Chapter 297
Chapter 297
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 297
Chapter Title: Shadowed Sky (2)
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“Some independent information reflection... no. The ‘Prophet’ said something to me. In the approaching future, all I could see was the end of the world... something like that.”
“Well, those types are always like that, aren’t they?”
“That’s exactly what can’t be allowed to happen.”
Fernandez looked down at Jerolen, who was sitting with his head lowered. Jerolen looked up at him in return, carefully grasping the implications within the context.
“That can’t be allowed?”
“...Yes.”
It wasn’t a childish denial. It was a negation close to certainty. As if the world must not perish. As if there was no reason for it to. Wrinkles formed on Jerolen’s brow.
“Were you a prophet too?”
“No. I... traveled back through time.”
“Through time...? Wait. You mean you came from the future?”
“Yes. Something like that.”
“Ha, well now.”
Jerolen stared piercingly at Fernandez for a long while without speaking. Soon, he shook his head and rose from his seat. His height was over a foot taller, with a majestic build. His lion-like mane swayed in the breeze.
With eyes gleaming like those of a land beast, gazing down at him as if scouting prey for a long moment. Then, the tension eased from his eyes.
“You don’t seem mad. Good thing, too—I’d have been embarrassed to have this conversation with a human lunatic. Traveled back through time... poetic. Did you see the world’s end and return?”
“Yes.”
“So, you want to avert the fated apocalypse?”
“I had to avert it. I took down most of those who aided the end.”
“Yet the future didn’t change, which is strange. That’s why you came to me. Right? You had to seek out conditions that didn’t exist in the previous world.”
Quick on the uptake. Fernandez simply nodded without answering. Jerolen stroked his chin thoughtfully for a long while.
Probably far in the future. If the world ended, the elves would have vanished. They’d have slipped into the annals of history without influencing the end at all. That was the only future left for the elves.
So, if a being who had witnessed the end firsthand returned to the past... to twist an unchanging future, they would first contact the surviving elves. It made sense.
“Let’s hear it. Precisely... what do you want from me?”
“What you just said. I need a connection to Charles the Great. Perhaps an artifact or legacy he left behind in life. Or... a ruin he personally built...”
“What? Ha, hahaha!”
Jerolen burst into laughter before Fernandez could finish. The brief tension vanished, and he laughed so hard tears welled up, as if he’d heard the funniest story.
“This is hilarious. Charles the Great’s artifacts?”
“...Did I say something funny?”
“Ah, don’t get so serious. Sorry. I should’ve held it in!”
He cleared his throat with a loud harrumph and strode off. Without asking Fernandez’s opinion. Follow me.
“You’re already living in that guy’s ruins. Why look so far?”
“What do you mean?”
“Charles the Great. Karlos. Did he wield some divine relic, receive immense blessings, or become a master smith or something?”
What grand technology could humans have had back then? Even if made with magic, it couldn’t surpass elven craft; even if forged from iron, it couldn’t outdo dwarven engineering.
Humans then were barely above wild beasts. Smart enough to outthink trolls, that was it. A thousand years ago, amid dominant species ruling the continent, they were just tribal societies scraping by.
Even if tech or relics from then survived, they’d be no more than rusted swords or shattered pottery—mere archaeological curiosities.
If magical artifacts were needed, raid an elven treasure vault. For powerful ancient weapons, delve dwarven ruins in underground dungeons.
“His ruins are the very land you live on.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t you get it? He was an outstanding warrior and great lord, of course... but look. Why do you think I compared you to him from that era? Your looks? No, you’re handsomer. He was just a savage tribal chief.”
His relics... Jerolen said without losing his smile.
“If we must nitpick, your very existence, the civilization you’ve built, this entire era—they’re his relics. The land you stand on is his ruin. He was... how to put it. A ‘symbol.’”
“A symbol?”
“The symbol of indomitability. The symbol that even in the most desperate moments, one doesn’t give up. The embodiment of will made flesh. Back then, countless human tribes were drawn to his will and willingly submitted. That became your first kingdom.”
Fernandez halted at his words. Embodiment of will. Symbol of indomitability...? Even if true, Charles the Great’s relic had to exist tangibly.
“...The Raven Crown?”
“What?”
“The Prophet said it. Find Charles the Great’s Raven Crown. What could that mean? If his relics and ruins are our existence itself. Noble sentiment, romantic idea. But doesn’t that mean it’s not pointing to a physical object?”
“Raven Crown...? Raven Crown...”
Jerolen pondered deeply for a moment.
“If such a thing truly exists, it’s not in the sea. He never operated there, and any powerful sea relic would’ve been claimed by one of the Three Dynasties.”
“Not on the continent either. It never appeared until the world’s end. First I’ve heard of it in this life.”
“Then the answer’s obvious.”
“...Obvious?”
“If not at sea or on land... then underground?”
“...You mean the ancient dungeons?”
There were plenty of undiscovered dungeons across the continent. Could be dwarven ruins, facilities buried by crustal shifts from the War in Heaven, or mechanisms dug into bedrock for sealing or concealment.
Fernandez was familiar with underground dungeons. But even he couldn’t map them all, nor could anyone. No way to know where or what lay buried.
