Novel Full Chapter 153: Round Table (2)
Chapter 153: Round Table (2)
There was little of significance in the bard’s song—nothing noteworthy, no specific details that stood out. Yet the last verse, the giant and the Empress, remained in my mind.
It felt almost prophetic, that the giant recognized the Empress, and the Empress recognized the giant. As I read those strange lines, I found myself, for some reason, hoping for Sophien’s happiness…
Sophien turned the pages of the poetry book again, quickly locating the verse she was looking for.
The Empress and the Giant recognized each other. The ruler of all humanity, and the Giant, bound to a world it could not abandon, wandered endlessly, searching for something that was both everything and nothing. When the first light pierced the darkness of that realm, an even deeper shadow fell across the land.
Only then did humanity awaken to the truth. Like the Giant, they saw the reality they had long pursued. What they had been seeking in their wandering was not simply a knot—an end never meant for them, but a scar left behind, clinging like a curse…
The verses, stripped of any melody, felt worthless, like absolute shit. With a hardened expression, the Empress closed the book and picked up another volume.
Archaeology: Evidence of the Giants.
Unlike the poetry, this text held many of Deculein’s thoughts. Resting her chin on her hand, Sophien started to sift through his memories.
The continent stretched endlessly before them, and for the giants, this vastness was no less overwhelming. Though they possessed immense bodies and boundless wisdom, it was never enough.
Over time, they began to see everything the world had to offer. They could have roamed across the continent, sailed over seas, and reached the world’s end. But upon arriving there, the giants would have lost all desire to continue their existence.
Sophien raised her eyes to the empty space before her. In that void, Deculein seemed to materialize like a faint illusion, seated upright, engrossed in his book. His thoughts flowed to her, faint and distant, like a soft whisper.
But humans were different. They could not bear the weight of such an expansive world in their fragile bodies. They couldn’t capture it fully with their sight, nor could they traverse its endless reaches. Though they desired what the giants did, they lacked the giants’ colossal strides and eternal time.
They wanted to set foot on every piece of the earth, but they could not. They longed to know the truth, but it was always beyond their reach. They aspired to become the greatest of all beings, but that dream was forever out of their reach. In the end, humans were destined to die, forever unfulfilled…
… I see it now—the connection between the giants and myself, Sophien thought.
“Hmph.”
Sophien could not foresee what lay ahead in her future. When the years inevitably closed in and the time came for her to return to the earth, she might be bound to an eternal cycle of regression—or perhaps that moment would mark Deculein’s final end.
She wouldn’t know if that moment would be the final one—or, if it came and still wasn’t the end, whether she was ever meant to have an ending at all. Humans are forever trying to fill the emptiness within—when wealth eludes them, they pursue riches; when they are alone, they crave companionship; when their pride is wounded, they thirst for honor.
Even those burdened with immortality, in their own strange way, eventually find themselves longing for death. It was from this paradox that Deculein’s hope for her happiness.
“If my life were filled with endless happiness, do you really believe I would never come to long for death?” Sophien murmured.
Perhaps. If my life were overflowing with happiness, there would be no space for thoughts of death. But if a life were nothing but happiness, it would be a form of mental disorder. Clinically, it’s called mania.
“Librarian,” Sophien said, summoning Lexil, who stood nearby.
The librarian bowed his head and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty?”
Sophien stared at the book’s cover in silence. After a long pause, her voice weighted by thought, she said, “Can it be erased?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It can be done,” Lexil replied without hesitation, as though he had anticipated her command.
Sophien briefly closed her eyes, then nodded and said, “Erase it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lexil replied, placing his hand on the book and sweeping away Deculein’s thoughts. “It is done.”
Sophien opened the book once more and flipped through its pages. There was no trace of Deculein’s thoughts left behind. She began to read slowly, letting the words sink in.
Rustle… Rustle…
In the quiet library, the soft rustle of pages formed a gentle rhythm, with faint breaths barely audible in the stillness. Sophien let herself sink into the flow of the words, her mind drifting deeper with each passing line. Then, without warning, she lifted her head, eyes fixed on the empty chair before her, their weight reflecting a deep, quiet calm.
“For some reason… I can’t help but wish you were here with me.”
