NOVGO.NET Chapter 251: Sacrifice (1)
Chapter 251: Sacrifice (1)
Arlos sprinted through the snowfield, her stumbling steps stirring up a flurry of white particles around her.
“What is it?!” Jukaken shouted from behind, scrambling after Arlos without knowing why.
“I lined up the tracking locations with the magic circle without giving it much thought,” Arlos replied. “But when I looked again, the places where Deculein died seemed strange.”
Deculein’s mana was special. Although all those who ascend to the highest realms possess something rare, even among them, Deculein was singular—unique in the purest sense of the word. Deculein’s mana, mirroring his original form, neither faded nor fractured but remained anchored in place, waiting—ever faithful—for the master’s return.
“Deculein is mapping out a magic circuit with his own bodies,” Arlos added. “Which means, I think I know where he’ll die next.”
“With his own bodies?” Jukaken replied, his brow furrowing.
“That’s damn right. And Gerek’s cooperating with it,” Arlos said.
“… Bullshit. Gerek, with Deculein?”
Arlod nodded.
Somewhere along the way, Deculein must have reached out to Gerek for cooperation, and no other explanation could piece together what followed.
“It must have been Gerek—the one who first found Deculein, passed him the magic theory, and told him what to do next.”
Gerek’s extrasensory perception outmatched that of any living being on the continent—not only in sight, hearing, and smell, but also in all five senses, as well as physical ability, cognitive ability, and perceptual ability. Being such a monster, even Sylvia’s vision could possibly be deceived with little effort.
“But there’s no fucking way that he would cooperate with Deculein—”
Jukaken pressed his lips together and fell into thought.
What if the deal Deculein made with Gerek was the right to kill him as many times as he wanted?
“… Was Idnik wrong?” Jukaken muttered.
“No, it’s different. The magic theory Idnik read and the one I read aren’t the same.”
The magic theory that Idnik had read was a work written by the seventh iteration of Deculein—a record of all he had been up until then.
However, the magic theory left to Arlos had been revised once more by the eighth iteration of Deculein—just before Gerek’s infinite cycle of deaths overtook him.
“Anyway, follow me. Let’s go see what Deculein, that professor, is doing right now.”
Whisshhhh—
Together, Arlos and Jukaken sprinted through the snowfield, where the trampled ground rose like mist around them. The snow-draped trees, stirred by their passage, let fall slow showers of powdered white.
And…
Swish, swish.
Through the blank canvas of snow, a single line of wind followed from behind, with a current of magic twisting in the air, as if chasing after them.
***
Clack—Clack—
In the dense darkness, only the echo of my dress broke the suffocating silence of the underground. There was no light, no motion in the air—nothing but the stillness, where neither Sylvia’s eyes nor the Voice could reach. I walked on, searching for the place where I belonged.
Clack—Clack—
I did not know when the plan had been made; all I knew was that the moment I rose again as myself, Gerek delivered the message to me—and I understood it completely, accepting it as if it had always been a part of me.
Clack—Clack—
Though my existence was but a fake, through my death I could still achieve something, reach the ideal, exterminate the demon—and that alone made it worth it—something bearable, just as the previous versions of myself had.
Clack—Clack—
Suddenly, alongside the sound of my own footsteps, another set of steps echoed through the underground—and with them, a voice called my name from somewhere ahead.
“Deculein.”
Before long, a woman stepped into my path, and though it was unlike me, I found myself stunned as her artistic presence seemed to ignite the darkness itself, as if the underground had bloomed into sudden light under her brilliance.
“It’s Arlos. It’s been a while,” Arlos said, a faint smile touching her lips.
Arlos looked at me with unexpected welcome, though the reason behind it remained a mystery to me.
“You were right!” Jukaken said, pointing at me with a look of shock, standing beside Arlos.
Without a word, I stared at Jukaken and Arlos standing before me, and Arlos let out a sigh so small it barely touched the air.
“Professor, have you been killing yourself this whole time?” Arlos asked, stepping closer.
Arlos asked in a voice colored with pity, but to me, the question was little more than a passing breeze.
“Indeed,” I replied, nodding.
Arlos frowned, a fleeting crease touching her brow, yet even that imperfection only deepened the artistry of her beauty—like a brushstroke added to a painting already complete.
“And why did you do that?” Art asked.
“I have found a method, nothing more,” I replied.
Among the great laws of magic, one always held true—mana would always resemble its caster, and in my case, the uniqueness of my mana was mental strength.
Therefore, no matter the moment, the connection linking mana to mana never broke or fractured; it remained unshaken and unyielding, stronger than anything else in existence.
“… What kind of method?”
“The method to save that child,” I replied.
For that reason, though it was the power of Sylvia and the Voice that had created me, the deeper I became myself, the more I came to understand who I was, the more I claimed my existence—and in the end, there was no one left in this world who could ever replicate me.
With that property that was mine and mine alone, I built a theory that no one else could ever weave…
Arlos fell silent, while Jukaken scratched the back of his neck.
