The Thousand-Year Graffiti
We headed for the cave where the ancient script had been discovered.
But this is such an unexpected spot. Is it really here?
The cave wasn’t far from the road people used. The entrance isn’t very noticeable, though.
I still found it odd.
While I examined the entrance, Everett explained that we had to deactivate the disguise magic tool before going inside.
“The mana arrangement for black magic is the inverse of ordinary mana patterns. If you cast magic near a space or object that carries traces of it, the two clash and cancel each other out, scattering any stagnant mana.”
We disabled the disguise artifacts and set aside the other items we carried.
Everett then produced a torch with practiced ease.
“It’ll be dark in there.”
He walked ahead and offered me his hand.
The cave was so narrow only one person could squeeze through at a time, yet it stretched on far longer than I expected. By the time my legs were screaming, the passage finally opened into a wide chamber.
“This part is the natural cave. The artificial section—and the black magic traces—starts farther back.”
It looked as though something had once sealed the gap between the natural and man-made sections. An earthquake or similar disaster must have shattered the barrier, exposing the hidden tunnel.
An artificial cave on this scale is definitely suspicious.
Even at a glance it seemed to plunge deep into the earth.
“We’re not moles, you know. Whoever dug this really went all out.”
Everett soothed me as I grew a little sulky from exhaustion.
“It’s not that deep. We’re almost there.”
Thanks to this trip, I had grown far more comfortable with Everett. I pouted for no good reason.
“I think I heard that a while ago.”
When I started thumping my heavy calves with my fist, he scratched his cheek, looking troubled, then brightened as if a brilliant idea had struck him.
“Shall I carry you?”
He looked ready to scoop me up the moment I said yes.
“I’m not injured. Why would you carry me?”
I still had some pride. Besides, I was sweaty; the thought of being held right now was mortifying.
“Let’s just keep going.”
I clenched my fists and marched forward again. After six hours of riding the day before and nearly two more hours of trudging through this cave, I was moving at a snail’s pace. Still, we had reached our goal. That was something.
“There it is.”
Everett gazed into a patch of darkness the torchlight couldn’t reach.
“Where?”
He angled the torch toward the wall. Only then did I see it—jagged letters gouged out with something sharp like a dagger. It looked like graffiti, but the characters were unmistakably ancient script.
“Can you read it?”
Ancient language had been a dead tongue for centuries. Modern scholars were reconstructing it, but their work remained incomplete. Fortunately, the inscription on the wall was simple.
It’s about the level of a beginner’s textbook.
“Yes. On the × day of the ××× month, Iashin and Hugo visited this cave.”
On the × day of the ××× month,
Iashin and Hugo visited this cave.
When I finished reading, Everett let out a helpless laugh.
Exactly. Some person from the ancient empire had explored the cave and left what amounted to a guestbook entry.
I wonder if Iashin and Hugo ever imagined their scribbles would survive for over a thousand years.
“I didn’t expect a demon-summoning spell, but this is still surprising.”
“At least it’s a relief.”
Black mages were the sort who offered human souls to summon evil gods. In the distant past they had nearly succeeded once. The attempt failed only because the god Minos had sent down his incarnation—the Saintess—to intervene.
The first king of what was then a kingdom had fought beside that Saintess to seal the evil deity away.
Even after confirming it was nothing more than a visitor’s note, I kept staring at the wall.
“The ancient-history scholars are going to lose their minds over this.”
I considered sending a letter to the academy on our way back.
“Over this?”
Everett had toured the dwarven bellows and scrap metal with me, yet he still didn’t seem to grasp why random graffiti counted as a major find.
What does he mean, “this”? If the ancient-history professor heard about it, he’d pack a bag and sprint here immediately.
From my academy days I had learned that most people found the subject boring, so I usually held back. Everett, however, was an exception.
“The part that says which month and day is what matters. The order of notation is slightly different from every known ancient system.”
It could become valuable new material for understanding their calendar.
“That actually sounds meaningful.”
Everett listened with genuine attention. Once I climbed onto my favorite topic, I was hard to stop.
“I also noticed something else interesting…”
I explained the evidence suggesting an artificial passage had once connected the inscribed chamber to the natural cave, pointing out every detail I could remember.
“It’s a shame we only brought torches. I wish we could have examined it properly.”
“Shall we come back another time?”
“Is that allowed?”
“Of course.”
Everett never once interrupted. He simply listened. Thanks to him, the return trip through the cave that had felt endless on the way in now seemed strangely short.
“Ugh, it’s so bright.”
After the darkness, stepping into daylight made my eyes sting. I squeezed them shut, then opened them again.
I can still see torchlight patterns.
Everett held his hand above my forehead like a visor. It helped. I blinked several more times.
“Still, the investigators are going to suffer. No black-magic traces in this cave after all.”
We had found the cave while searching Diegis after sensing black magic in the area. It had instantly become the prime suspect.
If this isn’t the place, they’ll have to start the search all over again.
“Can’t be helped. Tracking black mages has always been tedious, painstaking work.”
Ordinary citizens of the empire believed black mages had been wiped out entirely. In truth, a handful of survivors still clung to existence in small, secretive cells.
They live like ants hiding in burrows, knowing they’ll be executed the moment they’re discovered.
“Lately, though, the number of incidents that look like their handiwork seems to be increasing, doesn’t it?”
Almost as if they had new backing.
It’s been proven that summoning demons is nearly impossible, so who would even try?
But “surely not” had a way of catching people off guard.
As promised, we returned to Peram.
Baron Orso had ridden out to the border between Diegis and Peram to greet us.
“Welcome back, my lord.”
He was so effusive you would have thought we had been gone a full year.
Everett dismounted at the sight of him, then offered me his hand so I could descend more easily.
“Thank you.”
Only after I was safely on the ground did Everett acknowledge the baron with a slight nod.
“The temple?”
Straight to business.
“Priest Harkan has sent a formal letter of protest himself. I expect he’ll arrive within three or four days.”
Baron Orso answered, visibly tense.
Everett gave an indifferent nod.
The baron searched for something else to say, noticed me standing awkwardly because of muscle pain, and spoke as though he had just remembered.
“I prepared a carriage. Please ride from here. I’ve also arranged lunch at the manor.”
He really was a capable man.
Everett escorted me toward the carriage as naturally as breathing. Only the two of us climbed in.
“We’ll head to the temple first.”
Everett decided our destination. It seemed he wanted to see the situation with his own eyes even though the baron had already handled matters.
“Yes, my lord.”
Baron Orso rode ahead like an honor guard.
He definitely wants to build a connection to the emperor through Everett.
The carriage passed the soon-to-be-demolished poorhouse and went straight to the temple. At the sound of hooves, children playing in the courtyard spotted us and came running.
“Oh! The sponsor’s here!”
The children outside raised a commotion and swarmed me.
“Didn’t we meet last time?”
“Why are you back again?”
While I was under question-mark fire, more children poured out from inside. Before we knew it, Everett and I were completely surrounded.
As I greeted each child one by one, a woman stepped out of the temple. She appeared to be the guardian they had mentioned.
She looked to be in her late teens, with fluffy pink hair like cotton candy and eyes the clear blue of a summer sky.
It was the exact same combination as Ivetta, the female protagonist and Saintess of this novel.
To be precise, the Ivetta from the first loop.
In the second loop, the aftereffects of a grand mage’s curse had turned her eyes a deep, dark blue.
What a coincidence?
It was a coincidence.
It had to be.