***
The grand hall of the Round Table loomed before them. Epherene and Allen sat in the observation gallery, present as Deculein’s protégés. The section they occupied was separated from the main hall by a pane of glass.
“… There’s something strange about the atmosphere here,” Allen remarked.
“I can feel it too,” Epherene said with a nod.
The arrangement of the grand hall felt overwhelmingly oppressive. Deculein, seated at the center after being invited, was surrounded by twenty-four leaders in a circle, their eyes bearing down on him.
“Monarch Deculein,” an elderly mage addressed him at last.
Epherene recognized the man—Jektaine, head of the Fagon School, specializing in the art of destruction category magic. Her focus deepened, zeroing in on the events as they played out.
“You presented an unproved thesis to the Floating Island without consulting the Round Table. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Though Jektaine’s tone was confrontational, Deculein remained composed and replied, “Why is it of concern since the thesis remains unproven?”
Jektaine’s irritation was evident, reflected in the tense faces of the other school leaders. Even Ihelm showed signs of unease. But Epherene remained calm, aware that he had already indicated he would play along.
“Has Yukline decided to neglect the Round Table?”
“There is nothing to neglect. I have simply presented my thesis.”
Jektaine found himself momentarily speechless. Epherene sensed the meeting was nearing its end; a resolution would be forced soon, one way or another.
“It appears the prepared documents are unnecessary. I did not anticipate such open disregard from Yukline toward the Round Table,” Jektaine remarked.
“Disregard… Perhaps you’ve overlooked Yukline’s significant contributions to the Round Table,” Deculein responded.
A wave of uncomfortable throat-clearing followed, as the elder mages, their expressions tight with tension, fixed their glares on Deculein.
Once again, Jektaine stated, “Even if the Floating Island recognizes your thesis, the credit cannot be attributed to you alone. Kagan Luna, your former assistant—aren’t you simply continuing the work of his own?”
Epherene bit her lip in frustration. The mention of her father’s name, now used to target Deculein, only fueled the bitterness rising within her.
“That’s correct,” Deculein replied.
The elder mages curled their lips in disdain, silently shaking their heads.
Deculein then continued, “However, his daughter will become my protégé.”
“… Protégé?”
Epherene flinched, and the faces of those seated at the Round Table contorted with displeasure. Allen turned toward her, his eyes narrowing with a sharp intensity that seemed to pierce through her.
“Ah, well, you know… Assistant Professor Allen, you’re more of a partner than a protégé to the professor. That’s the kind of relationship you have, right…?”
“… Hmm,” Allen muttered, snapping his head to the side, a trace of jealousy flickering in his eyes.
Deculein added, “When the school is established, she will be the one to lead it, not I.”
“… And what is the reason?” Jektaine inquired.
Epherene’s features tightened as she silently watched Deculein, awaiting his response.
“Since she is the one who will prove the thesis, the decision has already been made.”
Jektaine’s expression tightened as he clicked his tongue and stated, “There is no point in continuing this discussion. The Round Table will not tolerate this any longer.”
A sneer spread across Deculein’s face as he said, “Hmm. If the Round Table refuses to tolerate me, I will not tolerate it in return.”
Amid the palpable hostility of the twenty-four figures encircling him, Deculein stood unwavering. Not a trace of hesitation marked his stance.
“However, I doubt that all of you are of the same mind, are you?”
Deculein’s very presence cast a heavy shadow over the Round Table. Though they concealed their faces, it was unmistakable that they understood the weight of his words.
With a dark smile curling on his lips, Deculein glanced over the gathered mages and added, “We have more than enough time… Now, let us hear what each of you has to say.”
It was a cruel smile, the kind Epherene had long forgotten—chilling and sharp, like the bite of a viper.
“H-h-how dare you! This meeting is adjourned! Leave the Round Table immediately!” Jektaine stammered, his voice trembling between fear and indignation, shaken by Deculein’s chilling poise or perhaps unsettled by his sheer boldness, before hastily ordering him to depart.
***
Upon my return from the Round Table, a flurry of threatening letters awaited me. Most bore the mark of the Round Table itself, while others came from figures tied to the Altar or the Scarletborn. One, however, had come from Rohakan.
Hahaha, my dear protégé, it seems you are faring quite well. Word has reached me that you’ve caused a stir at the Round Table. Those old fools have long needed a wake-up call, though I must admit, I did not expect it to come from your hand.
