Chapter 44: Please (3)
The worn-out obsidian sword had transformed into a smooth rapier. Ronan swung the sword toward the shadow that was almost upon him. However, it wasn’t a reckless swing; he followed the flowing stream of water in the air.
Slash!
The shadow was cut in half.
Whoosh!
Dark bursts erupted like blood and poured over his face.
“■■···!”
“What the?!”
Ronan’s eyes widened. The result was unexpected even for the one who had delivered the sword strike. The two split shadow streams fell on either side of Ronan.
‘That move just now…’
It was a strike much faster and more powerful than what he could have produced before. The sword deity riding on the peculiar flow advanced like a wind-fueled ship.
He swung the sword again into the empty space, but the same sensation as before didn’t come. The mysterious flow vanished and reappeared in various places within his field of vision.
I’ll need to confirm this later. Ronan thought and lowered his gaze. The split shadows wriggled on the ground. Ronan crushed the shadows underfoot and questioned them.
“Why did you do that?”
There was no reply. The shadows started dispersing like ashes in the wind. Ronan, frustrated, muttered under his breath as he spat on the ground.
“Of course… I didn’t think I could convince you so easily.”
The entire landscape within his sight was disintegrating. Ronan closed his eyes as he saw his fingertips turning into dust-like particles. It seemed he had lost too much blood, making his head feel dizzy.
Amidst the fading consciousness, the voice of the shadow reached him.
“■■ ■■ ■■■■. Ronan.”
“What?!”
Ronan opened his eyes. The blue sky vanished, and a dimly lit interior spread before him. The dry air carried the scent of ink and musty paper.
“Where is this?”
As he squinted, he saw words written on the distant ceiling. It was Separachio, the Sekreet study of the Sekreet. However, all the lights that used to illuminate the library were turned off.
‘Did burglars break in…?’
Ronan slowly got up and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. His muscles, tense from the intense battle, were still tight. Then, a voice from behind reached him.
“Did you enjoy your journey?”
“Damn it, you startled me.”
Ronan quickly turned his head. Sekreet was nowhere to be found, instead an old man with a somewhat stern expression sat behind the desk. The small candle placed next to him cast a crimson hue on the old man’s face.
The old man, wearing round glasses, diligently wrote something with a fountain pen on a piece of paper. Ronan noticed that he was dressed in the same attire as Sekreet. With a relieved sigh, Ronan removed his hand from the sword hilt.
“Well… it seems like it’s already nighttime.”
“Indeed. It’s been a long day.”
“Why are all the lights turned off? And where’s Elizabeth?”
“Relax… she’s over there.”
Sekreet, who had brought his index finger to his lips, gestured behind him. When Ronan turned his head, he saw Elizabeth curled up on the sofa, sound asleep. Judging from the fact that she was covered in a blanket, quite some time seemed to have passed since she fell asleep.
“Ugh… mmm…”
She was diligently picking at a strand of hair that had entered her mouth. Sekreet, who had risen from his seat, came down and placed the blanket over her shoulders.
“She insisted on waiting even though she could’ve gone ahead. If it wasn’t for this child, we couldn’t have cast the Spell so easily. Treat her to something delicious later.”
“Indeed, I should be grateful.”
Ronan nodded. His head was spinning, much like the day after a heavy drinking session. He washed his face quickly and looked back at Sekreet.
“How long was I lying down?”
“It’s almost time for the sun to rise.”
“Damn, I slept for quite a while.”
Ronan muttered a curse. He had spent nearly a day in the imaginary world. Sekreet pushed his glasses up his forehead and spoke.
“But still, it’s fortunate since the Spell succeeded.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Take a look over there.”
Sekreet pointed to the floor of the study. It was the spot where Ronan had laid down the magic circles.
The three magic circles drawn with chalk had all turned pitch black. Sekreet explained that the magic circles had absorbed the curses that had flowed out of his body.
“It must have been tough, and I’m grateful you managed it well. You shouted so many times, even cried. It’s a common occurrence during the Spell, but I found myself worrying needlessly.”
“…I cried?”
Ronan quickly wiped at the corners of his eyes. There was still a hint of moisture beneath his swollen eyes. Could it be that he had caused a scene in the real world every time he acted up in the imaginary world?
