Chapter 006: Awakening and Reckoning
“Ah...”
A chilling smell pierced his nostrils. Pain throbbed near his heart. Kalen cautiously opened his eyes.
“Oh.”
He barely had time to gather his foggy mind before an unfamiliar voice sounded right beside him.
He turned his head at the voice that belonged to neither Sinat nor Blamia. An old man he had never seen before stared back with a look of astonishment.
The last thing he clearly remembered was casting the 2nd HierarchyCombat Attribute spell Explosion on himself. Everything after that was a blur. It was a spell he had barely learned under Blamia's supervision. It seemed he hadn't survived using such powerful magic on his own body after all.
This place probably resembled the heaven described by the church officials during his beggar days in Felts.
His life had been extended by his master anyway. He didn't regret it, but he hoped Sinat had survived.
“Heh heh, they said you weren't right in the head, and that fits you perfectly. Hey, you ungrateful brat. How can you treat the man who saved your life like he's already in the afterlife?”
“...Pardon?”
“Tsk tsk... You're not right in the head...”
The old man clicked his tongue repeatedly as he rose from his seat. Kalen's mind was still hazy, so he couldn't fully grasp the situation.
Once the old man left and he was alone in the room, something finally came into focus.
“My room...”
They said you felt nothing when you died. If that was true, then he must not be dead. The bandages wrapped around his body gave off that chilling smell, and something beyond mere throbbing pain emanated from his heart. And the bed he lay in was his own room—the familiar one Blamia had given him over two years ago, saying it was a spare.
Was it that old man who had saved him? With that idle thought that he now owed his life to the stranger, Kalen let out a small chuckle.
“Kalen!!”
The door burst open, and beautiful blue hair fluttered in. A fresh, girlish scent wafted through the air, instantly banishing the foul stench.
“Hic... Hic...”
For the first time, her forehead pressed against his chest where he usually only felt the back of her head. Two figures followed her in—one was his familiar master, and the other the strange old man from before.
“Look at that. He's grinning like a fool. I told you he was completely mad.”
“How was I supposed to believe there was a madman who slammed a 2nd HierarchyCombat Attribute spell into his own body? Even back in our day, no one did that.”
“Master.”
Blamia asked Kalen in his usual gruff, displeased tone.
“How's your body?”
“It's fine.”
“I'm no good at healing magic, so I called in my friend. He's an odd one, but his skills are top-notch, so no burn scars for you.”
Blamia pointed at Kalen's heart as he continued.
“But that can't be fixed.”
Was it related to the pain in his heart? Before Kalen could ask,
“What did I teach you? What are spirits like?”
“...They exist only in form and cannot inflict physical harm themselves.”
“Right. I taught you that for one reason: it's the truth. But the impossible happened.”
When learning magic, Blamia had a few habitual sayings. One was that everything was built on flows. You had to ride the ever-changing currents, adapting as they shifted, or you'd fall behind.
That was what Blamia was getting at.
“At least for now. Even in my prime, spirits were like that. To explain what happened to you... well, we'd have to go far back into the past.”
Blamia's gaze drifted slightly, as if lost in memory.
“The thing Sinat contracted with is a remnant from such a time—a past I've never witnessed myself. Far before practical battle magic faded and refined magic grew in prominence.”
“A contract?”
“Look at Sinat's wrist.”
Beyond Sinat, who still buried her face in his chest, Kalen carefully examined her wrist. It wasn't as pitch-black as before, but a dark, ink-like shade. An intricate, elegant pattern was etched there.
“Sinat contracted with that monster?”
“For now, that's how it looks. I don't know much either, so I'll have to look into it. But more importantly.”
Blamia approached Kalen, gently pried Sinat away, and unwound the bandages.
“See that?”
The revealed sight was grim enough to furrow brows. The area over his heart was blackened like rot, and fine, cracked lines spiderwebbed out across his body.
It was dizzying enough on its own, but it didn't end there. Blamia immediately stimulated Kalen's mana.
Kalen had no mana. As that moment flashed in his mind, his inky world naturally unfolded.
“...”
“...”
Silence fell. Even the tongue-clicking old man grew serious as he examined Kalen's mental image.
