SOTBW - 67

Najane went to meet Gwyneth. It was to return the Bracelet of Rest. Gwyneth had given it to Najane after hearing that she was leaving Romsoa, worried for her. Regardless of the circumstances, since Najane had decided to stay in Romsoa, Gwyneth thought the bracelet should be returned to its original owner.

When Najane arrived at the knight’s quarters, she saw several knights heading down to the training grounds. Starting today, Najane would also participate in the training. To be honest, she was worried. While staying at the residence, hadn’t she avoided the sword? Facing corpses was one thing, but the holy body...

Najane sighed and hurried into the quarters. When she knocked on the door of Gwyneth’s room, a voice answered from inside, telling her to come in. However, it wasn’t Gwyneth’s voice. It sounded younger, perhaps.

Curious, she turned the doorknob. Upon opening the door, she met the gaze of a woman she didn’t recognize. The woman had fiery red hair, like the sun, and eyes of dark green, identical to Maximón’s.

The woman’s strong presence was so intense that Najane instinctively greeted her first. The woman smiled and gestured toward an old sofa with a tilt of her head.

“Don’t stand, sit down.”

Her voice was strong and cheerful, carrying a subtle air of authority, as if she was born to command others. Though Najane was confused, she was overwhelmed by the woman’s assertive demeanor and sat on the sofa without resistance.

“Is Mistress out on business?” Najane asked.

“She’s away on some business. She’ll probably be back by night. Do you have an urgent matter?”

“I have something to return...”

Before Najane could show the bracelet, the woman spoke first.

“Ah, that bracelet.”

The woman looked at the wrist where the bracelet was worn. Najane nodded and fiddled with the bracelet. Had Gwyneth told the woman that she had given the Bracelet of Rest to someone else?

Najane was curious about the woman’s identity. At first, she had assumed she was one of Gwyneth’s associates, but her attire seemed unusual for a priest. It looked more like riding clothes or perhaps attire for a sparring match.

More than that, with those dark green eyes, was she from the Elgort family? If the woman was noble, Najane could understand her bold yet relaxed attitude. The woman fiddled with the tassels on her coat and continued speaking to Najane.

“You might as well keep the bracelet. It looks like its effect is nearly gone anyway.”

Gwyneth had also said the bracelet’s effect would last only about a week. Najane looked at the bracelet with a disappointed expression, then met the woman’s gaze.

“Excuse me, but may I ask your name?”

“Just call me Ashu. It’s not exactly my name, but more of a nickname.”

“Are you a priest like Mistress?”

“No, I’m someone a bit more important than that.”

Ashu lifted her chin and spoke arrogantly. Najane’s face turned pale with surprise. If she was more important than the archbishop, then she must be a cardinal.

Najane froze in place. Though her homeland, Kalanosia, didn’t have the Church as its state religion, like other kingdoms, they invited cardinals every three years to stay in foreign lands and hold thanksgiving ceremonies in honor of Astrun’s sacrifice.

So, while Najane was nearly illiterate when it came to the Church’s scriptures, she knew that a cardinal was a dignitary on the level of a head of state. She regretted not being more respectful when entering the room and sealed her lips tightly.

Ashu appeared to be only a year or two older than Najane. She might have been teasing Najane, but she was definitely a member of the Church, since she was receiving guests in a room with no owner.

Najane subtly adjusted her posture. She realized she shouldn’t make any enemies, especially considering that Romsoa’s knights needed the Church’s support. Ashu noticed Najane’s change and smirked while resting her chin on her hand.

“How is it living with the knights? Is it tolerable?”

“They are all kind and considerate, so it’s fine,” Najane replied.

“What about love?”

“...Pardon?”

Najane, who had been answering obediently with military discipline, stared at Ashu in confusion. Ashu grinned mischievously, resting her chin on her palm.

“Love, you know. Don’t you have someone you’ve fallen for at first sight? Someone like that, maybe?”

“No, not at all.”

At the unexpected question, Najane shook her head vigorously.

Ashu tilted her head.

“Really? Hmm, that’s strange. I can’t believe it.”

Ashu narrowed her eyes and stared intently at Najane. Najane had never had anyone she fell for at first sight, so there was nothing more to say.

Of course, for a brief moment, she had thought about Maximón. But that was all. If she were to be honest, she liked having sex with Maximón.

Moreover, she enjoyed fighting alongside him. To be precise, it made her happy. She had never once hoped to be a hero, but when she fought alongside someone like Maximón in the same field, she felt somewhat useful.

