The six kings of beasts on the continent. The beast of ruin, Sleipnir.
The six kings of beasts on the continent. The beast of immortality, Troll.
The other. A quiet hound, holding itself low to the ground. Its form resembled the wolves Orphen was familiar with, but this one was even bigger than those Orphen himself had seen. Its glossy jet-black fur was less armor and more shadow, less shadow and more night... It was as inexorable as fate itself as it loped forward soundlessly.
Unlike these, there was one creature that was incredibly small. A tiny lion with crimson fur. Its tail was raised in catlike arrogance.
Lastly, there was one that resembled a human. Orphen was very familiar with these, including the fact that this wasn’t their true form.
The heads of dragonkind stood before him, almost surrounding him. One of them must have spoken for them as a whole as well. The steel warhorse’s voice was like thunder.
“Who are you? This is the most sacred place in the sanctuary. The cornerstone of the continent—”
“I know,” Orphen told it, standing up straight. “I’m here to stop you.”
“To stop us?” the Ayrmankar asked, uncomprehending.
“That’s right.” Orphen cut them off and stepped forward. “It’s been about a thousand years since you guys made the Ayrmankar barrier—of course, it’s not like I’ve experienced those years myself.”
“We have,” the warhorse said more smoothly than Orphen had been expecting. If he couldn’t see the creature he was conversing with, he would have thought he was speaking with a human, but the voice sounded like all the years that had passed, it had really experienced. Augustly, the Ayrmankar continued, “One thousand years... The time extends the sleep of those who have lived it. But we will likely experience even more time.”
“Aureole is dead. She won’t experience any more time.” The words couldn’t eliminate the stench of immortality that filled the room, but they at least served to make the War Dragon’s nose twitch. Orphen continued in the opportunity the beast’s surprise afforded him, “I’m here to deliver her will.”
“We know that Aureole is dead.”
“But you don’t know what she saw before she died, do you?” Orphen shrugged and looked at each of the Ayrmankar’s faces in turn. Each had the distinctive green eyes of a dragon. His eyes finally settled on the still-closed coffin before he said, “She saw the end of the world before she died.”
“The manifested gods will overrun everything outside of the barrier. We know that—”
“I don’t know about that. Was the end she saw of the outside world? Or was it...” Orphen stepped forward, walking artlessly toward the middle of the chamber.
Would the Ayrmankar stop him? He thought they might, but no one raised a voice in protest. Suddenly, Orphen found himself wondering if they even knew of the existence of human sorcerers. Did they know what had happened outside of this burial chamber for the last thousand years? They knew Aureole had died and had come up with the idea to shrink the barrier, so they must have had some source of information.
“You’re not of the sanctuary,” the War Dragon asked, and Orphen nodded.
“I’m not. You might not know what I am. We’re called humans—”
“The giants,” supplied the warhorse, pity in its destructive gaze.
Orphen hesitated for a moment before deciding to agree with the beast. “That’s right.”
“They were destroyed along with the gods. And when the gods manifested, you too appeared with a fearsome power. You drifted to this continent and humanity made a great fuss...”
“...Now, we call those humans dwarves. We’ve made most of the continent our home.” He was half-guessing, but the Ayrmankar’s words solidified his ideas, which he told to them.
Reaching the spot he was headed for, Orphen stopped. And with the Ayrmankar everywhere around him, he asked, “How much information are you keeping to yourselves?”
“None of it is of any use now. Just as the gods manifested and became something unlike the old gods, you cannot truly be called giants anymore. Our information is not worth sharing.”
“So with that useless information, you came up with the stupid idea to abandon the rest of the continent and shrink the barrier? Without taking a step outside of here and seeing what was happening out there?”
“If the goddess penetrates the barrier, she is sure to end the world—it could be the descent of Miðgarðsormr. Some thought to summon the demon king here in the sanctuary to fight the goddess, but that won’t work. In fact, if we direct the sort of power that could kill the goddess at her, it might just encourage her to make the decision to end it all. The end cannot be avoided as long as there is a hole in the barrier. There’s no other way to extend the life of the continent.”