Kalen's world was inky black. Far from beautiful or enchanting. That alone was dangerous enough, but now... it was horrific.
“I told you, a mental image is a mage's world—the vessel that holds the heart. Remember?”
“...Yes.”
“Say it yourself. What does it look like?”
The old inky black might have been better. Now, cracks like shattered glass crisscrossed everywhere, and flames engulfed the entire image.
It was hell.
“The flames are from the explosion spell you cast on yourself, and the cracks are from when Sinat's spirit pierced your heart. The spirit didn't strike your physical heart—it pierced your mental image.”
Sensing something off, Kalen looked at Blamia. The face that had been merely displeased moments ago was now flushed with anger.
“How am I supposed to take this? I know it started with Sinat's good intentions. But I nearly lost my granddaughter—my whole world—and the brat I raised as a disciple in an instant.”
“...”
“Why the hell did you do something so reckless?! Pouring a 2nd Hierarchy spell on your own body, getting stabbed by some unknown monster and wrecking your mental image!”
In that moment, he felt nothing. Instead, his foggy mind cleared sharply.
Why had he done something so reckless?
The answer to Blamia's question was already set.
“Blood.”
“Blood?”
“Sinat was bleeding, Master.”
Kalen's memory after casting the spell on himself was hazy. But one thing he was certain of: neither Blamia nor even Sinat herself knew what had happened then.
“You said you heard about why I attempted the 2nd Hierarchy spell. Sinat tried her Contract Attribute magic, and time passed.”
Sinat had been trapped in the spirit realm. He couldn't know what she'd looked like then.
“Sweat poured from her like rain, blood flowed from her nose and mouth. You said spirits are sacred beings. But an ominous aura I'd never seen rippled around her.”
Kalen was calm beyond his years. It was that composure that led him to save Sinat—and now to explain calmly to Blamia.
“That's when I thought: she'll die like this. Then I remembered I'm different—no mana, unusual mental image. To stop Sinat's spell, I had to bet on that.”
“You...”
“I hadn't learned how to stimulate mana or manifest a mental image from you yet. So I cast it on myself.”
“Didn't it occur to you that you'd die for sure?!”
“Of course it did. The image of that crater kept flashing in my mind.”
Blamia's expression no longer registered. Neither his usual displeasure nor his recent anger meant anything now. He just asked again.
“I know you see me as more than a benefactor. But humans always put their own lives first. Even if Sinat is my granddaughter, with your life on the line, why...”
“Well.”
Kalen's face was equally unreadable. Blunt and composed by nature, it was expected. But comparing it to Blamia's, he found unexpected softness.
“Master—no, sir. After you left, I talked with the young lady.”
Kalen turned to Sinat, tears still streaming down her face.
“She asked why I had to leave. I was just going to follow your persuasion, but then I thought: I don't even know why I should leave.”
“...”
“So I told her. I don't know. I don't know why I have to leave. If I had to say, it just happened that way. Like how you picked me up for no reason—now it's just time to go.”
Blamia had brought Kalen home. Partly to give Sinat a friend. Otherwise, a Grand Archmage wouldn't take in a street beggar as a servant without training.
He'd never told Kalen that, though.
Intended or not, to Kalen, Blamia was the benefactor who gave him food and shelter without reason.
“Saving the young lady wasn't some grand purpose either. Like how you took me in for no reason, I just thought it was obvious I had to save her.”
“Heh... Heh heh...”
“That obviousness might include gratitude to you, and to the young lady...”
“Don't call her 'young lady.'”
Sinat's voice cut in. She wriggled closer, pressing her cool forehead against his blackened heart.
“...gratitude to Sinat too, maybe. But looking back now... maybe I just couldn't stand seeing Sinat in pain.”
Kalen's awkward words were the same as when Blamia first brought him home. Blamia stood frozen, speechless for a while.
Why wouldn't he be? Sinat was his whole world. Yet here he was, snapping at the boy who saved her instead of thanking him.
He had to admit it now. He'd tried to push Kalen away out of fear of seeing his past mistakes reflected in the boy—and that Kalen had quietly taken a large place in his heart.
Sinat was everything, but loneliness didn't fully fade. Blamia had no choice but to acknowledge that Kalen had filled that space, however imperfectly.