She couldn’t deny that she had briefly felt attracted to him, nor could she deny the sense of accomplishment and the feeling of being alive when they defeated the holy body. If she had grown up a little more normally, she would have probably shared stories about boys she liked with her friends and giggled excitedly. And slowly, she would have learned what love was and discovered her own tastes.

Najane smiled calmly and looked at Ashu.

“After thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve ever fallen for anyone at first sight.”

She said this with an apologetic tone to Ashu, who seemed somewhat disappointed. Ashu furrowed her brow as if she couldn’t understand and asked,

“Maximón?”

Najane’s eyes widened at the unexpected name.

“Why... him?”

Najane asked, curious, but then quickly realized she had wasted too much time here. Training was about to start. Flustered, she glanced at the window. Ashu, noticing Najane’s nervousness, smirked.

“You seem busy. I guess I can’t keep you. Come back when Gwyneth isn’t around. I have a lot I want to talk to you about.”

Ashu let Najane go without protest. Najane hurriedly said she was sorry and left the knight’s quarters in a rush.

Running as though chased, Najane replayed Ashu’s last words in her mind. “Come back when Gwyneth isn’t here...”

Najane stopped running and turned around.

But why was Gwyneth staying with the Romsoa knights? A late realization dawned on her, but she didn’t have time to think it through. The bells announcing the training session rang from the practice ground. Alarmed, Najane screamed inwardly and ran at full speed.

________________________________________

As soon as the training observation of the young soldiers was over, Belshua headed toward the crematorium.

He needed the bodies of those who had tried to kidnap Najane. After the last torture session, he had planned to use the body of the one who had died, but the Colnux knights had taken it, claiming they would hold a funeral.

So, he had no choice but to consider killing one of the remaining three, but sometimes, when someone experiences immense pain just before death, the magic used to steal memories can distort them. To cause such side effects, one would need to suffer an unimaginable amount of misfortune.

The criminals had been tortured day and night, without rest. There was a risk that forcibly reading their memories could fail, even if the use of magic was attempted.

Belshua planned to use magic to find out who was threatening Najane and who had dared to interfere with the fate designed by Sylin. He didn’t want to use the magic left behind by Sylin, but...

Extracting memories from the dead was a high-level form of magic. It absolutely had to succeed.

By chance, Belshua heard that the body of a soldier who had died in a carriage accident was still at the crematorium. The Colnux knights had thought they had burned the body in Romsoa, so they hadn’t asked how it had been handled.

Fortunately, the crematorium was overflowing with the bodies of warriors who had no families or hometowns to return to. The bodies had not yet been cremated. Hopefully, they hadn’t.

Arriving at the crematorium, Belshua looked at the bodies scattered haphazardly like butchered animals. From a hilltop, black smoke rose endlessly as corpses were burned. There were so many dead that it seemed there would never be enough time to burn them all, day or night.

Belshua stared at the gruesome scene indifferently and searched for the crematorium caretaker. He saw an old man with one arm, dragging two bodies wrapped in a broad cloth toward somewhere.

Despite the winter cold, there was a foul stench everywhere. Belshua wrinkled his nose as he passed by the piles of bodies and approached the old man.

“Hey, where are the bodies from Romsoa?”

The hunched old man glanced at Belshua indifferently.

“There are so many bodies brought from Romsoa, how could I possibly remember them all?”

“The body with a broken neck and intact limbs. The soldiers should have left that one just a few days ago.”

“Ah, I see. Quite a strange situation.”

The old man tilted his head.

“A few days ago, someone asked about the same thing as you. They were wearing a deep hood, so I couldn’t see their face, but they seemed young... Anyway, the body you mentioned should be under that decaying tree root over there. There are too many bodies that need to be burned right away, so I just left it there.”

After saying this, the old man continued dragging the bodies. Belshua, with her mouth tightly shut, stared at the spot he had pointed to. Someone had come looking for that body? With her expression darkening, Belshua hurried over to the withered tree root.

As the old man had said, the soldier with a broken neck was there. The body was frozen in a strange position, still blue and stiff. It looked like the soldiers had carelessly discarded it, and it had frozen in place.

Belshua, with a slightly tense expression, loosened her hands. Her previous injuries from using magic still ached, but she had no time to waste.

As she slowly drew the magical energy deep within her body, she felt a chill near her heart. Sylin was known for being cheerful and optimistic, but her magical power was as cold as the extreme ice of glaciers.

Belshua mentally went over the magic circle for high-level magic. The magic that interferes with memories was tier 10. The shrunken magic circle glowed clearly in her palm. Her control over both the magical power and the spell was perfect.

