Chapter 554 - Transcendents (1)
Stabbing with a blade, wounding.
Burning with magic, killing.
Falling into corruption, seducing others.
Just as the world has many good people, and many who are neither good nor evil but somewhere in-between, there are likewise not a few who are wicked.
And among them, those who can stand tall and defend themselves are fewer than those who cannot. If everyone knew how to fight, why would there be a need for public order?
Human prosperity was built upon the protection of the weak by the strong, and shaped by laws maintained by the majority.
Thus, criminals who snatched away pitiful lives or broke legal contracts became targets of punishment, and those bearing potential for great danger became subjects of vigilance.
Especially vile villains were often subjected to immediate execution rather than imprisonment.
For one, capturing them alive was difficult, and worse, should they ever escape, the likelihood of senseless victims was too high.
Feeding them, even, felt wasteful.
Of course, there were those who instead chose to recruit such dangerous beings, making them into pawns, hinting that if strength and capability were bound to evil, then one might escape sin.
And so people ask.
Can evil truly be reformed? Can those who deceived and robbed the innocent truly be touched by good, and purely cast away their sins?
To this, the Church of Luas replies.
Yes.
By doctrine, human life itself is a process of cleansing filth.
That, is the path to salvation.
***
In Kernadel, the proportion of those sentenced to life imprisonment and death row convicts is considerable compared to other prisons across the continent.
Though located somewhat deep underground and thus unseen, beneath the roads where people tread, fearsome beings dwell.
Yet none tremble in fear.
For the security and order here are overwhelming, enough to blow away all fear.
The Church of Luas, upholding the doctrine of light, supports human reform facilities, and following the will of such a world religion, surrounding nations also allocate taxes.
Among those prisons, Kernadel was a fairly renowned place.
Inside the first wall, ordinary citizens reside. Within the second wall lies the district of those directly involved with Kernadel. The third wall guards the entrance of the prison beneath the central fortress.
The second and third walls may only be entered by those officially permitted.
Those who have awakened aura, those who walk the path of magic, those who carry divinity—without distinction, the prison guards came from all kinds.
As the sun set and night came.
A tavern within the second wall bustled with patrons as usual. People who, as a habit, carried weapons and armor.
"Hmm-hmm-hmm."
Like a familiar sight, Herbert, the tavern's owner, hummed while polishing glasses.
A leisurely day.
And into it, stepped a stranger.
"...!"
A young man.
On his back, a relatively short spear was strapped. Unlike a typical spear, its blade was thicker, sharper, far more menacing.
Overall, nothing stood out much. Yet the spearhead drew every eye. Not only Herbert's, but everyone's.
"Who's that?"
"Never seen him before. By the way he's dressed, maybe one of the newly appointed guards."
Among Kernadel's guards were former adventurers and even active ones. A wanderer's appearance was hardly unusual.
"But was there word about a new recruit coming in?"
"How would I know."
The man—Sandir Paen—sat at the bar, under the glances cast his way. Directly opposite, Herbert skillfully greeted him.
"Welcome. Seems this is the first time I've seen you here…."
"It's my first time in this city."
So, a new guard after all.
His tone, though, sounded older than his years.
"Haha, I see. Then welcome to the city above Kernadel. I'm Herbert, the tavern's owner. What can I get you?"
"Well, it's been a while since I've come to such a place, and since I've had a drink. Do you have a recommendation? Money's not an issue, so suggest freely."
A heavy pouch landed atop the tall counter. Through a slight opening, one could see a few coins, but mostly stuffed with bills.
Herbert's mind lit up.
A lucrative customer.
Without hesitation, he suggested the most expensive drink with the highest profit.
"Then how about a Whimsicar? Just one glass, and it'll bring a smile to your face. It's terribly strong, but its aroma is extraordinary."
"A smile, you say. Indeed. Then I'll have that."
Sandir casually pulled out a few bills and tossed them over.
"Keep it."
"Oh, thank you kindly."
Herbert filled two glasses to the brim, then downed one in a single gulp.
A bold swig.
The burning sensation slid vividly down into his stomach, while a smoky fragrance rose slowly up his throat.
