Chapter 158
Chapter 158
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 158
Chapter Title: Dear Master Lin
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[Dear Master Lin.]
I must have read the opening line of the letter—said to have been written twenty-seven years ago—at least seven times. The ink was so blurred and faded it was impossible to make out.
It was in that same handwriting from long ago.
More elegant and mature than when I'd first taught her to write, but all the habits and quirks remained unchanged.
[I write to you again today, Master. When I asked why you sent letters to the Magic Tower every single day, Master Fride explained it like this.
A letter captures certain feelings in writing—feelings that can only be held in that one fleeting moment, at that precise time.
But it's incredibly difficult for me.
No matter what I did that day, no matter what happened, whether it was spring, summer, autumn, or winter, the feelings I hold for you, Master, and the words I want to say are always the same.]
I stopped reading midway, rolled the scroll back up, and sat there alone for a long time amid the muggy summer night breeze.
Just sitting there alone.
Breathing faintly, I only realized I was crying after Pipi fluttered in through the wide-open window.
“Lin, don't cry, Lin, don't cry.”
Pipi flapped his bandaged wings right in front of my face. I quickly wiped away a single tear and shook my head.
“I'm not crying, Pipi. Just... some dust got in my eyes.”
“Dust, dust, dust.”
I gave a pathetic laugh and rested my cheek against Pipi's head. He pecked my cheek lightly.
“Tureina wrote a letter.”
“What's it say, what's it say, what's it say.”
“I'm not reading it.”
A letter is something people exchange when they're separated by time or space they can't cross. Right now, I can go meet her. We're living in the same time, the same space. So.
“I'll go see her face-to-face and talk. Then I'll read it to you after, Pipi.”
One farewell by letter is enough. The image of Aunt Chancellor suddenly came to mind. And the Osarius Academy students too.
“I'm not sure if Tureina will even recognize me like you do...”
She didn't seem to remember the bond of my soul—not just Pipi. What would her reaction be if I said, “It's been a while”?
She wasn't some easy mark I could force to recognize me with the same spell I'd used on Pipi (she was on my level from three hundred years ago). And right now, I couldn't even cast water-attribute magic.
And... when I faced Tureina again—after she'd committed that heaven-shaking outrage—could I really scold her? If anything, it all stemmed from my own unreasonable promise.
*Lady Yeriserika, you're leaving it to my judgment? What the hell do you expect me to do?*
I imagined what Aunt Chancellor or Rista might have said if someone else had been trapped in ice and I'd fallen deep into black magic.
I sat on that hill with Pipi until dawn, the summer breeze gently stroking the trees, grass, flowers, and my hair as I gazed up at the night sky.
No answer came, even as the night faded. But dawn, as always, mercilessly and precisely bathed the world in pale light.
“Hey.”
And just as the birds stirred at dawn and began to chirp, Rista appeared...
No—the hair brushing the edge of the breeze was golden, and those eyes were a clear turquoise, like carved jade. It wasn't Rista. It was Miria.
Even in a plain tunic without a single ornament, her beauty rivaled spring blossoms. Just like Rista.
“The guy who saved us back in <Aurelinopl>.”
Before I could even sigh in relief at seeing her unharmed, I sensed the presence of someone beside her—less an old connection and more a bitter grudge.
“He was supposedly Luzaihien's chief black mage, but whatever. If not for him, I'd be dead. He used curses for emergency treatment on me and Pipi.”
He was a tall young man in the dark blue robe typical of black mages, his face hidden behind a featureless iron mask.
The mask concealed his features, but everything else was clear.
Mana so intense it sent chills racing down my spine. Malice so overwhelming it made Pipi instinctively unfurl his flame wings... I knew this presence.
“You... you're...?”
My voice rose from emotions too tangled to define—joy mingled with bewilderment and an anger I couldn't quell.
Did he sense those muddled thoughts?
He scoffed in that signature irritating way, threw back his robe's hood, unfastened the iron mask's joints, and revealed his face.
“Hah. You recognized me instantly. Guess that flattery about me being the world's most respected mage wasn't a lie after all?”
In the dawn light, dark blue hair swayed, framing features so striking they seemed cut straight from a masterpiece painting.
I knew this bastard.
The insolent prick who capped off my stormiest school days...
“...Valencidis?”
