Chapter 515 – Stage of Dialogue (4)
When Verden and Dahit clash, under no circumstances does the battle come to an easy conclusion.All the more so, because the nature of their magic duels is the same.
If one had to liken it, it would not be a sword against a shield, but rather, a sword against a sword, gradually wearing one another down.This was a truth clearly realized within the Great Hall.
Though their overall power can be ranked higher and lower, in truth, they are close to equal.
If weight tips to one side, the balance will collapse in an instant.
If Dahit pressed forward with the entirety of Black Hour's executives at his side, Verden alone could never hold, and would ultimately fall in defeat.
Thus, power of factions, is of vital importance.
Hoooh.
The late autumn wind blew fiercely all around, yet in the center where the ruins of an old hut lay, silence stretched endlessly.
The clash of Transcendents, canceling one another out.
Because of it, the surrounding Mages were not harmed, yet the clouds of the night sky had been torn apart, as though slashed to ribbons.
Through the cracks, moonlight poured down.
"..."
Dahit's deep gray eyes shifted, casting his gaze beyond Verden. His insight intuitively pierced and grasped the presence of each individual.
'Not bad.'
Though fewer in number compared to the executives of Black Hour, in terms of strength, there were at least two or three who deserved notice.
The female Magus with that bizarre regenerative power, who had invaded the Great Hall.
The swordsman who had withstood
The aged Magus of sturdy build beneath the robe.
'They reveal only the barest information, while concealing their true forms.'
It was not easy to see through them.
Dahit's necklace, the ancient artifact [Pupil of Mahram], was focused on perceiving and unraveling non-physical phenomena, but when faces were directly concealed as now, it fell outside the scope of its effect.
Dahit soon gave a derisive laugh.
"All of you, hiding your appearances, as though afraid your identities will be discovered, is pathetic in many ways… yet separate from that, you have indeed gathered formidable strength. And still, you do not reveal yourselves to the world. Moreover, you did not even bring that strange little creature which manipulated the Ring of Myriad Changes. Truly, sly to the very end."
Of course, it was not Dahit's place to speak, when he hisself had cloaked his transcendence, moved in shadows, betrayed his own masters, and slain most of them.
At any rate.
"What scheme are you plotting?"
"You already heard. This gathering was arranged for the succession ceremony, left undone in the past."
Verden gestured.
Melard personally turned the wheels of her chair forward a few steps.
Naturally, all eyes turned to her.
And Dahit and Melard… the gaze of former disciple and master met.
"You seem most uncomfortable, Melard."
"Fortunately, I have someone to push my chair, so it is not so inconvenient. Had you been in my place, it would be otherwise."
"If it were me, all those nearby would have had half their bodies crushed. That way, no one would ever remember me as crippled. It seems you've put in much effort to come this far, but if you've prepared anything, show it all. As your disciple who once received your teaching, I shall grant you that much."
"I will not decline."
Despite Dahit's sneer, Melard was unmoved in the least. This was a moment she had imagined tens, hundreds, thousands of times.
She suppressed the emotions surging in her chest.
Drawing strength into her voice, she addressed the dozens gathered in this place.
"I, Melard Tastienne, as one of the eight founders of Black Hour, hereby declare the commencement of the succession ceremony for the leadership of Black Hour."
"Wait…"
"Before the main agenda, I will call the roll of attendees."
Ignoring Maybel's attempt to stop her, Melard focused more intently on her pronunciation.
"Jeremiah Gawin, absent due to death."
The former leader who had proposed the founding of Black Hour had been annihilated before their very eyes.
"Harkan Dazest, absent due to death."
The sage who had groaned in agony until his final breath had left behind a legacy and entered eternal rest.
"Linder, absent due to death…!"
That gentle friend, who had rigorously abided by the laws of magic and pursued pure curiosity, had drawn her last breath at Melard's side.
"Rutmer, absent due to death…!!"
The steadfast friend who had stayed by Jeremiah's side the longest, had perished in pitch-black flames alongside him.
Melard clenched her fist.
Her hand trembled as if venting rage, yet she called the names to the end.
"Carindin Lerhar… present."
Among the original members, second strongest, he had led the charge in burning their comrades.
"Maybel Risonia Siller, present."
In contrast to Linder's warmth, she had always been cold and rational, and had joined the betrayal.
