Chapter 460
Chapter 460
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 460
>Chapter Title: Natural Disaster
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Rumble, grrrumble—!
The presence emanating from the depths throbbed like the heart of a colossal beast, as Jemal's Judge and Demeia stood facing each other in silence.
- Master of Dinai, let us talk now. What do you desire? What are you hiding? And...
- An explanation for this situation will be necessary as well.
Jemal's Judge was certain.
The Master of Dinai, Demeia, was concealing something. She had led the Tower Lord here so obediently for some ulterior motive, no doubt.
...It wasn't long before Demeia's lips parted.
“This situation was unexpected.”
It was the truth.
All Demeia had heard from Indurance was that the fragment would react to the Master of Yeokcheon.
The question was whether Jemal's Judge would believe it...
“Do you believe me?”
“I will.”
“Unexpected. I heard the Judge of the Jemal Desert only asks questions with predetermined answers.”
As Ahola, Jemal's Judge passed judgment on the sinners of the desert. To him, the claim that he “only asked questions with predetermined answers” was the gravest of insults.
But.
“I understand. To the ignorant, it might seem that way. They lack the wisdom to discern truth from falsehood.”
“Is that so.”
Then...
“There is nothing I desire, nothing I hide. Do you believe that too?”
“Two remain.”
Swish.
One of the sand orbs hovering above Jemal's Judge crumbled away. Two left.
“This is the opportunity granted to you. Speak the truth.”
“Arrogant.”
She said it, but Demeia's eyes remained utterly indifferent, as if it were someone else's affair.
Gazing at such a Demeia, Jemal's Judge posed the question softly once more.
“I ask again. What do you desire? What are you hiding? Speak only the truth.”
The tension hung thick in the air, ready to snap at any moment.
Two chances.
Fair or not, once those chances were gone, Jemal's Judge would not hesitate.
Demeia knew this full well.
So, what to do?
Demeia's gaze swept over the sand swirling around Jemal's Judge. It was magic utterly unlike that of the continent.
It wouldn't be so bad to examine it up close...
Her curiosity flickered briefly.
But Demeia closed her eyes for a moment, sensing the immense presence rising from below.
Examining new magic held value, certainly.
...Jemal's Judge.
When would she next have the chance to clash spells with one like him?
For Demeia, who had ascended to the seat of Patriarch and forsaken most desires for duty, magic was her sole hobby. Resisting that temptation was no easy feat.
But.
*Not much longer.*
Demeia suppressed her urges with superhuman patience.
Her children were growing. The day she passed on the seat of Patriarch was not far off.
The most exceptional among them still had far to go before reaching transcendence, but like the previous Patriarch, she intended to hand it over at the right time.
So.
*...Just a little more.*
Demeia resolved to endure—and live on as the Master of Dinai.
And the judgment the Master of Dinai must make in this situation was clear.
Avoid conflict.
In truth, she had no hidden agenda to conceal from the start.
Well, precisely speaking, she had harbored such intentions, but the situation had changed, rendering them moot.
And now, what mattered was...
*...Survival.*
Yes, that was it.
* * *
“Master of Dinai” and “survival” were words that ill suited each other, but Demeia felt no hesitation whatsoever.
The pride one ought to have as the head of a prestigious house? Dignity? Honor?
Well.
Even the proudest knight wouldn't draw his sword against a natural disaster.
Think about it.
Would a knight seeking honor before a tsunami, or upholding pride amid a volcanic eruption, truly be honorable?
No.
...Just a fool.
That was the level of the “underground presence” Demeia sensed.
Like an earthquake or tsunami.
Something to evade rather than confront. If evasion failed, then stake everything in battle.
Likely, Jemal's Judge was reacting so extremely for similar reasons.
Leaving an enemy at one's back was no option worth scheming over.
So, let's think.
That narrow-minded Judge would believe only tales he could personally accept, truth or not. In that case...
*How should I respond?*
She pondered briefly, but found no answer. Thus, Demeia simply answered honestly.
And what was her honest answer?
This.
“I was deliberating.”
“...Deliberating?”
“Whether to take Yeokcheon or not.”
Aster naturally assumed Yeokcheon—and its fragment—should be claimed, but Demeia's thoughts differed slightly.
If the information Demeia knew was accurate, Yeokcheon was a double-edged sword.
Wielded well, it could reshape history; mishandled, it could turn one into the world's enemy and bring downfall.
Moreover...
*...It's not even whole.*
Did she truly need to claim such an incomplete Yeokcheon?
...This judgment was also influenced by the Tower Lord's relationship with Decullan.
They were openly hostile.
She didn't know the full extent of the Magic Tower's power, but with Yeokcheon in play, Pahren von Decullan couldn't ignore the Tower Lord.
So, which to choose?
No easy decision.
That was why Demeia had guided the Tower Lord to the fragment so readily. She could decide after observing him claim it.