But Jerolen shook his head.
“I mean Hell.”
“You’re saying demons possess it?”
“That makes sense. In Karlos’s final years, his death was due to demons. He died from a curse sustained fighting a great demon.”
“Never seen such records.”
“Of course not. It wasn’t public knowledge. How many great demons do you think there are?”
“Five.”
“There were five back then too.”
Mumto and Sadarkelia were relatively young demons, fallen after the War in Heaven. If including them as the five great demons closest to divinity... then there were five back then too.
“One was faced by me and my two kin. Another by Karlos.”
“But no great demons died in the War in Heaven...”
“Or so history says? Why do you think that? We hid it as our people’s shame. But Karlos—would he complete such a feat and leave no record?”
“Enough riddles.”
“Fine. Your pantheon’s gods wanted it hidden. That’s why the great demon’s death was concealed.”
“Why? The heavenly gods passed up the perfect chance to glorify themselves?”
Jerolen opened his mouth, paused, and met Fernandez’s eyes. Sizing him up, gauging if he was ready for the truth.
After a moment, a flicker of resignation crossed his eyes.
“It was a promise from that era.”
Rain began to fall. As predicted, the downpour over the lightless ocean looked like a black curtain sweeping down from the sky. Amid ink-dark raindrops, Jerolen closed his eyes and spoke.
“Heaven abandons interference in the material world. Hell’s great demons declare a truce and seal themselves. Material sovereignty fully returned to material civilizations. Karlo, that mortal, promises alone to face the great demon and drive a blade into its throat... under those conditions.”
In the War in Heaven, humans had no need or reason to fight demons. To demons, humans weren’t worth the effort; humans lacked the power and leisure to bother.
But Charles the Great... that indomitable mortal promised the heavenly lords to slay a great demon. In exchange for blessings, and no further direct interference in the material world.
A great demon’s death meant its legions’ dissolution. If slain, it’d tip the scales in the eternal heaven-hell war.
After long struggle, Charles succeeded in slaying that era’s great demon. Heaven’s lords withdrew from the earth; Hell, bereft of forces, chose sealing until regaining strength.
“Why? Why refuse divine aid? Gods were humanity’s sole allies then.”
“Allies! Ha, to immortals, mortals—and even gods to gods—are mere pawns at best... To Karlo, it mattered not if demon or god. Heaven and Hell viewed humans much the same. Gods’ deals were just slightly more trustworthy.”
So they hid it. Churches existed then, and with gods walking alive, faith’s madness was inescapable.
For Charles, uniting fracturing human tribes, such a record had to be buried. Fernandez frowned at Jerolen.
“How do you know this?”
“It happened after elves were driven from the continent, late in the War in Heaven. A secret not even told to his kin—how would an elven lord know?”
Jerolen shrugged.
“The demon he slew lurked deep in its lair; impossible for a lone human to infiltrate. Karlo couldn’t rely on human aid then.”
“You couldn’t set foot on the continent either.”
“Apparently skies weren’t included in ‘continent.’”
Jerolen of the Nine Million Skies. The ancient hero laughed heartily.
“And back then, I was a griffon rider undefeated in the firmament.”
Karlo... The bold, mighty warrior who suddenly sought him in a storm, asking aid, was still vivid. A rare human he could call friend.
A man who carried a single sword, slew beasts, demons, dwarves, ancient dragons, and built human cities. The man who became—or had to become—an era’s symbol.
To whom does a god pray at death’s door? If an answer exists, he was closest. A godless man—to whom does he pray in despair?
[You don’t believe in gods. Never prayed?]
[Why not?]
[Oh? Religious?]
[Not believing in gods... absurd. Can you deny their existence? I just don’t follow. And prayer... sure, when weary, when struggling.]
The massive warrior, muscled head to toe, with clear brown eyes almost gentle, said:
[Lord, just be there. Worldly chaos and earthly trials are our touchstones; daily bread and praiseworthy virtues, our own yield.]
Humans must advance by their own strength. No one’s pawn, no one’s puppet. Demon corruption and divine attention weigh the same. The man said, smiling.
Thus, Jerolen thought: if elves had hope and future, it lay with this race. For them, praying to gods—in demons’ guise via tribal deities—only hastened doom...
“Transcending religion and faith, proving one’s fate through one’s own being. I thought that must be our future.”
So he bore him skyward. Tearing swarming demons, straight to the great demon’s lair. Jerolen didn’t see the journey’s end. The curse was beyond mortal endurance.
Watching his friend charge that horrific immortal, he had to turn away. Duty to save his people called.
The mad era called the War in Heaven ended, but the material world remained under heaven and hell’s sway. Yet in this age, with doom nigh, if hope lingered, it’d come from beings with that day’s heroes’ indomitable spirit.
“Where? The site where that era’s great demon clashed with Charles the Great?”
“South of Kirjat, further south. Keep going—you’ll hit plains. Where demons’ ancient cities lie buried under Sato.”
“The land of the Hundred Demon Tribes...”
Fernandez clicked his tongue, scowling. Things had grown complicated; Karadsukar might not mean just one man.
Trouble brewing. Fernandez sighed, gazing into the rain.