Chapter 13
Temple of the Fallen Throne (3)
“A covenant...?”
The words that left the Fallen Throne’s lips came out of nowhere.
“But I’m not your summoner.”
—It does not matter who summoned me. You and I are the only ones here, and you are also within the bounds of the covenant magic circle. The conditions have been met.
“Even so, why make a covenant with me, of all people?”
The word covenant carried considerable weight.
It was not something he could casually accept as a mere gesture of goodwill.
—Because we can satisfy each other’s desires.
—Your desire for magic.
—My desire for restoration.
Once one ascended to the rank of a Throne, could they perceive the desires hidden within a person without being told?
The Fallen Throne’s voice was strangely soothing. It seemed to resonate from the depths of some unfathomable abyss, gently dismantling the listener’s wariness.
Kaspar looked at the flower petals strewn across the floor.
“Jerpet probably wanted something similar.”
Jerpet had known that the Fallen Throne sought to reclaim its place as a “Throne.”
And he had intended to demand power in return for aiding that process.
But now, Jerpet had been reduced to a pile of petals.
“If I refuse your offer, will I end up like Jerpet as well?”
It was a pointed question, but the Fallen Throne responded with a leisurely smile.
—You misunderstand. The situations are similar, but not quite the same. First of all, Jerpet wanted “more.”
“More...?”
—He sought to steal my Throne.
Kaspar’s eyes trembled.
Usurp a Throne...?
—He was arrogant indeed. I do not know whether he was consumed by vengeance or genuinely believed himself capable of bearing such a rank, but it would be unfair to place you on the same level as him.
—You seek nothing more than the endless pursuit of magic.
The doctrine of Radiance emphasized the infinite gulf between divinity and mortals.
And because Kaspar was so accustomed to that doctrine, the shock was all the greater.
A human tried to usurp the rank of a divine being.
Even more astonishing was the Fallen Throne’s reaction when mentioning the attempt.
It didn’t say it was impossible.
It had merely called Jerpet arrogant for believing he could bear it.
Then again, now that I think about it...
Even the scriptures of Radiance occasionally mentioned “Ascended Gods.”
They were beings who had been born mortal but later attained divinity, standing in contrast to the “Eternal Gods,” who had always existed.
Yet even they had merely been “granted” their rank by a higher power. They had not attained it by usurping someone else’s divinity.
The Fallen Throne continued.
—And the reason you are standing before me with your mind and body intact is not because I made an exception for you or showed you favor. It is simply because that is the kind of being you have always been.
“You make it sound as though I’m immune to you.”
—The truth is far more complicated, but that is not entirely wrong. It is because...
The Fallen Throne stopped speaking and turned its head toward the stairs.
—Someone is coming.
“...?”
Kaspar could not hear anything. Did the senses of higher beings transcend human perception to such an extent?
—Kaspar.
“Yes.”
—I understand your hesitation. This must still feel far too unfamiliar and sudden.
—You do not have to make your choice immediately.
—But allow me to offer something that may help you decide.
The Fallen Throne raised a hand. The black petals scattered across the floor swirled together like a whirlwind and formed a single rose.
Its petals appeared hollow, yet when Kaspar peered into them, they resembled a pitch-black night sky filled with countless tiny stars.
Flash!
—Take it.
“This is...”
—A sacred relic of mine. A fragment of me resides within it.
—Keep it on your person, and it will become your shadow and walk beside you.
—At times, it will serve as your adviser. At others, your helper.
—It will help you learn even more magic.
Even more magic...
Kaspar accepted the black rose from the Fallen Throne.
Its surface was as smooth as a gemstone, and it had six leaves and six thorns.
Then, the moment Kaspar received the flower, the Fallen Throne vanished as though it had never been there.
The fragrance and shadows that had filled the chamber disappeared without a trace as well. It was as if they had never existed in the first place.
With the Fallen Throne gone, the underground chamber returned to its original gloomy appearance as though nothing had happened.
While Kaspar stood there in a daze, he heard approaching footsteps.
Creak.
The door opened, revealing Allen.
When Allen spotted Kaspar standing alone in the basement, his face lit up.
“Kaspar!”
He must have fought fiercely on his way here, for his short, curly brown hair was stained red with blood.
“Are you all right?”
“Magic circles and grimoires...”
Allen strode closer and looked around.
“My God, this must be Jerpet’s hideout. Where is he?”
“He’s dead.”
Allen froze.
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
“My God... You defeated Jerpet? All by yourself?”
Allen’s jaw dropped.
“That’s insane! I knew you weren’t ordinary, but you’re incredible! Where’s the body?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Huh? What do you mean, there isn’t one?”
