Chapter 132

Translator: Willia

The land where the Salaman people lived was hot and dry. The sun was harsh enough to make one think summer had arrived, but the wind was cold. This place had no clear distinction between seasons; the weather was like this all year round.

It was the eternal homeland of shepherds and the land where everything began. People called this Lunadan region by that name.

A barren field with short grass stretched out endlessly. It wasn’t completely flat, rather, the land gently rose and fell in undulating curves.

Somewhere in that desolate plain stood a solitary ancient tree, seemingly hundreds of years old, perhaps even older, and under its shade, several corpses were strewn about here and there.

Ricardt was under that shade, removing a corpse’s shoes and holding them up to his bare feet. When they didn’t seem to fit, he tossed them aside.

It looked like he was doing robbery, but actually it was the opposite. Since they had tried to rob him, he had killed them in return and was now looting them.

Ricardt tried to take the shoes off another corpse, but they were sandals, so he passed.

As he looked around for someone with decent boots, Hashim called out. He was wearing sandals.

“Hey, Ricky. Try these on.”

He had removed the shoes from another corpse and called Ricardt. Ricardt took the shoes from him and held them up to his feet; they seemed to be a decent fit.

When he slipped his feet into them, they felt quite comfortable. The tips of the shoes curled upward, which was interesting, and the soles were made of sturdy leather, while the upper part was made of a breathable fabric.

“They seem to fit.”

“That’s a relief. There’s a new pair here, too. Come sit over here.”

“What new pair?”

As Ricardt asked, he followed his lead and sat on the ground. Outside the shade, the sunlight was hot, but in the shade, it was cool enough to be chilly.

But when Hashim tried to wrap something like cloth around Ricardt’s head, Ricardt flinched and turned away.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a long way ahead. If you don’t want your head to peel under the hot sun, you’d better wear this.”

“You could’ve said so earlier.”

When Ricardt understood and sat still, Hashim wrapped a turban around his head. He tied it tightly and firmly in place, then gave Ricardt a light pat on the back to signal it was done.

With his ragged clothes, exotic shoes, and a turban on his head, he looked quite ridiculous. But who cared if he looked a little foolish? As long as he could fight well and protect himself, that was enough.

Ricardt sat against the tree on the side without corpses and looked out beyond the shade, where the sunlight blazed. Even with the turban on, he didn’t feel like stepping out.

“Now I get it. This isn’t a place to be walking around at midday. We’ll have to move only in the mornings or evenings, right?”

“You can walk around once you get used to it. If you have a camel or a packhorse, it gets much easier.”

“By the way, is this the right way?”

“There’s nowhere else to go here except the coastline or the lakes. Unless you’re a merchant caravan or a nomad, trying to wander around via oases is a death sentence. If you keep the sea on your left and keep going forward, you’ll reach the Arslam Sultanate. If you keep it on your right and go forward, there’s the Mayub Sultanate. Past the Mayub Sultanate is Sinatria. There, multiple sultans rule. The Order of the Flame Knights is beyond that, on the Keresi Plateau.”

Just hearing it made it sound like it wouldn’t take long, but reaching Sinatria took a full month.

Thinking of Adelivari made Ricardt impatient, but at the same time, he also felt there was nothing he could do since things had come to this. He couldn’t fly through the sky, after all, and there was no other way.

Ricardt believed that fretting over a problem with no solution was utterly useless. So, he could only stay focused on the present.

He didn’t feel like taking a boat. Not only because of a bad past experience, but also because on the coast of the Lunadan region, merchants were pirates, and pirates were merchants. It had been that way since ancient times.

It wasn’t land suitable for farming; the people here survived solely on livestock and trade. Naturally, such culture and customs had taken root.

At any rate, the best option for now was to obtain a horse or camel...

“Is there no way to fly?”

Ricardt asked. Hashim was crouching down, rustling with something.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’re a mage , aren’t you?”

“I didn’t think so, but it seems you have your own prejudices too. If mages could do anything and everything, wouldn’t they be gods or demons, not humans?”

“I was just asking. Anyway, Hashim, where are you headed?”

“I wander aimlessly in search of my lost memories.”

As he said that, Hashim extended his hand to Ricardt and handed over what he had been rustling with. It turned out to be dried dates and some round things looted from their enemies.

Ricardt took them, sniffed them, and tasted a bit. The dates were chewy and so sweet it almost jolted him awake. Was there really such a fruit in the world?

