Chapter 188

The Back-Alley Mage’s Return – Chapter 188

Demian looked out blankly at the dark cavern where Aster had just been pulled down into the depths.

‘……What just happened?’

The event had transpired mere moments ago, yet his recollection felt fragmented and distant.

The only things remaining in his mind were broken pieces… yes—shattered stone flying outward like sparks, a sudden suffocating wave of blistering heat, a brutal, overwhelming grasp, and a single, muffled cry.

As these disjointed memories replayed in his head like a picture book missing half its pages, Demian suddenly lunged forward in a frantic rush.

“My friend……!”

“Demian, have you lost your mind?!”

Chenbi quickly threw his weight against Demian, holding him back with all his strength.

“Why…… why are you holding me back?”

“Why am I holding you back? Wake up! Do you have any idea what kind of place you are trying to jump into right now?”

“Aren’t we going to rescue my friend?”

“We have to. Of course we have to, but…… open your eyes and actually look at it. Look at the path you were about to take.”

“…….”

Saying this, Chenbi gestured toward the gaping breach where Aster had been dragged under.

It looked as though a torrent of molten lava had surged through it, blasting the opening wide. The stone walls lining the passage glowed with a fierce, crimson light. No—they weren’t just hot; they were heated to such an extreme degree that the very rock appeared on the verge of liquefying completely.

“If you dive in there, you will burn to death before you can even reach Aster. Do you understand?”

This level of heat was not something that could be deflected with a standard barrier.

If their current level of strength were significantly higher, they might stand a chance, but not at their current stage. That limitation applied to him, and it applied equally to Demian.

‘And Aster is probably already…….’

No. That couldn’t be true.

Chenbi violently pushed aside the dark terror threatening to take root in his mind—because he refused to accept it, because he couldn’t bring himself to let such a thought take shape.

Yet Demian remained unyielding.

“Step aside. I can make it through.”

“Demian……!”

Chenbi shouted out in desperation as Demian wrenched himself free and advanced toward the searing opening. He reached out to restrain him once more, but Demian moved too swiftly.

For a fleeting second, a thought crossed Chenbi’s mind—

‘Perhaps, if it is Demian…….’

Could he perhaps withstand that unbearable temperature?

Yes. It was within the realm of possibility.

Demian was celebrated as the most phenomenal prodigy in the entire history of House Brando. Unlike someone ordinary and unremarkable like himself, Demian might possess a specialized technique to survive it.

And if so, he might even be able to push forward and rescue Aster……

……However.

The brutal reality brooked no illusions.

Pajijik, pajik—

Before he could even cover two paces, the protective barrier around him flickered and destabilized. Cracks rippled across the entirety of the shield the moment Demian took his third step. And then—

Kwachang……!

The defensive force field shattered completely into glittering shards.

“Demian!”

Even so, Demian refused to halt.

Chijik, chi…….

A sickening sound that defied verbal description resonated through the air. The soles of his footwear began to dissolve, and even the strands of his hair could not endure the intense radiation, beginning to singe and burn.

……Nonetheless, he took another step. A step forced onward by sheer determination.

Demian clamped his teeth down hard onto his lip.

The agony was excruciating. It was utterly overwhelming.

Yet he simply could not force his legs to stop moving.

‘If I am injured…… I can just restore myself.’

That was right. If he suffered burns, he could mend them.

The flesh of his feet blackening, his skin searing under the relentless heat, his hair burning away—he possessed the power to repair all of it.

Even at this very moment, look.

The pain was agonizing…… but it was merely pain.

This temperature lacked the power to end his life.

But— what about the alternative?

‘……What about my friend?’

What about his companion…?

Could he restore him as well? Could Aster possibly survive in a furnace that felt capable of dissolving reality itself? When merely the fading, residual heat was inflicting this much torment upon him…… what must Aster be enduring?

“Demian…… please, stop. Turn back right now.”

Chenbi stood right at the edge of the breach, calling out to him. The intense thermal waves caused his own face to burn crimson, but he refused to retreat.

With Sir Myseolne incapacitated and unconscious for unknown reasons, he was the sole person left who could hold Demian back. Because of that…… Chenbi forced himself to face the grim truth.

But Demian continued forward.

……Yet another step.

He pressed onward through a fog of unbearable physical torment.

……And another step after that.

His very soul felt heavy.

If there is damage, repair it. Repair it, and everything will be set right. Everything returns to normal, but…… can he truly fix what matters?

‘……It will be fine. My friend is resilient.’

“Demian, that is enough. You…… you already know the truth, don’t you?”

Demian closed his ears. No—his heart was so utterly suffocated that the words couldn’t penetrate. No—he could hear them perfectly, but he chose to reject them.

And so, he took another step.

Yet Chenbi’s words arrived with absolute, piercing clarity. No, it was worse than clear—it was sharp. No, more than sharp, it was downright merciless.

“Aster is…… gone.”