Oh, I trust it is you delivering the blows, not taking them. As for the coin enclosed, I am certain you understand its meaning. The World of the Voice… though it may remain hidden for some time, keep it close. Carla, no doubt, has informed you that this letter is a Message Paper, so I advise you to safeguard it.
Let us remain in touch, as time and fortune permit. Hahaha.
“…And that, I suppose, is my view. Honestly, I believe the time has come for the Round Table to be set right.”
As I read through the letter, a middle-aged mage stepped into my office, his hood pulled low over his face. It was Debrun, whom I had recently encountered. It appeared he had at last chosen to side with me.
“I understand,” I replied with a nod, pulling a golden toad from the drawer. “Take this.”
“Oh, there’s really no need for that—”
“This artifact is both ornamental and magical. It responds to hostile mana and murderous intent, so keeping it close would be in your best interest.”
“… Yes, Professor,” Debrun replied, accepting the toad without hesitation and tucking it carefully into his robe. His tone had already shifted to one of deference. “I am certain there are others who share our perspective. I will reach out to them discreetly.”
I gave a silent nod.
Debrun offered a deep bow and said, “If you’ll excuse me, Professor, I will take my leave now.”
“Be well.”
“Yes, Professor,” Debrun replied, adjusting his hood before quietly leaving the room.
Epherene slipped into the room the moment Debrun stepped out, as if she had been waiting all along. She spared a brief look at his fading silhouette before turning her attention back to me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Oh, here… I’ve organized the thesis up to the point I understood,” Epherene said, handing over the stack of papers, which totaled three hundred pages.
I flipped through the pages, taking in the details briefly. On the surface, nothing appeared out of place.
“It appears there are no notable errors or inconsistencies.”
“Oh, thank you—”
“Is everything in order for your departure?”
“… Sorry?” Epherene asked, her wide, innocent eyes blinking in confusion.
I set the thesis aside, glared at her, and said, “Your departure to the Northern Region draws near. Have you forgotten?”
Epherene’s mouth fell open in realization, and she exclaimed, “Oh, right!”
“Make your preparations at your own pace.”
“Yes, Professor!” Epherene replied, rushing out of the office, full of enthusiasm. Though I had no idea what she was preparing, she had matured somewhat, and I trusted she would handle it well enough.
“The Northern Region…” I murmured, allowing the thought to take root.
The enemies are rapidly growing in number, and the world is entering its mid-phase. While the Altar’s next move is not entirely unpredictable, thorough preparation will be vital…
I glanced outside of my office window where the scene unfolded—a blue sky sprawling over the snow-blanketed ground. Winter had claimed the land, marked by bare trees and a sharp wind that sculpted a desolate scene. The season’s chill had fully settled in.
***
Since their business trip to the Northern Region was set for the following week, Epherene, Allen, and Drent were busy packing. The three moved around together, gathering supplies as they went.
“We’ve got all the emergency rations… and the bedding’s packed too… Drent, what are you doing?” Epherene asked.
In the middle of the marketplace, Drent was fiddling with a stone. There was a quiet sadness in the hollow look of his eyes.
“Are you still fiddling with that rock?”
“Huh? Oh… I think I’m just about finished with it,” Drent replied.
It was the stone exam assigned by Deculein. While mages like Rogerio, Epherene, Louina, and Kreto had slowly unraveled its mystery, Drent still wrestled with its complexities.
“… Ugh. I’m the one who gave everyone the hint, so why am I the only one still stuck?”
Drent wasn’t wrong—he had been the first to propose that the stone held some kind of hidden code.
“Forget it. Turns out it wasn’t really an exam after all. Let’s just focus on preparing for the business trip to the Northern Region.”
“Huh? It’s not an exam?”
“Yeah. Turns out we got it wrong—it was just a part of the practical assessment.”
“Oh… so it’s still going to count…” Drent muttered, his disappointment evident.
Epherene, eager to keep things moving, gave Allen a nudge and called out, “Drent, forget about it! We need to focus! Armor—let’s get at least some leather gear on. You know how many monsters roam the Northern Region, right?”
“Yes! I’m coming!” Allen said.
“… Okay.”
The three of them pushed through the door of a shop with a sign that read Armory and stepped inside.
And…
The following week.
