Chapter 56: Prologue (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 56: Prologue (6)
Once the time reversal concluded, I found myself standing in a small, rustic room.
The faint scent of wood and damp earth drifted through the open window. It seemed the rain had stopped some time ago. Looking out, I saw the dark clouds parting over a vast, lush landscape, revealing a brilliant rainbow stretching across the clearing sky.
It was a familiar sight and a familiar scent.
Even though this was technically my first time here, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, making me feel strangely at home.
Where am I?
Instinctively, I knew the answer.
‘This is home. Isaac’s home.’
Because the Phantasmal Clock reversed time in proportion to the duration it had been accelerated, I had traveled over two years into the past.
I was dressed in a simple brown shirt. When I lifted the hem, I saw my abdomen was still pale and frozen. It seemed the trial wasn't over yet, as I hadn't been returned to the blizzard-swept cavern.
‘Not yet.’
It’s not over just yet.
I suspected this place was where the trial would truly end. The acceleration of time, the reversal, and Isaac’s past—this sequence of events held the key to overcoming the challenge. Preventing the resurrection of the Evil God was merely a prerequisite to reach this final rite of passage.
Suddenly, a note on the desk caught my eye. A request was scribbled upon it: ‘Please don’t hate your older sister.’
I didn’t recognize the handwriting, yet it stirred a deep sense of longing within me.
I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. There, a young woman with long, silver-blue hair stood leaning against the wall.
Red eyes. The same as mine.
“If you’re ready, then go,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “I can’t bear to look at you.”
I knew who she was without being told. This was Isaac’s sister.
She closed her eyes tightly after speaking, making it clear she had nothing more to say to me. Though I didn't know the full story behind her resentment, I respected her silence and continued down the hall.
The wooden floorboards creaked under my weight. The house was old and weathered.
‘I know what I am…’
A man’s sobbing voice flashed through my mind like a blurred memory. Simultaneously, I felt an inexplicable pull toward the stairs. I stepped out and climbed the wooden steps, which showed signs of repeated repairs.
‘I’m a worthless piece of shit! I’m…!’
I clutched my throbbing head. A familiar voice—one I had never actually heard with my own ears—rang out intermittently in my mind.
‘Why would Mom be proud of scum like me?’
As I reached the second floor, I came upon an attic.
‘I’m incompetent, Mom. A useless, pathetic person… I have zero talent. I’m nothing but an extra in a play.’
White silk curtains fluttered in the early autumn breeze. In front of them, resting on an old, tattered bed, was a middle-aged woman.
She had the same silver-blue hair, but she lay as still as a corpse, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her thin, frail arms rested atop the blanket. She was gaunt, the life and vitality drained from her body.
‘I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry… that I’m nothing but trash.’
“Are you there, Isaac…?”
My heart trembled. It wasn't my own emotion, but Isaac’s. The lingering regret embedded in this body reacted violently to that single, frail word.
The woman turned her gaze toward me and forced a weak smile. She gestured for me to come closer. Her hands were so thin the skin seemed to cling directly to the bone.
I approached slowly. Beside the bed sat a walnut chair, placed there for whoever might come to keep her company.
“I’m sorry for calling you… Why don’t you sit…?”
Her voice was parched, cracking like a field during a drought.
I had traveled back to the exact moment she had called for him. With that realization, I sat down.
It wasn't hard to guess her identity. With that silver-blue hair and those blood-red eyes, Isaac was the spitting image of his mother.
Outside the window, a medium-sized maple tree stood guard. Its leaves swayed in the wind, looking as though they might fall at any moment.
“Will you hold my hand…?”
I took her frail hand in mine.
“I called you because… there’s something I want to tell you…”
As if every blink were a luxury she couldn't afford, she stared at my face, savoring every fleeting second.
“Do you remember… when my Isaac was only eight years old…?”
She was reminiscing, her expression softening as she delved into a precious memory.
“Back then, Mom made a joke. I asked what you would do if I became a great knight or a powerful wizard and had to leave you to protect the people…”
She let out a weak, airy chuckle.
“You were such a lively child… I thought you would laugh at how absurd I was being. But do you remember what you did instead…?”
I shook my head.
“…You didn’t say a word. You just… stood there with tears streaming down your face.”
The woman smiled brightly, her face radiating pure happiness.
“In that moment, I realized I was a very blessed mother… to have such a lovely son by my side…”
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
“Thank you for being born, Isaac. To me, you were my most precious son…”
“…”
The voice that had echoed in my head while I climbed the stairs resurfaced. It was Isaac’s voice.
In the original timeline, hearing those words had caused Isaac to break down, sobbing and belittling himself. He couldn't bear the weight of her love, telling his dying mother that he wasn't worthy of being her son.
In his memory, the woman had simply stroked his head and smiled, shaking her head. No matter what Isaac said about himself, to her, he was the son she loved and was proud of.
Isaac’s regret and trauma clung to him like thick mud. The final test of this trial was to overcome that heartbreaking remorse. The last words he had ever spoken to his mother were self-deprecating and full of shame.
To Isaac, that memory was an unbearable scar.
