Dranus (01) 049. Grand Archmage
Dranus (01) 049. Grand Archmage. A term reserved for the only three beings known to exist in the world even now. Though they were already exceedingly rare simply by virtue of their existence, there was bound to be one among them famous to the common folk. Blamia Dranus, the fallen yet revival-dreaming elder noble from bygone days, was that very person.
But fame only went so far—people knew the title "Grand Archmage" well enough, but few recognized the name Blamia Dranus or his appearance. As one of the living Grand Archmages, he was the only one engaged with worldly affairs. Of the other two, one had holed up somewhere to research magic exclusively, while the whereabouts of the last remained utterly unclear. Such were the Grand Archmages known to the world today. And yet, this explained how the imperial family and the four great houses could still hold sway, despite the presence of such extraordinary figures.
But was there truly no such thing as "absolute"? People shaped the world, yet the world constantly conspired to hide things from them.
"This is troubling."
Eustio Tide, one of the Grand Archmages whose whereabouts were said to be unknown, was precisely such a hidden element. Perhaps Kalen and Sinat would remember him as the man who had somehow held together Kalen's blackened heart when they shared that unforgettable memory in their hearts.
Back when all three Grand Archmages were at the height of their powers—a time even those who knew them then had now forgotten—the master of Manufacturing Attribute magic shook his head in dismay.
"Old man. Why in blazes are you pulling a stunt like this when it's time to go? Couldn't you just pass quietly?"
Eustio glanced at the girl lying on the bed, then scolded the old man behind him. The elderly figure with his long, grizzled beard—Blamia—had eyes sunken deeper than the abyss itself. No wonder there was no reply. Blamia simply drank in the sight of the girl, with no room in his mind for words or other thoughts.
Eustio could only click his tongue again at those hollow eyes.
"Tch. Every time I get tangled in your messes, I end up feeling useless. I miss the days when they sang praises of me bringing the dead back to life."
His tone dripped with irritation, but the look he cast down at the girl was little different from Blamia's. Why would it be? He knew better than anyone how dearly Blamia cherished his granddaughter, Sinat, the girl now lying there.
Hours of examinations and treatments had dragged on already. Yet Sinat showed no sign of waking. No—better to say she couldn't.
"Kid."
"...Yes."
"Your master's lost his marbles, so you'll have to hear this."
Eustio was scribbling something on one of the many unfurled scrolls.
"I can't fix her."
Those words hit like a death sentence. Kalen felt his strength drain away, nearly collapsing on the spot. They came from the man Blamia trusted most—the world's greatest healer of illnesses. And Kalen himself had been steadily taking Eustio's medicines, which dulled the agony in his heart. There was no doubting the man's words.
"It's like when I fixed your heart. This is beyond what human hands can touch."
Kalen steadied his thoughts. The word "illness" didn't quite fit. An illness was supposed to be... Eliana's condition, at least. Her mana overheating was severe enough that calling it an illness felt like a stretch, but compared to Sinat's symptoms, it made far more sense.
Kalen silently turned his gaze to Sinat, lying motionless on the bed. Her ragged breaths—hah... hah...—tore at his eardrums like knives. It was inevitable. The "danger" her spirit had forewarned. He'd never dreamed it would come in this form, but they'd known it was coming—and still failed to stop it.
Chain-like patterns snaked across Sinat's body, as if forged from shackles. Starting at her wrists, they crept up her left arm, then over her entire body. Even her lower half and face bore faint traces. With each sunset and sunrise, they spread further. Sinat's condition had worsened accordingly, a far cry from when they'd first found her collapsed on the floor.
The guilt of knowing in advance yet failing to prevent it squeezed his body, muddling his mind. In truth, Kalen had some cause for grievance. The warning had come, but he'd barely heard it properly. He'd connected it—somehow—to the monster from the Spirit Realm he'd glimpsed then, assuming it would return in that form. No one could have anticipated or blocked this unforeseen, unprecedented manifestation.
And yet, Kalen felt the guilt. That vise-like emotion led only to one conclusion: Sinat was suffering.
"...Not sure it'll help, but I'll give you something similar to what you're taking. Make her drink it daily."
"Yes..."
"I'll stick around for a while to monitor her."
"Thank you, sir."
Eustio waved his arm as if to dispel the sorrow radiating from his old friend Blamia and the pain Kalen struggled to hide, then left the room. Silence descended on the chamber.
"...Kid."
Kalen startled slightly, searching for words to comfort Blamia. He hadn't expected the old man to speak first.
"Is it because of me?"
Kalen opened his mouth to reply, then paused. The question wasn't aimed at him. Blamia's sunken eyes never left Sinat, writhing faintly in agony on the bed.
Kalen chose his words anew, carefully.
"No, Master. It's not."
Did one always have to offer blanket comfort to the grief-stricken? It bore thought. But when that person was close—bound tightly by ties—could you afford not to? A single word could shove someone off a cliff... or pull them back.
"Sinat didn't push herself to this point."
To Kalen, Blamia was more than a benefactor. He was family—the one who taught him how to live, who showed him the world's warmth. Now that Kalen understood that fully, nothing but comfort would do.
And he believed it true. Sinat had been overexerting herself, undeniably. The spirit's warning came amid that. If her efforts had caused this, there'd have been no need for the spirit to warn her directly.
Sinat's spirit, Karyong, had accompanied her 3rd Hierarchy attempt. If it wanted to avert danger, it would have stopped those efforts first.
That was Kalen's resolve. Partly to console Blamia as he left the room listlessly. But mostly because he needed to believe it. Otherwise, this bizarre phenomenon—which even Eustio couldn't counter, rendering all Blamia's efforts until his arrival futile—terrified him.
Now alone with Sinat, Kalen gazed at the waning sun. Those sunset hues along the ridge—her favorite, the memory they shared. How could he forget the smile she'd worn then?
He approached the bed slowly, knelt, and grasped her right arm through the blanket. The patterns hadn't yet encroached there; it trembled pitifully, still hers alone. If only her spirit would manifest... A small regret, but Kalen clasped her right hand tightly and swore.
She who'd filled the emptiness in a nothing-boy with so much. Even if it meant emptying it all again, he would save her. It was the boy's heart for the girl who'd taken in the street-cast orphan as family.
Hic...!
Grrrrr...
A chilling sob echoed through the space—like fingernails scraping the brain itself. In darkness black as pitch, a girl trembled, bound by chains of similar hue.
Exhausted from overdoing it, her vision had blackened, and she'd collapsed. Awakening, she found herself chained here. The girl liked dark colors—they suited the boy in her heart most. But this jet-black was too much. There were limits to darkness. This crossed them far.
Chained in such horror, it was a miracle she hadn't gone mad. Sinat couldn't gauge how long she'd been trapped here. The inky void stole even her sense of time, making her tremors of fear inevitable.
Peeking through slitted eyes, a horrific monster glared back. That monster—the one from before, the reason she'd set her heart on Kalen for sure. It only wept and stared. But that alone was plenty terrifying.
What had sustained her thus far was one boy's existence, purely.
"Kalen..."
Sinat whispered the name that rose desperately, averting her eyes from the beast. Its laughter swelled, as if mocking her earnest plea.