Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: A Beautiful Starlit Night (1)
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*
“Abel! B-blood! I smell blood!”
Kirhas wrinkled her nose at the faint scent of blood mixed in the air. The solid stone corridor showed no traces. Yet the smell was coming from far ahead.
Abel’s eyes sharpened. She glared down the distant end of the corridor with her blue eyes.
“Let’s hurry.”
“Yes.”
Kirhas and Abel raced down the corridor without cautioning for traps anymore. Abel bit her lip.
Why? Why every time? Why did he always charge alone into such harsh places? Why wouldn’t he ask for their help?
Like a solitary sailboat pressing forward. An image of him crossing the vast ocean flashed through her mind. She was a drifter, but always—Fernandez walked toward his goal, burning his soul.
It made her anxious. She wanted to be a lighthouse for him, if only for a moment, just a brief respite. But Fernandez never stopped. He advanced alone toward the North Star somewhere deep in his heart.
Was it the difference in their ages? The eras they lived in? Her footsteps lagged so far behind his that all she could do was gaze at his back.
“Abel, here!”
She looked where Kirhas pointed. There was a gash on the floor. Not a mark from battle, but a stab from a blade.
“Wait.”
Abel bent down and touched the scar etched into the stone. Fresh stone dust clung to the rough split. A fresh wound, showing no signs of age.
Judging by the width, depth, and shape of the embedded sword… it was Dane’s sword, the Blade of Compassion.
“Why would there be such a mark?”
“Like he was using it to prop himself up…”
Kirhas traced the mark for a moment, then gasped. Her eyes turned to the end of the corridor.
There, countless marks dotted the floor. Scattered at first, then closer together. Like an elderly man barely managing to walk with a cane.
Had he reached a state where he had to stab the blade into the ground just to lift his feet? Kirhas’s eyes gleamed with anxiety.
The path stretching toward Fernandez still sprawled endlessly. Then, her keen beastkin sense of smell caught a subtle fragrance.
A flower…?
Vaguely distant, like it would scatter in a spring breeze. That scent wafted amid the thickening smell of blood.
-Whoosh!
“!!!”
In that instant, a blue path ignited across the floor. Fernandez and she were connected once more. Kirhas perked her ears and stared ahead.
-Thud, thud.
Heavy, steady, rhythmic footsteps.
Far ahead, at the end of that undulating blue path visible only to Kirhas’s eyes.
“Benefactor…!!”
Fernandez was approaching.
*
-Worship me.
‘Quiet.’
One whisper from Feizashi in my head was enough. Fernandez grumbled and shook the golden mask. The voice rippled with each shake.
-Worship… me.
The jackal’s voice from the mask had grown nearly desperate. A far cry from the tone of the jackal god’s voice in the Trial of Sin.
‘Well, that was just a shadow replaying the past.’
-The real one’s even more pathetic.
‘It’s a soul that’s survived over a thousand years. Of course it’s twisted somewhere.’
The Cardan voice he’d occasionally heard in the trial was merely an echo of the curse he’d cast in life. The true soul of Cardan slumbered within this mask.
‘The Shield of the Great Wilderness, the relic Kirhas obtained here in her past life—it has to be this one.’
He recalled the life trajectory of Kirhas Hearttaker from his previous life. The great hero of humanity who blocked Karadskar, the Shield of the Western Great Wilderness—Kirhas.
Her life had been marked by fierce struggles and survival, but the turning point where she truly ascended to heroic ranks was after reviving the faith of Cardan in the secret stronghold of the Kalani clan.
The Hunter Cardan was a legendary beastkin god among the western beastkin tiger tribes. The symbolism was immense.
“Benefactor!!”
“Ah, Kirhas.”
Perfect timing. Fernandez chuckled as he approached them. Kirhas slowly wagged her long tail, but Abel crossed her arms with a subtle expression.
“…What’s wrong?”
“You smell complicated.”
Abel stepped closer and eyed the longsword strapped to his back and the mask in his hand.
“It smells divine. Not just one. Can you show me?”
“Ah, right on cue.”
Fernandez held up the golden mask. The ornate jackal visage gleamed in his grasp as it swayed.
Not shaped for a human skull, so it couldn’t be worn directly… but with proper adjustments, it could perch on the head. Not much protection, but it might serve as a helmet.
“Cardan’s relic.”
“That’s right. And it’s even a living relic at that.”
“Living? Cardan?”
