Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: The Star Reader's Farewell
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Half a day earlier.
Black Scale Tribe.
An errand runner approached Rakrak and whispered something in his ear.
"He called for me?"
"...Yes. He said his life is hanging by a thread. If not now, he won't be able to speak with you, Tribal Chief."
Rakrak nodded, then shouted toward the rear.
"Halt the procession!"
The warriors in the center of each line repeated Rakrak's command, passing it on to the other Lizardmen.
"Halt the procession!"
"The Tribal Chief orders us to halt!"
"Stop! That's the Tribal Chief's command."
The massive procession of the Black Scale Tribe, which had been kicking up dust clouds across the wasteland, came to a complete stop at Rakrak's single word.
Rakrak sat atop the monstrous bird Anakse, watching as the lines halted one by one. Thanks to Anakse's great height, Rakrak had no trouble surveying the entire procession from his perch.
"...Hm."
Those unfamiliar with Rakrak might not know it, but the Black Scale Tribe hadn't completely failed in taming cockatrices.
The monstrous bird Anakse was a cockatrice over 3.5 meters tall—the only one Rakrak had successfully tamed. One might lament that it was just a single bird, but taming Anakse had allowed the corucas to be born.
Rakrak said to the errand runner,
"Tell the Star Reader that I'll be there soon."
"Understood."
"And that he must hold on to his last breath until then."
The errand runner grinned.
"Understood."
As Rakrak dismounted from Anakse, Jaol, who had been following behind, also climbed down from her coruca and asked,
"What is it?"
"The Star Reader wants to see me. Says his breath will stop soon."
"...Ah. We should set up camp here today, then. And..."
Jaol trailed off, and Rakrak slowly nodded.
"That old sage has always accurately foreseen our future—and mine. He won't be wrong this time either. Prepare the funeral."
"Understood. It will be a sorrowful night."
The wandering old man, the one-armed guide known as the Star Reader, had done much for Rakrak and the Black Scale Tribe. He refused to be called by a single name, and now the most common title within the tribe was "Elder."
From the hill where the first bone tower was built to the lake claimed by the Froglin, the Star Reader had taught them how to navigate by the stars. Afterward, he guided Rakrak to even more distant lands.
Rakrak had learned to read the stars from him, and the two shared many stories about them.
To teach more people how to read the stars, they named them, and had warriors—as well as herbalists and herders—learn the sky so they wouldn't lose their way.
These were people who had always learned from the earth, believed it gave them everything, and acquired all knowledge from it, so they were initially wary of learning from the sky. But as time passed, the value of this knowledge became clear.
Those who strayed from the group found their way back by the stars. Those seeking rest by the river watched how low the birds flew. By observing the stars' movements, they knew when flowers bloomed and plants withered.
Now, the clever ones in the Black Scale Tribe sought knowledge not just from the earth, but from the heavens, visiting the Star Reader to discuss the stars' origins, their changing positions, and what changes lay ahead.
There, Rakrak would sit with a weary expression after a long day's work, while the hunched but sharp-eyed Star Reader answered and posed questions.
Rakrak was grateful to the Star Reader, who never stopped sharing his wisdom with the young despite his aged and fatigued body, and often brought gifts. But the Star Reader always waved them off.
"How could I accept them, considering the grace you've shown me? You took in this wanderer."
"I owe you no grace. It wasn't just me—the whole tribe took you in."
"Then at least I've received the grace of one person. Best take the gift back."
The Star Reader was eloquent, and Rakrak found it hard to win against him.
But Rakrak was quick on his feet.
He'd chat idly with the Star Reader, then sneak gifts into his tent when he wasn't looking. When the Star Reader brought them back asking what they were, Rakrak flatly denied any knowledge.
They spent years in such playful exchanges.
Rakrak suddenly realized there would be no more, and his heart ached.
As Rakrak entered the Star Reader's tent, an herbalist by his bedside awkwardly stood.
"Is he all right?"
"Tribal Chief, the Elder... has lived a very long life... and is very tired."
The Star Reader, half-lidded, spoke.
"...And weary."
The herbalist nodded.
"The Elder has studied much, taught many, traveled from one land to another—places I've never seen—lost an arm, was cast out, and lived as a loner for so long. Lizardmen all reach a point of utter exhaustion. As far as I know, there's one way to cure this ailment."
"Eternal sleep."
"Yes. That's it."
Rakrak slowly nodded, accepting the truth he didn't want to face.
"Very well. If it's not a bother, stay here and..."
"I want to speak with the Tribal Chief alone."
The herbalist nodded without a word and left the tent.
Only the campfire, Rakrak, and the Star Reader lying there remained.
"So, you wanted to see me."
"I wanted to indulge a little on my final path."
"Indulge?"
The Star Reader said,
"You might think differently, but I believe time has value. I've lived without greed my whole life, trying not to take from others. But now, at the end, I decided to steal the time of the busiest person in the tribe."
Rakrak burst into laughter.
"An amusing tale. But I doubt you called me just for a final joke."
"...No. I called you because I have a question. No one else is qualified to answer."
"Qualified."
"Think of it as a question for Priest Rakrak, not Tribal Chief Rakrak. The first chosen one, closest to the god."