He then tried the round things, which seemed like mashed chicken, steamed with salt and then dried.

“Do people here slaughter chickens to make travel rations? Wouldn’t it be better not to kill them if you want eggs? Are chickens that plentiful?”

“It’s not chicken.”

“Then what is it?”

“Minced lizard meat.”

For a moment, Ricardt froze. He considered spitting out what was in his mouth, but decided to just eat it. Once it’s in the stomach, it’s all the same...

Ricardt stuffed the minced lizard meat into his mouth and chewed it vigorously. Eating it all at once made the salty flavor stronger, but he just finished it quickly and moved on.

He drank water, swished it around in his mouth, gulped it down, and then asked.

“What are those lost memories?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m searching for them. I always feel like I’ve lost something very important, it follows me like a shadow.”

“Are all mages like that?”

“Who knows. But I’ve met a few people who were similar to me. I learned magic from them.”

“So, if you keep using magic, you keep losing memories?”

“That’s right.”

“What happens if you lose all your memories?”

“You go mad and start rambling nonsense, or get absorbed into the abyss. I’ve seen and heard of such cases.”

It seemed magic was indeed a dangerous craft. Ricardt didn’t say much, since it was a realm he didn’t understand.

He simply chewed on a date as a snack and asked,

“But say, do you think I could learn magic too?”

“No. You can’t. That’s because as humans grow older, their minds harden. The incomprehensible can’t be grasped with the head, but must be accepted with feeling. If you miss the window, you can’t learn it. And it also requires deep knowledge. The combination of knowledge and sensitivity leads to understanding the ‘other world’, and from there, power can be drawn. That’s the kind of magic I learned.”

“So, what kind of magic can you use? Like shooting fire from your hands, calling down rain, or summoning thunder and lightning?”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

As Ricardt kept asking stereotypical questions, Hashim squinted at him. Ricardt just laughed.

“To be honest, I don’t really know. I lose my memories the moment I use magic. Only a vague, dreamlike sensation remains. I don’t know about other mages, but that’s how the kind I learned works.”

“That’s rather ironic. The more you use magic, the more memories you lose, yet you're trying to reclaim lost memories.”

“Isn’t irony and contradiction a fundamental trait of humanity? Perhaps this too is a teaching from the gods.”

“You’re quite the optimist. But I agree.”

A man wandering the wilderness in search of his lost memories, that was what a wasteland mage seemed like to Ricardt.

Ricardt and the mage rested in the shade, avoiding the scorching gaze of the sun, and rose to their feet when the red glow of sunset began to burn across the sky.

They had secured food, a bit of money, shoes, and turbans from the bandits, should they be grateful to them, then? Life was indeed ironic.

The Lunadan region was so dry and empty that traveling by moonlight at night wasn’t much of a problem. Of course, when even the moonlight was gone and it became pitch dark, it was best to hold back.

And the stars in the night sky looked far more brilliant and beautiful than those seen in the Empire. It was because there were no mountains or forests, only sky and earth.

Even the Milky Way streamed down to the edge of the horizon like milk being poured.

Ricardt and Hashim walked under the starlight pouring down like rain. Though their bodies were tired and worn, the sparkling stars seemed to cheer them on, making it bearable.

They walked through the night, and as dawn approached, the starlight began to fade. Around that time, the two men arrived at a city.

However, even though morning had not yet fully broken, the city gates were open. There were no guards in sight.

Was this a city without a ruler? That couldn’t be.

“This is a holy land. A sacred place for all of us.”

“This place?”

“Yes. That’s why there are no laws inside. Because people fear the judgment of God. No one wants to die and go to hell, so everyone holds themselves back here.”

Ricardt believed in God, but he wasn’t exactly a fervent believer, so he didn’t feel particularly moved. Still, for some reason, his heart was pounding.

Not long after entering the city, they saw people asleep inside iron cages. All of them were slaves. Because the deity had not forbidden the trade of slaves.

Since safety was guaranteed here, it was actually a city where trade, of anything, was even more openly active.

Trade inevitably brings conflict, but since people fought their battles outside the city, the holy land maintained unusually good public order.

“Shall we go up the sacred hill?”

“Since we’ve come all this way, I suppose I can’t not go up.”

Following Hashim’s guidance, Ricardt passed through a narrow alley. It was a slight uphill path, and as he climbed, he looked around and saw what felt like just another place where people lived, with an exotic touch.

