SOTBW - 210

Gwyneth harbored suspicions that Belshua must have known about the existence of this formula within Najane’s body. After all, Belshua was someone who could have lifted the curse on the goat but chose not to for some unknown reason. Whether it was a curse or a formula, it seemed he wouldn’t have cared if it consumed her life.

However, looking at Belshua’s expression now, it was impossible to continue harboring such doubts. The look in Belshua’s eyes clearly conveyed that he had no prior knowledge of this formula being inside Najane. His expression was one of devastation—like someone who had unknowingly wasted time on trivial matters only to finally uncover the truth about their loved one’s terminal illness.

Belshua held the paper with the formula inscribed on it, unsure what to do for a moment, before covering his mouth with his gloved hand.

“...You say you found this inside Najane’s body?”

Belshua’s voice had grown much quieter than before. Could he have anticipated that two archbishops would come to him over this?

Gwyneth was astonished that Belshua truly hadn’t known. Belshua, like the Pope, was well aware of what was to come. Or perhaps, the fact that Najane was destined to die because of this obscure formula was part of an unavoidable fate?

“This is called ‘Dispenthia.’ Aron created it.”

Venus was surprised to learn that Aron had crafted this formula, while Gwyneth focused on the name itself.

“In ancient language, it means ‘contradiction.’”

At Gwyneth’ remark, Belshua nodded once.

“At the height of the war against the Seriths, people had no breakthrough in sight. There was no hope. The monsters were impervious to the power humanity had amassed during that era. Thus, they took up swords and shields, and tens of thousands died every day…”

The formula Venus and Gwyneth had discovered represented the magicians’ last stand against the Seriths.

The era when the Seriths first appeared is often referred to as the Age of Astrun. However, if Belshua had the authority to rename that period, he would undoubtedly call it the Age of Magicians.

Back then, anything seemed possible. With abundant mana, creating new magic circles, illuminating streets every night, and using gates to instantly travel between cities were all commonplace…

Even those on the brink of death could be healed in the blink of an eye by skilled magicians working together. It was an era where miracles happened frequently. Ironically, though, the downfall of that era was also due to the very magic that had been hailed as miraculous.

Magicians couldn’t fight the Seriths—not because the monsters were overwhelmingly powerful, but because magic had no effect on them. 

The Seriths survived by devouring mana, the very source of magic. In essence, each Serith was a massive concentration of mana, comparable to dragons. As long as the Seriths existed, the world remained inherently unstable. Since mana was the sole force maintaining the current world, its depletion by the Seriths meant inevitable chaos…

Thus, Aron’s divine power and formulas emerged as a new alternative. The Age of Magicians came to an abrupt and hollow end.

Belshua handed the paper with the formula back to Venus.

“The countless unnamed heroes of that time requested Aron to create this formula. They believed that if they were doomed to be devoured by the Seriths anyway, they might as well die defending the fortress for as long as possible. And if fighting the monsters required sacrificing their vitality like Sword Masters did, they deemed it a worthwhile trade-off.”

As Belshua recalled the era that had become mythologized, his expression grew increasingly grave.

“Even if their arms were torn off or their stomachs ripped open by the Seriths, as long as they bore this formula, their wounds would heal whether they wanted them to or not. That’s how people managed to buy time to fight the Seriths back then. At least, this formula proved highly useful in that context. Even Aron couldn’t heal thousands of people at once. Back then, losing limbs in battle against the Seriths was an everyday occurrence.”

“Wasn’t it possible to heal such severe wounds with magic?”

Venus sounded puzzled as to why the supposedly great magicians relied solely on Aron for healing. It was a valid question. Reflecting on the desperate times of that era, Belshua swallowed a bitter smile.

“With magic alone, anything could be fixed—at least, until the mana began to dwindle.”

Magic itself was limitless, but mana was not. By the time they had barely established the front lines, evacuated civilians, and prepared for the final battle at the last fortress, there was hardly any mana left in the world to sustain magical practices.

Though modern people are largely unaware, even healing something as minor as a torn finger required mana the size of a palm. The larger and more severe the wound, the greater the amount of mana needed. When sealing away the Seriths, the world was on the brink of collapse due to mana depletion, leaving only limited magic available for use.

That’s why Aron, along with Mackanon, created the relics.

Later generations believe these relics possess extraordinary powers, but in reality, they aren’t particularly remarkable objects. The jewelry used by figures like Rakhshu and Cyrine came to be called relics only after the Holy Church’s influence expanded.

The relics that hold any significant value today would be Rakhshu’s sword, Cyrine’s bracelet, and Villar’s shield. However, Rakhshu’s sword can only be wielded by Rakhshu Elgort herself, Cyrine’s bracelet is in the possession of the Astien Empire, and Villar’s shield was hidden by Aron in a place so remote that even Mackanon wouldn’t dare attempt to find it.

Belshua’s mind grew heavy with complexity. This formula was, as its name suggested, a bundle of contradictions. Ironically, the Dispenthia formula, which was created to prolong the ability to fight, would draw upon Najane’s vitality to heal her body, ultimately shortening her lifespan.

Though using vitality hastened death, the purpose of Dispenthia wasn’t to extend life but to keep the body functioning long enough to continue fighting for another day.

Thus, after sealing away the Seriths, Aron destroyed all records related to Dispenthia. Only those who lived during Aron’s time would know of this formula.

The beings still alive from that era were Mahilen, Mackanon, and Kieron. While Mackanon remained inscrutable, he had no reason to subject Najane to such cruelty. As for Kieron… he was the only one capable of such an act.

“Is there any way to eliminate this formula?”

Seeing Belshua’s grim expression, Gwyneth asked anxiously.

“No one knows except Aron.”

