Novel Full Chapter 356: The End of All (9)
Chapter 356: The End of All (9)
The continent crumbled as a meteor tore through the magnetosphere and atmosphere, breaking into one massive chunk and countless fragments that slammed into the land, while a flood of extraterrestrial mana swept over it like a tsunami.
This catastrophe, one that transcended magic, could bring an ice age to the continent, liquefy the entire crust, or even pierce the inner core and crush it into cosmic dust…
“I’m going to stop it from happening now, you see,” Epherene said with a smile.
“It is indeed a rare privilege to witness the moment of destruction,” Sophien replied, nodding as she took in the scenery.
“Yes.”
They were in the lighthouse, watching the destruction of the continent from the summit of the lighthouse that Deculein had renovated. In this world, the magnetosphere was severely compromised by the fallen meteor, to the point that even sunlight had become a death ray, and all the greenery had withered like the Land of Destruction.
“We, the four of us, have decided to manifest the Professor’s miracle together,” Epherene continued.
The four of them were Murkan, Idnik, Epherene, and Sophien, for Adrienne was completely ineffective unless she used destructive magic.
“The spell inscribed on the lighthouse, Murkan and Idnik will handle from the very bottom, I will handle the middle, and the most important, final part…” Epherene said, turning to look at Sophien.
“Leave the final part to me,” Sophien replied, giving a nod as her eyes remained on the destruction.
“… Okay,” Epherene said, glancing behind her and sending a signal to the mages who were waiting. “We will begin now.”
Hummmm…
At that moment, Murkan and Idnik activated a spell formation they had committed to memory. First, Murkan’s mana reinforced the base of the lighthouse, and then Idnik’s mana layered over it.
“We shall take a brief sleep… and then we shall see each other again,” Sophien said.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Epherene replied, a smile on her lips as she began to pull the mana from her heart.
Swoooooosh—
That mana, Epherene’s and infused with the essence of time, rose like seawater, filling one of the four parts of the lighthouse and awaiting Sophien, who would guide the final magic.
Sophien closed her eyes, and from her fingertips, crimson mana surged, washing over the top of the lighthouse. With perfect balance, just as Deculein had calculated, she manifested the miracle he had prepared and guided the continent’s path as the Empress of the Empire.
***
… In a corner of the Land of Destruction—a place seared by the meteor’s mana—on a horizon that would soon disappear, Creáto was with Quay, watching the destruction of the continent.
“There is little time. I must confess, my Barrier is not as strong as you might think.”
The time Creáto’s magic could sustain him in the heart of this destruction was brief—perhaps a minute or two—and for one without special gifts, that was his limit.
“Therefore, you must appreciate this moment. This is what you wanted, is it not?” Creáto continued.
From his completely shattered puppet body, his arms and legs already blackened, Quay stared up at Creáto.
Quay could not, for the life of him, understand Creáto’s actions, unable to tell whether he was trying to protect him or merely share his final moments.
“Humans are really…” Quay muttered after watching Creáto for a long time. “They seem foolish.”
Quay’s lips moved, his skin flaking away and his puppet body disintegrating, but he showed no concern and continued speaking.
“They will only find unhappiness in the end. They cannot live forever, and will eventually die. But why…”
Suddenly, a palm came to rest on Quay’s forehead—gentle, as if checking the fever of a sick child.
“… Don’t bother trying to understand. As the saying goes, ‘men and melons are hard to know.’”
In response to Creáto’s tone, which seemed to admonish him, Quay sighed and closed his eyes.
“Quay, I must ask. What was your life like in the Holy Era? Did you find happiness?” Creáto continued, a smile playing on his lips as he regarded Quay.
“… That kind of thing never existed,” Quay said, his mouth twisting into a sneer as he raised his eyes. “We lived for God alone. We had no need for such petty things as individual happiness.”
Without a single word, Creáto nodded, and an expression of despondent emptiness suddenly washed over Quay’s face.
“However, God has left me abandoned here and gives no reply. To me, who worshipped, had faith in, and waited for only Him—”
“Hmm? Did you not say God was dead? Then how would he reply?” Creáto interrupted.
Quay remained silent.
“Choose but one of two.”
Quay glared at Creáto.
However, Creáto’s eyes were not on Quay but on the distant scene, watching the shattering crust and warping sky—the continent merging with space—with a look of artistic appreciation…
“Quay, this may seem out of place, but were I God, I believe I would feel sorry for you,” Creáto continued. “For you, who held the greatest conviction and faith, and became the greatest trial and tribulation for all of humanity.”
As he looked at Creáto, Quay’s pupils trembled, and the image of him reflected in the puppet’s retina—holding the starlight of the cosmos—felt like something he had experienced somewhere before.
“I think I would feel sorry for you. I think I would have some regret for leaving you without a single word.”
It was a very faint smile on the corner of Creáto’s mouth.
“However, that is ultimately a testament to the fact that even God was imperfect. No matter how one views it, it is the truth.”
The existence of Quay, created by God, was ironically a testament to His imperfection.
“So, perhaps in this flow of destiny, you are the only one free of sin.”
Quay was a being created in the Holy Era—a time now lost to modern humanity’s memory—and no different from the origin of humanity itself, closer to God than anyone else. Therefore, if there was a sin in him, it might have been God’s fault before his own.
“Therefore…” Creáto continued, his eyes dropping to Quay.
Without a word, Quay in turn looked at Creáto, locking his eyes on him.