"Khhhhh!"
A smile and exclamation spilled out.
Even seasoned drinkers could not pretend to resist. A lukewarm body flushed hot from a single sip.
"..."
Yet Sandir, too, emptied his glass, only to remain expressionless. His breathing, calm as ever.
No flush upon his face.
Herbert blinked.
"This one's extremely strong… Are you truly fine?"
"It's stronger than most, the flavor is good, but it doesn't make me smile. Not that I mean to insult you. It's only because I don't really understand what laughter is. I can smile, but…"
"Pardon?"
"In other words, compared to others, my emotions are faint. From birth until now, I've always been this way. If I say that empathizing with others' lives feels foreign, would you understand?"
Though it ended with a question, Herbert sensed that his answer did not matter.
Drip.
Sandir took the bottle of Whimsicar himself.
He filled his glass, and drank again.
It wasn't enjoyment of liquor.
It was the mimicry of an act, a habit learned from imitating others.
"Herbert, do you know what an arena truly is?"
"An arena…? You mean that place where people fight, and others watch?"
"Now, yes. But more than a century ago, arenas were entirely different. Back then, many nations kept slaves. And among those enslaved—through war, or kidnapping, or other means—those deemed worthless were sent to the arena. The operators dangled freedom and such as prizes, drawing out the slaves' drive as gladiators. The audience sought entertainment in that."
Sandir licked his lips.
"And for the first time in my life, I saw an emotion—that 'light'."
"..."
Herbert couldn't say a word. It felt as though he mustn't. Unwittingly, his sight and hearing focused wholly on the man before him.
As if being sucked into the center of a massive vortex.
"In the arena, gladiators were called challengers, whether by choice or by force. They killed their opponents, struggled to survive, each with their own reasons. Most were nothing. Slaughtering them was less than butchering livestock."
He emptied half the bottle.
"But those few, who sincerely sought to overcome adversity… those who twisted their bodies, fought, and bore reasons that demanded they live… they shone. Faintly, yet truly. Their light blazed even until death's door. That was when I felt, deep in my chest, something like joy. To see one fight with heart and might was beautiful. Even feeling beauty itself was, for me, a first."
The surroundings had gone quiet before anyone realized. Everyone was listening.
Sandir's voice lingered through the tavern.
"And so, after some years, I finally witnessed a light I could never forget. The opponent was a mother with her fifteen-year-old son. A slave, and a warrior. To protect her child, she butchered other challengers without hesitation. Her skill was formidable, but the will burning in her heart was beyond compare. Truly dazzling. I traded a hundred blows with her, and I laughed uproariously. Yet as I fought, an uncontrollable desire welled up inside me. Yes, I wanted a light brighter still."
Dae-aeng───! Dae-aeng───!
Suddenly, loud bells rang from outside. A signal of an emergency in the city.
Some rushed out to see what was happening, others stared out the window with alarm.
Yet the old tale continued amidst the confusion.
"So, I killed the son. For anger too is a fierce motive, a potent emotion. I tore open his heart and ripped off his head for all to see. I wanted to see what light the mother would radiate when she saw her child die so horrifically. Surely it would be extraordinary… but my expectations were betrayed."
Only a few gulps of liquor remained.
"The mother who had shone so brilliantly lost her light. They called it despair. Without a child to protect, without purpose, she lost her will. And in that instant, I realized—ah! I had made a mistake! Piercing a hole through his thigh would have been enough! That moment still remains my greatest regret in all my long life."
He sighed.
"Even after, I gathered challengers through the arena, but none ever shone as brightly as she had. So I destroyed the arena, wandered the world, seeking challengers, drawing out their resolve, killing them. I saw many lights, but that was all. Then, displeased with my path, a new Transcendent defeated me. Crippled, my body's homeostasis was broken, and I aged endlessly through the years. I abandoned my dream… until this chance was given again."
Kwaang!
The tavern's doors burst open.
One of the men who had gone out to investigate staggered back in, gasping for breath.
"Someone's attacked Kernadel! The guards at the second gate have all been slaughtered! The wounds show the culprit wielded a spear…"
Every gaze turned to a single place.