"Ask it."
The Star Reader shifted as if to rise, and Rakrak pondered before deciding to help.
With Rakrak's support, the Star Reader managed to sit up.
His now-cloudy eyes met Rakrak's.
Rakrak slowly returned to his seat.
The campfire crackled.
"What happens when we die?"
Rakrak fell silent.
He didn't know either.
There were tales floating around.
The Black Scale Tribe had fought great battles in recent years, and warriors had died.
But Rakrak didn't know where they went.
During funerals, they prayed they'd go to a "good place," but whether they truly did was unknown.
Until Rakrak himself died.
'Where did they go? Do they dream in sleep? An eternal dream? In a place where they don't know who they are or why, endlessly acting without understanding? Or...'
Like Rakrak's unease, the Star Reader looked anxious.
"Do you think we'll dream eternally... nightmares?"
"I don't know. Truthfully..."
Rakrak hesitated before answering.
"I'm also puzzled why you think I have the qualification to answer."
"I think this."
"What?"
"If the Blue Insect God took in our lost selves, do you think this belief—that He'll take in our wandering souls after death—differs much from the god's will?"
Rakrak pondered long, then replied.
"No. Star Reader, you're right. The Blue Insect God will gladly guide us when we lose our way. Even after death."
The Star Reader's face softened with satisfaction.
He asked,
"What do you think that place is like?"
"The place we go when we die?"
"Yes. Do you think it'll start like this—with us sitting here, the god there, exchanging awkward greetings?"
"No, probably less boring than that."
Rakrak crossed his arms, thinking.
"First, there'll be space to run as much as we want. A plain where grass rustles underfoot and pleasantly brushes the tail tip."
"I'm too old to run."
"You'll probably feel better. You leave that worn-out body behind, don't you?"
"True. When I was young, I ran and walked a lot."
"There'll be rocky hills to lie on when tired."
"What about the weather?"
"Always good. No—constant weather would be dull, so sometimes cloudy, with rain. Actually, a river would be nice."
"I'd like a house to rest in."
"Of course there will be. Made of earth? Wood? Or a tent?"
"Truthfully, I don't like tents much. This old man grew tired of riding cockatrices from one place to another. Tents imply we'll move again somewhere."
"I didn't know."
Rakrak regretted not understanding the heart of one called a guide.
The Star Reader shook his head.
"But my heart found a place to settle, so while I breathe, I have no complaints. It's after death that's the issue."
"The house you want will be there. Sturdy, unmoving... maybe made of stone."
"And food?"
"As much as you want, always."
"Everything, then. But being alone in such a vast place might be lonely."
Rakrak shrugged.
"Alone? Those who went before are there, and we'll all go eventually. You won't be lonely. When we meet again, we'll talk more about the stars. We have unfinished stories."
"You think there'll be stars there too?"
"Of course."
Rakrak, who had been vaguely imagining the afterlife, answered firmly this time.
"Didn't the stars guide us? There'll be wanderers there too, so surely the god fixed the stars in place. Easy to find."
"You're right."
The guide smiled.
Then he swayed, as if his strength ebbed.
"Getting sleepy. I should lie down."
Rakrak helped him recline.
Then Rakrak saw a blue butterfly land on the back of his hand.
"Ah."
An omen.
The Blue Insect God's response.
A sign of affirmation.
Rakrak smiled.
The Blue Insect God had been listening to their conversation.
"Star Reader, do you see this?"
Rakrak carefully brought his hand near the Star Reader's face so the butterfly wouldn't fly away.
But the reclining Star Reader didn't respond.
"...Star Reader?"
Rakrak thought he had died and moved to shake him, but realized he was murmuring faintly.
"...Are you still there?"
"I'm here."
"It's all dark before my eyes."
Rakrak realized the Star Reader had gone blind.
Death approached the Star Reader.
"...Ah, damn."
Rakrak felt regret.
Within the Black Scale Tribe, it was now well-known that a blue butterfly was a sign of affirmation and a harbinger of miracles.
Even if not one emitting that mystical blue glow, Lizardmen rejoiced at the sight of any blue butterfly as a good omen.
'Surely the Star Reader would recognize it...'
Rakrak hesitated, then remembered their little prank.
"...Are you still there?"
"Yes."
Rakrak whispered into the Star Reader's ear.
"I brought a gift for you."
"A gift?"
"Yes. I'll leave it here."
"...You're pranking me again."
"Will you refuse it again?"
"...This time, I might find it right away..."
The Star Reader murmured, then smiled.
As his final breath touched the blue butterfly, it fluttered its wings and lifted from Rakrak's hand.
Rakrak knew somehow that it was his last.
He gently called and shook the Star Reader, and realizing no breath returned, he called for the herbalist.
The blue butterfly slipped out of the tent.
And kept flying upward.
Over the Black Scale Tribe bustling with camp and funeral preparations, it ascended. Over the rugged wasteland as twilight began to fall, it soared.
At last, the blue butterfly alighted on another hand.
Seong-un's hand.
'What happens when you die in Lost World?'
Seong-un knew well.
Seong-un selected 'Yes'.