Chapter 219
Chapter 219
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 219
Chapter Title: The Silent Flute
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"Wrong."
"……!"
"You're wrong."
"……."
"How is this problem so damn hard for you? Speak up. How else am I supposed to explain it?"
The sight of Valencidis awkwardly tutoring Ovin in magic every night brought a flood of memories rushing back to me.
- You idiot! How can you not get this? Even a passing camel would learn it faster than you!
Every now and then, scenes from three hundred years ago, when I was teaching Tureina, would faintly overlay their faces.
Hmph...
Come to think of it, Ovin even resembled young Tureina a bit. No matter what he heard, he had that tenacious, diligent personality, soaking it all up faithfully.
"No real dangers nearby."
That was around the time Miria returned from scouting the pitch-black jungle.
"At this pace, we can make it there in two days."
Our destination now was Banirdo.
Geographically, it was a key stronghold in southern Solond. Politically, it was the hometown of the late queen.
In other words, Ovin's maternal family home. It was ruled by the Pester family, one of the three venerable noble houses that had sustained Solond as a kingdom.
- Th-there it is! If you ask Grandpa and head along the royal road, you can get to Bara in no time!
Ovin had shyly smiled when talking about his grandparents, saying they were the ones who had showered him with love even back when he was a finger-pointed-at child.
"That's exactly what bothers me."
"What?"
"With the kingdom in this state, is Banirdo really safe? If I were Elamas, I'd turn that place to plague-ridden ruins first. It's Ovin's biggest base of support."
Perhaps sensing the ominous premonition, Miria fell silent for a moment. Ovin was the one who objected to my speculation.
"It w-will be f-fine!"
As he said it, clutching the Heavenly Wave Flute tightly, it felt less like conviction and more like desperate hope.
"If n-not, I'll m-make it f-fine!"
No, wait...
This kid was strong. His delicate features and stutter just hid it.
For a fleeting instant, the image of the imperial crown prince, Raida Eijin—with his profound insight despite his youth—flashed in my mind.
"Sorry, I misspoke. It'll be fine. Your grandparents must be as strong as you."
He gave an embarrassed chuckle and replied like that, finally drawing a bright smile from Ovin.
"Magic's good, but let's practice your pronunciation too. You don't sound dignified at all for royalty."
That remark brought a small burst of laughter even amid our forced march.
But.
It took only two days for that laughter to shatter.
* * *
Sun Castle, Bara.
Inner Palace Rignahaz.
This place, where the royals offered worship, had housed a Ramasa priest for the past three years.
"You're all here."
As Elamas swept aside the silk curtain and entered, the fairy tribe spirits rose from their seats in the pews, each in their own posture.
"……You've arrived."
Arha (No. 1), the martial Snir, oddly held a spear shaft without a blade in elegant meditation.
"Right as heads, you come. Can you see? Haha, heads! My lucky coin never lies."
Gaha (No. 2), ascetic Pel, flicked his gold coin repeatedly and showed it to Elamas.
"I worried you'd keep us up all night."
Dalta (No. 3), arrogant Jenyas yawned boredly, rising reluctantly as if from his seat.
"Hmm, so that's why you look dissatisfied?"
Elamas smiled faintly, and the temple flames shuddered like they were shivering.
Jenyas, struck by an even fiercer terror, immediately bowed his head in apology for his insolence.
These three were the brigade's core members—veterans on another level, all revived by Elamas's necromancy.
"……."
In contrast to their casual poses, one swordsman stood rigidly at attention on the podium, as if enduring punishment.
No one knew why he was punished, but to the fairies' eyes, his very existence was a crime.
Uniquely beautiful features—even for a hero of humanity—but his ears bore no mark of circumcision, the symbol of the chosen.
"Didn't cut down the target?"
Before the words finished, a sharp, high crack echoed through the sanctuary. Elamas's hand had slapped the swordsman's cheek viciously.
"Why?"
Blood trickled from lips perhaps torn inside as the swordsman reported.
"They knew who I was."
"They knew you? Ridiculous. You don't even know who you are—how could they?"
"It felt that way, so I……."
Elamas lifted his chin impatiently, letting out an irritated sigh.
"Keep messing up like this? Don't tell me a doll like you resents me?"
"……."
