Chapter 359: The Lost World (14)

If you travel a full day southeast from Hazelmond, near the desert city of Tiruchirappalli, you'll find a massive hill standing between the desert and the jungle. Half sand, half forest, the peculiar ridge has no official name. But once, long ago, people called it The Hill of Falling Stars. In the 7th century, the sorcerer Isaac Bel'Homec used this place as his base and imposed his will upon the world.

"Isaac..." I murmured his name without thinking.

The very first page began with him. At the very least, I could confirm one thing—the book's contents hadn't changed.

The reason was that it had been written in a world where Isaac had existed. So what did Ashton write in this timeline? A history of the 7th century without Isaac? Did Kevin Ashton even exist in this world at all?

I read on, suspended in a strange sense of teetering between worlds. The early chapters were all about Isaac. The continent had been a battleground. The barren north and the imperial heartlands maintained a delicate balance, but everything south of the capital was an ever-churning arena of chaos.

Eleven major cities, each ruled by a different power. Numerous cults worshipping Demon Kings in secret, performing sacrifices. Raiders and mercenary groups roamed freely, preying on anyone weaker.

And then, one day, Isaac appeared near the border between the Empire and the Free Confederation. He blocked movement between them, then marched straight toward the Empire. With overwhelming tactics, Isaac crushed every force he faced, conquering four cities. All the while, he savored the progress.

Whether true or not, the confidence he projected in the book felt limitless. He even compiled the tactics he used into a rotating field manual and shamelessly sold copies to his enemies.

Unbelievable.

After conquering half the south, Isaac finally faced the Anti-Isaac Confederation.

It would be wrong to call them mere remnants. Behind the coalition stood the Imperial Court, which had deliberately conserved its strength while watching countless warlords fall. For years, they accumulated power with hardly any attempt to hide their intentions. They deployed their imperial guard, the respected Wizards of Azure, and above all, the unmatched Temple Knight Orders composed of devout monks.

I scanned the list of knightly orders.

Ascension, Twilight, Dawn, Sunrise, Judgment...

Of course, I had never heard of any of them. And on top of that, Demon King worshippers joined the coalition.

By 621, with secret messenger birds exchanged and the coalition fully revealed, their combined forces were as follows:

Imperial Guard:

— 1 Swordmaster

— Infantry: 30,000 / Cavalry: 2,000

Temple Knight Order:

— 5 Paladins

— 5,700 Heavy Cavalry

— 16,000 Martyr Infantry

Wizards of Azure:

— 2 Tower Masters

— 40 Mages

— 1,500 Guards

Demon King's Followers:

— 20 Black Mages

— 80 Dark Elf Elite Snipers

— 2,000 Medium-Class Monsters

— 200 Large-Class Monsters

— 7,000 Wicker Men(Elite Infantry)

And on top of that, even the allied forces who joined after signing a 300-year non-aggression pact with the Empire:

Free Confederation:

— 2 Titans

— 40 Iron Men

— 1,500 Crossbowmen

— 50 Flintlock Musketeers

— 40 Celestial Cannoneers

— 6,000 Heavy Infantry

And Isaac? Compared to the grand coalition, his army was a joke.

Isaac's Forces:

— 3,000 Followers(light infantry)

— 30 Historians & Writers(spectators)

— 1,000 Mounted Archers

— 2,000 Spearmen

— 500 Longbowmen

— 500 Heavy Cavalry

Every enemy he had ever made had gathered to erase him. Knowing all this, Isaac didn't attempt to divide or defeat them piecemeal. He simply walked, letting his followers trail behind him, as though purposefully drawing every force into one place.

Isaac stood on the Gannagon Plains. The ideal terrain for cavalry. The worst place to stand against the Temple Knights.

He was completely surrounded. Some of his own supporters, unable to believe his eccentric behavior, deserted him. He didn't chase them. In the end, half his army remained. The forces arrayed against him outnumbered him more than twenty to one.

There were no traitors among the enemy who would turn mid-battle. Even if there were, they would likely abandon their promises in a situation like this. Humanity, monsters, the Empire, the Temple, the world itself—all were Isaac's enemies.

