Chapter 27

The king’s decision made Erik frown, but he didn’t argue with it. He turned back around and started walking over to the lone woman. His gait showed no hint of emotion—no regret, no animosity, nothing at all. He didn’t even appear to hesitate. Still, there was no way he was going to stop. A faint sound could be heard as he walked across the grass, and directly ahead of Erik in the shadowy, moonlit garden, the woman in black fixed her green eyes firmly on him. “Does that kind of spell exist?” Katiliana asked one day out of the blue. They were at her residence, and Erik was sorting through the books she’d borrowed. He’d listened to the young girl describe—rather clumsily—the kind of spell she was curious about, then cocked his head to one side. “Yeah, but it’s a kind of forbidden curse. Why do you want to know?” said Erik. “I was just a little curious. I mean, magical power is something you’re born with, right? I was wondering how someone could increase it.” It was, of course, a simple thing to wonder. Erik thought to himself for a moment, then answered her. “As far as I know, the spell involves a process where the spellcaster’s soul is transformed and its limits expanded. Magical power is summoned and infused into the spellcaster, and the infusion process forcibly increases the individual’s capacity for magic. There’s nothing in the records about how much it hurts, but I imagine it’s pretty painful. You might be able to increase your power, but there are limits—and if the transformation fails, you could suffer a mental breakdown or even die. There are plenty of examples like that.” “You could die?!” “Yeah. If the spell wasn’t dangerous, there would have been even more powerful mages during the Dark Age.” However, there hadn’t been. The Dark Age was a time when many people had attempted to use all kinds of forbidden curses in their quest for power, yet all that had been left behind was the idea that forbidden curses were not to be trifled with. This warning was, as history had proven, worth heeding. Katiliana turned things over in her mind, a troubled expression across her face. Then, a few moments later, she asked a favor of Erik. “Tell me what the spell configuration’s like.” Erik found it odd that she’d taken an interest in such an unusual subject, but at the end of the day, she was a member of the royal family. Perhaps there was an aspect of Farsas’s history that interested her. “The actual spell configuration is more complex than this,” Erik warned her before describing a simple version of the spell configuration on the spot. His self-drawn spell diagrams wouldn’t get the message across, and besides, he had no intention of communicating the details in earnest. He expected her to forget what he’d told her almost immediately. Yet the sight that Erik was met with when he returned to her residence just a few days later left him flabbergasted. There in the courtyard was an extremely complicated spell configuration drawn on the ground—with three dead bodies piled on top of it. In front of the grisly scene stood a girl, smiling. “Katiliana.” Erik stood in front of the woman and called out to her. There was no soul inside her body, but he called her by the name she’d used when she was alive, nonetheless. She tilted her head slightly to one side, as if she found this odd, and the red ribbon—proof that she was a criminal—swayed around her neck. Her green eyes were the sole vestige of her former self. Childlike and crystal-clear, they stared unblinking at Erik. How many secrets had she hidden behind that gaze? At this point, Erik would never find out. Her soul was gone. He gazed into her eyes, a remnant of the past. Speechless, just as he’d been on that fateful day, Erik let out a deep sigh. Harve stood frozen behind his friend, mouth agape, incapable of comprehending what was happening in front of his eyes. Erik didn’t seem very approachable at that moment—the king happened to be nearby, so Harve looked up at him in confusion. “Y-Your Majesty, is that really…?” “Yes. That’s Katiliana. She’s wearing the same clothes, isn’t she?” “But she looks so different… Didn’t she have an anti-deterioration spell placed on her?” “She did. It’s customary.” So why, then, did Katiliana look the way she did? Confused, Harve took another look at the woman’s corpse. Her hair, which had been deep brown, was now a translucent shade of silver. Her pale, dewy skin was cracked and covered in wrinkles, and her cheeks had caved in. She held out one of her gaunt, bony hands toward Erik. “I-it’s almost like…she’s grown old.” “She hasn’t. She’s just returned to her original form.” As the woman reached out for Erik’s neck, Lars unsheathed Akashia. She noticed the movement, and her expression shifted. She glowered at the kind. “Now then, I advise you to keep your hands off that man and return to your casket, Katiliana.” The tip of Akashia was pointed toward the dead woman. “Or should I say, Great-Aunt Crestea?” As the criminal’s true name passed his lips, Lars took a fighting stance. Harve froze at this abrupt revelation. Crestea. That was the name of Dysral’s niece, the younger sister of the king before last. Lauded as the greatest mage in Farsas’s decades of history, she had been Katiliana’s grandmother. …Or at least that was what Harve had believed up until then. “Huh? Katiliana…is