Chapter 292: The Meaning of the Message (2)

What’s important is understanding the conditions required to interfere with time and space, using mana as the power source.

Even if he couldn’t perfectly interpret those conditions, simply grasping the patterns and obtaining the data would vastly expand what he could do.

The principles that constitute time and space. The environment construction and prerequisite establishment needed to interfere with them with mana.

This series of actions was precisely what Lennok had achieved every time he created a unique spell of the Creation series.

The hope he had left as a far-fetched possibility now concretized in his mind.

Just thinking about it made Lennok’s eyes sharpen, and his back straighten.

Even while suffering from the after-effects of doping, he couldn’t stop his research.

His sharply honed concentration didn’t waver for a moment, though he hadn’t forced it.

A surge of elation, as if he could immediately deploy his Domain again.

Every moment spent researching the traces of the ruins and peering into the rift was filled more with curiosity and anticipation than pain.

Just as much as risking his life against a powerful foe, moments spent exploring the truths of the world were equally enjoyable and brilliant.

On such occasions, he would sometimes think that perhaps waking up in this world wasn’t so bad after all.

The Ilwon Family’s mansion remained brightly lit throughout the night, its lights never dimming.

“What an arrogant fellow.”

Oren, stroking his beard, spoke in a haughty tone.

“You turn the Fortress upside down, and then you planned to leave without even showing your face?”

“You’re hardly in a state to lecture me. It won’t have much impact.”

Getting angry with a gaunt complexion, having only just risen from a sickbed, didn’t feel genuine.

No, it probably wasn’t even genuine to begin with.

Oren, too, would understand that expecting Lennok’s help any further would be greedy.

After all, the positions Lennok held nominally weren’t just the title of an outside director for the Cartel.

Thus, Oren, as if nothing had happened, sank into his chair and let out a low chuckle.

“Well, I suppose so. What’s there to say to a fellow who tried to cut a deal with me, even as a mere proxy?”

“……”

“Now that I think about it, the other family heads suggested I discuss giving you the title of an External Family Head.”

At Oren’s words, which sounded like an afterthought, Lennok replied wryly.

“I won’t be the kind of family head you’re hoping for.”

“It’s called a family head, but it’s actually a position given to important guests of the Fortress. Since your proxy status is gone, you’ll need a plausible title to keep frequenting the Fortress.”

Indeed, he already had plenty of nominal titles hanging off him, so adding one more seemed unlikely to cause trouble.

Lennok casually brushed his coat near the shoulder, then extended his hand and spoke.

“This?”

In his hand hung a thin cloak woven from shadow feathers.

The armor Asi had retrieved from Oren during their final battle and given to Lennok.

But Oren, upon seeing it, simply shook his head.

“As a family head, I cannot take back something I’ve bestowed. Isn’t it the worst etiquette to give and then take away?”

“……”

“Well, even if not, there’s a similar artifact in the family vault. It wouldn’t be bad if I could add that as compensation for this matter.”

“Right… if you say so.”

Saying that, Lennok calmly took the cloak made of shadow feathers.

Oren handed over the cloak nonchalantly, but from Lennok’s perspective, it was surprisingly useful.

An item crafted to allow changes in appearance, insulation, and ventilation, provided one had some understanding of shadow-type spells.

While its durability wasn’t particularly high for a clothing artifact, its convenience was considerable.

It could even remember and reproduce the shape of the coat Lennok was currently wearing, so it wasn’t unreasonable to consider it a unique convenience permitted to shadow sorcerers.

“So, was there any harvest from the ruins?”

Oren leaned back with a languid expression and asked.

“You’ve been recuperating at the mansion for a while after the incident, so there must be a reason you’re only visiting me now.”

As with all outstanding sorcerers, Oren knew Lennok was an exceptional scholar and researcher, by no means inferior to other wizards.

If Lennok had obtained the opportunity to freely research such an arcane site as the ruins, he wouldn’t easily leave Palgung Fortress without grasping some significant outcome.

Even if Oren were in Lennok’s shoes, he would have thought similarly.

Lennok chuckled, having more or less caught on to his thoughts.

“Just glimpsing a cross-section of the world is as good as a major serendipity for sorcerers. The results exceeded expectations. All that’s left is to go back and organize the data.”

“A cross-section?”

Lennok briefly explained to Oren the rift hidden within the ruins and the concept of a cross-section of the world.

He couldn’t reveal everything, given the cult’s involvement, but he would need to explain a certain extent if he wished to use the ruins again later.

However, after hearing Lennok’s explanation, Oren shook his head with a strange expression.

