NOVGO.NET Chapter 358: Epilogue (1)
Chapter 358: Epilogue (1)
#1. Yukline’s Office
Head of the Family, Yeriel, was tending to the affairs of the house, her hands moving at a speed imperceptible to the eye.
The variety of these affairs was immense, ranging from reports on Yukline’s various businesses, the house’s knights’ order, and the Mage Tower to future plans and budgets, as well as the strict rewarding and punishing of ministers based on their reputations and performance.
Yeriel meticulously reviewed, judged, and supported all of these, personally taking action to ensure that not a single flaw tainted Yukline, that its course did not deviate, and that it could soar across the continent to greatness.
“… You know, a single word, a single signature from me can move billions of Elne,” Yeriel muttered.
Thus, Yeriel—no, the Head of the Yukline Family—was a giant of the continent who could control tens of billions of Elne in a single day, and as such, was not an easy person to approach.
“It always annoys me, you know?”
This was because Yeriel was easily irritated, and while her status as Head of the Yukline Family was a factor, it was her rather sensitive and difficult personality that even Delic, the Grand Knight of the Imperial Knights’ Order, was cautious around.
“The fact that people don’t even know that destruction ever happened.”
Yeriel had her reasons, for the common people of the continent did not know the truth—that this continent had once faced destruction and had been restored.
“To them, the outer edge of the world is nothing more than a demonic spell cast by Deculein, and Sylvia… in that prison has become a kind of sun that saved them.”
The outer edge of the world was the demon’s grand magic that Deculein had manifested with the help of the Altar, and the continent and its people had been confined within, nearly withering away and dying, only to be barely saved by Sylvia… but that was the wrong history.
“How does that even make sense?” Yeriel continued, glaring at the person across from her and pounding the table, her face twisted with anger.
“Haha… it can’t be helped.”
Receiving Yeriel’s unfounded anger, Ria merely gave a bitter smile and scratched the back of her neck.
“You know, the Professor himself wanted that,” Ria added.
“… Okay, I get it, but…” Yeriel muttered with a pout. “Anyway, you haven’t found him yet, have you?”
“No, not yet.”
“If you were unable to find him, no one else would be able to.”
Yeriel and the Empress assigned the same mission to the Knights’ Order Red Garnet, the only one in the history of the Empire to be officially recognized by the Imperial Palace and nothing short of a hero of the continent—to find Deculein.
“Where in the world did he go?” Yeriel continued, grumbling as she looked out the window.
The sky over Yukline was clear, and this land, which had grown to be the most fertile, commercially, and scientifically developed, was a great city of the Empire, second only to the capital, and it was all due to Deculein’s legacy and the knowledge he had left within the lighthouse.
“He couldn’t possibly be dead—”
“He’s alive,” Ria interrupted, cutting off Yeriel’s concern.
“… Is that so?” Yeriel said, her lips twitching as she looked at the confident Ria. “Alright, then. I just wonder where he could be.”
“But, Miss Yeriel, what would you want to do if the Professor is alive?” Ria asked.
“I must be there for him in his final moments,” Yeriel replied without a moment’s hesitation.
Yeriel was aware that Deculein could not be saved in the end, and even if Deculein was alive and breathing at this moment, his time was already limited.
“I want to be with him in his final moments. I want to show him what has become of Yukline.”
“… I see,” Ria replied with a small smile.
“And what about you?” Yeriel said, raising her eyebrows as she regarded Ria.
“Sorry?”
“What would you want to do if you met Deculein?” Yeriel said, pointing at Ria with her finger.
Ria was silent for a moment, lost in thought, then suddenly stared into the empty air, at something that looked like nothing to Yeriel, but was definitely a set of letters on Ria’s retina.
[Victory]
With the final boss vanquished, the main quest was complete, and the clear reward was a ticket, which Ria held to herself, uncertain whether it was an admission pass to a theme park, a club, a buffet, or something that would return her to Earth.
“I… well, I don’t know. There are just so many things—things I want to do, and things I want to ask.”
“What is it?” Yeriel asked, narrowing her eyes and looking suspicious.
“There is such a thing.”
I want to ask Deculein why he gave me this diary and there are other things I want to do… Ria thought.
“Alright, what will you do after you find him? Will you continue with the adventure team?”
Ria gave a bitter smile without a word.