Gwyneth turned to Venus urgently. Venus, however, remained calm, as if he had anticipated this situation might arise.

Venus, absently fiddling with the wrist where the formula was inscribed, smiled faintly.

“Could this Type-4 formula be the foundational structure used by Aron Noctis?”

“Yes. This is the final perfected version. Depending on the command embedded within it, it can unleash boundless power.”

Venus quietly marveled at the long-awaited answer.

“Then do you know anything about the commands used in other formulas?”

Instead of answering, Belshua shook his head. The only person who fully understood Aron’s formulas was Mackanon. Mahilen, unable to use divine power, had little interest in studying formulas.

But whether Mackanon could unravel the Dispenthia formula was something even Belshua didn’t know. This formula was one Aron had reluctantly created out of sheer frustration, deliberately withholding it from others. It was highly likely that Mackanon, too, was unaware of how to shatter the Dispenthia formula. To Belshua’s knowledge, the only person who could remove it was Aron himself.

Overwhelmed by despair at the realization that the Dispenthia formula was embedded in Najane’s body, Belshua repeatedly rubbed his face with both hands in frustration. Damn it, unless Aron somehow resurrects… Suddenly, Mahilen’s brow furrowed. Even Rakhshu had left behind some form of will—why should Aron Noctis be any different?

“Do you plan to research this formula?”

Belshua directed his gaze toward Venus.

“It might help us save Najane.”

Gwyneth answered on Venus’ behalf.

Belshua stared at Gwyneth, silently urging him to elaborate.

“You knew Najane was born with mana, right?”

“Yes.”

Belshua gave him a look of exasperation, as if to say, “You’re just realizing this now?”

It was thanks to that mana that the fragment of Hilderund had glowed. The original mirror, from which the fragment was derived, wasn’t originally a tool for discerning truth or lies. 

When magic first began to spread across the world, Hilderund designed the mirror to prove that even commoners could possess the potential to become magicians, advocating for universal access to magic.

How it later transformed into a fragment capable of revealing truths was something even Belshua couldn’t explain. What mattered now was that Najane, like Cyrine, had been born with a substantial amount of mana but, for some reason, couldn’t utilize it properly.

Standing between Gwyneth and Belshua, Venus nervously shifted his gaze between them. Mana? What was this talk of mana? A conversation he’d never imagined hearing was unfolding right before him. Flustered, Venus held his breath and silently listened.

“Boris said that unblocking the blocked flow of mana might solve the problem. The reason Najane is dying is because her vitality is depleted. So, if we clear the blockage and replace her vitality with mana, she could survive. With research into this formula, we might achieve such a substitution. Wouldn’t that work?”

It was the expected response.

Belshua glanced at the knights finishing their sparring session and replied curtly.

“Najane’s inability to use mana stems from her weak heart. Given her condition…”

“We could replace her heart.”

At Gwyneth’ words, Belshua sharply raised his head, which had been bowed.

Belshua’s face was filled with astonishment, as if the thought had never crossed his mind.

Gwyneth smirked faintly at Belshua, who now seemed to have reached some profound realization.

“Why? Do you think it’s impossible too?”

Though Belshua didn’t respond verbally, his expression and gaze already conveyed that he was leaning toward agreeing with Gwyneth’ suggestion.

Venus watched Belshua, whose eyes gleamed like someone who had just discovered new knowledge, and thought to himself that dragons truly were different. The idea of replacing Najane’s heart with someone else’s was shocking no matter how many times he heard it.

Gwyneth glanced at the knights who were finishing their sparring matches and wiping off sweat. It was about time to send Belshua back to them. He gave Belshua’s shoulder a light pat.

“I won’t ask for your help right away, so take some time to think it over. But don’t take too long. Najane doesn’t have much time left. Think carefully and quickly. As you know, regretting things after Najane’s death won’t do any good. We need to do what we can while we still have the chance.”

The comment could almost be interpreted as a subtle rebuke: How long will you just stand by and watch as others suffer? Belshua shot Gwyneth a slightly sour look before turning around, signaling that he would consider the matter.

In truth, he could have given an answer right then and there—perhaps even agreeing to immediately join the formula research. But Belshua hesitated. If he interfered with Emaydis’ fate and something went wrong, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

Venus fidgeted anxiously as he watched Belshua walk away toward the knights. He had carried that heavy book all the way here to ask about Aron, and he couldn’t let Belshua leave just like that.

As Venus anxiously stared at Belshua’s retreating figure, he made a move to run after him, but Gwyneth grabbed him firmly by the scruff of the neck. Venus turned to look at Gwyneth, resembling a cornered mouse caught by a cat.

Gwyneth shook his head with a look of pity.

“We need to return to the cathedral, comrade.”

“W-Wait! I have something important to ask him…!”

Venus pleaded desperately, but Gwyneth firmly shook his head, gripping Venus’ collar and dragging him toward the stairs.

“I may have time to spare, but you don’t. Isn’t it almost time for prayers with the priests? Come on, come on. This way.”

“S-Spello, just a moment! Let me go… It’ll only take a second… Please!”

Venus struggled and cried out pitifully, but unfortunately, there was no way he could overpower Gwyneth.

The knights, seeing Belshua approaching the platform, caught sight of Venus being dragged away. The scene resembled a child being hauled off by their mother after being caught playing instead of doing homework.

One knight, recognizing Gwyneth, tilted their head in confusion.

“Isn’t that the archbishops? And that man… doesn’t he kind of resemble Daniel…?”

At those words, the knights’ gazes shifted toward the arena stairs. They watched Venus being dragged away, chuckling awkwardly and waving off the absurdity. Even the knight who had spoken laughed uneasily, muttering, “Right? Or maybe not…”

Belshua watched Gwyneth and Venus grow smaller in the distance, letting out a long sigh.