If nothing came of it?
Hold off a bit longer.
If claiming the fragment revealed something of compelling value?
*...No reason to hesitate.*
Of course, now it was a moot point.
Because.
Yeokcheon or whatever paled before that underground presence—one more hand was precious.
...By the time Demeia had said this much.
Swish—!
The orbs hovering above Jemal's Judge crumbled away. Both of them, at once.
At the sight, Demeia's eyes gleamed.
“You don't believe me?”
A subtle anticipation.
But Jemal's Judge shook his head.
“I do.”
“...Why?”
“It's fitting.”
Fittingly ugly, fittingly clean.
That was the truth as Jemal's Judge saw it.
Neither purely logical nor wholly emotional. Neither spotless nor utterly filthy.
And in truth...
*...Now, I have no choice but to believe.*
Demeia wasn't alone in sensing the gravity of the “underground presence.” Jemal's Judge knew full well it was no ordinary entity.
Yet.
To deal with a figure like the Patriarch of Dinai right before such a being?
...Had Demeia refused to answer to the end, he would have done so as duty demanded, but she had responded at an appropriate juncture.
Whether true or false, what mattered was the sincerity in that response.
What sincerity?
*...A temporary alliance.*
Sincerity toward that end.
In cheap terms, a gesture of “let's not fight.”
In any case.
“...Trouble.”
Jemal's Judge frowned at the colossal presence from below.
Just as Demeia likened it to a “natural disaster,” so did he.
To Jemal's Judge, that presence was like a “sandstorm.” A massive sandstorm that struck unawares, shredding everything in its path.
*What manner of being is it?*
A mystery beyond norms, powerful like the spirits once called gods in ancient times?
Yet doubt lingered.
Even a mystery—could it emit such an overwhelming presence?
*...Impossible.*
Something inexplicable had occurred below, without question.
* * *
Meanwhile, at that moment.
Aster wondered.
*Where the hell is this? Where am I?*
A vast expanse of pure white.
He had been to a space like this before.
Right... yes, after battling Otto, head of the Urbona family, when he hovered between life and death, the place where he encountered Yeokcheon had felt like this.
The only difference was that it had been pitch black then.
Ah, and one more difference.
*My body's here too.*
“So, spatial transfer? Something like that...”
Aster scanned his surroundings with novel eyes. Fascinating. A boundless white space, not even a mental realm.
But it took little time for fascination to turn to betrayal.
*As expected... a trap?*
No wonder it felt off.
His gut twisted.
And understandably so—it wasn't unforeseen.
Anticipating a beating hurt several times more than taking one by surprise.
Why?
A surprise blow just hurts and ends; an anticipated one hurts the same, but the mental blow is devastating.
As Aster burned with fury toward Demeia.
A voice echoed.
[Is that you?]
“...?”
The hollow, resounding voice prompted Aster to look around. Soon, a silhouette materialized in the white space.
[Here.]
“You...”
[Indurance—does that name ring a bell?]
“Ah.”
Aster let out an exclamation, gazing at the clearly spectral middle-aged man. Not a trap after all.
But... wait.
*Indurance doesn't mean I can relax.*
The sun and moon had been Indurances too. Who knew about this one?
Perhaps sensing Aster's wariness.
Indurance gave a wistful, sad smile.
An understandable reaction, but resentment was inevitable.
After all, unlike the Sanctuary creators, he had devoted his life to Yeokcheon's fragment.
Not only him.
His master, his master's master...
Yet this reaction.
But resentment faded quickly.
Indurance reined in his emotions.
For a fleeting moment, he nearly understood the Sanctuary founders, but decades of vigilance wouldn't crumble here.
And above all...
*...Time is short.*
Indurance paled, sensing the tremendous presence from outside.
Any longer, and the fruition of his long wait could vanish entirely.
[Time is short for us both, so to the point. I can offer you... two choices.]
“Choices?”
[Yes, choices.]
Aster tilted his head.
What choices?
Wouldn't handing over the fragment end it?
The question arose, but he listened to Indurance first. It wasn't long before he spoke.
[First, I can restore your body fully. This is the one I recommend.]
“Hmm.”
Healing his internal injuries?
Not bad.
The Phantom Barrier's collapse had already cost him one circle. His core now held four, the fifth lost.
The internal damage wasn't severe for a lost circle, and he could recover it with time, but regret lingered.
Dangers lurked everywhere in the Sanctuary as it was.
But...
“A bit disappointing.”
[What do you mean?]
“Using the fragment just to heal some injuries? Not bad, but... why bother...”
This time, Indurance tilted his head.
[Injuries?]
“...?”
[I'm not talking about injuries. I mean filling your empty body.]
Empty body...?
He grasped it then.
Woooom—!
Yeokcheon let out a cry.
As if delighted.