In that tender silence, time slipped by, and into a space untouched by the wind before, a whisper of air began to stir.
“… Are you sure?” Arlos asked, a hint of sympathy threading her voice. “It was the sequence you left behind in the magic circuit that brought us to you. But this magic circle still has many circuits left to complete. Hundreds of times… no, perhaps even thousands.”
I no longer knew which iteration of myself stood here now, nor how many deaths I had already chosen, and I would never know how many more deaths the next iterations of myself would choose, or how long this cycle would go on.
However…
“No matter what it demands, I have already made this my choice,” I said.
Arlos swallowed and stared at me, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes glistening like the still depths of a lake at twilight.
“Should it require a thousand deaths from me, if it promises that I save her life…”
Peering into the depths of my heart, I found the Voice’s destruction, the death of the existence called myself—and even more than that, the pity I felt for Sylvia, and the emotions that belonged to Kim Woo-Jin.
“I would repeat my choice.”
This was the conclusion I came to—and no matter what storms might break upon the world, I could not, and would not, let Sylvia die.
At that moment…
“Why.”
Like an awl piercing the skin, a voice struck the air, and Arlos and Jukaken flinched, their heads snapping toward the sound. From the depths of the dark underground stepped a child—no, not the child I once knew, but a woman who had grown in the time I had lost.
“… Why.”
It was Sylvia.
***
In the deep darkness of the underground tunnel—within the living veins of the magic circle—Sylvia stood, looking at Deculein, and without a word, he looked at her in return.
“… Why.”
However, Sylvia couldn’t understand it, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t accept it.
Why. Why. Why. Why can’t you stay and live here with me? Why are you sacrificing everything you are, just to destroy the Voice? Sylvia thought.
“You can just live here with me, together.”
Deculein spoke no words, and the weight of that silence pressed down on Sylvia with suffocating frustration.
“Together…” Sylvia muttered, throwing herself toward Deculein and grabbing him by the collar with both hands.
“Sylvia,” Deculein said, looking at her as if peering into a mirror of the past memory. “I remember the child you once were.”
Though Deculein’s memories, not Kim Woo-Jin’s—the memories with him were blurred, their colors drained by time; however, among the faded fragments, the child named Sylvia never once disappeared.
“That little girl, holding Cielia’s hand tightly and hiding behind her back, peeking out with eyes too afraid to meet mine.”
Sylvia remained silent.
“And now, that little child I knew has grown so much, now looking up at me with eyes full of courage.”
At that moment, Sylvia felt the world tighten around her lungs, and the realization struck her that the current iteration of Deculein had never shared time with her. While the years of the Voice flowed on without end, he had known nothing but the repetition of death.
“Perhaps, back then, without even realizing it, I might have been envious of you.”
Seeing the young Sylvia, Deculein’s original self understood with a harsh realization—she was already his equal, and her talent stretched so far beyond his own that comparison was meaningless. In that moment, despair seeped into him, followed by a dark bloom of bitter jealousy…
“And now, perhaps, although it’s far too late, I regret what I once felt.”
Sylvia raised her eyes to meet Deculein’s in silence.
“Sylvia, I cannot say that every choice I made was the right one,” Deculein said, placing his hand upon her shoulder.
The hand Deculein placed on Sylvia’s shoulder was warm, and she took a glance at it from the corner of her eye.
“Perhaps I should have kept you close, where I could still reach you, even if your heart had turned against me for Cielia’s death.”
Sylvia remained silent.
“Perhaps I should have taken you under my wing as my protégé back then.”
There was a time when Sylvia, much like Epherene today, wanted to be taken under Deculein’s wing as his protégé.
“I must have had so much to teach you, and perhaps I could have given you a reason not to run away.”
However, Deculein refused her, and it was not out of concern for Sylvia, but because of the flaw in his personality—the jealousy and envy within him that made it impossible to accept a talent that resisted the thought of fostering one that eclipsed his own.
“Even then, it was the same,” Deculein added, his voice almost muttering. “Perhaps I should have refused Glitheon when he asked me to kill Cielia.”
At Deculein’s words, Sylvia trembled and leaned her forehead against the hem of his coat.
Though Sylvia had slightly suspected that Glitheon had asked Deculein to end Cielia’s fading life and extinguish Sylvia’s ambitions, the sorrow that welled up within her was something she had not prepared for.
“But, Sylvia, regret is a meaningless sentiment,” Deculein said. “No matter how much we regret, the past does not change. To live in regret is no different from surrendering to death with open arms—just as you are now.”
Sylvia remained silent.
“I will give you one last word of advice, Sylvia. No matter what may happen, do not run away.”
Without a word, Sylvia nodded and then took a step away from Deculein.
Beneath the empty underground tunnel, where the breath of the wind had lost its way, Sylvia brought her hands together against her chest, as if anchoring herself in a world that seemed to hold no one but the two of them.