Choo-choooo—!
A piercing horn shattered the air, its vibrations rippling through the platform. Epherene and Allen stood still, watching the oncoming train rush toward them, stirring gusts of wind in its wake.
“… Gulp.”
Before she realized it, the day of their departure for the business trip had come. A knot of anxiety tightened in Epherene’s chest, but the sight of Deculein, standing calmly as if heading off on a carefree holiday, quickly eased her nerves.
“Professor, what exactly will we be doing in the Northern Region?” Allen asked.
Deculein answered plainly, “We’ll begin with exploration and investigation.”
“Exploration?”
“Yes. The Northern Region borders an unexplored region.”
While the Northern Region was often called a frontier, it wasn’t the true edge of the continent. Beyond its borders, in the farthest reaches, lay the unexplored region—also known as the Land of Extinction—a mysterious place untouched by humanity.
“We’ll be surveying the conditions of the unexplored region and investigating the magical phenomena tied to the mana of the Northern Region. If fortune is on your side, you might even witness the Aurora—an occurrence that could significantly elevate your magical abilities.”
“A-aurora…”
The Aurora—a magical phenomenon celebrated not just across the continent but also throughout the Magical Realm. It is said that witnessing this rare event can elevate a mage’s abilities by an entire level.
Screeeeech—!
With a piercing screech of grinding metal, the train finally came to a standstill.
The conductor and station staff hurried out together to greet Deculein, saying, “It is an honor to have you with us, Professor—a true privilege!”
Deculein, showing little reaction, turned to Epherene, Allen, and Drent—who was still absentmindedly fiddling with his stone—and said, “Board the train.”
***
… The Imperial Palace, where flowers bloomed even in the heart of winter, was a place where eternal spring and unending frost met. But today, the air felt unusually heavy, as if something unseen stirred beneath its stillness.
“That man has been flitting from place to place recently, hasn’t he? First, it was the Round Table, and now he’s already on his way to the Northern Region.”
The cause of this heavy tension was none other than Empress Sophien herself. She had just learned of Deculein’s departure to the Northern Region.
“It is likely due to the season, Your Majesty. Both the Round Table and the Northern Region demand considerable preparation during the winter months,” Jolang said with a respectful bow.
With clear dissatisfaction, Sophien muttered as she looked at the Go board, “The day of our five-game match is almost here… Hmph, he’s darting around like a butterfly in a storm.”
Jolang observed her closely, uncertain whether to extend sympathy or simply watch in silence.
“How should we proceed, Your Majesty, if Deculein does not return as he promised—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“… Understood, Your Majesty,” Jolang replied, relieved that his words had been well received, thinking he had sidestepped any further tension. However…
“I will commence the patrol of the Northern Region.”
Sophien’s sudden proclamation silenced Jolang. Though he wrestled with its meaning, he knew better than to let his confusion show.
“Why do you seem so shocked? The late Emperor himself patrolled the Northern Region often, didn’t he?” Sophien remarked, her tone laced with mockery.
Jolang quickly bowed lower and said, “Yes, Your Majesty. The late Emperor made annual visits to the Northern Region to offer his encouragement during the harsh winter months—”
“Exactly,” Sophien interrupted. “Which is why I’m telling you—I intend to do the same.”
“I remain deeply honored by your favor, Your Majesty…” Jolang said, bowing deeply, without offering any further comment.
As she watched Jolang bowing low, Sophien said, “Prepare the horse. One will be enough. I believe its name was Twilight.”
The steeds of the Imperial Palace were unmatched—more like fierce tigers than any other ordinary horses. From the continent’s purest bloodlines, only the most extraordinary one was ever selected to serve the sovereign.
Treated with the care and reverence of a human, he was born with a mastery of the heart’s essence, running only for the Emperor or Empress, soaring through the air as though it were born with wings.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll take care of the necessary preparations.”
“Good. You may now leave.”
“I remain deeply honored by your favor, Your Majesty…” Jolang said, bowing deeply before stepping back.
After Jolang left, Sophien rose from her seat and made her way to the dressing room.
“… Hmm.”
Sophien considered which attire would be most fitting on her journey to the Northern Region. She thought about what she should wear when meeting him—no, what would best suit her patrol. Her attention moved over the rows of garments, weighing each one carefully.