Chapter 1032: Landmark (19)
Jutiya’s message, which unhesitatingly spoke of the reason for Ars Nova’s demise.
Immediately after, a dark crimson nosebleed trickled down her lips.
There was no time to react to the drops of blood splattering.
Because right after a bizarre sound, as if something was snapping inside Jutiya’s body, her left hand exploded on the spot.
Boommm!
Severe injuries, as flesh, muscle, and nerves were torn apart and crushed on the spot.
Blood poured from the severed wrist like a faucet turned on.
An eerie sense of incongruity, as if forcibly draining the remaining lifespan from the reservoir of Jutiya Heiberk’s life.
“You…”
Even Lennok’s face hardened instantly from the fatal injury.
But Jutiya chuckled, her face instantly pale.
“Oh, it really did work, didn’t it?”
“……”
“I thought my head would’ve popped just now.”
Judging by the amount of blood she’d lost, there must have been brain damage, and her left hand had exploded, leaving no trace of debris.
Yet, even Lennok couldn’t help but be astonished by her decision to disregard her life and break The Prohibition right then and there.
Wiping the blood flowing down with one hand, Jutiya spoke as if reviewing her actions.
“I was lucky in many ways. You knew about The Prohibition, so I chose a suitable part, and it fit perfectly.”
“……Can you call that lucky?”
“But I can’t use this twice. It feels less like bypassing The Prohibition and more like using a sacrifice to share the backlash. Next time, it’ll definitely crush my brain.”
The limitations that arise when Armas von Anathema’s remains are used once without proper processing.
Had Jutiya grasped the truth Lennok learned through Peshia Grisbern by directly making her own body the test subject?
Seeing her satisfied, considering the massive bleeding that instantly paled her complexion a cheap price, Jutiya was clearly not normal either.
Standing before a silent Lennok, Jutiya wiped the blood off her cardigan sleeve and chuckled.
“Well, was that enough information for what you wanted to hear right now?”
“……”
The fact that the Black Consumer Project’s ultimate goal in Ars Nova was aligned with the same objective.
Lennok was considerably shocked by this fact, yet at the same time, he naturally understood.
Yes, it was strange that a central city had been destroyed simply by accumulating all the failures of this world.
If Ars Nova and Vulcan’s ascension plans were sensitively intertwined, or almost identical to the same degree.
If one city had to bear the burden of all the failures that occurred in both cities, leading to the central city’s demise.
Having thought that far, a question naturally spilled from Lennok’s lips.
“If Vulcan’s failures led to Ars Nova’s destruction, then you lost your homeland against your will.”
“……”
“Even The Prohibition linked to the project wasn’t originally yours.”
Lennok looked down at Jutiya.
“But you don’t seem to feel anything about that fact.”
If the Black Consumer Project in Vulcan had caused the destruction of Ars Nova.
And it wouldn’t be strange for Ars Nova’s central nobles to resent Vulcan or those involved in the project.
But none of the nobles Lennok had met so far—Jutiya, Thorben, and even Armas von Anathema—had shown any such emotion.
On the contrary, Jutiya even seemed to have known Olivera Ron Maize, who was involved in the project, from a long time ago.
“Well, I’m not sure how to put it.”
Jutiya chuckled and covered the severed part of her wrist with one hand.
At that moment, something sprang out of thin air, adhering to her wrist and stopping the bleeding.
“It’s just that not everyone born in the great Golden Land was simply blessed.”
“……”
“Do you want to know why we continue to fulfill our roles even after our homeland was destroyed?”
Jutiya asked, raising Armas von Anathema’s possession in her hand.
“If you use this, you might understand a little.”
Creak!
She pushed it into the coffin placed in the center of the chapel, then closed the lid with her remaining left hand.
As the coffin closed, Cyrus Ardeltio, the Undertaker, holding a holy book, stood before it.
He raised a lifeless hand, like a machine producing output based on input, and caressed the coffin.
Bwaaang!!
At that moment, the sound of an unseen choir’s trumpet echoed loudly in the air.