Confident that she would succeed, Belshua began to unfold the magic. In that instant, a familiar magic circle appeared around the dead soldier’s body, bouncing Belshua back. Sharp ice surged from the magic circle, surrounding Belshua’s right hand to the point that it felt numbing.

This was a rejection. There was a sealing spell of tier 10 or higher already placed on the body, one that prevented any interference with the memories of the deceased. Flustered, Belshua quickly suppressed the ice that was rapidly spreading toward her heart.

She summoned a shattering magic circle with her left hand and grasped the ice that was trying to engulf her upper body. The unknown magic that had interfered with her broke instantly, scattering like shards of glass around her.

For the first time, Belshua’s face twisted in a grimace, and she gasped for air. This wasn’t a failure. Her magic was perfect. The only issue was that the sealing spell on the body was one level higher.

Grinding her teeth, Belshua roughly swept her hair back with trembling hands. Her brown pupils shifted like an alligator in a swamp. This was impossible. There was only one being in this world who could use magic—Mahilen, Belshua herself.

After sealing Serith, humans had stopped recording anything about magic. The magical energy that had once sustained the world had long since been depleted. Even the books on magical energy that Aron had left behind were all burned a thousand years ago.

So who had placed magic on this body? And how had they learned it? Belshua, shocked by this unbelievable situation, felt her mind go blank.

With her eyes closed, Belshua took a slow breath to calm her thoughts. The body before her had magic on it. It was high-level magic that prevented the manipulation of the memories of the dead.

To place magic on a dead body like this, the magician would have to be highly skilled, but how could that be possible in this era? All magicians were dead. Humans had intentionally forbidden records on magic and power to rebuild the world with pure human strength, which they successfully did.

If this had been a long time ago, Belshua would have easily shattered this with a simple wave of her hand. But now, she couldn’t even be certain about interpreting the magic on the body. To break the protection on the body, she would need to pour out all of Sylin’s magical power.

It was then that Belshua finally realized that Najane’s kidnapping was no simple matter. Someone, other than Belshua, knew the secrets of the past.

As Belshua confronted the unsettling truth, her face darkened. She was now certain that the unidentified person who had interfered with her magic had also figured out Najane’s identity—or more precisely, who Najane was. In a situation she had never anticipated, Belshua clenched her teeth. Cold sweat began to run down her back.

If someone threatened Najane again, would she be able to handle it properly? What would happen if she failed? Would the world simply collapse? If the universe truly descended into ruin, what should she do? Would she have to be content with just watching the apocalypse unfold?

No. No. Before meeting Sylin, she hadn’t cared about what happened to the world, but now it was different. That day, didn’t she swear as she held Sylin’s cold, lifeless body? She would watch everything unfold according to the plan.

If anyone interfered with the fate Sylin had crafted, she would never forgive them...

Belshua struggled to think rationally. Who, with enough power to interfere with Sylin’s plan, could possibly exist? There were never many magicians capable of wielding tier 10 magic even in the past.

Calmly retracing his memories, Belshua deliberately touched the body again with Sylin’s magical power. As soon as the magic made contact, the protective spell on the body activated, and sharp ice shot up again.

The attribute of the protective magic placed on the body was ice. Every being has a unique attribute. Rakhshu had a flame that shone like a star, and Sylin had ice that moved as freely as water.

Ice magic was a powerful ability, not rare even in the times when dragons and magicians thrived. The only attributes that could truly be called rare were light and darkness.

Desperately searching through her memories, Belshua recalled the magicians who were considered great. An ice magician who could freely use magic of tier 10 or higher, someone who knew the world’s secrets and could intentionally interfere with the destinies of Maximón and Najane.

There was one more condition to consider. It was impossible for a human to achieve immortality like Belshua or Mackanon of the Astien Empire. So, the person who could succeed in a forbidden magic, carving the memories of a past life into their soul, must be a genius with that kind of madness. Though she didn’t know how they had succeeded in that forbidden magic, anyone with that kind of obsession and skill would...

In that moment, Belshua’s eyes narrowed slightly. The Bastronia family was famous for their delicate ice magic. Belshua watched the ice, which spread rapidly like mold, clinging to her fingertips.

A high-level magician who used flowing ice like a river. This person likely knew the truth of Serith, which Astrun and Mahilen desperately tried to hide, and could threaten Najane because of it...

Melting the ice, Belshua furrowed her brow and clenched her cold hand tightly. Unfortunately, only one name came to mind. A magician who, along with Sylin, had been recognized as a genius from the Bastronia family, and who had been obsessed with the magic to resurrect the dead.

The magician’s name was Veligon.

His real name was Kieron Bastronia.

He was none other than Sylin’s older brother.