"Cayman Vermont. Absent due to personal circumstances, but has entrusted his right of decision to me. As proof, I present this bracelet and this certificate."
At once, Alderneys produced a bracelet and a brief letter. The one accessory Cayman had treasured his whole life, and his own handwriting.
"Lastly, Melard Tastienne, present. Thus, of the original founders attending this succession, there are three, with four votes to decide."
"Melard!"
"To qualify as leader of Black Hour, one must not only be the successor of an original member, but must also bear the unanimous support of all the founders. By that rule, I now commence the vote."
Melard did not stop.
Though Carindin cried out, he could not go further in obstruction.
And the one most concerned, Dahit hisself, was merely watching as he had said.
"All those opposed to the succession of Dahit Wethroel, raise your hands."
She raised hers immediately.
In contrast, Carindin and Maybel did not move at all. After several seconds of silence, Melard spoke again.
"Melard Tastienne opposed. With unanimity not achieved, the succession of Dahit Wethroel is nullified. As there is more than one candidate, the vote shall continue."
Melard politely gestured toward Verden.
"All those who support this man, the successor of Harkan Dazest, as the new leader of Black Hour, raise your hands."
Again, Melard raised hers without hesitation, while Carindin and Maybel only furrowed their brows, leaving their arms down.
The result was the same as before.
"Carindin Lerhar and Maybel Risonia Siller opposed. Again, unanimity unmet, the succession of a new leader is likewise nullified."
Melard let out a breath. The formal procedure was finished.
"Therefore, the current seat of leader of Black Hour is vacant… As you see, the original members have not reached a conclusion, so the two successors must present a solution that convinces us all."
Responsibility for a resolution, was cast onto Dahit and Verden.
Carindin clicked his tongue roughly.
"Tch, no need to hear more. Decades have passed. The rules of the past only hold in the past. Black Hour already belongs to you."
"Yes, Black Hour is mine."
Dahit slightly tilted his head, casting his gaze over her shoulder toward the assembly.
"But it seems some remain shackled by the past, looking unstable."
"What…"
They hurriedly turned back.
Some of Black Hour's executives were visibly shaken. These were the defectors who had resisted Dahit on the day of usurpation, only to be captured alive, and broken at last.
Unlike Grave, Alderneys, and Opea, they had walked another path.
Maybel growled.
"You… what are you doing now? Do you even know the time and place…!"
"I thought the same. So much time has passed. We've belonged to the new Black Hour longer than the old. I thought, surely, none would change their hearts now."
The eyes of a high-ranking executive of Black Hour turned red with tears.
"But then why is it, that this happens."
At first, they had resisted Dahit's rebellion out of raw emotion, but once crushed and captured, their heads cooled.
They wanted to live.
To live on, without dying, to pursue the depths of magic. Was that not the reason they had joined Black Hour to begin with?
So they abandoned struggle.
They accepted the new Black Hour, and worked willingly for it.
They had butchered enemies with merciless precision, earning the name of a cabal of death-mages.
They had broken the ethics and laws of the magic world, and taken part in human experimentation.
For decades, so it had been.
Time and again, they had wondered if this was right, yet each time they rationalized it.
Better this, than being slain.
Was it not good, that they could research magic, without fear of the magic world's censure?
The situation forced them, they told themselves.
But, perhaps, it was wrong after all.
Seeing Melard Tastienne, Grave, and Alderneys still remaining proudly at her side—they felt nothing but envy.
Shame upon shame, humiliation upon humiliation.
Of course, that did not mean they now intended to interfere in the internal affairs of Black Hour.
Those unqualified as true members could only repeat the same choices as in the past.
"I will, follow procedure."
"As will I."
The high-ranking executive and those who agreed with him stepped back.
If Melard were to be attacked in defiance of the succession process, they would not participate, come what may.
Even if it meant immediate execution.
In the end, what remained were only four who had truly betrayed, like Carindin and Maybel, and four executives who had joined after the Day of Usurpation.
It was then.
Watching the chain of events with amusement, Dahit burst into laughter.
"Did you see? Most memories grow rusty and dull with time, yet at times they sharpen, become beautified. And with them, emotions once sunk rise up again. Thus memory defines existence, and guides action. Like these ghosts of the past, moving pointlessly for the Black Hour of old that shall never return."
"..."
"What was left unfinished that day, has dragged all the way here. Well, so be it."
Dahit stroked his chin.