A shimmering light, like a heat haze, grew from beneath the coffin, beginning to transport Armas von Anathema’s remains out of the church.
Cyrus Ardeltio, holding the holy book, walked ahead of the coffin as it began its procession, leaving the church.
“Follow me, Adamant Thunder. The funeral ceremony is about to begin.”
Jutiya, her face pale, tilted her head.
“If you’re lucky, you might even glimpse a fragment of a dream within Armas von Anathema’s karma.”
Oooohhh!!!
Stepping out of the church, the green meadow had already turned crimson.
Red spider lilies, said to bloom on the borders of hell, now covered the entire Domain in a vibrant scarlet.
Above the crimson field, the coffin, shrouded in a faint haze, slowly floated.
Whoooooosh…
Each step Cyrus Ardeltio took at the front was accompanied by the somber, drawn-out sound of the choir’s trumpet.
It echoed slowly, distorted like the moans of the dead.
[Aaaahhh….]
From all sides of the meadow covered in red spider lilies, faint figures rose and approached the coffin.
As if only now truly perceiving Armas von Anathema’s death, they silently approached, gazed at the coffin, and lined up behind the procession.
Hundreds of spirits formed a line behind Armas von Anathema’s coffin, becoming a colossal procession.
This was the Domain, Funeral Ship to the Sea of Return.
The entire Domain of the Undertaker responded to this ritual, altering the environment and moving.
Lennok and Olivera Ron Maize, standing in the middle of the line, followed the procession, and Jutiya, at the very back, slowly waved her hand through the air.
The action of a scribe, seemingly recording and organizing the present moment on an invisible screen.
Lennok, silently observing the surrounding scenery, unconsciously murmured.
“The entire Domain functions solely for the pacification of the dead?”
[Cyrus Ardeltio is now a human who lives only for that purpose.]
Olivera Ron Maize, walking silently beside Lennok, spoke.
[Accepting his given role, fulfilling his purpose as a cog, and scattering even that reason beyond a distant conclusion….]
“……”
[Even if his fate was forged by another’s will, by perfectly adhering to it, he gains an unparalleled justification.]
She murmured, looking at the back of the Undertaker, who had now advanced far ahead at the front of the endlessly long procession.
[As the ritual proceeds, he descends as a ‘phenomenon’ in this place, and during that time, consequences without a cause follow.]
“Consequences without a cause?”
[Yes. For instance….]
The entire sky of the Domain turned crimson and slowly revolved.
Amidst the twilight glow that lit the vision in scarlet, Olivera Ron Maize turned her gaze.
[They used to call it a ‘revolving lantern’ in vulgar terms, didn’t they?]
Whoosh…!!
Beyond the Domain’s sky, the sunset glow deepened even further.
The crimson twilight became so intense that even Olivera Ron Maize, standing right beside him, was hard to perceive.
At some point, it pulled Lennok’s consciousness into a completely different space-time.
“……”
He could refuse if he wanted.
He could regain his senses and watch the funeral ceremony conclude in reality.
But instead of doing so, Lennok surrendered himself to the gravitational pull of the consciousness.
Because he understood why Olivera Ron Maize had just explained this phenomenon to him.
Armas von Anathema’s last moments as a human being.
The memories of a being born in a central city, exiled, eventually joining hands with the Pontiff, falling, and ultimately dying at Lennok’s hands, were here.
As Lennok understood this and slowly closed his eyes, turning his consciousness inwards.
The scenery behind his eyelids transformed, and instead of darkness, a dazzling vista appeared in his mind.
Whoooosh…!!!
Golden pure radiance surging all around.
A glorious city, sculpted beautifully from floating stone.
His blurry vision prevented him from clearly seeing the ground, so he forced his gaze upwards.
A dazzling golden sun cast its light over the city from above.
Transport ships, capable of enduring even beyond the sea of darkness, continuously carried people.
Memories of those days, enjoying the continent’s golden age, yet constantly searching for a better life and conclusion.
He had always loved this great and brilliant city.
[Armas von Anathema.]
Heavy amethyst chains clanked, bound to both wrists.