I didn't have to think hard about what to do. The words Isaac wished he had said were already surfacing in my mind. I only needed to give them voice.
With a gentle smile, I squeezed her hand. My lips quivered slightly as I spoke.
“Yeah, you really are blessed, Mom. After all, you gave birth to a perfect son like me.”
I gave her a mischievous, playful grin.
“Did I tell you? I’m going to enter the Magic Department at the most prestigious academy in the country. Only the best of the best get in. I’m going to study and master magic there until I’m an Archwizard that even the Empire wouldn't dare to cross.”
“…”
“Since you gave birth to someone like me, Mom, you must be a truly amazing person.”
I smiled as brightly as I could.
“To me, you’re the most loving and admirable person in the world. Thank you for giving birth to me, Mom.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, glistening in her fading pupils. Finally, she smiled—a true, radiant smile. The tears overflowed, sliding down her cheeks.
She looked at peace.
The sound of the early autumn breeze… the fluttering of the curtains…
Silence.
A single maple leaf detached from the tree, carried away by the wind. It was simply the way of nature.
The fate of an unremarkable extra in ❰Magic Knight of Märchen❱ might be nothing more than that falling leaf.
Unable to leave an impression on the world.
Insignificant and meaningless.
A life lived entirely outside the spotlight.
But even those denied their moment center-stage have stories of their own.
The tale of Isaac was one such story, now engraved deeply in my mind.
Before his mother passed, the original Isaac—who had spent his final moments with her in tears and self-loathing—had eventually found the resolve to set his sights on Märchen Academy.
Lacking any natural talent for magic, he had buried himself in books, aiming to excel through theory alone. Through sheer desperation and careful choices, he had managed to scrape his way into the academy.
But that was the extent of his luck. Once inside, Isaac was pushed to his breaking point. He realized the vast gulf between himself and the truly gifted. He became a laughingstock.
His frustration only grew as he watched Ian’s meteoric growth, despite them both starting with Grade E mana. Ultimately, during a school vacation, Isaac embarked on a journey from which he would never return, following his mother into the beyond.
The reason Isaac disappeared midway through the story of ❰Magic Knight of Märchen❱ was because he had simply gone missing.
An extra. Isaac was just an extra.
But even an extra has a story.
This moment was the prologue to a story that Isaac—a man who wanted to rise from an extra to a protagonist—never got the chance to tell.
The woman smiled and closed her eyes for the last time. I gently pressed my forehead against hers and closed my eyes as well. We remained there in the silence, bathed in the gentle autumn breeze.
I bid farewell to the woman embarking on her final journey.
*
The transition was violent. A freezing wind tore through my winter clothes, biting into my flesh.
Despite the pain, which felt like a thousand knives slicing my skin, I forced myself to move. My vision was a blur of pitch-black darkness and a raging blizzard.
But ahead, I saw it—a beam of light. I moved toward it without hesitation.
I had passed the trial by overcoming Isaac’s trauma. The illusory world shattered, and when I opened my eyes, I was back in reality.
My face was stiff with frost. My lips were blue. My entire body convulsed with tremors, and a lethal chill ran down my spine.
Every breath was a struggle. My feet had gone numb long ago, but I forced them to move. If I stopped now, it was over.
The beam of light grew closer. My body was failing, screaming at me to collapse, but the destination was right there. I squinted through the gale, taking one agonizing step at a time.
When the darkness finally broke, I forced my heavy eyelids open.
Pale blue mana swirled in the center of the chamber. Floating in the heart of the vortex was a navy-blue scythe.
My legs finally gave out, and I pitched forward.
I crawled. I dragged myself across the icy floor, my fingers scraping against the frost. My thick gloves were hindering my grip, so I tore them off, clawing at the ground with my bare, white hands.
As I lost all sensation in my fingers, I used my elbows, my face, and even my teeth to drag my weight forward.
Finally, I reached the epicenter of the frigid mana.
My body began to freeze rapidly. Fortunately, I didn't need to move any further. My arms were numb, but I could still feel the muscles in my shoulders.
I strained to raise my arm, reaching for the Frostscythe.
My arm turned white as it froze. The sub-zero air tore through my skin, claiming it with instant frostbite. Still, I didn't stop. I reached out, whispering a mantra to myself: ‘Just a little more. Just a little more.’
And then, finally…
My hand pierced the veil of mana and closed around the shaft of the Frostscythe.
“I… got… it!”
The cold was so intense I couldn't even think. My brain felt like it was turning to ice. Half of my face was already frozen stiff, twisting my expression into a grimace.
But as I gripped the weapon… I couldn't help but smile with pride.
[You have passed the Trial of Frost through sheer willpower and mental fortitude!]
[Congratulations! You have acquired the Trial Reward: [Hilde’s Frostscythe]!]
[You have acquired the unique active skill: [Divine Authority - White Night]!]
[You have acquired the unique active skill: [Divine Authority - Everlasting Night]!]
[You have acquired the unique active skill: [Ice Sovereign's Majesty]!]
[You have acquired the unique active skill: [Absolute Zero]!]
[You have acquired the unique active skill: [Flash Freeze]!]