Struck by that weapon of a phrase, Demian froze instantly in place.

“That cannot be…… Janis……”

His jaw refused to work properly. Demian was fully aware of the reality. He was experiencing this heat firsthand—more vividly than anyone else, he felt its destructive nature down to his very bones.

No matter how powerful Aster might be, within this absolute inferno, amidst this level of destruction…… could he honestly remain unharmed?

In the ultimate realization……

Demian let his gaze fall to the floor.

Demian, my dear grandson, the pride of House Brando. Before this old man passes on, my only wish is to see our grandson’s bright smile one last time. Won’t you grant me that sight?

“Chenbi, in moments like this…… a person is supposed to smile, right?”

Chenbi gave his reply.

“In moments like this…… it is perfectly fine to weep.”

Approximately twelve hours after Aster had been pulled into the depths by the Infernal,

that was roughly the time when Myseolne—who had remained completely unresponsive—finally stirred and opened his eyes.

“Sir Myseolne, are you regaining awareness?”

“……Chenbi.”

Myseolne pushed himself up into a sitting position, pressing a hand against his throbbing temples.

His thoughts were completely disorganized. Was it an aftereffect of the sudden blackout? His recollections refused to fall into an orderly sequence.

What had caused him to lose consciousness, and what had transpired immediately before he blacked out—

He remembered quite clearly that he had collapsed after enduring a massive psychic or emotional shock, but the precise catalyst……

“……Ah! Aster—where has Aster gone? What happened to Aster…….”

Myseolne’s voice withered away into nothing.

Neither of the youths offered a verbal reply, yet the reality was not difficult to deduce.

Chenbi’s countenance bore an expression of hollow resignation. Demian was seated some distance away in isolation, quietly executing a meditative breathing cycle—those two images conveyed everything that needed to be said.

“……I comprehend. So that is how it concluded.”

His mouth felt entirely parched. No—merely calling it “parched” failed to capture the sheer emptiness.

How many passings had he bear witness to throughout his long existence? Far too many to count on his fingers alone. Yet the concept of “death” was something that Myseolne could never truly become desensitized to.

It was profoundly worse when it claimed someone to whom he had grown genuinely close—and it appeared he had formed a significant bond with Aster.

As that realization settled over him, Myseolne’s eyes naturally drifted toward Demian and Chenbi.

Even he, who had known Aster for a mere handful of days, felt as though his heart was being wrenched apart—so what must these young boys, his closest companions, be enduring……

Then, all at once, Myseolne detected an anomaly.

‘……What is this?’

Something felt distinctly out of place.

Demian and Chenbi were visibly weighed down by an immense gravity. Up to that point, it matched the expected response of individuals who had suffered the loss of a comrade.

However, what drew his attention were Chenbi’s eyes.

They were remarkably steady.

It was impossible to categorize them as the eyes of a boy merely consumed by sorrow. They possessed the distinct focus of someone who had arrived at a definitive resolution……

In that precise moment, Chenbi’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Sir Myseolne, since you have returned to us, may I inquire about something?”

“You may, but…….”

Myseolne gave his consent while carefully analyzing Chenbi’s demeanor.

Indeed—a transformation had occurred.

Among the trio, Chenbi had always been the most perceptive and empathetic youth, and under normal circumstances, it would be second nature for him to check on Myseolne’s physical state before anything else. Why the sudden shift?

While Myseolne weighed these thoughts—

Chenbi posed his question with absolute composure.

And the instant the words left the boy’s mouth, Myseolne grasped the underlying intent behind Chenbi’s mindset.

“Just before you lost consciousness, you uttered the name ‘Infernal.’ Is that creature perhaps the…… entity made of flame? A type of construct? Is that its proper designation? If it is, could you explain its traits to us?”

At this very moment, Chenbi was resolving to confront the Infernal.

A prolonged interval of quiet settled over the group.

Myseolne withheld his response, but Chenbi, acting as though there was absolutely no reason to hurry, calmly existed within the stillness.

Indeed—there was no description more accurate for Chenbi’s current state than to say he was “dwelling calmly in the stillness.”

‘The depth of his soul…… has expanded?’

Could it be defined as poise? No—rather than mere poise, his character had profoundly deepened.

The trauma of losing Aster, his close companion, had forged the boy into something far more resilient.

Nevertheless.

Myseolne ultimately released a heavy breath in response to that unwavering stare, forcing open lips that resisted speech.

“I cannot say what manner of plan you are formulating, but abandon it.”

“Are you instructing me to desist without even listening to what I intend?”

The delivery was gentle as it had always been, yet laced with an undeniable iron rigidity—merely listening to that tone made Myseolne realize this dispute would not be easily resolved.

Consequently, his own delivery grew significantly sterner.

“Are you seeking a path of vengeance? Such an endeavor is entirely pointless.”

Yet Chenbi maintained his soft demeanor.