For some reason, Quay felt a pang of bewilderment. Looking at Creáto’s face, a lost memory of a time too far away came to mind—a time when he would wake to the chirping of birds, feel gratitude for the sunlight on his sleepy face, and smile for no reason at the song of the crickets… a time now recalled by Creáto…
“Take your rest now.”
“… Okay,” Quay replied in a daze.
Creáto scratched his temple.
And then, suddenly, streaks of rain scattered from the sky came into view.
Swoooosh…
In that instant of destruction, as the atmosphere blazed with intense heat, a drizzle that went against the laws of nature settled upon Creáto’s Barrier.
“I believe… I have some understanding now.”
At the sight of Creáto, Quay was filled with sudden certainty.
“Of why you were born as Sophien’s younger sibling,” Quay continued.
Of course, it could have been untrue, and perhaps a problem with the puppet was causing Quay to suffer from a ridiculous delusion all on his own.
“I doubt there is any special reason for being born as the Empress’s younger sibling,” Creáto replied.
“… Go back to the lighthouse,” Quay said to Creáto, shaking his head and smiling.
In this place of the continent’s destruction, Creáto would not survive, and as an avatar of God, he could not be left to die such a meaningless death, especially not after he had delivered the will of God to Quay himself in this final moment.
“Why is that?”
“Because it will be dangerous for you.”
It didn’t matter to Quay if he was mistaken, for the will of God was always indistinct and could change based on the heart of the follower who received it.
“I want you to go back and pass on my words to Sophien,” Quay continued.
Quay’s interpretation was this—Creáto was an avatar of God, sent down to this place at the end of the world to deliver a message and, by doing so, to offer God’s apology to Quay.
“What words?” Creáto asked.
Quay looked up at the sky.
Fwoooooosh—
The firmament was buckling from the impact of the meteor, the magnetosphere was damaged, crimson mana was spreading from within the continent as it was sucked into space, and there was Sophien, his creation.
“… That I’m proud of you,” Quay said, holding that scene in his final memory as he closed his eyes.
Rainwater streamed between Quay’s closed eyes, and though the world had grown dark and his consciousness was fading, he was no longer lonely and felt a greater sense of relief and happiness than ever before.
“And that… I now feel I have a glimmer of understanding of His will.”
“… Okay,” Creáto replied, wiping away the tears that had gathered at Quay’s eyes.
“… And that I am thankful,” Quay concluded, a faint smile on his lips.
… Chirp, chirp.
At the song of a bird that floated in from somewhere far away, a young Quay looked up and smiled, and, flailing his little legs and waving his tiny hands, ran off in that direction.
… Chirp, chirp.
With a bright smile, he scrambled through the forest and over a river, following two birds that sang with happiness, until he eventually became lost…
… Chirp, chirp.
Until he realized that even if he got lost, even if he were trapped in a dark mountain where the sunlight had disappeared, he could merely begin again from that place…
… Chirp, chirp.
Because Quay now knew that this birdsong—the song of the bird that would always guide him—ultimately originated from his own heart.
***
… In the center of the frigid cold, Keiron and Yeriel reached Yulie, the frozen knight, and stood before the person who had turned the lighthouse into a block of ice.
— … Yeriel.
Keiron called her.
Yeriel, who had been staring blankly at Yulie, trembled with a start.
— What is going through your mind at this moment?
“I’m thinking about what will happen,” Yeriel replied, looking back at Keiron.
— What, and in what manner?
“Of what would come next,” Yeriel said, laying Deculein down behind Yulie.
Yulie remained standing there, her sword held upright, as if to guard Deculein.
This would keep Deculein safe, allowing him to wait for a more comfortable death after everything had come to an end.
“What about you, Knight Keiron?” Yeriel asked, feeling a sudden concern for him.
There were people here who were frozen, people who were capable of freezing, and people who could not be frozen, and Keiron was the third person.
— I am going to place Her Majesty in hibernation as she remains at the peak of the lighthouse for now.
For Sophien and Epherene, the hibernation would be no different from a momentary sleep, and the immeasurable ages that passed would vanish as soon as they woke up.
“… And what about after that, Knight Keiron?”
However, for Keiron, that was not the case, as the time would be a definite period for him and would continue to flow just the same.
— Someone is needed to manage the continent as it begins its restoration, and a knight is also needed to protect the people who must enter hibernation.
Nevertheless, Keiron recited with great composure, as if it were a duty of his from the beginning.
“… That’s impossible. It could take more than ten thousand years.”
Deculein had calculated the lifespan of the outer edge of the world to be ten thousand nine hundred thirty-five years, and everyone would be in hibernation for that precise amount of time. They would all be put in a state of hibernation for precisely that time, but for Keiron, that period would be an uninterrupted eleven thousand years.
— Let me consider the years spent with the giant as a preparation for what is to come.
A subtle smile appeared on Keiron’s lips.
— Deculein’s younger sibling, each of us has a role that we must carry.
Yeriel looked at Keiron with a vacant expression.
— Therefore, it is my role to protect Her Majesty in this place.
Craaaaack…
Hearing a sudden sound of freezing, Yeriel looked back, and a shiver of surprise went through her as she saw her fingers were freezing, starting from the tips.
“T-This is—”
— You may sleep at ease.
Keiron spoke, and with a nod, he looked at Yeriel as she started to turn to ice.
— For when you close your eyes and open them again, the continent will be restored.
“No, wait—”
Before Yeriel had the chance to shout…
Craaaaaaack…
Her entire body was frozen by Yulie, beginning a hibernation of ten thousand years, though for Yeriel, it felt like only a very brief moment.