“Why? Is there another plan you have in mind?” Yeriel asked, blinking.
“Yeah, I need to think about it.”
Though Ria had spent a considerable amount of time on this continent, she now held a ticket in her arms, with only a vague idea of its destination, but the problem was that there was only one.
“There’s a chance the person I love could be here,” Ria added.
The last image of Deculein remained vivid in Ria’s mind, his face, his appearance, and the way he had considered her to be Yuara—that man who had been so much like Kim Woo-Jin—still flickering on her retina.
“Someone you love?”
“Yes, and if it’s really him…”
Therefore, on the off chance she found him and he really was Kim Woo-Jin, and if there was no way for him to avoid death on this continent…
“I have something I want to give him,” Ria added.
Ria was willing to offer this ticket to him.
#2. Desert
In the sweltering desert where winds of heat raged, where thick sand gripped his legs, and where the high temperatures saturated with mana scorched the skin, a man indifferently crossed the desolate hills where no human footprints would last, taking each step as his feet sank deep into the ground that seemed to be melting in the heat.
Walking his path in silence, he suddenly took in his surroundings, and on the reddish-orange ground, where the distant sun beat down with oppressive light and heat and the empty horizon seemed to stretch on forever, he trampled his own long shadow with one foot.
Then…
Whooooosh—
A pure breeze blew, a current laden with mana that shimmered like starlight, revealing a certain place that had been concealed within the desert—a cabin, a simple residence made solely of wood.
“… Is anyone in there?” the man asked, throwing open the wooden door.
Creak—
Beyond the door, which opened with a creak, lay a clean and tidy space, spotless without a single speck of dust, a sight that could only be described as perfectly him.
“Just as I remember,” the man muttered, hanging his temperature-regulating robe and turban on a hanger before sitting on a random chair.
“You are here.”
At that moment, a voice suddenly reached him, and the man turned to the source with a smile. There he was: wearing glasses on his nose, clad in a black robe, and reading a book—this era’s most evil man, the most notorious worshiper of the Altar recorded in textbooks, the common enemy of the entire continent, a villain who deserved death…
“Deculein, it has been some time,” the man replied.
It was Deculein von Grahan-Yukline.
No, since he is no longer a noble, the latter portion of the name can be disregarded, the man thought.
“Yes, Grand Prince Creáto, it has been a while for you as well,” Deculein replied.
However, the figure of Deculein that Creáto was currently facing was as composed as ever, and with a body that would soon welcome death, on a continent where all the people resented and despised him, he awaited nothing but the day he would pass away, yet he had not lost his aristocratic appearance.
“As for Quay, what happened to him?”
“He is dead,” Creáto replied with a low smile to Deculein’s question.
Quay had died, but not before protecting Creáto at the very moment of the continent’s destruction, and the puppet he had appeared turned to dust, which Creáto released into the ocean as the last of his remains.
Though Quay had died, Creáto was haunted by a strange emotion for a time, as one corner of his heart felt empty yet relieved at the same time.
“When he died, I felt a sense of emptiness as if a part of myself were gone.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, but I felt a sense of satisfaction in his final moment, as it seemed he had finally made peace with himself. It remains vivid, you know,” Creáto said, looking at Deculein.
“I see,” Deculein replied as he walked toward him and sat opposite Creáto, as though the conversation carried no weight.
“I suspect you know the answer for me, don’t you?” Creáto asked, as if he already knew the weight of the situation.
The answer about himself was the origin of the strange emotion that Creáto felt for Quay.
“I came to you for that reason alone.”
When Creáto thought of Quay, he was always filled with an overwhelming emotion that could not be explained by mere pity or sympathy, a feeling he could not possibly understand as he was, and he wanted to know the identity of that emotion.
“Your Highness,” Deculein said with a smile. “Why seek from me an answer you already hold within yourself?”
The gentle voice of Deculein brought a frown to Creáto’s face.
“… It’s with me?” Creáto asked, looking uninterested.
“Yes, the name of Grand Prince Creáto—the life Your Highness now claims as your own—will soon be your answer. Would there not be another reason for Quay to save Your Highness?”
At Deculein’s words, Creáto fell into silent contemplation, and as the wooden planks of the cabin creaked and the sandstorm battered the windows, he was lost in thought for a long time before finally letting out a hollow laugh.
“Heh. Is that so?”
