Chapter 434: Palace of Memory (4)

Antares looked down at the fallen Amila with an expressionless face, then released his grip.

Leaving the sound of her lifeless fall behind, he turned his gaze toward the bloody cephalopod that remained, still observing the scene.

Antares’s expressionless face changed, as if a screen had swapped, into a faint smile.

“Camlodal, it’s been a while. How have you been?”

“[…How could I be? The wound you inflicted back then still troubles me, lingering at the back of my head.]”

Camlodal replied slowly.

“[But because of the pain of that wound, I was able to forget my madness for a moment and devote myself to the cult… For that, I express my gratitude…]”

“That was certainly my mistake.”

Antares chuckled softly.

“I was in a hurry, thinking I had no time. I learned too late that failing to kill an Apostle only strengthens the cult’s power.”

“[I know you’ve been wandering the entire continent doing similar things… What you want isn’t just to hinder the cult’s long-cherished wish, is it?]”

Despite Camlodal’s sharp observation, Antares did not reply.

He merely smiled gently, a soft expression on his face.

Even after killing a dozen or so living beings with a single gesture just moments before, his expression remained unchanged.

This was because he understood how far those who had risen beyond merely serving the doom of the Outer Sea, reaching the ranks of priests and bishops, had strayed from humanity.

While everyone struggled for a better outcome, the unique nature of the cult was a variable that could never be overlooked.

Even if they wore the form of humans, their essence was already that of monsters, no longer truly human.

And wasn’t the very existence of the Apostles, the cult’s ultimate power serving the Pontiff at its peak, precisely that?

The blood gushing from the fallen priest’s heart weakened, and the mental network Amila had connected to was fading.

Antares lowered his head toward the slowly disintegrating cephalopod form and spoke.

“Next time we meet, it won’t end like this.”

“[Enough of your meaningless bluster. Before that, I’ll ask one thing.]”

The cephalopod glanced back at the fallen Amila and asked.

“[What did you say to Amila? There’s almost no information that doesn’t properly reach my ears, yet the conversation you two just had wasn’t translated in my mind.]”

“…I see. So it still can’t be heard.”

Antares nodded.

“That’s enough. Actually, that’s what I wanted to ask last.”

“[…What?]”

CRUMBLE!!

There was no further answer.

Because at the same moment Antares lifted his booted foot and brought it down, the entire cave collapsed.

CRASH!!

The corpses of the priests scattered among them were also buried under the rock, losing their form and turning into a handful of bloodstains.

Antares, who had somehow emerged from the cave, looked down at the scene he had created for a while before turning his head.

On a certain day, when all the principles and truths he knew lost their meaning and crumbled.

Antares had risked everything to glimpse the future, and in return, his own destiny was sealed.

Prophecy and precognition were never powers akin to omnipotence; even glimpsing the future at immense cost, there were still unknowable facts.

Even now, having observed and simultaneously sealed his own ending and ultimate fate, he could not give up as long as there was a future he could still change.

If he lost even a little balance among the countless branching points of the future, Antares’s very existence would shatter.

Even knowing this, Antares struggled to alter the process leading to the end, even if just slightly.

“Camila? It’s me. Please tell a client of yours named Evan that the matter has been resolved well.”

Antares pulled out a phone from his pocket, turned his steps toward the city, and made a call.

“Yes. Tell him there’s no need to worry about this matter. Tell him I won’t be charging any special fee. You can take the credit in my stead.”

A faint smile had somehow spread across Antares’s lips.

“If we know each other? Well… I suppose so. It’s not important. Let’s save it for a later enjoyment.”

There are things that cannot be known even when lifting the veil and glimpsing the future.

At some point, Antares welcomed ignorance more than understanding, believing that hope lay in what he didn’t know rather than what he did.

For the ending he had observed and understood was a tragedy utterly cruel, not just for himself but for everyone.

He could endure any pain if it meant stopping the mistakes that began with a moment of foolishness.

For Antares, bearing the karma meant precisely that.

Antares’s form slowly faded amidst the stone dust rising from the collapsing cave.

Only a cold silence remained on the undeveloped plateau where his footsteps had vanished.

“[It’s really rare for the Chief to step in personally, so consider yourself blessed.]”

Lennok, listening to Mila’s slightly boastful voice, chuckled.

“I see.”

“[Maybe he had a separate reason to be there because the cult was involved. As much as I’d like to say I pulled some strings…]”

Mila let out an embarrassed laugh from the other end of the line.

“[Anyway, our boss isn’t the type to remember favors for long.]”

“…Understood. Please convey my thanks on my behalf.”

“[Alright. But then it seems like we should refund the commission fee you paid. Strictly speaking, we handled the matter on our own initiative, so we were ordered not to accept payment.]”