He didn’t really feel any sense of sanctity or divine holiness.

But at some point, the buildings disappeared, and a bare hill came into view. This was the very spot where God had supposedly given a revelation.

Honestly, it was rather underwhelming in its plainness. Just dry soil with some tufts of weeds growing here and there.

Around the hill, there were many melted and extinguished candles. A few still struggled to emit a faint glow.

There were signs of offerings too. Whether rich or poor, no matter where they came from, people had brought what they could give.

Flowers, money, weapons, shields, meat, even a corpse, recently deceased and wrapped entirely in bandages. Each offering, or burial, carried the earnest wishes of the giver.

Looking over at Hashim, Ricardt saw that he was seated cross-legged with his eyes closed, perhaps praying or meditating.

Ricardt lifted his head and looked at the sky. In the dim pre-dawn light, the deep blue sky looked like a vast ocean.

But on the sacred hill, there was nothing but a desolate wind blowing. He could hear no voice of God. Perhaps no revelation would be given to him. That was only natural.

“God’s language is silence. So speak to yourself the words you most wish to say. Then, it may reach Him.”

“Are you a monk, not a mage?”

“Close enough.”

When Ricardt teased Hashim, he smiled with his eyes still closed. When was the last time I prayed, anyway?

Ricardt hugged his sword to his chest and crouched on the hillside, gazing down at the city.

He saw people just waking up, stepping out into the streets. A navy-colored breeze brushed gently against Ricardt’s face.

He thought deeply about his past, both his previous life and the current one. He couldn’t recall everything, but fragments drifted back to him. Were those regrets, or wishes?

The strongest swordsman in the world often carried the deepest burdens.

He recalled something that had happened long ago in the Order of Judgement. Regaining lost memories had happened to him too. Or had he just wanted to forget? Had he simply refused to accept them?

The more he reflected on himself, the less he knew. That much was certain. That he knew nothing.

And so, when past and present reached out to touch one another, he prayed, simply recalling the emotions he had felt in that moment.

Holding the sword close to him, Ricardt closed his eyes.

Let me be someone who weeps quietly. Whether it is out of joy, repentance, or simple sorrow.

Like the smile of a baby in a mother’s arms, like the sun rising at the dawn of anguish, like the mist settling softly over a bountiful land, like the water dripping from the tip of a forged blade, like white mourning clothes, not black.

Let me be someone who weeps quietly like that...

Perhaps he had dozed off briefly, but when Ricardt opened his eyes again, the sun had already risen, it was morning. Hashim was still by his side, and pilgrims were coming up the sacred hill in small groups.

“Let’s go.”

Hashim said. Ricardt stood up.

Hashim led Ricardt around the ancient ruins. The Pond of Veda, the Prophet’s Tomb, the temple built on the spot where another prophet ascended, places like that.

Some places were crowded, others sparse. Some sites were filled mostly with Franken people, others with Salaman people.

After touring the sacred ancient ruins, the two men headed to the market, already bustling with people since morning, and bought travel supplies from the merchants. Dried rations, tools for lighting fires, and a few pieces of firewood. That was all.

With a single sword and a light backpack, they set off once again.

Had his faith deepened? Hard to say. But one thing was clear: beside him walked a heretic, a mage, and a friend.

“Hashim, what wish did you make?”

“I have no wish. I only pray.”

“So what did you pray for?”

“Do Franken people ask others about their prayers?”

“Not really, but I was curious.”

“I prayed that you would reach the headquarters of the Order of the Flame Knights, meet your brother, and live out a happy life with your family.”

“...Really?”

“Why?”

“Not something like asking to recover your lost memories?”

“That’s a fate I must bear. But you are my first friend, aren’t you?”

“...Damn. That’s kind of embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“Well, now I feel like I should’ve prayed for you to regain your memories too. I feel like I owe you.”

Hashim paused for a moment in thought, then smiled gently and said,

“Take your time paying it back.”

“Hahahaha!”

Ricardt threw his head back and laughed heartily.

Different religions, different birthplaces, yet somehow, the swordsman and the mage seemed to get along remarkably well.

Who could say what connected the two? Perhaps this, too, was a miracle of God.

In the Lunadan region, where the temperature difference between day and night was stark, mornings were fairly chilly, but it would soon warm up and become hot again. Then they’d walk in the shade and rest when needed.

With someone to walk beside him through all of it, Ricardt did not feel lonely in this unfamiliar land.

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