"Be grateful. I'm bringing order to the world that drove you to death so young."
Elamas grabbed the hero's head and spun it roughly, enough to worry about snapping his neck.
"What we're doing will be a gift to this world. I know how tragic and painful it is for beings like you to be sacrificed to death. But now, that won't happen anymore. It's the dawn of a new world."
"……."
"Just one step left. Kill those worms, and it's over. What's so hard about it? You'll get it next time, right?"
A moment later, the hero replied in a voice laced with impossible emotion for a doll.
"……I have no confidence."
Elamas clicked his tongue coldly, and the hero's body crumpled to the floor.
A eerie dark-blue flame flickered on Elamas's palm—authority over Neigalas's evil thoughts.
If regained memories made him unstable, just burn them away completely and raise him again.
"The council decided today. The Sun Star Array activates exactly ten days from now, right when the princess ritual ends."
Without the king's blood, they couldn't fully dismantle the castle's barrier built over the ancient primordial kingdom.
The reason for propping up a puppet princess. The reason for painstakingly coaxing worthless ministers instead of killing them outright.
All to successfully remove Grand Archmage Rigwind's barrier.
"……Survivors across the nation are already rioting toward the capital."
Arha (No. 1), Snir, spoke as Gaha (No. 2), Pel, flicked his coin again.
"If all survivors gather here, nothing can stop the array once activated. Everything as Your Apostle planned. Heads again."
Elamas nodded, satisfied yet somewhat displeased.
"I don't care what those lowly scum are plotting—don't let anyone disrupt this ritual. No matter who, I won't tolerate failure."
Arrogant Jenyas paused, then spoke cautiously.
"May I ask your true purpose?"
"True purpose?"
"A great one like you wouldn't go this far just to turn humans into undead."
Elamas stroked his chin briefly, then flashed a seductive smile.
"Yeah, things have come this far. Guess it's fine to explain to you all now."
* * *
The northern Adrion continent was famed for its tropical climate, and Solond Kingdom fell within that zone.
‘Ak-rad continent folk call this a cursed climate.’
A land with barely any seasons, divided only into dry and rainy periods year-round.
Even in the dry season without rain, it was humid and hot. A draining, sticky heat. Nights brought no relief.
Kies called this heat "unpleasant heat."
"But the bananas are tasty, right?"
"Aruu!"
Setsnen, munching on a peeled banana Rain offered, flailed her arms excitedly.
"Save some for Aki sis too."
"Gueeek."
"Ugh, don't spit out what you're eating! Were you gonna give her that?"
If Aki seemed purely foolish, Setsnen came off sloppy and quirky...
‘Same dragonkin, yet so different.’
Rain sighed and scanned the surroundings again.
Southern Solond was tropical rainforest, dotted with banana and cacao plantations—but no farmers in sight.
"This gives me the creeps..."
Miria wiped sweat from her brow, visibly unnerved.
"Was it always like this?"
The jungle was unnaturally verdant, but growth twisted bizarrely.
Tree roots snaked above ground like serpents, nameless poisonous mushrooms and plants bloomed, luring creatures to death.
"The Abyss is starting to affect flora and fauna too."
"Abyss influence?"
"Abyss warps nature too, not just humans. In months, this jungle'll be a full swamp."
Miria and Ovin were baffled by the changes, but Rain had seen worse three hundred years ago...
"Villages and roads turning to swamps. Ah, predators like crocs getting savage... We gotta move fast."
No signs of life on roads or in villages.
They stopped at an empty castle, where Miria, Valencidis, and Ovin found breathable, moisture-wicking clothes.
They even found something fitting for Setsnen—likely the lord's child's garb.
‘Where the hell did that child go...?’
As foreboding grew, on the third day of travel, they reached Banirdo.
"Look, the walls are visible!"
"Is that the southern stronghold, Banirdo?"
"No, everyone hold up. Something's off, no matter how you look."
Signs of life came from beyond the walls, but not voices or laughter.
Starved monsters whimpering.
Worst, the gate was smashed—revealing the grim truth at a glance.
"Uh......"
Hope shattered, Ovin stammered mutely.
"After raiding goblin dens a few times, you can tell danger from the entrance alone. That's dangerous. Feels ominous."
"Aruu......"
"Best to bypass the city entirely."