“Damn… so frustrating.”
Ronan sighed as he looked at the ceiling. Then he turned his gaze back to Sekreet. He had many things he wanted to say, but there was one thing he needed to say first. Ronan suppressed his emotions and spoke.
“Thank you, Professor. Really.”
“Don’t mention it. I merely untangled a knot that was already there.”
“But what exactly was the knot that got untangled?”
“Hmm… you should be the one feeling it the most. Has nothing changed from your usual self?”
“Changed? …Oh.”
Come to think of it, his eyes were no longer itching. Along with this realization, Ronan recounted the strange flow he had seen in the imaginary world. Sekreet chuckled warmly.
“Heh heh, it seems you can now perceive mana.”
“That murmuring was mana?”
“Yes. It was pitch black, so I can’t recall much of the distant past, but… when I first succeeded in sensitivity, I perceived mana in that form. Congratulations.”
Sekreet explained that as sensitivity developed, Ronan would be able to see mana in a broader and more detailed manner. Ronan nodded as he looked at the flows rippling around Sekreet.
‘Was that final strike unconsciously utilizing mana too?’
Ronan recalled the strike that cut through the shadows. Instead of cutting through the mana that should have been severed, it seemed to have infused more strength into it.
He couldn’t grasp the exact mechanics, but Ronan subtly conjectured that it was akin to how following a groove while sawing made the task smoother.
“Good outcome.”
Ronan smiled. Now that he could see mana, not just magic or aura, a lot more changes were bound to occur beyond just battles.
Even though there were still around nine curses lingering within him, it was a happy development. Sekreet suddenly posed a question.
“By the way, Ronan, what did you see there?”
“Huh?”
“In your imaginary world. I mean, the process leading up to the Spell might not have been smooth.”
“Well, that’s true. It’s a bit long… um, so, I mean…”
Ronan recounted each event he had experienced in the imaginary world. From encountering the unfamiliar birch tree to the silence of Nimbuten, and even meeting his younger self and a forgotten mother from his childhood.
“Ah… so you’re saying that the imagery that got mixed up was a depiction of your hometown from the past? Quite intriguing…”
Sekreet meticulously captured every detail of Ronan’s words, not missing a single detail. Ronan was in the midst of describing the time when he met his family members in the imaginary world.
“Wait a moment, you saw your newborn self?”
“Yes? But…”
“Hmm? Could it be that you mistook someone else for yourself? Like a being you created with your imagination.”
“No, I can distinguish that. It was definitely me.”
Sekreet’s eyebrows furrowed. He sighed as if he had discovered a major flaw in one of his inventions.
“Why’s that?”
“It’s an unprecedented occurrence. The imaginary worlds arising from curses take various forms, but they share a common factor. The protagonist navigating those worlds is none other than the cursed individual themselves.”
Sekreet explained that around the cursed individual, all sorts of unrealistic and dreadful events took place in those imaginary worlds. Most curses were born out of malice.
However, Ronan had seen himself lying down and whimpering. The desolate landscape wasn’t filled with malice or unreality; it was eerily realistic and serene. The protagonist of the world he walked through wasn’t him.
“I’ve been feeling it for a while now… It feels more like someone else’s memories than an imaginary world created by me. Please continue.”
Sekreet resumed taking notes. Ronan hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice growing heavier. There was no point in hiding it; the issue couldn’t be resolved anyway.
“And… I saw my father.”
“Your father?”
“Yes. I didn’t see what he looked like directly… but I’m sure it was my father. He was the curse I had to bear, and he was the one who cursed me.”
Ronan explained the eerie shadow that seemed to be his father. As the story unfolded, Sekreet’s expression became more and more rigid.
“So, to summarize, you couldn’t see what your father looked like, you couldn’t hear his voice, yet you could feel his emotions quite distinctly. Furthermore, you witnessed a scene where the shadow in the form of your father cursed you as a newborn baby?”
“That’s right.”
“Hmm… You said you had no previous memories of your father, correct?”
“Yes, none. I truly had no memories. It’s not like I’ve been living with my mother either. This situation is quite different.”
Whenever he tried to recall the form or voice of the shadow, his head throbbed with pain. It felt as if the part of his brain responsible for his memories of his father had been excised with a blade.