A transcendent restraint that bound the will-thought and mental image manifestation of the target, crushing even their will.
Wasn’t it said to be an artifact processed and isolated using Jindun’s barrier spellcraft?
[The Ascendant Pyeonram will arrive soon.]
“……”
[They said he was delayed finding an agent to guard the Well of the Great Forest. Moving such a heavy body would require preparation.]
“……”
[Jindun agreed, and Crimson will act as proxy for the authority. Seonjong himself is mediating, so the timing won’t be off.]
Silence followed.
The voice, which had been standing silently, eventually spoke to Armas von Anathema.
[This is your last.]
“……”
[By the name of the Council of Fate, we approve of banishing the name Armas von Anathema from this world forever, today.]
Armas von Anathema.
Memories of the day Armas von Anathema’s name was banished from the world, beyond the central city.
Lennok was glimpsing the memories of Ars Nova before its destruction.
This wasn’t Lennok’s first time glimpsing someone else’s memories.
Though not by his own will, he had seen the memories of several Transcendent individuals while delving into the world’s secrets.
He had gazed upon the desires, unfulfilled wishes, and hopes of those who sought to save the world, and sometimes, he had tasted their despair without reservation.
Therefore, Lennok wasn’t particularly surprised by the act of seeing Armas von Anathema’s life flashing before his eyes—
But he couldn’t help but be astonished by the scene of memories he encountered as a result.
Ars Nova, the central city already destroyed as a result of the project.
Memories of the day Armas von Anathema was banished from that city, said to have boasted the continent’s most powerful civilization.
He had not expected to encounter memories of that day, which seemed completely unrelated to him, at this very moment.
‘Is this the memory that remained most intensely within Armas von Anathema?’
A dark prison, where the scenery outside the window was dimly reflected.
A young man with blue hair, his head bowed, both wrists bound by amethyst chains.
He could guess why Armas von Anathema’s memories began here.
Perhaps this was the period he had revisited and contemplated the most throughout his life.
Memories of the days Armas von Anathema found most agonizing and mulled over in his lifetime.
‘I never thought I’d be able to revisit Ars Nova before its destruction in this way….’
Lennok, watching Armas von Anathema from beside him, turned his gaze out the prison window and clicked his tongue.
Because the scenery of Ars Nova visible through the bars was blurred and distorted like a mosaic.
It wasn’t because Lennok’s perception or cognitive abilities were inferior to Armas von Anathema’s memories.
It was probably due to Armas von Anathema, then confined in the prison, being too distracted to notice the outside scenery.
‘……’
A sense of vastness, like peering at golden wheat fields from the distant horizon.
But even from the blurred outlines, one could infer how mighty a civilization Ars Nova had built.
Blurred images of colossal structures densely packed into every visible space.
Something golden filled the entire view from one end of the horizon to the other, soaring as if to pierce the sky.
A central city that sought to conquer the heavens and the earth, time and space, and even the sea beyond the world.
Was it more magnificent because it wasn’t fully visible, or was he simply overwhelmed by glimpsing fragments of its reality?
As Lennok silently pondered this thought.
Whoosh!
The golden city reflected outside the window suddenly transformed into a gloomy, purplish sky.
‘……?’
A powerful sense of incongruity, as if the entire screen had been replaced on the spot.
At the same time, a soft female voice echoed from beyond the window frame.
“Pyeonram was too late, so I had no choice but to use my Spell-Word.”
“……”
“If the timing wasn’t met, all the preparations would have been for naught. Please understand.”
A gentle tone, like comforting a child. A voice with a clear resonance, like ringing bells.
But its timbre was authoritarian, as if it would not tolerate refusal.
A contradictory being, simultaneously embodying consideration and coercion in a single utterance.
An overwhelming aura, impossible to conceal even within a fragment of memory.
‘This is….’
A white-haired woman, wearing lavish, flowing ceremonial robes, smiled and shook her head.
She showed the passage of time, like an old elder, yet not a single wrinkle graced her face.
Armas von Anathema slowly raised his gaze, and a low, sunken reply emerged from his lips.
“……Jinwa.”