“Didn’t Melisildur live on too? A soul once infused with divinity doesn’t fade easily.”
Fernandez shrugged. It hadn’t faded easily, preserving all that madness from ages past intact—but regardless, that mighty soul breathed beneath this mask.
-Worship me…
Ignoring the mask’s low whisper, Fernandez handed it to Kirhas. She took it, then suddenly stiffened her tail.
“Eek?”
Her ears shot up, and she examined the mask in confusion, turning it this way and that. Soon she shook her head and looked at Fernandez.
“B-benefactor. This thing’s haunted? It’s talking!”
“What’s it saying?”
Would it say something different to its past-life owner? Fernandez watched Kirhas with such hopes. She shook the mask several times in bewilderment.
“It just keeps saying the same thing. Worship me… Ugh, creepy.”
“Nothing else? Like it gives you energy or strength?”
“No. Just kinda scary…”
An artifact that activates only when worn? Well, even Fernandez hadn’t felt much beyond the voice while holding it.
What a hassle. He watched Kirhas glare at the mask. Would she try it on if asked…? And would her mind hold up if she did?
‘Can’t test it lightly.’
-Why not? A quick trial run would be ideal.
‘Kirhas is different from us. Her mind isn’t expendable.’
Feizashi eyed Fernandez disapprovingly before vanishing. Well, at least they’d cleared one hurdle. Fernandez shrugged and took the lead.
“Let’s get out first and set up camp for the night.”
“Agreed. But are you really okay?”
“Thanks for the concern, but I’m fine.”
Abel stared at him as if she had more to say, then turned away.
*
-Crackle, pop.
The campfire burned. Kirhas had played with the golden mask until she dozed off, and Abel gazed at the night sky as always.
A jungle and waterfall in the heart of the desert felt out of place, but it wasn’t bad. A jungle in the desert’s midst was refreshingly novel.
“You were right, Fernandez.”
Abel, counting stars in the night sky, suddenly spoke. Fernandez, deciphering the key sword’s engravings by firelight, looked up at her.
“About what?”
“I’d have regretted missing this sight.”
That day, on Infermer’s night sea, Fernandez had told the dying her: The desert night’s stars shine red, blue, yellow.
So please, cling to this world. Abel gazed at Fernandez’s face flickering red in the firelight.
“Thank you.”
Her blue eyes rippled with flames. The wind through the jungle tousled her long golden hair, scattering it like an awning.
Beneath stars, wind, and moonlight. Abel shone like a goddess. Fernandez found himself breathless in those soft, warm blue eyes for a moment.
‘Damn it. Dane…’
Was it King Dane’s soul? Or really? He couldn’t tell if this feeling stemmed from that—or the youthful passion surging in this young body.
It didn’t feel bad, but he had no right to it. Fernandez shook his head. Then Abel spoke.
“So, what’s that flower?”
“What flower?”
“The scent from your body. Flower fragrance. You wouldn’t wear perfume, and no flowers bloomed at that altar.”
“Ah, freesia. Didn’t realize the scent lingered so long.”
Fernandez sheathed his sword and prodded the fire with kindling. Whoosh—the flames roared higher. He stared blankly at the smoke rising straight to the night sky.
Freesia. Aria. My regret, my karma. My sin. That flower was Fernandez’s crown of thorns, symbolizing all his past.
‘Feizashi.’
-What?
‘If we save the world like this, time passes, and Aria is born. If that happens… what do we do?’
-…
Feizashi silently watched the flames. Did they still have the right? The right to stand by her side?
After a long pause, Feizashi spoke lowly.
-We’ll think about it then.
Hearing Feizashi, Fernandez looked away from the fire. It was time to steel himself. Her kindness was clearly meant for his rational side.
‘Time to draw the line.’
Before her feelings deepened into greater affection, King Dane’s soul burrowed further, and his young body yearned for hot warmth.
A fleeting glance away would bring happy moments, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t sink into easy lust and desire.
He didn’t settle for reality. That was the scale of his life, his great axiom since early childhood. Not ambition or ascetic penance. Just mindset.
“That flower belonged to my wife.”
After a silence. Abel made an odd face and said something utterly unexpected.
“Care for a drink?”
“…Drink? Where’d you get…?”
“Isn’t asking that first a bit uncouth for the moment?”
Abel smiled alluringly and pulled a bottle from her pack. Pop—a clear sound, followed by the sharp scent of strong alcohol.