"This time, it would be best to tear out everything at the root. Now, if you held this succession, surely you have prepared a solution. Speak."
"If our factions wage war until mutual destruction, neither side gains. Inefficient. So let us settle this between us."
Verden summoned the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] into his hand, and declared with force.
"Dark Moon, Dahit Wethroel. I challenge you to a one-on-one magic duel."
***
If total war were to break out here and now, there would be no turning back. Both Black Hour and Verden's side would suffer no small number of deaths.
Whatever the outcome, the result would be catastrophic loss.
Thus Verden proposed it.
As the leaders of their factions, the one who wins, takes all.
A simple, brutal, yet self-evident solution.
"To think you dare come at me, after barely escaping alive from the Great Hall. Folly indeed, whether born of bravado or arrogance."
Step, step.
Dahit moved.
At once, he stood right before Verden, looking down at him.
"The place shall be the 'Capital of Ruin'."
"…!"
At this ready acceptance, the executives of Black Hour widened their eyes, yet… voiced no objection.
A one-man rule.
The path of Black Hour was decided solely by Dahit Wethroel.
Meanwhile, Melard and the others, each in their own stance, supported Verden's will.
Thus not only the original members, but all present, accepted the way of succession by force, the magic duel between Transcendents.
"Set the date."
This time, Verden's gaze sank cold.
Unexpected.
Given how long Dahit had been weaving his plans, he thought he would value time more than place.
'Then either he cannot complete his plan soon, or, it is already complete. One of the two.'
Whichever it was, it was a variable beyond Verden's interference.
It did not matter.
Most important was that Dahit hisself had been made to step onto the stage.
'The Capital of Ruin Dahit named, lies in the western continent.'
Once his homeland, and the capital of the Kingdom of Ailan, destroyed by his own hand—now known by that name.
Facing Dahit directly, Verden weighed the best date.
"It shall be decided, on the day the first snow falls, upon the Capital of Ruin."
The change of seasons began in the eastern continent, then the central, then the western. First snow meant the day winter came to the west.
"I accept."
Dahit agreed, raising his voice.
"From this moment, each side shall dispatch forces to the Capital of Ruin, and it shall be deemed a non-aggression zone. Its guardians shall be the original members of both sides."
"And until the promised day, conflict is forbidden."
The accord was struck.
The succession was ended.
Thud.
Dahit glanced at Melard, Grave, Alderneys and the rest with mocking eyes, then laid his right hand on Verden's shoulder, applying slight pressure.
"Consider well how you will be remembered at your end, disciple."
Annoyed, Verden shoved Dahit's arm away, and whispered in warning.
"You, will be forgotten."
Memory, and oblivion.
Dahit sneered.
"I look forward to it."
***
Once their business was concluded, Verden's faction left the Forest of Nutiar. Only after their presence vanished did Maybel bite her lip.
'…No matter the cost, removing the root here and now would have been right.'
She believed, instinctively, she should have done so, yet did not.
The reason was simple.
Because a Transcendent had given the judgment.
Dahit held Black Hour by overwhelming power, and crushing terror.
Not even her master Carindin, nor Maybel herself, were exceptions to that influence.
So her frustration could only be vented elsewhere.
Puk!
The dagger Maybel lashed out with in irritation, pierced the side of the high-ranking executive who had declared she would follow Melard's procedure.
"Ghhhk…!"
"Your fate will be decided, once that Transcendent is dealt with. Bind them."
The executives who received the order forcefully subdued the hesitant ones.
There was no resistance.
The four executives who could not forget the past, only drooped their heads, as if resigned to whatever might come.
Dahit, meanwhile, gave them no attention, opening and closing his right hand instead.
He focused on the sensation he had felt since clashing in the hut.
'That one. He has grown stronger.'
He could not measure it precisely, but it was certain Verden had risen above the level he showed in their duel at the Great Hall.
Even if Dahit ignored collateral damage and struck directly, he would not be easy to kill.
That one was special.
In a Transcendent sense.
'…Did he not say, he reconstructed his body with the infinite mana of the magic tower?'
Dahit formed a near-certain guess.
Perhaps within that Transcendent body, was hidden the final fragment, the last piece toward the means of reaching his ideal.
"I must be prepared."
So that in no case, would the completion of the ideal fail.
Thus the Stage of Dialogue came to a close.
And until the coming of the Hall of Usurpation, the time that remained was—
D – 58
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