In fact, Creáto himself already had a feeling about it to some extent, for the name Creáto was certainly a clue, and the emotion he was feeling now had existed in numerous similar forms on this continent from the very beginning.
“If I were to ever have a child and lose them, would I feel this way again?” Creáto said.
“That is an emotion that I, too, am not yet familiar with,” Deculein replied, shaking his head with a look of warm satisfaction.
“… Is that so?”
Creáto couldn’t help but smile as he looked at the desk, where a certain wand lay neatly, and a thought suddenly came to him.
“Are you now making your way to Lokralen?” Creáto asked.
The promised day had come, and thus Deculein would now go to Lokralen, where the master of Lokralen, Lokralen himself, would be waiting in his past form to open the door, after which everything would follow everyone’s memory and, without the slightest error, the knot would be tied.
“… Yes, I am,” Deculein replied with a low smile.
#3. Lokralen
… Epherene was in Lokralen, and as an archmage her plan was to dismantle the Kaidezite and endure the passage of time within that limited space.
Three hundred eighty-five years—one hundred forty thousand five hundred twenty-five days, or three million three hundred seventy-two thousand six hundred hours, and the sole reward for enduring such an immense span was a single meeting.
In this Lokralen, Epherene could find satisfaction in merely meeting the Deculein of the past and her much younger self, for she was able to see his face, hold him in her arms, and speak with him—the man she thought she would never see again—and this filled her with such overwhelming happiness that she did not dare wish for anything more.
But…
“… Thank you.”
Epherene had no idea how many times she had already said these words, looking up at the man who had remained with her in a Lokralen overflowing with time energy—a man who was far too much like a dream.
“Professor,” Epherene added.
“There is no cause for gratitude,” Deculein replied.
Epherene found it miraculous that he was speaking like this, that he was moving, and that his face was of flesh and blood.
“Do you know how many years it’s been?”
“That is of no consequence to me.”
Everything about him was the same as before: Deculein’s blunt way of speaking, his walk, and his way of taking in the scenery of Lokralen. It was a sight that brought tears to Epherene’s eyes.
“Where have you been all this time? No, let me rephrase that—which timeline do you belong to, Professor?”
“There is no need to know,” Deculein replied.
Deculein continued to conceal himself, but it did not matter to Epherene.
Epherene, like a rabbit, trotted after Deculein, who was walking briskly to some unknown destination.
“What should we do for 385 years?” Epherene asked.
Deculein came to a stop in a temporal nexus of time where everything had frozen, a place within Lokralen that was overflowing with time energy.
“We must find a way to make time flow again,” Deculein replied, looking at Epherene.
Epherene was taken aback by Deculein’s words, which were a perfect reflection of his character, though for her, they were a little…
“Do you mean to spend 385 years in this place?” Deculein continued.
Epherene pressed her lips together tightly.
“That is not an option, Epherene,” Deculein added with a smile.
It was something Epherene knew, of course, that with Deculein she could find a way to get out of this time energy, for from a long time ago even the things that were impossible for her to do alone—the things everyone said were impossible—had always become possible when the Professor was with her.
“… It will be difficult,” Epherene muttered to herself.
Deculein was here now, and they had three hundred eighty-five years, which, with the one she loved, would feel like nothing more than a brief moment despite seeming like an eternity.
“Difficult?” Deculein repeated, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Yes, I’m actually more of an expert than you at breaking down time energy, Professor. And it is impossible, even for me.”
“No, I believe I have already found the way.”
“… Sorry?”
At that moment, Deculein placed his hand on Epherene’s shoulder.
Despite it being only Deculein’s hand that made contact, Epherene’s heart pounded.
“Epherene, I am connected to the truth. Dismantling a magical space of this level is no difficult task. Of course, your assistance will be needed.”
Epherene remained silent.
“Of course, your assistance will be needed.”
From that section, Epherene found a glimmer of hope.
“Pull yourself together, Epherene. We cannot remain here for 385 years,” Deculein said, his voice firm.
“… Why? The flow of time has stopped anyway, hasn’t it? We won’t get old or die here,” Epherene said, a little annoyed.
“No, in this place you will grow old and die.”
“How—”
“You will be worn down, mentally,” Deculein interrupted.
As Deculein had said, three hundred eighty-five years was a long time, and no mage could easily withstand it.