Come to think of it, Ronan had never questioned his parents’ existence throughout his life. The part of his memory that defined the beginning of his recollections, his “early childhood,” already existed without the presence of his parents.
He might have asked Iril once or twice, but even those memories were absent. Sekreet spoke up.
“Well, based on the information you’ve provided so far… you seem to have had your memories sealed.”
“My memories are sealed?”
“Yes, that’s right. It matches your symptoms as well. If the one who cursed you was your father, then the story is quite convincing. To erase the fact that he cursed you and his identity, it’s likely that your memories were sealed.”
So, was Iril’s memory also sealed? Ronan asked once again.
“In that case, the imagery of the birch tree, your mother, and your newborn self… it’s likely that your sealed memories and your father’s memories got mixed up, creating those scenes?”
“Exactly.”
“Hmm… It’s highly probable that your father’s memories from the time of the curse got intertwined with your sealed memories. Such things often happen when magic deals with memories.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“I don’t know either. Understanding the thoughts of someone who curses their child with ten curses is quite difficult.”
Sekreet put down his fountain pen and added.
“I don’t want to understand it.”
Ronan chuckled as he wrote. The first riddle had come to an end. Sekreet explained that the two revealed gold pieces were likely related to mana in some way.
“Once you manage to unlock these two gold pieces, you should be able to handle and sense mana like everyone else… I’ll contact you as soon as the research is complete.”
“Thank you. I’ll be on my way now.”
“Sure, you’ve worked hard.”
Sekreet flicked his finger into the air, and suddenly, lights throughout the study illuminated. Elizabeth, who had been rubbing her eyes, yawned and stood up.
“Ugh… is it over?”
“Yeah. Thanks for waiting.”
“Ha, you’ve just added another debt to me, Ronan…”
Elizabeth let out a faint laugh. It seemed like she intended to create a sense of indebtedness in Ronan’s heart. The strand of hair that had been caught in her mouth fell onto her chest.
“Huh…?”
The purplish-red strand of hair was clumped together in sections. Her face turned redder as she looked at her damp hair.
“Um, hold on a moment. This, well…!”
“It’s fine. I drool too when I sleep.”
“That liquid can’t be… You’re really…”
“Elizabeth, do you know how to get back? I can’t open the door due to my nearly depleted mana.”
“What?”
Elizabeth was about to say something, but Sekreet interjected just in time. The belatedly rationalized Elizabeth nodded somewhat arrogantly.
“Of course, I’ve been waiting for this all along.”
“Is there enough mana left?”
“Ugh.”
Elizabeth gave a hollow laugh and walked across the room. She took ten books from the bookshelf attached to the wall and, facing the empty space, recited an incantation.
“Delpirim. Lunagie. Cashpa.”
Kugugugugu!
The bookshelf started to move back slowly. Before long, Ronan saw a narrow corridor appear, furrowing his brows.
“This is really something.”
“It’s no wonder the students avoid meeting with me.”
Across the dimly lit, unadorned corridor was sheer darkness. Elizabeth, who had opened the door, said gleefully.
“See?”
“This is quite absurd.”
“Just because students shy away from talking to me.”
Beyond the narrow corridor devoid of decoration, only darkness loomed. Elizabeth walked through the open door.
“Did you see it?”
“Of course. It’s impressive, Elizabeth. You truly have the skills of a senior.”
“Heh heh, it was nice meeting you, Professor Sekreet. I’ll see you in the next class.”
Elizabeth giggled at the praise. For some reason, Ronan felt like he knew how to deal with her.
Hand in hand, they walked down the corridor just as they had arrived. When Ronan turned back to give his regards, his eyes widened.
“My body…”
“Hmm? Ah, it looks like the sun is rising.”
Seeing his hands shrinking, Sekreet chuckled. His body continued to diminish, slowly being absorbed into his clothes. Sekreet waved his dwindling sleeves and bid his farewell.
As Ronan walked down the corridor, he turned his head again. Sekreet had transformed back into the appearance of a complete child. The odd voice flowed from his lips.
“See you again.”
Just as the darkness seemed to deepen, the surroundings suddenly brightened. Ronan and Elizabeth found themselves standing in the middle of Philleon Plaza, not in the forest cabin. Ronan let go of Elizabeth’s hand and chuckled as if he were amazed.
