SOTBW - 164

A ritual is a meticulously designed magic circle used to manifest desires through divine power.

Since discovering the mysterious ritual on Najane’s back, Gwyneth had been consumed by curiosity. While all individuals possess a trace amount of divine power, it is far too insignificant to activate a ritual.

The same applied to Najane. Thus, Gwyneth wanted to understand the source and mechanism of this ritual.

In nations that worshipped the Holy Church, it was commonly believed that rituals were composed of a three-layer structure, and that this structure must remain intact for a ritual to function. At least, that was the belief until Gwyneth discovered the four-layer ritual on Najane’s back.

Typically, the first layer of a ritual defines its purpose. The second layer contains the command necessary to activate it, and the third layer outlines its properties—whether the ritual is temporary or permanent.

Many theologians had attempted to create permanent rituals but failed. Their failures boiled down to two main issues: the vast amount of divine power required to sustain the ritual and the structural limitations of the three-layer system.

For example, suppose someone inscribed a healing ritual on a person and attempted to maintain it for a year. In that case, an immense supply of divine power would be necessary to activate and sustain the ritual.

Faced with this challenge, priests abandoned the idea of permanent rituals. Additionally, the commands like “where to draw divine power from and how to use it” had to be embedded within one of the three layers, but doing so never produced the desired results.

Even after the reemergence of the Celestials, theologians had yet to devise a solution. That is why the four-layer ritual found on Najane was such a groundbreaking discovery.

According to Aron’s journals, there had been permanent healing rituals in the past. The Holy Church had strived to reach that level of mastery. It was this ambition that drove Venus and Gwyneth to unravel the mystery behind the ritual inscribed on Najane’s body.

What exactly was written into the fourth layer to allow the ritual to sustain itself within Najane for so long? Whoever had created this ritual surely had a reason for employing such an unconventional structure. If they could uncover its workings, they might finally develop permanent healing rituals and save countless lives.

However, despite her passion for research, Gwyneth was devastated when she witnessed the true nature of the ritual up close.

Jacob had testified that Najane had bled profusely, to the point of hovering near death. This was true. However, Najane’s physical condition, contrary to Jacob’s account, showed no signs of such blood loss—other than hypothermia, his body appeared relatively unscathed.

Gwyneth, blessed with divine abilities, could faintly perceive when death loomed over someone. Just as she had immediately recognized the curse etched into Najane’s body, those with violet eyes like hers could, whether they wished to or not, catch glimpses of certain thresholds.

Based on her observations, Najane likely had teetered on the brink of life and death, as Jacob described. Yet, as soon as he lost consciousness, his body began healing itself.

Being a saintly magic user, Gwyneth recognized the active ritual spinning within Najane’s body—it was a permanent healing ritual. The troubling question was: where was this ritual drawing its divine power to sustain Najane’s recovery?

Gwyneth laid Najane back on the bed and let out a deep sigh.

When she first examined the unknown magic circle, she noticed ancient script etched into the fourth layer. She had attempted to decipher it but found no matching references in any ancient texts.

Now, with the ritual in motion, the script within the fourth layer had shifted. Whoever had inscribed this ritual clearly didn’t want its structure to be exposed. They had employed a clever deception. Whoever it was, they were undeniably a master of ritual design—perhaps someone born during the Astrun Era.

While not a full-fledged theologian, Gwyneth possessed a rudimentary understanding of ancient Schnellian.

The final phrase in the fourth layer read: “Convert the life force of Emaydis Powley into divine power.”

“...Unbelievable… Najane…”

This healing ritual must have activated every time Najane sustained internal injuries, regardless of his will. This meant that every time Najane swung his blade, he was recklessly consuming his own life force to mitigate the damage his body endured.

Gwyneth pressed her hand against her forehead and groaned in despair.

At this point, she couldn’t even begin to estimate how much of Najane’s lifespan remained.

________________________________________

The darkness was dense and suffocating.

Maximón lay buried in an endless void, unable to distinguish up from down. Startled by a sensation of being watched, he instinctively lifted his head.