“Staying here for 385 years is no different than being isolated from the world. If you were to pass 385 years here, would you be able to face a world that hasn’t changed one bit? Would you be able to communicate with the people of that world?”
A period of one hundred years would turn a baby into an elder, and since a baby and an elder could not communicate or share an emotional connection, the span itself marked an unbridgeable gap.
Three hundred eighty-five years—four times that length of time—would surely isolate Epherene as one who did not belong to the world and would turn her into an existence at odds with the Mortal Realm, just like Demakan.
“I came here to prevent you from becoming like that, to help you.”
“… But I have you with me after all, Professor,” Epherene said in timid protest.
“It is 385 years, Epherene. Do not underestimate it. No human can remain constant for 385 years. Your emotion toward me will inevitably change,” Deculein replied with a sneer.
“… Heh.”
At that moment, Epherene couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, then looked at Deculein and stuck out her tongue.
“What nonsense.”
“… What did you say?” Deculein said, narrowing his eyes.
“I am confident about that,” Epherene said with a sigh as she put her hands behind her back, shook her head, and stretched her neck with an air of arrogance.
“Confident?”
“Yes,” Epherene said, pounding her chest. “I am confident that I won’t change.”
At the sight of Epherene, Deculein gave a hollow chuckle, as if taken aback, or perhaps finding it charming.
“So.”
In an instant, Epherene took advantage of the opening and approached Deculein. Her long hair flying about her, she buried herself in the arms of the completely unguarded man, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist…
Whump—
… And pressed her face against Deculein’s chest.
“Let go of this,” Deculein said.
Shake, shake—
Epherene answered with a shake of her head.
Deculein sighed, and in Lokralen, where time had frozen and no sound could be heard, only he and Epherene existed.
“What do you intend to do?” Deculein inquired after a moment of silence.
“… What do you mean?” Epherene asked, looking up at him with only her eyes peeking out.
“I can wait for you,” Deculein replied to Epherene’s question.
Epherene remained silent.
“I am able to spend as much time as you require with you, in this place.”
At that moment, Epherene’s face almost brightened with delight before she found her composure again.
“For as long as I want?” Epherene asked, looking into Deculein’s eyes.
Without a word, Deculein nodded his head.
“Until you are prepared,” Deculein said.
Deculein’s words were tempting to Epherene, and she could remain with him here forever.
And as for Deculein…
“You don’t have much time either, do you, Professor?” Epherene said.
The Deculein who had found his way to this place was touching death.
In Lokralen, Deculein could live for centuries, but what if he were to leave this place…
“… You’re going to die soon, aren’t you?”
The tone of Epherene’s voice was filled with a blue, melancholy sadness as she spoke, but Deculein, in contrast, responded with a bright smile.
“It is fine.”
Epherene stared Deculein down with an expression of complete dissatisfaction.
Ziiiiiiiiiiiing—
Epherene glared at him as though her eyes were lasers that could pierce him through…
“Sigh.”
But with a sigh, she shook it off and drew Deculein a little closer.
“… One year,” Epherene said. “Perhaps in one year, you would be able to establish the theory, and I will be able to carry it out, Professor.”
Deculein remained silent.
“Then let’s start right away, without wasting any time. Let’s just spend 1 year together, doing our research.”
One year was far too short compared to three hundred eighty-five years, but precisely for that reason, it could be happier and more precious.
“A single year is sufficient, but do you agree to this?” Deculein inquired.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to be with you for a hundred years if you hated me, Professor,” Epherene said with a bright smile. “Even if we were to spend 385 years together, I wouldn’t like it if you started to hate me, Professor, you know?”
Epherene wanted to present herself in a way Deculein would like, and she wished to become a mage whom he could praise.
“Instead, for that one year…”
Because Epherene had always been proud of herself, she did not wish to crave for someone’s love, nor did she want an unremarkable three hundred and eighty-five years.
“I wish you would notice me, Professor.”
Epherene wished that, even if it was not to the degree she loved him, she might become, in Deculein’s heart, more than just a protégé, more than a merely charming girl, but a memorable woman.
“Would that be possible?”
In response to Epherene’s question, Deculein sighed with what was almost a smile.
That’s all I need, Epherene thought.
“Okay, I will put in more effort,” Epherene concluded, letting go of Deculein in her arms and linking her arm in his. “Let’s go take a look around Lokralen together, as a break before we start our research.”