Sandir spoke calmly.
"To once again behold a light like that mother's, and to witness a light beyond it. That is my only ideal."
He emptied the last of his drink.
Thanks to the body transplant of Gluttony he had acquired from the Magic Tower of Bohemirn, with his new arm and regained youth, no trace of old age remained upon him.
Srrring.
A longsword imbued with divinity was raised to Sandir Paen's throat. A paladin. Others too brandished their weapons.
Not only did he match the description of the man who had caused chaos in the city, but as residents of Kernadel they could feel the indefinable dread emanating from him.
"You, what are you?"
"Who I am matters not. You would not know me anyway."
"Enough riddles…! This is your first and last warning—move a finger and you'll be dragged off limbless!"
"Oh, so you trust your skill."
Sandir tilted his head slightly.
"Then will you challenge me?"
Their eyes met, and chills ran down spines. Instinct screamed. The paladin roared, swinging his blade for Sandir's shoulder.
Crack!
The spearhead shattered the armor and pierced the paladin's heart.
Blood soaked the floor.
At some point Sandir had risen, spear in hand, resting it upon his shoulder. The paladin's body crumpled, lifeless, without even a chance to react.
"Paladins are said to have profound devotion to their faith, but apart from that, your light was paltry. So, what about you? Challengers are always welcome."
"Y-you… seize him!"
Like cornered rats, they rushed him, and battle erupted.
The second hand of the clock ticked.
The tavern, drenched in blood, filled with corpses.
Sandir retrieved the pouch of coins from atop the counter, then looked down. Meeting eyes with Herbert, trembling and hiding.
The poor tavern keeper couldn't even scream.
Sandir said.
"Herbert, do you wish to live?"
"Y-yes… yes, yes!!"
"But I cannot leave witnesses alive. Or rather, I must not. There is only one way, then."
He handed over a dagger taken from a fallen man.
"Will you challenge me?"
Herbert knew he had no choice.
"Uwaaaaaaagh!"
The moment he took the dagger, he lunged.
At once, his heart and head were destroyed, his body slumping lifelessly to the floor.
"You too are colorless."
With unhurried steps, Sandir left the silent tavern and stretched. From beneath his feet, faint tremors resonated.
Through hidden passages leading underground, strong men, their minds brainwashed by magic circles, were tearing apart the prison.
'To destroy the entire prison, just to take a criminal of an ancient, unknown bloodline… of course, there are other reasons, but still, it's extreme. And how they uncovered such a hidden lineage, I cannot fathom.'
Sandir stroked his chin, thinking.
He did not voice it aloud.
For absolute security, he was bound not to. Having already accepted Coercion's dominion, he could not resist.
'Balrog Bessias, the omnipotent Transcendent targeting the Magic Tower of Lepraegium, which has reigned as rank one in the magic world since its inception.'
A Transcendent cunning and deceitful, who would use any means to achieve his ends.
That nature was surely a compulsion, a madness.
It mattered not.
He had been paid dearly, and would repay accordingly.
Ever since the arena 140 years ago, Sandir Paen, unskilled in emotion and empathy, had valued transactions as his one true standard.
He gripped his spear.
He advanced.
A patrol shouted and charged, only to be annihilated. With thunderous noise, the third wall and fortress crumbled into ruin.
Kernadel had fallen.
Vicious criminals, unrepentant and unreformed, roamed free, scattering in all directions.
Amidst that chaos, Sandir Paen and the brainwashed warriors achieved their aim, then vanished.
Soon after, those who witnessed the devastated city carried the news, spreading it across the entire continent.
***
The Arcane Kingdom of Arkenad.
Having received the letters of the Seven Demon Kings, the Transcendents of the magic world who accepted the summons gathered. At last, on the appointed day, the royal castle of the magic kingdom opened its gates.
Thoom───thoom!
The august Octagram.
Those bearing the symbol of the kingdom marched in formation to either side, paying respects. Their hearts brimmed with awe.
For what they were about to behold were beings who had surpassed humanity, mages of exalted rank.
A high Magus cried out.
"The Transcendents enter!"