* * *
The Shinwha Peak region of the Red Mountains had never known storm clouds since the Age of Origins. Nor had eternal snow ever blanketed it, thanks to the constant high temperatures.
Sacred heat swirled around the summit—but now, eerily thick clouds of gloom sluggishly churned overhead.
Composed of deep abyss, the clouds writhed like worms, spreading ever wider and severing the world from the sun and moon's light.
[See that beautiful old-world scenery?]
The girl's spirit, her form woven from dark azure haze, strolled along the grand red-tiled gate of the Belrakior Temple—Blessing of Fire—and spoke.
[Most humans live on blissfully, without a shred of doubt. Clueless that this world isn't its true form anymore.]
Her words were directed at a red-haired infant on the temple's polantir altar, bound in iron chains and baring its fangs.
“Agboo.”
The altar bore an eye-searingly intricate ritual array. At the central circle's 'entrance' lay the baby; at the 'exit,' a frozen boy.
[That world was perfect. No suffering for anyone. No sorrow of parting. Humans living freely by instinct alone!]
“A-gbhat!”
[Such a perfect world... until those self-proclaimed 'light' minions swarmed in! Grumbling about freeing you from your shackles...]
Pleased, she watched the clouds erode the blue horizon sky, then spun around.
[Humans, with their primitive brains, fell for it hook, line, and sinker. And so the world turned into this irrational mess.]
“Arut?”
[Funny part? Humans crave becoming like the old kings and nobles. Know that every noble title in the Empire comes straight from the ancient era? Or slavery rampant across Adrion Continent?]
“Eruu!”
[You dragonkin, commanded by light, tried grafting new civilization. But humans? Reverting to the old ways.]
She bounced over to the baby and caressed its face with a hand laced in chilling killing intent.
[It's regression instinct. Regression. The world you forced to change is reverting to its original state.]
Her grip tightened slowly around its throat. The hatchling wailed and thrashed wildly, but iron chains defied mere physical force.
“Abat, abat, abat, a-baat!”
[Look outside. Your era ends, and things return to normal. The future sinks back into the abyss—like before. Scouring every trace of your stench embedded deep in this world—]
“—Don't touch it carelessly.”
Cigarette smoke flew in from nowhere, coiled roughly around the spirit's wrist, and yanked. Her arm tore clean off.
[Ah, right~ This is a key tool for Tureina's wish.]
Elamas—the Black Church's youngest pillar—giggled. But Tureina, pipe clenched in her teeth, looked even grimmer than usual.
- Tureina, Tureina, Tureina.
That parrot... what was it?
No—who?
It felt like someone I mustn't forget, but the memory escaped me... Only soul-filling loss remained, and baseless guilt over what I'd done then.
[Oh dear~ This could be trouble.]
Spotting chaos, confusion, and hesitation in her eyes, Elamas approached and cupped Tureina's cheek.
[Tureina, everything you've done with us has wrought massive miracles on this world. You reshaped a century with Brother Jernix.]
“Let go of that hand.”
[But now you want to bail? You fastened the first button on fixing this chaotic world. If you quit, it'll derail my promises too—and leave the world in turmoil?]
The touch seemed gentle, unlike with the hatchling. But those deep eyes swirled with dark obsession, and her fanatically muttering voice embodied terror.
“I told you to let go.”
Cigarette smoke surged sharply, seized the spirit's limbs, twisted, and ripped them free. The fading spirit smiled faintly.
[That vicious streak's intact—no need to worry... But if you plan to disappoint me, brace yourself.]
Only after the suffocating spirit-mist vanished did Tureina catch her breath and wipe cold sweat from her brow.
She turned to the source of the gaze: the hatchling staring up with innocent eyes.
It whined, tilted its head—then widened its eyes in realization, clasped its chained hands in prayer, and shut them. Just like that boy once gazing at Tureina's statue with sad eyes.
“Praying for me?”
Tureina asked, amused.
Once a shrine maiden of the dragon era, she harbored faint respect for dragonkin beneath her hatred for the Light Dragon.
“You're a gentle race from the cradle. Retract that hand. I'm no one worthy of blessings.”
“Au?”
“I'm Tureina—a rotten bitch. Killed thousands of powerless innocents without a second thought.”
“Ae?”
“Some grand cause? No. All for my pathetic little wish.”
Her sorrowful murmur directed her gaze not at the hatchling, but the boy's face beside it.