Crestea?” “They’re the same person. Crestea never had any children. My father only called her that for the sake of convenience,” the king explained begrudgingly. Harve was the only one who seemed surprised by this admission. Erik remained just as composed as ever, though it was normal for his emotions not to show on his face. Holding his breath, Harve glanced toward his friend. The girl looked exactly as she had before yet, at the same time, completely different. If this was her true form, then why had she been “Katiliana”? Harve put a hand against his neck, feeling as if something heavy was stuck in his throat. Lars glanced at him, then calmly carried on. “Crestea adored Dysral. Even after his death, she continued to stoke the flames of suspicion and doubt among the royal family and their key vassals. That is to say, she was the one pulling the strings behind the family’s twenty-five years of infighting.” “What?! I-is that true?” “Yeah. She was a natural-born agitator, adept at controlling people’s hearts and minds—and she was a powerful mage, too. She enjoyed watching her relatives fight each other to the death. Some of them tried to take matters into their own hands, but she didn’t let them find any proof. But then, her older brother—my grandfather—grew suspicious of her. How do you think Crestea got away when she saw her brother coming to question her, Akashia in hand?” “I—I couldn’t even begin to guess…,” replied Harve. “Well, it’s simple. She sacrificed herself before she could be driven to confess and executed. She locked away her memories and her personality and adopted a completely ignorant persona. She became a different person entirely, and Crestea was locked away. As close as she was to being guilty, she wasn’t the same person who’d incited all that unrest.” Erik hadn’t moved a muscle as the king was explaining this to Harve. It was impossible to tell whether those deep-blue eyes were fixed on Katiliana or Crestea. The only thing that was clear was the fact that the person standing before them was no longer just the corpse of a girl but a part of the royal family’s dark underbelly. “People suspected that her old self might eventually resurface, so she was kept in confinement, but not only did her former self not reappear, she also started to look younger. In fact, she stopped aging altogether. Unsure how long she could live in such a state, my father gave her another name and brought her out of the dungeon. I insisted that she should be executed, but my father argued that we couldn’t hold her responsible for her crimes when she had no recollection of what she’d done and had a completely different mind. That was incredibly naive. Whether she had her memories or not, she was still the same person.” That young girl, a member of a royal family, had shown up out of the blue. Leuticia took good care of her, but Lars had treated her like she didn’t even exist. “Then…Katiliana was able to cast the forbidden curse because…” “That’s obvious. Crestea had been a master of forbidden curses, which is why I always maintained that Erik shouldn’t shoulder any of the blame. He might have been guilty of teaching her the spell, but she would have been able to use it with or without him. And on top of that, I got the credit for getting rid of her.” Feeling completely drained, Harve wanted to sink down to the ground. He’d been completely unaware of this, and Erik likely had, too. Katiliana might have been a member of the royal family, but he’d also seen her as a cute, clumsy, normal young girl. The childlike smile she’d worn on her face as she anxiously followed Erik around never looked the slightest bit fake. The version of Katiliana that stood before him looked like an old woman, and Harve almost wondered if the real Katiliana were still sleeping in her casket somewhere. An indescribable sense of unease pervaded his thoughts, and he pressed his fingers to his temples. He couldn’t even bring himself to breathe; the air around him smelled too foul. Lars shifted his focus from Harve and his distress to Crestea. Her lifeless body moved gracefully, almost as if she were in a pantomime, and she extended a withered arm toward the young man before her. He’d often held the girl’s small hand and pulled her along. Even when she was inside the castle, she never stopped nervously surveying her surroundings, almost as if she could never get comfortable there. In truth, she seemed restless no matter where she was—and sometimes, he’d spot her staring intently into space. How did she see herself, when she was so thoroughly cut off from her past? This girl, who didn’t even remember that she had no memories, was drifting alone. Erik stared at her. Her green eyes looked the same as they always had. Just like when she was alive, her gaze held a certain emptiness, reflecting the world around her. She stayed frozen to the spot, stretching her pale hand out toward him, as if begging for salvation. Instead, Erik grabbed her by the wrist. Even with her enhanced strength, the elderly woman wasn’t strong enough to fight back. Crestea used her other hand to try and pull him off, but he wouldn’t let her. Giving up, she attempted to claw at his eye with her nails, but he instantly evaded her grasp by twisting her arm upward. Partially immobilized, Crestea let out an eerie groan, and