SOTBW - 243

Venus’ eyes sparkled with reverence for Aron. What Belshua had just described was something unimaginable with the current level of ritual mastery.  

Eager to hear more, Venus scooted his chair closer to Belshua, leaning forward with great enthusiasm. Though Belshua found the overly eager posture slightly uncomfortable, he awkwardly scratched his nose as he recalled how he and Rakhshu had once gambled away half of Aron’s fortune.  

If Aron were still alive today, he would surely throw a fit, demanding repayment with interest. Even though Belshua had personally witnessed Aron’s final moments, he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that Aron’s will might suddenly reappear, grabbing him by the hair and demanding immediate repayment.  

To ease this lingering guilt, Belshua knew he had to answer Venus’ questions diligently. Venus was the type who would likely publish everything Belshua told him by tomorrow, spreading the stories far and wide. The more positive tales about Aron that circulated, the more honor would be restored to the man buried alongside Rakhshu and Sylin.  

Though Belshua felt a sudden surge of irritation toward Rakhshu for bringing up the gambling debt even now, he continued his explanation in a calm, matter-of-fact tone for Venus’ sake.  

“Briotton lost part of her body and all her magical power after performing forbidden magic. The phantom pain from her severed arm drove her to severe alcoholism. That pain was the price for breaking the taboo, so it couldn’t be healed by the magic of that time.”  

Briotton Lestrona.  

That eccentric woman was one of the three legendary female magicians representing the Kingdom of Schnellia and also Sylin Bastronia’s mentor.  

She was the tragic magician who had lost her left arm, left eye, and all her magical power after attempting the forbidden art of life creation. Yet, she regained the world’s attention by raising her rival’s daughter into the strongest magician of her time. That was Briotton.  

“To be precise, Briotton’s necklace ‘freezes the user’s time at that moment.’ If she wore the necklace when the phantom pain wasn’t present, she could fight pain-free for a short while. It might sound like the perfect magic, but time magic always demands a price. For every hour spent fighting while wearing the necklace, an equivalent amount of pain would later catch up to her. So, even with the necklace, she had to fight in moderation. If she ignored that and fought all day, the time crystal embedded in the necklace would shatter under the strain. When that happened, an unimaginable price would crash down on the user’s body, and if they couldn’t endure the pain, they’d collapse unconscious. The necklace originally had seven time crystals, but Briotton shattered five of them. Only two remained.”  

Briotton both resented and cherished Sylin. So, when Sylin committed suicide, Briotton cried as much as Aron did, overwhelmed by regret and sorrow. Afterward, she withdrew from society, refusing to live among people again.  

Belshua had thought Briotton wouldn’t live long after pushing her broken body to its limits fighting the Seriths. But she clung to life stubbornly until the twin trees of Reje and Renee took deep root underground.  

Even Mahilen didn’t know the full details of Briotton’s final days. By the time he went to check on her, expecting her to have passed away, a cathedral had already been built where she once was.  

Briotton must have been incredibly lonely and tormented in her final years. Born among runaway slaves, she gritted her teeth and became a magician, but she always lived in the shadow of Sylin’s mother, Callinen Bastronia, whose genius overshadowed her own.  

Her inferiority complex toward the noble-born genius Callinen drove her to hone her skills even further. But when she lost the man she loved to her rival, Briotton completely lost her happiness. Later, she challenged forbidden magic but failed miserably, falling from being “a magician on par with Callinen” to becoming utterly powerless.  

Exiled to the borderlands, Briotton drowned herself in alcohol daily. Out of a desire for revenge against Callinen, she took Emaydis Bastronia as her apprentice. After illegally freeing the enslaved twins Reje and Renee, she also taught them magic.  

It seemed the dark cloud that had weighed on Briotton her entire life had finally lifted when Sylin saved the world. But when her first disciple, whom she loved like a daughter, ended her life through suicide, Briotton’s existence was plunged back into darkness.  

What thoughts ran through Briotton’s mind as she buried her young disciple deep in the earth? What emotions coursed through her as she stroked her student’s face one last time, a face that had departed before her own…?  

Reflecting on those days brought only melancholy and despair. Belshua schooled his expression into neutrality as he stared at the paper in Venus’ hand.  

The page was already densely packed with tiny writing, Venus having scribbled down every word Belshua said. Only after finishing his notes did Venus finally look up.  

“You haven’t mentioned Villar’s shield yet. Was that also a sacred relic created by both of them?”  

“That one was made solely by Aron. That’s why it doesn’t have the ability to convert magical energy into divine power.”  

“Then what kind of power does Villar’s shield possess?”  

“Rakhshu’s sword creates an impenetrable barrier, while Villar’s shield saves all those on the brink of death. It’s called a shield because Villar used it with the wish to protect people from harm. Rakhshu’s sword can only be wielded by Rakhshu himself, but Villar’s shield is named after Villar simply because she was the first to use it—it’s the only sacred relic that anyone can use.”  

Venus listened silently to Belshua’s words.  

“The reason Rakhshu vanished without leaving behind a trace of his soul was because he wished for an unbreakable barrier around his heart when he pierced it with his sword. If he had only wished for a barrier strong enough to withstand everyone, his soul wouldn’t have been completely destroyed. Villar’s shield works similarly. Villar prayed to the relic, offering her entire life, asking it to protect people until the battle ended. That’s why, though Villar sacrificed herself just as Rakhshu did, her soul wasn’t completely annihilated.”  