Springing upright, Maximón scanned his surroundings. All he saw was impenetrable darkness, stretching in every direction. He had no idea where he was or why such a space existed.

Maximón stood up without panicking. Then, he realized that the left half of his body had been engulfed in darkness, turning pitch black.

He swung his left arm experimentally, but it had merged with the darkness and was invisible. In the void, the only thing Maximón could see was himself.

As he stood motionless, trying to assess the situation, Maximón turned his gaze back to the darkness. Something was lurking in there, somewhere.

Instinctively, he reached for the sword at his waist, but there was nothing there. At that moment, a monstrous creature roared and thrust its head out of the darkness, lunging toward him.

As the creature’s razor-sharp claws and teeth came within inches of his face, dozens of chains shot out, weaving a web that blocked its path. The chains glowed a brilliant gold, and the monster, which had been about to devour Maximón, let out an agonized roar before retreating back into the shadows.

Its cries echoed from the depths, reverberating through the darkness. Maximón stared into the unfathomable abyss. The creature that had just appeared reminded him of Serith. It was an incredibly grotesque monster, far too horrifying to belong to this world, yet it bore an uncanny resemblance to Serith.

Listening to the creature’s anguished howls, Maximón couldn’t help but think that it was suffering. He didn’t know why, but the thought came to him unbidden.

As he gazed downward, Maximón raised his head. Beyond the chains that stretched across the darkness, someone was standing.

Maximón silently observed the figure and was soon struck with astonishment.

The man standing there was identical to him.

Unlike Maximón, however, the right half of the man’s body was submerged in darkness. It seemed the man couldn’t step beyond the chains.

Yet it was unclear whether the chains, forming a barrier in every direction, were meant to protect Maximón from the creature—or to keep the man, who emerged from the darkness, sealed inside.

The man stared intently at Maximón and slowly opened his mouth.

“Don’t make Emaydis cry.”

“What?”

“My love.”

The man spoke cryptically, a bitter smile forming on his lips.

As Maximón mulled over his words, he remembered that he had once, fleetingly, recalled the name “Emaydis.”

“Wait... Are you talking about Najane?”

Maximón’s eyes turned hostile as he glared at the man.

Gripping the chains, the man let out a low chuckle.

“Don’t you want to know why you’ve come here?”

“Do I need to?”

Maximón’s tone was sharp.

The man continued to smile, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“It doesn’t really matter. You’ll forget it all once you wake up anyway.”

“Who are you?”

“That’s an odd question. I’m you.”

The man’s answer, delivered with a tone as if it were obvious, left Maximón dumbfounded.

“...You’re me?”

“Who do you think this barrier is for?”

“It’s to keep that monster at bay, of course.”

At Maximón’s response, the man gave a mysterious smile and lowered his gaze. However, Maximón wasn’t curious about the barrier.

He didn’t care about where he was or what this place was. What mattered to him was the creature—the monster that resembled Serith but wasn’t her. He wanted to know more about it.

“What was that monster? It looked like Serith, but it wasn’t her.”

“That’s your instinct. I’m the one suppressing it.”

“My instinct?”

“The instinct to survive, by any means necessary. The boundless appetite that tramples on the sanctity of life. The ignorant power that turns all beings into prey. That’s instinct.”

The man, explaining kindly, smiled faintly.

“Then why are you trapped with something like that?”

Maximón asked, unable to understand. The man pondered briefly before tapping the barrier. With just a light touch, the chains reacted sensitively, gleaming golden.

Each time the darkness brightened with a flash of light from the chains, shapes resembling the innards of a living creature writhed like snakes behind the man. Those intestines filled the darkness to the point that the space where the man stood seemed cramped.

Only then did Maximón realize that this wasn’t just a void.

It was like the inside of someone’s deep abdomen…

“You said this barrier was to hold back that monster?”

The man, smiling gently, withdrew his hand from the chains.

Maximón flinched and took a step back.

