thinking of was a meaningless echo that no god would grant, I just thought it. I just said it.
“If only for a single moment…”
Even if it means losing everything I’ve built up until now.
Just once.
Just once would be enough.
“...Mother, I want to see my mother again.”
Ah, so this was it, the desperate wish in my heart…
This was the tear of the young ‘me,’ trapped behind the life I had imposed upon myself, a life of only cutting and cutting forward…
Yes, these words were my true feelings, hidden my whole life beneath the shell of FakeWarrior…
“Yes, and what would you do if you met her?”
I want to apologize.
I want to kneel and beg for forgiveness.
For all the disrespectful things I did to my mother before that day. And for everything that happened on that day, that very day.
“Is that so?”
I didn’t say it out loud, only shed tears, but Akirea nodded with a mother’s smile.
“Yes, I understand.”
***
A long time passed after that day.
I think I entered the internal struggle one more time, but I didn’t succeed this time either.
When I lost consciousness again, I had a dream on the other side of my faintly clearing awareness.
Was it a dream of my mother’s return?
In the midst of a nightmare, an unbearably painful nightmare, I opened my eyes to a sound—*slice, slice, slice*…
That sound was not the sound of the Abyss violating my soul. It was a more familiar, living sound. It was the sound of an apple’s peel being carved away.
My mother was sitting by my bedside, peeling an apple. The moment our eyes met, a hollow, empty laugh escaped me.
‘Another dream like this.’
She’ll smile brightly now.
She’ll say something like, ‘My Kai, you’re awake…’
And then I’ll wake up from the dream.
“My heart was in my throat the whole way here. What if it was someone else? I prayed so hard, losing so much sleep, but what if it turned out to be someone else?”
But my mother in the dream didn’t smile. She turned her gaze back to the apple she was peeling and spoke in an emotionless tone.
“I know there can’t be that many people with such a strange name, but you never know. Coincidences happen. And boys grow up in an instant, so I was worried I might not recognize you.”
What was my mother talking about?
Did I have a memory like this?
They say all dreams are woven from the letters of memory upon the foundation of memory, but I had no memory of my mother speaking like this.
And something was subtly different.
Unlike the mother in my memories, she had a slightly younger feel to her, and her eyes weren’t the golden color of a dragon.
Black hair and red eyes.
The eye color I had before becoming a warrior, the color my mother must have had as well.
“But coming here, I realized it was all a useless worry. All of it.”
A certain feeling was trembling inside my chest, rising up hotly.
“You’ve grown so tall.”
Within that feeling.
I could hear someone sobbing sorrowfully, stifling their cries.
The owner of that sound was me.
“But your sleeping face is exactly the same as when you were a baby…”
That feeling.
It was a word that could never be expressed by any language in this world rooted in waiting, longing, or thirst.
“Sis…”
The rising lump of tears kept blocking my throat, and the word floundered again and again in my gullet.
Finally.
Just barely, I pushed the word I was sure I’d never be able to say again past my tongue.
“...Sis…”
Even until the very, very end.
I wasn’t sure.
I hesitated and hesitated, thinking the world might shatter like a dream the moment the word was spoken, and the world began to blur and break apart.
“…………Sister?”
The woman, who had the face of my dead mother.
Who possessed the voice of my dead mother, set the apple down on a plate.
She had been skilled at peeling fruit since she was a child, but this peel was a mess, and her fingers were trembling as if they would break.
Amidst that trembling, the face that finally turned to meet mine again was also contorted with tears.
“Yes, of course I’m your sister… What other sister do you have, you idiot…”