“Antares said that?”

Lennok chuckled and shook his head.

“I made the request, and you fulfilled it, so I won’t accept a refund. Consider it the fee for conveying my regards to Mr. Antares.”

“[Hey, wait a minute, but he’s our Priscilla’s professor, and just taking the money for work done without charge…]”

Click!

Lennok, who had abruptly ended the call with Mila, stood up and let out a small sigh.

“Antares, huh…”

Leaning against the sun-drenched window of the research lab, Lennok frowned as he watched the faces of the passing undergraduates.

‘It can’t be a coincidence.’

Hadn’t he learned something about the secret Antares held when they faced each other just before heading to the Hanghasa Labyrinth?

He was a monster who, as the price for seeing the future, had fixed his own time in place.

How much of the future, to what extent he had observed and returned, and by what method it was possible, he couldn’t know.

If it was enough to determine the fate of an 8-level Peak of Extremes practitioner, then its outcome must have been significant.

The mere fact that Antares intervened at this particular moment was tantamount to proof that Amila Bainjer was a significant risk.

To what point in the future had Antares observed and returned? Who would be the survivors at the end of that future?

Would Lennok’s face also be among them?

“…”

It was a problem he couldn’t solve alone anyway.

But Lennok couldn’t stop thinking, even knowing that.

This was because if Antares’s strangely kind attitude from their first meeting stemmed from the secret he held, there was room for speculation.

If Antares’s actions were driven by the possibilities of the future he had observed, then there were two possibilities regarding his attitude towards Lennok.

‘Either he was with him at the end of the future Antares saw, or…’

He didn’t exist at all.

“…Since he’s back in the city, I might be able to meet him soon.”

At this point, with Adamant Thunder’s reputation soaring after defeating Madrich Onnion, he had no intention of acting rashly, but meeting Antares was a different matter.

He hadn’t fully realized it then, but the words Antares let slip just before departing for the Hanghasa Labyrinth had ultimately pierced the secret Jindun had hidden.

Antares, too, must have been aware of the desperate truth that there was no “next” in a different way than Jindun.

Considering that, he needed to meet him again at some point and have a proper conversation.

Why Antares, who clearly held fragments of prescience, still wandered various parts of the continent, having formed a superhuman group in the form of a mercenary office.

Now that he had acquired a new magic system, he might be able to hear the reason directly.

Lennok believed he had gained the minimum qualification to provide a new answer.

“[Master, if you don’t come back to your seat quickly, I’m going to delete the letters you’re typing one by one.]”

Behind Lennok, Davi, who was coiled up on the keyboard, complained.

“[You’re using me as a voice-recognition keyboard, so why are you lost in thought by yourself?]”

“…I had a few things to think about.”

Lennok cleared his throat, then obediently returned to his seat as Davi suggested.

In the corner of the lab, Davi sat perched on a laptop, diligently typing for Lennok.

Each time her plump paws pressed the keyboard, several keys would mash together, but the electrical signals she transmitted accurately recognized the characters, displaying the correct ones on screen.

Instead of Lennok, who found even prolonged typing tiresome, he had entrusted the typing to the cyber-spirit.

“[So, what are you trying to write, organizing all these magic theory related things?]”

“My second thesis. I promised the Dean. Considering the expo two months from now, I should start now.”

Lennok said that, then sat in front of Davi and stroked her thick, three-pronged tail.

Considering the spirit’s unusually strong attachment to Lennok recently, he needed to cherish Davi, even just to be prepared for any unforeseen possibilities.

“[…Your second thesis?]”

“I had a good idea related to entropy, something Amila Bainjer mentioned. It’ll be something that impacts the academic world far more than the substitution theory I first wrote.”

Beyond simply conveying groundbreaking theories or discoveries to academia, it could also enable those who understood it to infer something about the world’s end.

Lennok intended to unveil the truth about the ending, which had been shrouded in thick mystery, under the name of Evan, but only for those who could recognize it.

Even if someone hadn’t yet heard that truth, if they could perfectly understand this second thesis…

They too would be able to understand that the end was near.

However, that wasn’t all Lennok was aiming for.

“This way, it’ll reach the Sinclair Magic Tower even without me explicitly contacting them.”

He didn’t ask for much. Even if they couldn’t meet directly, it would be enough if this could convey that he was doing well.

As Lennok averted his gaze, thinking of the blonde wizard who was likely engrossed in research at this very moment, Davi flicked her tail and sighed.

“[I’ll just find their contact info right now and send a message. ‘I’m writing a new thesis.’ Isn’t that enough?]”

“…”

That day, Lennok momentarily set aside his second thesis and immersed himself in tail stimulation response experiments to evolve Davi into a Samihol.

The result was a spectacular failure.