“This is Mahilen’s handiwork. He used it to split my soul apart. But that guy—then and now—has always been terrible at sealing memories.”

The man stepped back from the barrier and left Maximón with one final plea.

“Don’t forget the memory I showed you.”

At those words, Maximón’s expression changed.

A memory.

Countless memories whose origins he could never identify…

The moment Maximón realized that the source of those sudden recollections was the man beyond the chains, he shot up as if jolted awake from death and sat on the bed.

The spacious bedroom was bathed in the light of the setting sun. Maximón couldn’t understand why he was lying in bed. It was as if he had forgotten everything that had happened in the field.

Sitting dumbfounded on the bed, Maximón turned his head. Najane was sleeping soundly beside him, curled up slightly like a shrimp and softly breathing.

As he gazed at the peacefully sleeping Najane, Maximón’s brow furrowed slightly. Just as he felt he was on the verge of understanding something, a memory came back—holding Najane’s collapsed body in his arms.

Like a lightning bolt striking his mind, the events of the field came flooding back. Maximón’s face turned as pale as death.

He threw back the blanket and urgently reached for Najane’s face. His hands, trembling as if consumed by fear, gently caressed Najane’s cheeks.

He remembered saving Najane, who had been surrounded by monsters, but everything after that was blank no matter how hard he tried to recall it.

Maximón touched Najane’s nose, then placed his hand on Najane’s chest, which was slowly rising and falling. Najane was safe. The blood-soaked state he remembered felt like a lie—Najane was perfectly fine.

Genuinely relieved, Maximón held Najane’s hand tightly. Tears fell uncontrollably from his reddened eyes. Kneeling beside the bed, he pressed his forehead against Najane’s hand, muffling his sobs.

When he’d embraced Najane’s cold body, it had felt as if ice had pierced his heart. When he shook Najane gently, filled with a dreadful premonition, Najane’s limp neck swayed helplessly.

How many times had he called Najane’s name?

How many times had he whispered apologies?

He didn’t know.

He couldn’t remember anything.

Maximón had been powerless before Najane, who was dying. All he could do was hold Najane’s unconscious body and cry as his mind went blank.

He’d thought it was all over. That his selfishness and his fear of being hated had ultimately caused Najane’s death…

Maximón kissed the back of Najane’s warm hand and, with eyes consumed by pain and anxiety, looked at Najane. Tears rolled down his cheeks again, reflecting Najane’s sleeping form in his dark green eyes.

“Najane… I almost lost you… If you had died, I would never have been able to forgive myself…”

Therefore, what he needed to do from now on was clear.

Maximón climbed down from the bed and kissed Najane’s feet several times. Then, making sure Najane was covered well with the blanket to avoid catching a cold, he left the bedroom.

Next to the fireplace in the living room lay Najane’s holy sword. Without hesitation, Maximón picked it up, and in an instant, his palm began to blacken and burn.

As he stared at his charred hand, Maximón drew the sword. The brilliantly radiant blade shimmered in his gaze. Holding the blade with one hand, he snapped it in two.

With a sharp clang, the broken blade fell to the floor. The severed holy sword gradually lost its light and turned into an ordinary piece of metal.

Maximón’s skin felt tougher and more resilient than ever before. Though he had grabbed the blade with his bare hand, it didn’t cut him. He had become even less human, but Maximón didn’t give it a second thought. He simply tossed the holy sword aside.

The burns on his hand healed rapidly. As he glanced down at his palm, Maximón sensed someone’s presence and turned around.

Didina, who had entered the room to check on his condition, gasped in shock when she saw him. She quickly bowed her head to the knight commander.

Maximón kicked the pieces of the holy sword under the sofa and gave Didina an order.

“Bring me ink, a pen, and some paper.”

“What do you intend to do? If it’s work, can’t it wait until tomorrow…?”

“Najane Schnicks is to be immediately dismissed from his knighthood.”

Didina’s eyes widened in astonishment at the sudden command.

Maximón’s voice was resolute.

“From this moment on, Najane is not to take a single step outside my residence.”