“I believe your perspective is accurate. But who gets to determine what holds point? Are you going to dictate that meaning for me, Sir Myseolne?”

“It is a meaningless waste of life. Do you honestly believe Aster would wish for you to throw your life away simply to retaliate on his behalf?”

“I cannot be certain. Under normal circumstances, I would agree and say ‘no,’ but…… in truth, I never completely understood what lay within Aster’s heart either, so it is a difficult question to answer.”

As Chenbi delivered those words—

Another heavy, uncomfortable quiet stretched between them. It grew so profoundly silent that the rhythmic pattern of Demian’s respirations became audible.

Within that stillness, Myseolne felt completely powerless.

‘What path am I supposed to take here?’

He could not claim to be ignorant of that specific emotional state.

The passing of a dear friend.

They required some form of outlet to channel and alleviate that immense suffering.

Up to that specific point, it was not inherently destructive.

Vengeance was a corrosive sentiment that destroyed a person from within, yet depending on the manner in which it was channeled, it could function as a bitter remedy to dull the agony.

However, in a scenario such as this……

Just as he had articulated, it would amount to nothing short of a meaningless waste of life.

He lacked the authority to dictate choices to these young people, yet even so—was it not his obligation to prevent an exercise in futility?

And yet, their collective determination was remarkably unyielding.

While Myseolne floundered to find words to continue, the person who unexpectedly broke the silence first was Chenbi.

“I am not contemplating an act of retaliation.”

“……Then what is it?”

“I would welcome the chance for retaliation if it were feasible, but as you observed, what value would that truly possess? We are merely…… how should I describe it?”

Chenbi silently structured his internal perspective.

Yes. It certainly did not stem from a desire for revenge.

Then for what reason were he and Demian preparing themselves to confront that entity known as the ‘Infernal’?

His internal deliberation pulled on. In a completely organic fashion, their spirits had converged on the consensus of “let us move forward,” yet they had not truly evaluated the philosophical weight behind it.

Thus, a considerable amount of time drifted past.

Chenbi eventually formulated an answer that felt sufficiently accurate and gave it voice.

Yet that conclusion was, to Myseolne, entirely unforeseen.

“Simply because I desire to witness it.”

“To witness it…… you desire that?”

“Yes. Whether we possess the capability to exit these subterranean ruins remains uncertain, but I hold the conviction that we will successfully depart.”

This was not a calculation based on odds or probability. It was, in the most literal sense, an absolute conviction.

Chenbi genuinely trusted that he would find a way out of these ancient ruins. He harbored no uncertainty regarding that outcome.

But what connection did escaping the subterranean structure have with seeking out the Infernal?

The rationale was not intricate.

“The Infernal shall serve as my benchmark.”

“……Your benchmark?”

“Yes. The standard of power that I must eventually attain.”

“…….”

“Naturally, I might lose sight of this goal as time passes. I am aware that the passage of years tends to erase many impressions. Perhaps I will choose to give up entirely. I lack innate genius. Yet even if it fades from my mind, even if I throw in the towel, I will inevitably recall it one day.”

Chenbi permitted a slight upturn to form at the corner of his lips as he explained this.

“Infernal, you claimed the life of my companion. In that hour, I was entirely devoid of power. At present, would my strength suffice? How do things stand? Am I still weighed and found wanting?”

“…….”

“I might look back with bitter remorse, or simply inter it deep down as a horrific memory…… well, I cannot truly predict which outcome will manifest. But I am absolutely certain of a single reality.”

“And what is that……?”

“If I remain stationary on this day, I will carry the regret of this inaction for the remainder of my existence.”

When Chenbi finished speaking,

Myseolne experienced a flash of profound insight.

Long ago, when he had first perceived the utterances of the spirits through the medium of the ethereal fairy dance, that mystical display had transformed into the singular, defining longing of his entire life.

And precisely as it had occurred for him on that fateful day……

‘Chenbi, likewise.’

The boy would spend the entirety of his existence bound to the concept of the Infernal.

It amounted to nothing more than “witnessing” the Infernal, yet that solitary impression would occupy the vast majority of the youth’s future path.

If he successfully views it, then he carries that vision.

If he fails to view it, then he carries that void.

Regardless of the outcome, it would leave a massive, indelible mark across the canvas of the boy’s life. Given that reality, what was the correct course of action?

Myseolne understood the solution perfectly.

“It is not a difficult matter to share the information with you. However…… the Infernal represents an exceptional danger.”

“That is acceptable.”

“I might prove entirely incapable of rendering assistance. I will not lose consciousness in the manner I did previously, but the spirits under my command harbor a profound terror of the Infernal. The sole reason I collapsed before was a direct result of that terror infecting me. Are you still prepared to proceed despite that?”

“Yes. That changes nothing.”

Chenbi offered a subtle, grateful smile in response to Myseolne’s yielding stance.

Then, he delivered his closing thought.

“In the grand scheme of things, every soul eventually meets its end.”