Erik glanced at the king. “Am I allowed to hurt her? If I get rid of this miasma, she’ll stop moving.” “Go ahead. I was considering burning that corpse anyway—I wouldn’t want anyone catching a glimpse of it.” “You might be better off sticking to that plan, then. To the discerning eye, the traces of the forbidden curse are plain to see.” “Is that right? We may as well burn her now, then. Harve, do the honors.” “Me?!” shrieked Harve, stunned by the pair’s nonchalant exchange and caught off guard when the conversation suddenly turned to him. Criminal or not, he couldn’t bear the thought of setting fire to a royal lady’s body. Desperate for help, he scanned his surroundings and locked eyes with Erik, who was still restraining Crestea. “I’ll do it,” said Erik. “Let me use your magical power.” “…Are you crazy?” “It’s fine. She’s already dead.” A corpse was just an object. Every mage knew that. Yet Erik had returned tonight specifically to see this woman. Harve couldn’t comprehend how his friend—who was now planning to set fire to her body—could stay detached from the situation. Harve wanted to say something to Erik, but he couldn’t find the right words. He wished he could tell him that he’d take on the task instead. But perhaps this was how Erik had decided to say farewell. Harve’s shoulders slumped wearily, and he went to stand beside his friend. As he quietly began to recite a spell, he placed his hand on Erik’s shoulder and channeled unstructured magical power into him. Harve felt as sad as if they’d been transported back four years in time. He knew that Katiliana wasn’t really Katiliana, but that didn’t change a thing. As he stood there with his eyes closed, he heard his friend begin to chant in the same profoundly gentle tone he used to use back when he doted on Katiliana like a young sister. Erik still didn’t know what Katiliana had wanted, or whether he’d been able to give it to her. Nevertheless, he’d never be able to forget her smile—that joyful smile when she’d appreciatively taken the veil off him during their first encounter, and the sad smile she’d given him in her final moments. He knew that the vision of her in her current state would be impossible to wipe from his mind, too. It was a reminder of the truth that would always remain elusive—the vestiges of Katiliana that he’d never been able to reach. Channeling Harve’s magical power, Erik composed a spell with the inside of Crestea’s body at its center. Casting such a spell on a living mage often proved unsuccessful due to the innate magical resistance they possessed, but Crestea no longer had any power to speak of. Erik formed an incendiary sublimation spell aimed at the remnants of the forbidden curse that had settled within her. As Crestea thrashed around, Erik grabbed on to her arms and shoulders to restrain her. He knew that exerting any more force might break them, which made him slightly uncomfortable. Once he’d finished composing the spell, Erik took a short breath. All he needed to do was trigger it, and this would all be over. He glanced at Lars. The king gave him his nod of approval. But at that very moment, a new voice echoed around the garden. “Huh? Erik?” It was a voice that nobody in the area had expected to hear, and the three men all looked in the direction it was coming from. Not knowing where she’d come from or when she’d arrived, they saw Shizuku standing there holding Harve’s jacket. Erik’s eyes widened in surprise. “Hey. What’s wrong?” he said. “You’re back in Farsas?!” Shizuku exclaimed. “…Oh, it looks like I showed up at an awkward moment.” “Perhaps. But it’s dangerous over here, so I’d rather you went back inside.” Shizuku must have realized that Crestea was a corpse. Her expression stiffened, and she muttered an apology, bowing her head. “Uh, I just wanted to give Harve his jacket back.” “You could have done that anytime.” Shizuku was wearing a dark-green robe over her pajamas and carried a neatly folded men’s jacket. The hem of her robe was frayed and slightly dirty, as if she’d fallen over at some point. Hesitating slightly, she hurried over to Harve and stood beside Erik. Just as she was trying to hand him the jacket, however, someone grabbed her collar from behind. “Don’t get in their way. Stand back for a moment.” “Let me go, Your Majesty!” “Don’t make a scene, you disruptive young girl. Close your eyes and cover your ears. Or even better, just stop breathing altogether.” “Now, that’s an unreasonable demand!” As soon as Lars released her from his grip, Shizuku slipped a hand inside the folded jacket, and Erik happened to lock eyes with her. Her dark, somber gaze didn’t reflect the moonlight. It was lifeless, like that of a puppet. They were Shizuku’s eyes, yet they didn’t belong to her at all. Instantly realizing what was going on, he let go of Crestea. Erik watched as Shizuku pulled her small hand out of the jacket, clutching a dagger, which gleamed dimly in the moonlight. She was out of Lars’s line of sight, so he couldn’t see what she was doing. Gracefully, she spun around. “Shizuku!” What was her wish? Had Erik fulfilled it or rejected it? Which of them had chosen to sin? Whatever the answers might have been, it was all over now. She thrust the dagger toward the king. Lars managed to shove it away just in the nick of time, and Shizuku staggered. The dagger