The elite troops he had trained so carefully would melt like snow under the mages' bombardment. Years of effort would vanish like dust. At such a disparity, tactics and strategy became meaningless. No deception could bridge that gap. There were no reinforcements coming from anywhere.

Even if the coalition fractured eventually, it would only be after killing Isaac. They mocked him, saying he'd given up. For the first time, the man who always commanded from the highest vantage point stepped forward.

"What is he doing?" Everyone mocked him loudly.

The five Paladins charged toward the lone figure as one.

Isaac turned to the members of the Golden Dawn, who had been following beside him, and said calmly, "Now, we roll the dice."

"..."

I paused my reading. The next page was so utterly absurd that I needed a moment to steady myself. Even after taking a short break, the content remained unchanged and just as unbelievable. The scene was vividly described.

And then, the earth exploded. On a vast open plain, a volcanic eruption burst forth beneath the charging hooves of thousands of temple knights. Lava surged upward in a blazing column, flowing like a living creature, and the scalding volcanic ash erupted only toward Isaac's enemies.

A volcanic eruption, appearing for the first time in seven hundred years after the end of the Mage Era, was no mere act of nature. It was something created by a single man's will.

The moment the Gannagon Plains became the Gannagon Volcano, 5,700 temple knights fell between reality and illusion, drowning in molten rock.

So this was the extent of his power.

Had everything before this been child's play?

He had called himself the Master of Dawn and the greatest sorcerer in all of history. Still, to think he had erupted a volcano on a plain... No wonder the Three Goddesses had worked together to seal him away.

I wondered what had become of that volcano now. "Gilaut."

He was practicing his unsheathing techniques even aboard the ship, standing and sitting repeatedly with restless energy. "Huh? Yeah? How's the book?"

I didn't think he even had an unsheathing skill... Perhaps that was why he was called the Eastern Gilaut.

"I'm not sure. Have you ever heard of the Gannagon Volcano?"

"Gannagon Volcano? What are you talking about? Gannagon is the widest plain in the empire. Don't joke around. There aren't any volcanoes on the continent."

"Mm. I figured."

I had never visited it myself. But in Isaac's world, Gannagon was not a plain, but a mountain. I closed the book again, then opened it once more. I had never in my life closed and reopened a book this many times while reading it. Isaac had been erased from the world, yet he lived vividly within these pages. The more thoroughly he'd been erased, the more real his presence in this book felt.

My hand hesitated as I turned the next page.

Gilaut leaned over, peering into the book. "What are you reading?"

I forced myself to focus.

The anti-Isaac coalition had disbanded, and the conquest of the remaining cities progressed far faster than before.

"Huh? Hey, that's my name," remarked Gilaut.

His name appeared right as I flipped the page.

A coincidence?

Gilaut was a figure from this era. And out of hundreds of books aboard the ship, I had chosen this one. Sometimes, it felt as if Kevin Ashton's books were actively finding their way into my hands.

"It says I led a mercenary band...? I've never done that."

The anecdote went like this: The Gilaut Mercenary Band received an advance payment from the coalition to attack Isaac. But while en route, the river flooded, delaying them from reaching the battlefield.

Despite the situation, Gilaut insisted they had to honor the contract since they had already taken the money. His subordinates could not understand his reasoning. They mutinied after he sent a declaration of war to Isaac. They asked for one final feast and poisoned the drinks. When Gilaut survived the poison, they all rushed him, stabbed him to death, severed his head, and carried it to Isaac to surrender.

Gilaut let out a pained groan. "Even for fiction, that's ridiculous. This Isaac guy is a real bastard. And making him absurdly strong like this, what kind of setting is that? Is the author's name Isaac?"

"..."

"No... Isaac was the name you asked me about earlier, right?"

Gilaut flipped the cover and shrugged when he found Kevin Ashton's name. "So it's a novel that mixes in the names of real historical figures freely. But the coherence is terrible. Does this even make sense? Feels like the author stopped caring halfway through."

"..."