Orphen argued with the War Dragon. “So your final option is to sacrifice the entire continent and leave only this ridiculous burial chamber behind?” However...
The beast wasn’t moved by his remonstrations. “The entire continent?” it asked solemnly. “Do you say that knowing what the Kiesalhiman continent is in comparison to the entire world that used to exist? We ran, leaving behind our grand homeland. It is mere dust compared to the whole. A piteous island...”
And it was pity in the dragon’s eyes. The steel warhorse looked down at him with the compassion of a god.
An enormous thing and a small, weak thing. Between their gazes, the War Dragon’s piteous words sat.
“It’s the same thing. You cannot call this one continent the same thing as the entire world. It’s hardly different from this burial chamber.”
“That’s sophistry.”
“So is sorcery itself. When you get down to it, the very manifestation of the gods was nothing more than wordplay given true form.” The heavy voice grew even more heavy, laden with resignation. “This world was trifled with by wordplay and so it shall end. We merely struggle against that. If this is true wordplay, then there is meaning in only a fragment of the world surviving...”
“But—” Orphen interrupted as soon as he was able to. “But shrinking the barrier won’t get rid of the hole. That’s what I think.”
They must not have expected that. The Ayrmankar moved a heavy head as if waking from a dream and asked, “What do you mean by that?”
“You can’t make the world safe. The barrier only exists because of the hole.”
“Do you have a basis for what you say?”
“No. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t intend to submit to your tests,” Orphen said, holding his hands up.
It was no empty threat. A sound from far away still remained in his ear. The summoner was still active. It had used some power to teleport him here, but the demon king’s strength still remained.
The Ayrmankar were all pushed back half a step. He hadn’t exerted any strength, but they must have sensed the connection between the summoner and the spot where he stood.
He still had complete control. Too late, he found himself appreciating the strength of Azalie’s will as a white sorcerer. All of the sacrifices up until this point had led to this. So many people had lost their lives and the sanctuary had been ruined.
It wasn’t a moment someone had waited for, and it wasn’t an ending someone had sought out. But he had to bring it to an end here.
Orphen said quietly, “The Ayrmankar barrier is a will that seeks perfect safety—so the gods appeared to pry it open. It’s simple equilibrium. Because the barrier attempts flawless protection, a flaw naturally appears in it, and a will of destruction invades through that gap. That’s the balance. They come because the barrier exists. They wouldn’t go out of their way if it didn’t. You said everything is wordplay, yeah? You’re right.”
“But if we remove the barrier, we’ll be defenseless against the manifested gods!”
Orphen didn’t know who said this—it wasn’t the War Dragon.
He didn’t let that bother him and responded, “That’s right. There’s a slight chance the goddess will coincidentally choose to attack and wipe out one race or another, but that’s how the world should work. It’s a risk that comes with being a living thing.”
“Nihilism?!” The Mist Dragon raised a cry.
Orphen shook his head. “No! No matter how cruel the world we live in is, our wills will reach out toward what they wish for! We simply didn’t need the barrier—the wall that sealed away the world—in the first place!”
“You’re insane...”
“I’m saying despair was only born into this world when the Ayrmankar barrier closed it off!”
A passageway opened.
The Wyrd Glyphs that had appeared in the Second World-Seeing Tower transferred one by one into the burial chamber. The demon king’s power gave the sorcery its potency.
Trembling with that power, Orphen chanted. “Swedenborge’s power told me this. Swedenborge was once a human, a hermit who became akin to the gods wielding no power but his own mind. So long ago I can hardly conceive of it, he existed as a human—but he did not become a founding sorcerer. Because it wasn’t power he desired!”
There was a scream as everything died. Destruction came. The voices of the Ayrmankar were almost pleas at this point.
But Orphen resolutely ignored them. “You’re the ones who wanted the warped power of sorcery. A stupid power you can’t even control! Well, fine. We all have to live with it now that it exists. But we won’t bow to it. We’ll believe that we can live even in despair, and do this!” he shouted, bringing his arm down.
“With the power of the demon king, I bring down the Ayrmankar barrier! From the inside, it goes down easily!”
His body shook, and as the two crests intertwined, there was a sound almost like a muted cry.