fell to the ground. The king placed his hand on the sheath of his royal sword. Erik grabbed Shizuku’s shoulder, and Crestea started running in the opposite direction. For a moment, chaos took over. The king swung his sword down toward Shizuku’s head, aiming to bring that chaos to an end. It was a merciless strike, but Erik managed to push Shizuku out of harm’s way, putting himself beneath the naked blade instead. Akashia, however, would not stop. Harve stepped toward the king, but it was too late. He expected the commotion to culminate in an outpouring of fresh blood—but instead, all that echoed through the bright night sky was the sound of two swords clashing against one another. “Not bad,” said Lars succinctly, repositioning his sword. He looked down at the mage, who’d deflected the royal sword using the rapier he carried for self-defense. Erik momentarily cast his gaze down at his own sword. He adjusted his grip; he wasn’t going to put it away now. “I’ll cut her down this time. Get out of my way,” the king said, unsmiling. “I refuse,” replied Erik. “Sacrificing yourself to protect a criminal again? Did you not learn your lesson the first time?” “I never sacrificed myself, and I never thought I was innocent, either. Right now, she’s being controlled. I’m going to heal her.” Crestea was already out of sight. It was anyone’s guess where she’d escaped to. Shizuku stood firmly planted on the grass. Her body swayed gently from side to side, like it was billowing in the wind. She put her hand inside the dark-green robe and pulled out a glowing, crimson crystal ball, then lifted it up into the sky, revealing the cuts and grazes all over her hands. Her eyes vacant, Shizuku parted her small lips and began to speak in an emotionless voice. “‘You may test, deceive, and trample upon any member of the bloodline whenever you see fit.’” It sounded like a cursed incantation—or a whispered proclamation of love. Her monotonous words made the color drain from Lars’s face, and the corners of the young king’s mouth turned upward. “Ahh, an adherent of Crestea? You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.” “‘Your Majesty, the time for bloody retribution has arrived.’” There was a crunching sound of feet on grass, and another figure emerged under the glow of the moonlight. All eyes turned toward the silhouette, each person’s reaction changing. The figure was clad in a criminal’s loose black robe with a dull silver breastplate over the top. Dragging a hefty two-handed sword behind him, the imposing man drew nearer one step at a time. Lars took one look at the deep sword scar on his cheek, then muttered softly. “The disgraced King Dysral. Well, I guess I was expecting you to show up.” “Huh?!” Harve nearly shrieked—but Erik stayed silent. Shizuku stood as motionless as a statue, gazing fixedly ahead of her. Her right hand hung limply by her side…still clutching on to the crystal ball. Suddenly, Dysral dashed toward them. Lars reacted immediately as the former king wordlessly attacked, intercepting the aggressor’s blade just before it shattered Harve’s skull. With a loud clang, the royal sword fended off the first assault. Stepping forward before his subjects, Lars tutted. “Don’t just stand there in a daze. He’ll split you in two.” “F-forgive me…” “And back me up if you can. If you can’t keep up, then give me some space.” The king had retained his usual casual demeanor, but his tone was colder than ice. Dysral swung his sword forward at a terrifying speed, seemingly unconcerned by its weight, but Lars calmly parried it aside. The impact was not insignificant, and Lars furrowed his brow slightly, yet he didn’t make a sound. Staring down at his trembling legs, Harve took three steps back and began reciting a defensive incantation. The distinct sounds of swords colliding resonated beneath the moonlight. Dysral was the most infamous king in the Farsasian royal family’s long history. He was notorious for his acts of violence, but at the end of the day, it was his own strength that had enabled him to carry out these crimes. If it wasn’t for this, he wouldn’t have been able to turn on and slaughter so many members of his own family, whether he had Akashia or not. After all, plenty of them had been skilled swordsmen and mages in their own right. His sword’s thick blade cut into the defensive barrier that Lars had put in place, creating white fissures on its surface. Harve went pale. “Your Majesty…! If we stay here—” Harve began, trying to warn the king of the danger they were in. Dysral moved in a way that was unmistakably different from any of the other corpses. The forbidden curse had most likely been used to resurrect the disgraced king, while the other corpses had only been caught up in the spell. Harve couldn’t just leave the reigning king to face such a dangerous threat. He needed to act as bait to facilitate Lars’s escape—and just as he was mentally preparing himself to give Lars an opening, the king spoke. “Nah. If I can’t beat him, no one can.” With that, Lars parried the sword that was hurtling down toward him once again. There was a grating screech as the king deflected its thick blade. Aided by the protective barrier, he blocked blow after blow. He usually kept the extent of his skills under wraps, but he was an extraordinary talent with the blade. Regardless, he