She'd never forgotten.
Couldn't forget.
Tried never to forget—no matter what. But now, to the being she'd forgotten everything about except that face.
“Just that one tiny wish... the first and last I ever held in life.”
* * *
“They say curses make you live longer. Wonder how much shit I gotta take to survive a fight with Tureina.”
Valencidis said.
He brazenly offered his hand like we were celebrating a reunion. I hesitated, stood—and punched him square in the face instead.
I froze.
Still shaky from recovery, no real power behind it. I figured he'd dodge easy. But Valencidis took it full-on.
“Hey, what the hell?”
Miria blinked in stunned shock and rushed over, but Valencidis spat blood and waved her off.
“It's fine. For reuniting with this guy, this is par for the course.”
How dare you shove that smug mug in my face? Because of you, what went down that day—what I endured.
Couldn't say it.
No way I could.
Me, who hadn't even sorted how to handle Tureina—could I judge her former subordinate? And this bastard saved my ass twice.
“You're alive, huh... Valencidis...”
My voice trembled for reasons even I couldn't grasp.
No—maybe seeing his left sleeve flap empty. The arm he'd blasted off to let me go back then.
So his betrayal didn't get exposed. That's why he survived.
“Guess I fell short of expectations. Indescribably thrilled to disappoint you.”
Valencidis wore that quiet smile from the school festival. I bit my lip, choking back hollow laughter.
“Yeah... thanks for disappointing me, you bastard...”
No backstory needed—this prick was scum of the earth. Publicly, anyway. Privately? Couldn't hate him. No explanations required.
Couldn't welcome the reunion. Couldn't draw steel and call him foe. Awkward limbo. That was our distance.
In the heavy silence, I broke it first.
“That 'master' you mentioned back then... Tureina?”
“Yeah.”
“Why you're versed in curses and magic both.”
“Spot on.”
“But why betray Tureina?”
“Asking if it was 'cause of you?”
“Half right, half wrong.”
“That was the trigger. But same—half right, half wrong.”
“Not in the mood for games.”
“Neither am I. Believe it or not, I joined her planning betrayal from day one.”
Our exchange felt less reunion, more rote Q&A. Miria and I traded baffled looks. What?
“After the black spot crisis, when Tureina and Luzaihien vanished off the map—this Valencidis fed us intel.”
Yuliana provided the clear answer, pipe in mouth. Valencidis dipped his head in salute.
“You called him 'priest'... that close?”
“Nah. Different roles. Only learned we're priest-priestess recently.”
“Roles?”
“I'm the 'root' she groomed for dirty work. He's the 'flower bud' for public show.”
Even they scratched heads at Tureina raising star pupils for light and dark alike.
“This guy's blacker inside than he looks. No clue his angle.”
I jabbed his temple warningly with my finger. Yuliana blew smoke between us, shoving us apart.
“Can't fully trust him, so I slapped a restriction on. Took it like a lamb.”
Doubted a mere bind would stick to Valencidis's caliber. But against a shrine maiden's spiritual power...
“My hunch? Tureina never meant full world-end.”
Yuliana exhaled bitterly.
“Hand-raising someone like me into a shrine maiden proves it. World destruction? She'd have stocked it with human trash.”
“...”
“Always just wanted to revive Lin. Live together. Abyss twisted that into vile obsession.”
Tureina's face surfaced—bright smile, calling me “Master.”
“Anyway, Valencidis—sure you can fight your old comrades?”
“Never saw 'em as comrades. Problem solved. Think I'll flip? Trigger the bind and kill me.”
His flat tone drew Yuliana's knowing smile.
“Think a bind takes you out? Doubt it. Might scratch you up.”
She gauged his power well enough.
By my standards, top-tier master. No explaining needed—Tureina's chief black mage pick.
Valencidis sighed softly, tracing the restriction sigil on his neck.
“Black magic showed me new paths. Power for equality revolution in this ossified world... Not unleashing old nobles.”
Then what was the black spot mess?
Swallowed the snark. Back then, he was just her pawn.
*We can't buck the flow now...* That what he meant?
“Shrine Maiden.”
Red-hatted witches emerged from the sanctuary then.
“All gathered.”
Yuliana nodded, shot me a lingering glance before heading over.
“So—you've decided what to do with Tureina?”