Chapter 464
Chapter 464
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 464
>Chapter Title: Judgment of the Desert
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Kahazar took the lead with the 11th Elder in front, heading off to check the gap in the barrier.
Meanwhile, Demeia and the Arbiter of Jamal stayed behind, ostensibly to wait for Aster, who had yet to return.
And Pahren...
“Let's go together.”
Thus, even Pahren departed alongside Kahazar.
Demeia and the Arbiter of Jamal exchanged glances simultaneously.
Then they opened their mouths.
“Pahren...”
“Decul...”
Overlapping voices.
Neither finished their sentence, but they knew exactly what the other meant to say.
Something along the lines of, 'Pahren's condition is off,' or 'The head of the Decullan Family is not in his right state.'
Having gauged each other's intentions, the two fell silent for a moment. It didn't take long for one of them to speak.
The Arbiter of Jamal was the first.
“During the trial, that final spell. It truly seemed to defy the natural order, and it looks like the repercussions linger.”
“Seems so.”
“Then, what schemes does the master of Kutlan harbor? Anyone can see he's shielding the head of Decullan.”
“Who knows...”
Demeia trailed off.
She couldn't tell.
The only certainty right now was...
'......Pahren is internally injured.'
He had tried to hide it, but Demeia and the Arbiter of Jamal had seen it clearly with their own eyes.
The unstable flicker of Pahren's presence.
That was likely why he had let the 11th Elder slip away.
Pahren had held back, leaving Kahazar to face the 11th Elder alone, exposing an opening in the process.
“What a pity, such a shame. There won't be a better opportunity than this. Don't you agree?”
“......”
“If you wish, I will gladly lend a hand. What say you?”
Instead of replying, Demeia closed her eyes gently. The Arbiter of Jamal watched her and let out a tsk of laughter.
It was a smile so stiff it bordered on grotesque, as if he couldn't go around grinning all the time.
The situation amused him that much.
'A golden chance to take down the head of Decullan.'
Yet he hesitated to step forward, reluctant to risk his own life.
Even though one should seize such an opportunity by casting everything aside, he wouldn't—likely because of the continent's fertile lands.
Spare the enemy, and you'd still have unrotting food aplenty.
Then, what of the Tower Lord?
'......Hmm.'
The Arbiter of Jamal felt a deep intrigue.
Unlike the continentals, the Tower Lord had a tenacious streak.
But the Arbiter of Jamal suppressed his curiosity. In the desert, he wouldn't have hesitated to prod, but here he was at the request of an old connection.
A proper distance.
Best to observe as a bystander.
In any case.
'......Has it been long?'
Waiting for Aster's return, the Arbiter of Jamal closed his eyes.
How much time passed?
Thud, thump, thump-thump-thump-thump!
A bizarre sound echoed from somewhere.
At the noise, the Arbiter of Jamal raised his head. His gaze reached the far corridor.
“Indeed, existences rejected by the natural order.”
The Arbiter of Jamal let out a hollow laugh as he beheld the horde of 'hands' filling the corridor.
Thud, thump-thump, thump-thump-thump-thump!
Hands bloomed between thuds, creating more thuds in turn. Thus, countless hands filled the space densely, amid a wail of mournful voices.
[Together, together, together...]
[Where, where...]
The Arbiter of Jamal closed his eyes at the sight.
'How pitiful.'
He understood.
Those were the souls of the Hermits bound to the Sanctuary's core.
* * *
The Arbiter of Jamal closed his eyes briefly in prayer.
Even if they were continental mages, the sun rose everywhere. He prayed to the sun that these unrested souls might one day find peace.
After a time.
The Arbiter of Jamal opened his eyes again. His pale yellow irises gleamed right after.
Like grains of desert sand, his yellow eyes shone, and golden grains swirled around them.
And...
Shraaa-la-la-la!
The grains swelled in an instant, filling the corridor.
The encroaching sand stretched dozens of meters.
An impenetrable wall.
But.
Thud, thump-thump. Thud, thud...!
Dull sounds reverberated from within the sand. Vibrations shook the floor, walls, and ceiling alike.
Soon...
Shwaaaa!
A horde of 'hands' burst through the sand.
The Arbiter of Jamal watched the scene with calm eyes.
Transcendence had invaded. In slowed time, he sorted his thoughts. He had to make a choice now.
......Retreat?
......Defend?
The reason to hold position was simple.
'Tower Lord.'
This was the last place the Tower Lord—who had gone to retrieve the Fragment of Reverse Heaven—had been.
If teleported back, he'd likely return here.
But consider.
If the Tower Lord returned to a spot swarming with 'hands'? What then?
......Behold.
The feast of 'hands' gesturing from the void.
Pale white hands tremble in loneliness, beckoning: come here, hurry. It's so cold, join us.