“To be precise, he tried to summon a being he could not handle, and his body disintegrated.”
A question mark practically appeared above Allen’s head. What in the world was that supposed to mean?
“Let’s get out of here first. Since there’s no body... we should take Jerpet’s belongings with us. We’ll need them to collect the reward.”
Instead of answering, Kaspar stared intently at Allen’s face.
“What? Is there something on my face?”
“No.”
“You’re acting awfully strange.”
Allen wandered around the chamber, gathering Jerpet’s grimoires and several documents needed to manufacture dream powder.
Kaspar watched him closely the entire time.
“Whew. He really was a member of the Metal Magic Tower. Every one of these books belongs to that school. Come on, Kaspar. Let’s go. This should be enough even without his head.”
Despite Allen’s urging, Kaspar did not hurry after him. He merely continued staring.
“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting strange for a while. Are you hurt? Did you injure yourself somewhere? Do you need me to support you?”
When Allen approached, Kaspar took a step back. He regarded Allen with an even sharper gaze.
“Who are you?”
“What? What’s gotten into you all of a sudden...? Is this a joke? It’s me. Allen.”
Allen’s eyes widened, seemingly bewildered by Kaspar’s abrupt reaction.
Meanwhile, Kaspar’s eyes remained perfectly steady as he stared at Allen.
“When I saw you at the entrance, you were clearly one of the guards. Now you’re wearing my companion’s face.”
“What? What are you talking about? One of the guards?”
Kaspar did not hesitate any longer.
He immediately lashed out at the Allen-faced figure with Wild Claw.
Whoosh!
His opponent nimbly evaded the attack with a backward somersault.
“Whoa!”
He had barely managed to dodge thanks to his remarkable reflexes, escaping by a hair’s breadth.
As if to prove just how close it had been, a few severed strands of hair fluttered to the floor, changing from brown to yellow as they fell.
Once separated from his body, the disguise was dispelled.
“Looks like there’s no point trying to bluff my way out of this.”
The figure wearing Allen’s face scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“Let me ask you one thing. How did you know?”
“There were markings above your neck... No, strong traces of magic.”
Kaspar drew upon Wild Claw once more, preparing for a second attack.
The man’s face went pale.
“Whoa, wait... Wait! You’re completely serious this time, aren’t you? I have no intention of fighting you!”
He ran a hand down his face. Allen’s features vanished, revealing the handsome face of a pale-blond-haired man.
“There. Satisfied? Satisfied?”
“...So the guard’s face wasn’t your real face either.”
“Of course not. Have you ever seen a spy wandering through enemy territory with his real face exposed?”
His voice also changed from Allen’s to a softer one. It perfectly suited his delicate-looking features.
“A spy? Enemy territory...? Are you saying you don’t work for Jerpet?”
“Huh? Of course I don’t. Who would willingly serve such a vile mage?”
“Then where did you come from?”
A momentary look of hesitation crossed the man’s face, as though he were wondering whether he should reveal it.
Soon, however, he nodded.
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s not as though I came here to do anything evil... On my mother’s orders, I was monitoring this place—a newly emerging faction in the neighboring district.”
“Your mother?”
“That’s right. My mother is Griella, the Firefly Witch, who lives in seclusion within the refugee settlement and watches over all its refugees.”
“The Firefly Witch... Griella.”
Kaspar thought to himself.
The Dream Powder Merchant and the Firefly Witch.
The people in the refugee settlement certainly have unusual titles.
“As you know, Jerpet was involved in plenty of shady dealings. If he had merely been using dream powder to help people forget their painful reality, Mother wouldn’t have concerned herself with him.”
The man began explaining rapidly.
“But her exceptional intuition told her something was wrong, so she sent me here. I’m not trying to boast, but I’m quite skilled in disguise magic, despite how I may look. Though you did see through me.”
He was certainly telling the truth.
Kaspar knew he would have been completely fooled if not for the markings encircling the man’s neck. That was how meticulously crafted his disguises were.
“So, did you discover anything?”
“As he continued increasing the purity of the dream powder and observing the refugees’ reactions, I began to suspect that he was using them as test subjects for some kind of scheme. I couldn’t figure out what that scheme was, but seeing this place has given me a fairly good idea.”
He had a point. The walls were covered in writing, and a magic circle had been drawn across the floor.
Anyone could tell that this chamber had been created to summon something.
“Hand those over first.”
Kaspar held out his hand, demanding the grimoire and documents the man was carrying.
He did not lower his guard.
If he makes any suspicious move...
Whether the man tried to flee or fight back did not matter. Kaspar would immediately unleash his second attack.