“……When the previous Fortress Head was alive, the family heads, including myself, frequented the ruins many times, but we felt nothing. It doesn’t seem like something just anyone can do.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. The Fortress Head was very proactive in researching the phenomena and secrets occurring in the ruins. He believed knowing that would allow him to negotiate on equal footing with the elders of the City Council later.”

“……”

“Until the Ibon Family Head refused to share the ruins and shut himself in his home, access to the ruins was free, but that’s all in the past now.”

Oren, with a dim expression, silently cast his gaze behind Lennok.

“A rift in the world… that’s too distant a tale for an old man like me.”

What he was looking at wasn’t merely the scenery before his eyes, but perhaps the future awaiting Palgung Fortress.

The collapsed authority of The Triad. Challengers creeping up from below, and the City Council that would intervene over the existence of the ruins.

The responsibilities he would have to shoulder and overcome in the future would be more than one or two.

But even knowing all this, it was Oren’s own will that led him to accept the position of Fortress Head, unable to abandon the residents of the Fortress.

“But in the face of the approaching future, ignorance is merely negligence. I understand its meaning well.”

Oren looked at Lennok with a resolute expression and slowly nodded.

“I, too, will focus on that fact and try to research the ruins. Though I believe it’s only possible for a sorcerer of your caliber…”

“The existence of three ruins created within Palgung Fortress is probably not a coincidence.”

Lennok replied.

“Such rare, hidden places that the Guido Cult would travel this far to seek out and focus on. The fact that three such places are concentrated within one area is extremely unusual. It’s highly likely to be the result of artificial experiments or the lingering effects of a specific spell.”

“……You mean?”

“The Black Consumer Project. If we gather information about its secrets, we might learn something.”

The forbidden arcane art that the elders of the City Council had chosen, gathering all the megacity’s resources.

One of the megacity’s worst kept secrets, surrounded by rumors, its true nature still hidden.

The head of the Cartel, Olivera Ron Maize, seemed to know something about that project.

If the Cartel held the origin of the project and Palgung Fortress held its aftermath, then who knew the process between the beginning and the end?

Perhaps the term The Triad itself, from the beginning….

Lennok stopped his thoughts there. Going further would only be baseless delusion.

But Oren, too, seemed to recall something from Lennok’s words and slowly nodded.

“Yes… amidst everything changing, there’s no reason for ancient taboos to remain as rules. Your words aren’t wrong.”

He looked down at Lennok and said.

“Even for the upcoming negotiations with the City Council, I will gather information about that project.”

A space filled with pale white radiance.

Deep within a pure white temple, reaching the pinnacle of cleanliness where not even a speck of dust was tolerated.

Through a massive rift in the inner part of the temple, a house-sized sapphire crystal floated in the air.

In front of the crystal, easily hundreds of priests sat in devout postures, offering prayers.

Someone, kneeling with hands clasped, spoke.

“The 128th Apostle candidate, Walter Martinez, has returned to the side of God.”

“A regrettable turn of events.”

“His last confirmed destination was the megacity Vulcan, located in the southwestern plains of the continent… Due to the defensive lines surrounding the city’s outskirts, specific information is difficult to obtain, but we have confirmed a rapid expansion of authority granted to a bishop-level believer.”

“……”

No sooner had he finished speaking than hundreds of priests who had been praying together uniformly raised their heads and looked back at him.

Their gazes were so inorganic it sent shivers down one’s spine.

Yet, despite their incomprehensible attention, the priest quietly relayed his message.

“It appears highly probable that the Apostle’s descent was successful.”

“To think he accomplished that much in a demonic city like that… A valuable talent has been lost.”

A man, walking with his hands clasped behind his back, let out a sigh from behind the priest.

Thick glasses and delicate features. A nervous aura, more akin to a scholar or researcher than a cult priest.

“Even when I worked with that black wizard who sought the power of Extinction, I thought to myself, that city certainly has a lot of strange people.”

The man quietly thought of Craig Tillion, the black wizard he had lent his aid to.

The end of the Outer Sea. Craig’s idea of programming the preserved information of Extinction Acrotlynia, specifically, to reproduce its form within an artificial domain, remained deeply impressive to the man.

He had lent his power because he liked the arrogance of trying to interpret divine doctrine in a completely different way, but it ended in tragedy due to the actions of a freelancer named Van.

He didn’t even consider that the person who stopped this Apostle’s descent might be the same wizard from back then.

“Well, if a vacancy has appeared in the Apostle candidate position, then we need to select a new Missionary.”

At the man’s casually spoken words, the complexions of those praying inside the temple turned pale.

The man, uncaring of such a chilling atmosphere, looked around and chuckled.