No one among us immediately agreed with Valencidis's pragmatic call.
"The young man's judgment is correct. You must not enter that city under any circumstances."
The voice grated like a saw on metal. Setsnen bared fangs in instinctive revulsion.
A natural dragonkin reaction.
The old man before them was Abyss-corrupted.
"If you had business in Banirdo, sorry to say—the city's already devoured by plague."
His body primalized like a savage, only half his face intact.
Once corrosion finished, even the skull beneath his rags would lizard-like.
Why hadn't he sensed the Abyss reaction sooner? The old man's life force was faint. Dying.
"What happened here?"
"Our city fought plague and undead for two years. No supplies from the capital, we got isolated. Gate finally broke... and you see the result."
"……!"
"I'm at death's door. Whether curiosity, bravado, or chivalry—I'm here so no one foolish enters."
His archaic diction seemed odd for an ordinary elder.
"Ovin......"
Miria placed a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder as he stared blankly at his grandfather's city.
"Ovin?"
The elder reacted sharply to the name—taboo before Solond citizens.
Hearing it, he approached Ovin entranced.
Miria reached for her demon sword to stop him, but he halted over two meters away. As if fearing plague transmission.
"The prince... the prince?"
As Ovin turned, time seemed to freeze. Tears welled first in the elder's eyes.
"Oh gods, thank you...... You're safe. To see the prince's face again before I die—my prayers weren't in vain......"
As the three pondered the scene, Ovin's lips quivered faintly.
"Gr-Grandpa......?"
Grandpa?
Then this elder was the southern great lord, Arif Pester?
Arif seemed shocked Ovin spoke, but more so that he approached.
"How dare you risk that precious body so? Stay back! If I infect you, I couldn't rest in peace."
"……!"
"Seeing the prince again is enough. No regrets left—so cherish your royal health."
Then, a long, tearing wail from the gate.
Echoing screams spread, followed by eerie ground tremors as primalized folk poured from the gate.
Abyss undead drawn to life's warmth... inevitable.
"Guess it comes to this."
Five-layered magic circles shattered from Rain's palm, chains of flame blocking the gate.
The primalized climbed walls on all fours, charging them.
Chilling sight. Arif urgently shouted to Ovin.
"Prince, leave now! They won't harm me! I'm half-kin to them already."
"B-but!"
"You're the kingdom now! Kingdom ends when you do! No hesitation—go!"
Valencidis drew Kashur.
As Miria slammed the first charging primal to the ground, Valencidis swung, raising a wind barrier.
He yelled to gasping, lost Ovin.
"The Heavenly Wave Flute, Ovin!"
"……!"
"Blow it—turn your grandfather human. Not just him, everyone in that city!"
Ovin drew the treasured bamboo flute.
It emanated mystic clarity. An instrument said to hold gods' voices from the gods' era.
Amid primal screams, shouts, and tremors filling his ears, Ovin put flute to lips—but no sound.
"It's fine. You can do it. Recall what I taught."
Theory was solid.
Blowing that flute's magic? Trivial for Valencidis, master of all spells for infiltration.
"No time for flute-playing!"
As primals bypassed the barrier, leaping into jungle.
"Prince!"
Primal threats scaling trees, splashing through swamps on hands and feet, closing from all sides.
"Go now, hurry!"
No matter how he blew, again and again, lungs burning—the Heavenly Wave Flute stayed silent.
Could he do nothing?
If he couldn't play this flute won with warriors' lives, were those sacrifices meaningless?
Then what was the point of that journey, that grueling trek...
"Hmm, I see the problem."
As despair's tear fell from Ovin's eye, that voice boomed with massive flames blocking primal advance.
"Not my disciple, so no obligation to teach... but special service this once."
Rain approached Ovin, gently overlaying his hand on the flute-holding one.
"That's not how you use magic."
Exactly as three hundred years ago, when Atlante dean told orphan boy.
"Magic means pouring your heart into it."
And the exact lesson that master gave his inept disciple.
"No rush."
As that one wished: become someone who shares light freely.
"Slowly, calmly—put your heart into that magic."
Today too, the old archmage passed a fragment of truth he'd received.
"Then magic will answer your heart."
Smiling exactly like that one who brought light to his dark life.
"Now, shall we try once more?"