Unlike the first, which had merely been a warning, this one would carry unmistakable killing intent.
Perhaps sensing Kaspar’s thoughts, the man obediently handed over the grimoire and documents.
“Tch. I took them because I thought they might help Mother... I never expected to encounter someone capable of seeing through my identity.”
Despite his words, he did not seem particularly disappointed.
“What’s your name?”
Kaspar asked as he collected the grimoire and documents.
“My name?”
“Yes.”
For some reason, Kaspar felt that he should remember this man’s name. It was pure intuition.
Apparently finding the question unexpected, the man twirled a lock of his pale-yellow hair around one finger and thought for a moment.
“My name... My name, huh? I’ve been called by so many names. But most people call me Changeling.”
“Changeling... It suits you.”
“Doesn’t it? I think so too.”
“In any case, are you certain Jerpet is dead?”
“I’m certain.”
“I see. Farewell, Kaspar.”
Changeling nodded and turned toward the stairs by which he had entered.
So suddenly?
“Where are you going?”
Apparently amused by Kaspar’s reaction, Changeling smiled.
He looked back as though wondering why Kaspar would even ask.
“Where am I going? If the person I was monitoring is dead, then a spy should return to where he came from. I need to report Jerpet’s death to Mother.”
Kaspar was dumbfounded by the answer.
He isn’t wrong, but that was far too abrupt.
The shift was so drastic that Changeling almost seemed like someone who acted on every passing impulse.
Still... It would be strange to stop someone I only met today from leaving.
Changeling gave Kaspar a calm smile.
“I hope we meet again someday, intriguing boy who saw through my true nature.”
In the blink of an eye, Changeling disappeared up the stairs.
Kaspar sat down on a nearby chair and caught his breath for a moment. He then gathered the grimoire and documents before climbing the stairs.
When he finally emerged from the manufacturing room, dazzling sunlight enveloped him. It felt as though he were seeing the sun for the first time in months.
“Kaspar!”
“Kaspar!!”
Allen and the others, all covered in blood, greeted him by drawing their swords.
They drew their swords?
“Phew.”
Why?
Now left alone, Kaspar finally let out a sigh.
The Dream Powder Merchant, the Bride of the Black Rose, and Changeling.
The moment that breathless succession of encounters came to an end, the tension unconsciously drained from his body.
“You bastard. Is it true that you were working with Jerpet?”
Kaspar could feel a headache coming on.
It did not take long to clear up the misunderstanding.
“That wasn’t Jerpet?”
Allen asked again with a startled expression. Just to be safe, Kaspar examined the area around his neck before relaxing.
“No. It wasn’t Jerpet. It was someone else.”
Contrary to Kaspar’s expectations, the journey back was uneventful. Every last remnant of Jerpet’s forces had disappeared.
“So you’re saying someone disguised himself as Jerpet and ordered the guards to withdraw?”
Zrek asked incredulously.
Kaspar nodded.
“Yes. Jerpet was with me the entire time.”
While Kaspar had been confronting Jerpet, Allen and the others had been fighting the guards from behind the safety of the shield barrier, trying to help him.
Their strategy had infuriated the guards: they would rush out, cut down a few enemies, and immediately retreat behind the shield whenever things became dangerous.
However, their wounds had gradually accumulated as they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
Then Jerpet suddenly emerged from inside.
He announced that he had reached an understanding with Kaspar and ordered everyone to withdraw.
Some of the guards, already having shed blood, voiced their displeasure. Nevertheless, Jerpet’s commands were absolute.
After “Jerpet” departed with the guards, Allen and the others were thrown into confusion.
Before they could even make sense of the situation, Kaspar appeared.
The man who had just left was not Jerpet? The real Jerpet was already dead, his body gone without a trace?
None of them found it easy to believe. Only after seeing the empty basement and the documents describing the dream-powder manufacturing process did they finally accept Kaspar’s account.
In the end, Kaspar decided to leave the thinking until after he had enjoyed a long sleep and quickened his pace.
The gates of Wintersteel began to appear in the distance.
The documents contained highly classified information that Jerpet never would have surrendered while alive.
In addition to the grimoire and documents, Allen and the others had gathered as many other items as they could carry before returning to the surface.
As they made their way toward Wintersteel, they proposed all manner of theories about the identity of the person who had disguised himself as Jerpet.
Kaspar walked silently beside them.
The Fallen Throne, the sacred relic, the Firefly Witch, and Changeling...
The request had been resolved without a hitch, but his mind was in turmoil.
He tried to imagine how these new discoveries might become entangled with his life in the future, but it was not easy.
He had far too little information.
And more than anything else, Kaspar himself was utterly exhausted.
“....”