"And in reality? What happened to me?" he asked, pointing at a map drawn in the book. "I served the Lord of Hazelmond. Once the warlords of the south exhausted their strength, the empire, having lain still like a crouching beast, struck with full force. Naturally, I prepared for the final battle."

So in this era, Isaac was not the imperial target; the warlords were.

"And then?"

"I was thrilled at the thought of facing such a mighty foe in my last battle. But before I could take the field, during the final meal hosted by my lord... I was poisoned."

"Poisoned?"

The situation mirrored the book disturbingly well. Perhaps the world was always meant to flow in a similar direction, with or without Isaac or Naneow.

"The Lord of Hazelmond lacked courage. He was told the empire would accept his surrender if he killed me, given I had already slain many imperial soldiers."

"That's unthinkable."

His voice held a grief he couldn't hide. "I later learned that after they killed me, the lord was beheaded anyway."

"..."

A warrior who longed for a death worthy of pride, only to be denied it. It was a short tale, but I felt as though I understood him a little.

Ding!

[Your understanding of Dullahan Gilaut has greatly increased.]

I murmured almost out of habit, "Status window."

With a cheerful chime, a blue panel appeared in the air.

[Name: Gilaut]

[Affection: 28]

[Headless Knight Lv. 48]

[Dark Man Lv. 31]

[Health: 80 + 30(???) ]

[Strength: 71 + 30(???) ]

[Agility: 54 + 30(???) ]

[Wisdom: 25]

[Remaining Regret: 3.7%]

[When all regret is depleted, the Dullahan will dissipate.]

Regret, huh.

In any case, aside from Isaac's clean erasure, history seemed to be flowing more or less correctly.

"What the!" Gilaut shouted.

Before I knew it, White Hood was standing behind us. It was as if he had been there all along, without making the slightest sound. He tapped his temple with his index finger, twirling it idly. "Hm... fascinating. Kevin Ashton only records the truth. But this book is filled with completely nonsensical stories... How very interesting."

"...!"

He mentioned Kevin Ashton. That was not something I could ignore. I glared at him. "What do you mean by that?"

What did this suspicious man know about Kevin Ashton? More importantly, from the moment we boarded the ship, I had felt it.

Who in the world is this guy?

I thought back to the few individuals who had shown unusual insight regarding Ashton—Isaac. Daliac, and the auction house master, who had pretended not to know more than he did. All of them were far from ordinary. As for this man, he felt like a being from the Demon Realm. Did the Demon Realm also have copies of Ashton's books?

He could have read them in the human realm, but still.

Many humans had never even heard of Ashton. A demon reading his books was strange in itself. Maybe he was like the orphanage's Slime director, something that had lived among humans for a long time.

"Who are you?"

"Me? Just a passing traveler." White Hood pressed a finger to his lips in a quiet shh. Five fingers pressed against his lips in perfect alignment, not tangling with one another at all. "Let's leave it at that for now. I'm curious about many things regarding you as well, but introductions are most efficient after the Demon Realm fully descends."

"..."

I had no idea what he meant, but his presence carried a weight that stilled my tongue.

"Now then. While in the Erosion Zone, let's only discuss what interests us. And what I want to discuss is Kevin Ashton. How about it?"

Clatter.

There was no reason to refuse, and it wasn't as if I could force his identity out of him. Something about him felt significant.

"What do you know about Ashton?"

"Heh... I know him as an author who always recorded the truth. But this book is amusing. Just like this headless wanderer said, it's full of nonsense."

He tilted his head as if deeply intrigued. Green hair slid from beneath his hood, falling over his shoulders like early spring spreading across the deck. Seen this way, he had a normal face, one nose, one mouth, two eyes—perfectly human. Yet, the endless arms that emerged told a different story.

His clear voice snapped me back to focus. "But the handwriting is unmistakably Kevin Ashton's."

He noticed the handwriting. In other words, he wasn't a casual reader, but someone who had studied Ashton closely.

White Hood said in a low murmur, "I've never seen anything like this among Ashton's works... Perhaps these are discarded truths?"

Discarded truths? A thought that had lingered in my mind for a long time suddenly flashed.

"...!"

It was possible. Isaac could have been a discarded truth in this worldline.