“I love you, Professor,” Sylvia said, her hands clasped over her heart, the words slipping out like a prayer as she looked up at Deculein.
Sylvia knew Deculein.
“I love you so much, I feel my heart ache every time I see you.”
Sylvia knew Deculein—the one who had killed Cielia with his own hands.
“All I want is to stay here with you, forever.”
Sylvia knew Deculein—the one who, for her sake, had allowed himself to be hated.
“But because I know I can’t, it hurts so much.”
Sylvia knew Deculein—the one who had protected her from both Glitheon and the Intelligence Agency.
“… To me, my paradise…”
Sylvia knew Deculein—the man who, for her sake, had fallen and fallen again.
“It was you, Professor.”
It was now, and only now, with certainty, that Sylvia knew.
“But… there is no paradise in any world that offers only happiness,” Sylvia added, offering a thin smile, light as mist and just as fleeting.
“I am still beyond the sea,” Deculein replied with a nod.
“Yes, I know.”
In response to Sylvia’s small voice, a faint smile formed at the corner of Deculein’s lips. They stood looking at each other for what felt like an eternity, and neither Arlos nor Jukaken dared to break the moment, merely watching from a distance.
Ssshh—
Suddenly, from the ceiling of the underground tunnel, a long strand of hair slipped down. Jukaken and Arlos flinched at first, but soon furrowed their brows and pulled it down.
“Argh—!” Gerek screamed.
“Where were you this whole time?” Jukaken asked, almost like a whisper.
“I’ve been here underground the whole time,” Gerek replied.
“Here underground?”
“Yep~ Not like you guys could find me in such an enormous underground anyway~ The whole time you’ve been running around, and I’ve been watching you. Hey, Jukaken—did you know you walked right beneath me once? And you still didn’t even notice.”
“… Go fuck yourself. But were you really cooperating with Deculein this whole time?”
“Cooperation? I didn’t cooperate—I just killed him,” Gerek replied, a grin spreading across his face as he brushed his long hair back.
“Then why aren’t you killing him right now?”
“I’m not feeling it~ I mean, I’ve probably killed him a couple hundred times already, and that’s when I got a little tired of it~ I even asked how many more times do I need to kill him.”
Arlos listened to Gerek’s words in silence.
“But apparently, there were still a thousand more to go,” Gerek said, shrugging. “Something about adjustments that need to be made to the magic circle, or something like that… It’s more about duty now that my family and I are taking turns~ It’s kind of like a phase where I’m just going through the motions~”
“I’d say each of my family members has probably killed him at least thirty times,” Gerek, the Multi-Persona, added, a proud smile spreading across his face as he chuckled to himself.
“… Then, if the real Deculein comes, are you going to kill him?” Arlos asked, her voice betraying slight hostility.
“Yeah, of course~” Gerek replied, twisting his lips. “The real Deculein won’t remember dying all this time and probably didn’t feel any pain. That’s just unfair. I need to kill him properly~”
With a hardened expression, Arlos watched Sylvia and Deculein. Things appeared to be moving forward, but without the arrival of the real Deculein, everything they had gone through would crumble into nothingness.
After all, the mana that powered Deculein’s magic circle was drawn from his own mental strength—an indomitable force that no one but its master could ever hope to command.
“… Oh? There’s Idnik,” Jukaken said, pointing over his shoulder. “Hey, Arlos, the one who’s been wrong this whole time is coming this way.”
As Jukaken had said, Idnik, hidden beneath a robe, was approaching them.
“Yooooo~ Idnik~” Jukaken said, his smile stretching across his face as he raised his hand, waiting for a high five.
Without a word, Idnik shook her head.
“Why? You were wrong. Why won’t you admit it? You were the one who said Deculein was going to kill Sylvia.”
Idnik tightened her lips.
“Idnik, you should take a look at what I’ve arranged in the guild room,” Arlos said, her voice measured and calm. “It will be unlike what you saw before.”
“I know, I’ve already seen it. I was only half wrong.”
“… Only half?”
“That’s correct,” Idnik said, letting out a sigh. “According to Deculein’s theory, Sylvia will not die. There’s no need to kill her. That is true.”
If the mana flowing from his existence and the indomitable force of his mental strength could take the place of Sylvia’s, then it was true—there would be no need for her to be killed.
“However, that doesn’t mean Sylvia’s sacrifice is unnecessary,” Idnik said, her eyes turning toward the distance. “As for Deculein right now…”
There they stood—Sylvia, her eyes turned up to Deculein, and Deculein, his eyes looking down toward her, wrapped in a peace too delicate to disturb.
“… Let’s leave the details for later. There’s a saying, don’t rock the boat, after all. I am, after all, a desert mage,” Idnik added, a chuckle escaping her lips as she stretched her arms and legs wide.
“… What are you talking about?”
“Yeah, Arlos. It seems like losing to you had more of an effect on her than we thought…”
Meanwhile, Arlos and Jukaken stared at Idnik with expressions that could only be described as utter disbelief.