couldn’t keep it up forever when his undead opponent had endless stamina. Dysral stumbled slightly, and Lars took the opportunity to swing Akashia through the air in one big sweep. As the former king stepped back to dodge the blow, Lars called out to Erik behind him. “So what now? Can I crush that girl into pieces?” “…She’s not a mage. Once all the magical energy stored in the core has been used up, this will all come to an end.” “That plan has too many uncertainties. I can’t endorse that.” “Well, it’s a good thing I’m prepared.” Erik raised his hand so the king could see what he was holding. It was the dagger that had fallen out of Shizuku’s hand earlier, and he showed the king its blade. “I embedded a spell into this dagger. It’s a makeshift solution, but if you pierce him all the way to the core, it’ll act as a catalyst to reverse the forbidden curse.” “Got it. Hand it over, then,” the king swiftly responded, making Harve flinch. As Lars extended his left hand to grab the dagger, Dysral’s sword thrust toward him. The king used Akashia to push it away, but with only one hand on the sword, he wasn’t able to evade the blow entirely. Dysral’s blade grazed his shoulder, tearing flesh and sending out a spray of blood. Yet Lars was unfazed, and he used this as a chance to grab hold of the dagger. Erik tapped Harve on his shoulder. “The former king is able to overpower a regular defense spell with sheer force—but I think his sword contains silver to help it work in harmony with the forbidden curse. Can you put together a silver manipulation spell?” “I—I think so.” “Combine it with the protective barrier spell. That way, you can control his sword when he comes into contact with the barrier.” Erik made this sound easy, but combining two completely different kinds of spells was an extremely difficult task. Still, this was no time to argue, and Harve cast aside his hesitation and began reciting the incantation. Dysral’s expression remained unchanged. He didn’t even make a sound. His soulless body was nothing more than a corpse. Yet his blade swung down with unwavering aggression. The king intercepted the sword, holding Akashia in both hands. There was another grating metallic sound, and as the two kings’ swords pushed against one another, Harve cried out to Lars. “Your Majesty! Let me erode away his sword!” The next thing Lars knew, his body was being enveloped by a protective barrier. The barrier stretched out at either end, avoiding Akashia to come into contact with Dysral’s large sword. The outline of the sword became unstable, and in that instant, Lars thrust forward with the royal sword. Dysral lifted his hands slightly, and Lars took his left hand off the handle of the royal sword. Letting out a sharp breath, Lars stepped in. A blade shimmered in the moonlight. The former king slowly looked down at the base of his neck, where the spell-infused dagger had been plunged deep. “Gahhh…!” Dysral’s body recoiled sharply, and Erik shouted the incantation that was key to his plan. The power of the forbidden curse began to flow out of his body. It left the dead king’s corpse and flooded back into the crystal ball that Shizuku was holding. The gleaming red orb shattered with an explosive boom. Shizuku collapsed—and before she could even hit the ground, Lars cut down Dysral. Sitting down on the grass, she stared in astonishment at her right hand covered in blood. “Oh…” “Shizuku.” Erik had run over to her, and as he took her by the hand, she looked up at him in a daze. There was no light behind her eyes. “It’s okay. Just kill me,” she whispered hoarsely. Those were the words of a girl who was being controlled—they’d been Katiliana’s last words, too. Erik grimaced. Harve gulped, seeing the pain in his friend’s face. And the king stared at the pair, indifferent. Back then, Katiliana had slipped away from him. Everything had come to an end, leaving Erik completely in the dark. But this was different. They hadn’t reached the end yet—not in any sense of the word. The road ahead still held endless possibilities. Shizuku pressed her trembling hands to her temples, almost as if her head were hurting, and Erik picked her up in his arms. “Erik. I told you…to…kill me.” “I’m not going to.” The girl shook her head in apparent pain. Erik stroked his cheek against her small head. “Everything’s going to be okay. Just sleep for a while.” He still had a little of Harve’s magical power left, so he used it to put together a sleep spell. Shizuku’s eyelids slowly lowered. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered softly before drifting off to sleep. Erik knew that was the truth—she didn’t need to tell him, and he repositioned her in his arms. “I know,” he murmured. He could hear people shouting in the distance. Something must have happened. Lars momentarily glanced in the direction the noise was coming from, his eyes darting around—but he soon brought his attention back to Erik and the unconscious girl in his arms. The mage shot the king an icy look. With the royal sword still raised, the king took a step forward. “Either you let me kill her, or you die together. It’s your choice.” “I reject both of those options. You made me a promise the other day. You assured me that if you failed to justify your actions in a way that satisfied me, you wouldn’t have her killed.”