Despite claiming countless comrades, their shivering spoke to profound torment.
Not quite the legendary abomination, Destrow, but those things were foul and profane enough.
Surely, being caught wouldn't end with mere tearing and rending of flesh.
Thus...
'......I must defend.'
That the 'hands' were an unknown entity beyond a mage's power to oppose mattered little.
What mattered to the Arbiter of Jamal was the pact with Principal Schubertz.
He had once bestowed grace upon him, yet paid a hefty price to move him even so.
Thus, it was only right to honor that promise.
Why?
Because he had received a life worth sacrificing his own?
No.
'Because this body is born of the desert.'
Because he bore the great name of Ahola.
......The sons of the desert fade into the sands without regret, never letting grace or grudge slip away.
Even Principal Schubertz, once called the Devil of the Sandstorm, was the life-giver who made the current Arbiter of Jamal possible.
......But know this.
This life was not offered for the Devil of the Sandstorm, nor for the pact.
Strictly speaking...
'Ahola's conviction.'
Yes, that was it.
'......Come.'
In the finely shattered time, the Arbiter of Jamal drew up mana as he watched the steadily flooding 'hands.'
Golden sand blanketed all directions.
* * *
Shraaa-la-la-la!
In the finely shattered time, golden sand bloomed, draping the surroundings, its silk-smooth waves forming a curtain before the 'hands.'
Demeia watched the scene from within transcendence.
She agonized.
Was it wiser to stay and aid the Tower Lord's safe return, or to flee?
Frankly, no calculation needed.
'The wiser choice is obviously...'
......Fleeing.
Even if the Tower Lord brought back the Fragment of Reverse Heaven, it seemed hopeless against the 'hands' or the 'Deep Ones.'
The fragment being from a grimoire offered some hope, but Demeia knew.
The 'Deep Ones' had likely devoured a Fragment of Reverse Heaven too.
Thus...
'......To Kahazar's side.'
Joining them to widen the 'gap' in the barrier was right.
But.
“......”
Demeia stared at the swirling sandstorm. In shattered time, the sand rushed toward the 'hands,' clawing, splintering, writhing to tear them.
......Frankly, a futile act.
No magic worked on the 'hands.'
So why?
If just holding out, a barrier field would be better.
It wouldn't last long, but layering dozens or hundreds could buy space.
Yet the Arbiter of Jamal did no such thing.
That puzzled Demeia.
......Why this foolish endeavor?
Low intelligence, unable to grasp the situation? No, he wouldn't have reached transcendence then.
There was a reason.
A reason.
That was why Demeia watched.
Simple curiosity.
Of course, beneath it lay confidence he could flee anytime.
In any case.
Demeia stood rooted, taking in the Arbiter of Jamal's spell in the shattered time.
Yet she couldn't fathom it.
No matter how long in shattered time, reality passed in an instant.
Why this...
'......No way.'
After watching awhile, Demeia realized.
What the Arbiter of Jamal intended.
Not just stalling time.
Further...
'He's confronting them.'
Beyond mere endurance against the 'hands,' seeking a way to destroy them.
In other words...
'......Searching for the deficiency.'
Magic immunity.
Unsure if the 'hands'' ability was conceptually 'magic immunity,' but to gain such absurd power, something must be forsaken.
That was the deficiency—the weakness, simply put.
The Arbiter of Jamal now sought to find and exploit it.
But frankly, near impossible.
Finding a magic-immune entity's weakness with magic?
But.
Shraa-la-la, chraa-la-la-la-la!
In shattered time, golden sand bloomed ceaselessly, surging unabated to block the 'hands,' clinging and writhing until annihilation.
No, that wasn't mere sand.
The Arbiter of Jamal.
It was him, essentially.
Realizing this, Demeia couldn't suppress her awe.
'......Impressive.'
To wield substantial golden sand so in transcendence required not just realm, but extraordinary vision. No, not even vision alone enabled such a feat.
It demanded mental image to match...
Was that why?
Demeia truly felt it.
......The Arbiter of Jamal.
Why he was called not the ruler of Karazan he commanded, nor Ahola, but the 'Arbiter of Jamal Desert.'
Simple reason.
He was the desert itself, and his judgment was...
'......The Judgment of the Desert.'
Precisely that meaning.
Chraa-la-la-la-la!
In this moment, Demeia, as a mere mage unbound by Dinai's headship, took in the Arbiter of Jamal's spell.
And anticipated.
That the Arbiter's magic might work a miracle.
Pure curiosity and expectation. How long passed in shattered time?
As the 'hands' drew near—
Screee, screeeeeeee!
Golden sand grains embroidered the void.
Each one gleamed.
Soon—
Craaaaaaaaack!
......The Judgment of the Desert struck.