“You’ve been quite the independent one until the end.”
“Still, this much progress is good enough. I’ve heard of students who’ve transitioned above the lake.”
“Hmm.”
As they took a breath, the refreshing morning air filled their lungs. The sun was rising amidst the pointed spires that jutted into the sky.
Amidst the warm radiance bathing the plaza, Ronan could see the mana of the natural world, rippling like waves.
“Thank you so much, Elizabeth. I’m grateful.”
“I’m glad I could help. Oh, by the way, you still have the brooch I gave you, right?”
“Oh, that.”
Come to think of it, he had forgotten. Ronan rummaged through his belongings and took out the brooch Elizabeth had given him. It was the first thing he had received from the world since the day of the entrance ceremony. Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the shimmering brooch.
“Hehe, you’ve been carrying it around so lovingly. You know, Ronan, the doors of Acalusia are always open for you, even if you don’t hold onto it like a treasure.”
“No, I’ve just been busy and forgot.”
“You don’t have to hide it. Not just anyone can receive an invitation from Acalusia. I’ll be looking forward to the day you visit the castle.”
Her voice was filled with a slightly intense conviction. Elizabeth firmly believed that Ronan would become a part of Acalusia.
Come to think of it, quite some time had passed since he received that proposal. As he was contemplating his future plans, Elizabeth turned her body.
“Well then, I’ll be on my way. Please send my regards to Adeshan.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t forget the debt you owe me.”
With those words and a playful smile, Elizabeth left. His first impression of her wasn’t that great, but he thought she might be a better person than he initially assumed.
Ronan crossed the landscape, where mana was scattered in an unfamiliar manner, and headed back to the dormitory.
On the bed, Cita was curled up, sleeping. As he looked at it, Ronan mumbled, thinking about the eerie symbols that might still be wiggling within it at this very moment.
“Nine curses…”
His eyes kept closing. It was fortunate that his first class, Archery, was in the afternoon.
Ronan fell asleep with his face buried in Cita’s feathers. In the darkness created by his eyelids, he saw swirling red and blue mana…
****
As Ronan was falling asleep, a carriage entered Philleon’s courtyard.
The carriage, pulled by six white horses, was magnificent. An emblem of a knight standing atop a dragon was engraved on the back of the carriage. The carriage slowly entered the courtyard, passing through a section that was still half-asleep.
“Halt.”
The carriage driver pulled on the reins upon reaching their destination. When the carriage came to a stop, the imposing Navirose Mansion stood next to the stationary carriage.
“We have arrived.”
The carriage driver, who had come running, opened the door. From within, a middle-aged man in ornate attire stepped out. His extravagant clothing, layered several times over, and his emerald-blue hair and neatly groomed mustache left a strong impression.
The man, who had scrutinized the dormitory building with sharp eyes, murmured uncomfortably.
“…Is this where you’ve been staying?”
“I’ve been residing here for a while, Your Grace. Have you been well?”
In that moment, as the space before the man tore apart, a deity-like figure emerged. His beard flowed down to his chest, swaying in the wind. The man recognized the face of the deity and nodded.
“I’ve been well, Lord Kratir. Your magic seems to be growing even more formidable.”
“Hehe, would it be as dignified as your grace? Shullifen is also doing well.”
“He’s still young. However, the buildings here seem modest compared to Philleon’s stature. Would you consider expanding, given that funds from Gracia are available?”
Instead of answering, Kratir, the headmaster of Philleon, chuckled while stroking his beard. It carried a meaning of declining the suggestion.
The man known as the Duke twisted his lips with a slightly displeased expression, but he didn’t show more than that. Today’s visit wasn’t about improving student welfare.
“I appreciate your consideration for granting my unreasonable request. I can’t find time even on the weekends.”
“I understand. You hold such heavy responsibilities.”
“I know it’s not because of my position that you agreed. Well then, can we meet right now?”
“Hmm, I’ll send someone to check. He’s a diligent student, so he’s probably awake.”
“No need, I’ll go up myself.”
With those words, the Duke started walking. A lavishly adorned longsword hung from his waist, a masterpiece forged by the blacksmith Doron. The chilling blade was known as the Pale Road.