Villar’s shield was the only sacred relic remaining in Bastronia, one even Mackanon hadn’t been able to locate. Venus, glowing with the fervor of an eager student, didn’t notice his fingertips turning black as he repeatedly dipped the nib of his quill into the ink bottle.  

“Could you tell me a little more about Villar’s shield?”

“First, abandon the idea that it’s a shield. It’s not a shield. Naturally, it doesn’t even have the shape of one.”  

“Then…”  

“Villar’s shield is a formless sacred relic. It’s like how people’s hopes and desperation are invisible to the eye. You might wonder how such an object could be used, but as I mentioned earlier, sacred relics reflect the user’s desires. I don’t fully understand it myself, but for Villar, the relic ‘appeared’ in a certain form. And Astrun could also see it.”  

As Belshua recalled Villar Opera, he also thought of Daniel.  

Villar had been an abandoned infant left at the main gate of the Bastronia family mansion. A maid, raped by her noble master and unable to take responsibility for the child, had left the baby there, hoping that a grand estate would care for the child properly.  

Fortunately, kind-hearted servants took Villar in, and the boy eventually grew up to become the steward of the Bastronia household.  

It was thanks to Villar that Emaydis didn’t develop a twisted personality despite having a mother obsessed with magic. Villar filled the void left by Kieron and cherished the frail Emaydis like his own sister. Though they were employer and employee, their bond was so close that they could easily pass as siblings.  

Thus, when Emaydis was exiled to the borderlands, Villar followed her. Rakhshu had purchased a large house in the border city where everyone could live together, but Villar was the only one who knew how to manage the household, so no one dared to oppose him—unless they wanted bitter stew for breakfast the next day.  

The Holy Church depicted Villar as a burly hero wielding a massive shield, but in reality, he was an ordinary person who knew nothing of magic or swordsmanship.  

When the attacks of the Seriths destroyed their way of life, Villar’s role was to cook soup for the refugees. He made thin soup by adding plenty of water and distributed it equally among everyone, quietly comforting them.  

Mahilen once believed that if the Seriths were successfully sealed away, Villar would likely live the longest. Looking back now, perhaps even thinking that was a mistake.  

Villar was the first among those depicted as heroes today to sacrifice himself.  

Belshua remembered Villar pausing while shaking out white laundry, gazing silently at the sky. The memory brought the faint scent of warm sunlight to his nose.  

Belshua slowly lowered his gaze to the floor.  

“Aron created that relic with the mindset of a magician breaking taboos and eventually succeeded. But the relic didn’t choose Aron—it chose Villar. When Villar used the relic, he turned into white ash and vanished, while the blood-soaked people around him instantly healed. Everyone present had their bodies and minds completely restored, and for months afterward, no matter how much they fought against monsters, they remained unharmed. That’s why the relic is still called a shield to this day.”  

This was the first time Belshua had ever spoken about Villar’s shield. It was a story no one else remembered except Mackanon.  

Venus, awestruck by Aron’s power, was about to let out a loud exclamation but noticed the slightly somber expression on Belshua’s face and wisely closed his mouth.  

Setting down his quill and paper, Venus hurriedly prepared more tea. Though he couldn’t fully grasp what emotions Belshua was feeling as he reminisced, he could tell it wasn’t a pleasant memory.  

As steam rose from the freshly poured tea into the empty teacup, Belshua gave the faintest hint of a smile. Venus had deliberately brewed lemongrass tea again, and it seemed to please Belshua.  

After carefully gauging the ancient dragon’s mood, Venus cautiously broke the silence.  

“How… how did Lord Aron create something like that? What exactly did he do?”  

“Aron had a peculiar ability to freely open the door of ‘possibility.’”  

Belshua savored the fresh lemon aroma before turning his gaze to the night-shrouded window.  

If Emaydis was someone who shone with golden brilliance, Aron was someone who sparkled just as brightly with silver light.  

Emaydis was the only one who firmly believed that Aron, who had been mocked as the living shame of the Noctis family, would shine so brightly. Emaydis was the only person who believed Aron had the power to carve out his own destiny. That’s why, when Belshua learned that Aron had attempted suicide, he grabbed the boy by the collar and cried uncontrollably…  

Remembering that moment, Belshua chuckled softly.  

“The reason Aron awakened divine power at the boundary between life and death was because he surpassed his limits. Those who break through their limits with sheer willpower can find a glimmer of possibility even in what everyone deems impossible and effortlessly push through it. After surpassing his limits, Aron began seeing possibilities to turn even failures that the Dragon Lord himself had deemed certain into successes. The sacred relics are proof of those possibilities… The problem was that he pushed himself too far.”  

Just as magic has its limits, rituals also have boundaries. If one lacks innate magical power, they can draw energy from external sources, but divine power can only be drawn from within oneself. To turn possibility into certainty, Aron squeezed out every last drop of his divine power, like wringing water from a dry rag.  

All for Emaydis.  

For the one person who had believed in and supported him.

“By the time he created the sacred relics, Aron had drawn upon his divine power beyond its limits, leaving him unable to fight as he once did. But paradoxically, that very fact allowed him to live longer than any of the Astruns. There are only a handful of humans in this world who have broken through their limits while still bound to a mortal body—at least among those I know, only Mackanon and Aron come to mind. In that sense, Aron Noctis was truly...”

A special person.

Belshua swallowed the last words along with a sip of the fragrant tea.  

He feared that if he voiced those thoughts now, he wouldn’t be able to control his emotions.