Creak…

Light spread out from between the giant rotating lenses before his eyes.

The light, penetrating his retina, slowly seeped into his pupils, beginning to change its intensity to closely observe their state.

Lennok tried not to close his eyes, attempting to meet his own reflection in them.

“[Biological response is normal. You may look away.]”

As Olivera’s telepathy resonated, the heavy mechanical device that had approached right in front of him slowly retreated.

A bizarre form, as if a head had been attached to a giant telescope.

Olivera, casually pushing aside the telescope’s head which seemed to be waving, perched on a chair in the lab and spoke.

“[The stabilization process has been successfully completed. It’s almost a miracle, considering how recklessly you used your Mystic Eye, so thank the heavens.]”

“It was unavoidable if I wanted to quickly resolve the Madrich situation.”

Lennok replied, rubbing his eyes.

“Of course, I used it while calculating the consequences.”

If he hadn’t found Madrich’s hideout at that point and had been dragged around, the problem still wouldn’t be resolved.

Wasn’t it thanks to mimicking the power of The Seven Debts Jewels Mystic Eye with his right eye that he was able to locate Madrich’s memorial tower and recover all his military spirits and power?

“[Do you know how delicate human eyes are? Forcing the ability into them right after establishing the basic foundation was nothing short of madness. You should be more than thankful you didn’t go blind.]”

Although he had laid the groundwork for opening a superhuman ability in his right eye under Olivera’s guidance, suddenly mimicking The Seven Debts Jewels Mystic Eye was nothing short of insanity.

Not just any Mystic Eye, but a top-tier cause-and-effect alteration type Mystic Eye that directly projected her Mind Imprint.

To Olivera, who didn’t know about Lennok’s talent or senses, it wouldn’t have been strange for it to seem like he was throwing away his own eye.

“Strictly speaking, I didn’t properly mimic your Mystic Eye. It merely fixes the physical state of the point I’m observing.”

Lennok chuckled at Olivera’s indifferent reply.

“To be honest, I still don’t quite understand what it means to ‘deal with causality’ in terms of superhuman abilities…”

The reason Lennok could do something similar despite having almost no time to properly study The Seven Debts Jewels Mystic Eye wasn’t because he fully understood the meaning of “causality fixation.”

It was possible because he had memorized the entire flow of the Mystic Eye she displayed and projected it with magic.

Naturally, he couldn’t mimic the Mystic Eye’s ability to observe and fix causality, or its use of seven types of magic in combination.

But Olivera scoffed at Lennok’s words.

“[You don’t understand what it means for your first awakened Mystic Eye to have chosen an ability related to reality observation. Do you think The Seven Debts Jewels Mystic Eye was complete with this power and superhuman ability from the very beginning?]”

“…”

“[Even if it’s a superhuman ability that heavily relies on innate talent, it’s natural for it to be shaped in various directions through one’s own effort and adjustment.]”

Olivera muttered as she stared calmly into Lennok’s right eye.

“[As your power and Hierarchy grow, the ability of your Mystic Eye will also extend in different directions. That is the common power granted to those who project their Mind Imprint into both Mystic Eyes.]”

“…You already knew?”

As Lennok smiled and touched his right eye, Olivera scoffed as if to say, ‘Did you think I wouldn’t know?’

“[It would be stranger if I hadn’t recognized that mystic quality… That’s probably also why you tried to mimic my Mystic Eye’s ability, even if in a degraded form.]”

Her voice was still cold, but within it, an undisguised air of exasperation was evident.

“[So you intend to aim beyond the causality observation fixation that I chose as my destination? Utterly reckless… Your arrogance in conception reaches the heavens.]”

“You’re not wrong.”

Instead of refuting, Lennok smiled bitterly.

“But it was necessary.”

It didn’t end with finishing a battle and reveling in victory.

He had to continuously create stepping stones and opportunities for growth, and ascend based on countless combat experiences.

Not stopping at relying on his own talent, but seeking out possibilities by utilizing everything available to its limit.

Researching and awakening the Mystic Eye to imbue it with new abilities was also part of that effort.

The ability etched into his newly awakened right Mystic Eye was closer to a ‘reality point fixation,’ a degraded version of causality fixation, but it was enough.

Lennok intended to apply the Mystic Eye’s ability to directly fix and use the Ouroboros magic system within his right pupil.

Olivera’s words didn’t end there.

“[Moreover, at the point you succeeded in distributing output through your right Mystic Eye, your originally awakened Mystic Eye must have grown.]”

A rainbow-colored glow slanted across Lennok’s face.

His left Mystic Eye, which had been densely covered in cracks like shattered glass, was now perfectly restored, revealing a smooth pupil.

“[That violet Mystic Eye, something new must have started to appear, hasn’t it?]”