“As it happens, many brethren are gathered here, so shall we select a Missionary from this very spot?”

“I apologize for presuming, but…”

One of the sweating priests barely managed to squeeze out his voice.

“T-this southwestern branch of the cult, isn’t it established to observe and manage Vulcan, as well as the Autonomous Region and Claronis?”

“Continue.”

At the man’s words, as he adjusted his glasses, the priest’s face turned ashen, but the dice had already been cast.

The priest gritted his teeth and frantically racked his brain to persuade the man.

All other priests, kneeling around the sapphire crystal, looked at him with desperate gazes.

“Furthermore, we have recently been assigned the task of monitoring the movements of Machine City Makina… If the temple priests participate in the Missionary ritual, the branch’s operations might be completely paralyzed…”

There was no hesitation in serving the gods of the Outer Sea. The environment in which the priests grew up was too harsh for them to be swayed by a word like fanaticism.

However, participating in the Missionary ritual and becoming a Missionary was a completely different story.

The term ‘Apostle candidate’ merely sounded good; in reality, it was no different from a ghost that had lost its own body, with only its spirit remaining, seeking to possess another’s flesh.

No one welcomed the process of metamorphosis that completely shed the natural order and common sense of life.

But the man, even after hearing the priest’s protest, replied with a calm face.

“Brothers, listen closely. Priests can be brought in and replaced anytime, anywhere. Under clear evidence of God’s existence, gathering the light of faith is not a difficult task.”

“……”

“But the duty of the Missionary must not have a void, not even for a moment. I hope everyone understands what I mean.”

Simultaneously with his words, a faint radiance bloomed from the man’s hand and fell onto the pure white marble floor of the temple.

“N-no…!! Please!!”

“Save me, I don’t want to die!!”

“Aaaaargh!!”

Hundreds of priests screamed and wept profusely, but the man completely ignored them and turned his back.

As the man exited the temple, white-clad warriors appeared behind him and closed the temple doors.

The Missionary selection ritual was a process of grinding down hundreds of lives and bodies, leaving behind only a single will.

The manpower consumed in that process was no issue at all.

What was important was to select a Missionary as excellent as Walter Martinez, to ensure the success of the Apostle ritual, which might be possible in the future.

“Hyaaaaaaaah!!!”

The desperate screams echoing from within the temple. A struggle where flesh was torn to shreds.

A fishy smell of blood intensely spread beyond the door, drenching everything stickily.

Priests who were still alive desperately clawed at the temple door, but the warriors blocking the entrance didn’t budge.

“What a pity.”

The man muttered, looking up at the night sky.

“To think another Apostle could have been born if things had gone a little smoother… Things in this world certainly don’t go easily.”

“Isn’t it of little significance to you?”

A woman, clinging to him like a shadow, asked.

“Why would you, who has already completed the Missionary’s task and received a new body, lament and seek new brethren?”

From her perspective, it was natural that the man’s lament was incomprehensible.

Unlike Walter Martinez, who ultimately failed to persist as an Apostle, the man had completed the Missionary’s task long ago and received the body of an Apostle, becoming one of the specialized forces at the core of the cult.

Unlike most Apostles who were trapped in their own fanaticism and became inactive, the man was a peculiar individual within the cult, actively engaging in external activities and spreading the cult’s influence far and wide.

“Ghilain, that is truly an ignorant remark.”

The man chuckled and turned his head.

“Receiving the will of the apocalypse and becoming an Apostle does not mean one’s ties with the mortal world are completely severed. That phrase is more fitting for monsters like Ascendants.”

“Then…”

“On the contrary, it’s precisely because we can vaguely sense the sea they float in that… we come to despise the mortal world that binds us.”

Saying that, he slowly turned his back and placed his hand on the temple door.

“Therefore, we need more brethren. To walk the tightrope between madness and reason for a long time, we must not allow ourselves to be destroyed.”

“Kuaaaaaaaaaaah!!!”

The final scream echoing from within slowly faded, and the blood stench that had endlessly spread outside abruptly ceased.

Contemplating the temple’s interior, now devoid of even a breath, he slowly pushed open the door and murmured.

“But then again, who knows. That itself might have been Alkaid’s true wish…”

“……”

Hundreds of blood-red handprints were pressed on the opposite side of the door. Among the fallen, not a single person had intact fingernails.

A sight so gruesome that even the warriors holding the door recoiled.

“We can only do our best to witness the world’s end until the very last moment.”

The man said that and grinned.

A mountain of torn flesh, with no human form remaining.

From a pool of blood, a twisted spiritual entity was just beginning to bloom like a resplendent flower.