Chapter 189

The Back-Alley Mage’s Return – Chapter 189

Chapter 189. A Red Flower Doesn’t Last Ten Days

Once Myseolne concluded his full explanation, it did not take long for Demian to complete his meditative breathing cycle.

“Are you prepared, Demian?”

Demian offered no spoken reply. Instead, he simply raised his gaze and fixed it upon Chenbi.

After observing those bright, profound eyes for a brief period, Chenbi gave Demian a gentle tap on the shoulder and turned his back.

“……”

Pausing in front of the massive breach, Chenbi allowed his gaze to linger within the shadows for a brief spell.

The passageway extending past the opening stretched out incredibly far, seeming almost bottomless. Beyond the faint illumination offered by the glowing stone, the obscuring dark resembled a bottomless void, while the stone structures liquefied by intense heat distorted the surrounding environment, creating a hallucinatory impression.

While Chenbi quietly peered into the gloom, the voice of Myseolne sounded close beside him.

“Are you certain you want to proceed with this?”

Chenbi remained silent, choosing instead to offer a soft grin.

Upon witnessing that expression, Myseolne understood that his inquiry had been entirely pointless.

‘…He has truly transformed into a mage.’

Furthermore, this change was not unique to Chenbi.

Standing nearby, Demian possessed eyes that were likewise far more profound and lucid than they had previously been. Each of them had advanced a stride further in psychological maturity.

Just as Myseolne arrived at this realization, Chenbi advanced forward into the passage.

The sound of strides reverberated through the shadowy hallway. The heavy gloom consuming the area shrank back slightly with every forward movement.

With every single stride—each instance the hallway’s shadows gave way by a fraction—Chenbi sensed his own individual existence dissolving further.

An impression washed over him of shrinking down into nothingness, growing tinier until he was entirely subsumed by the universe itself.

This was a completely novel perception, one he had never encountered throughout his existence. Terror might easily have gripped him, yet Chenbi continued onward. Keeping his gaze cast downward, he peered ahead into the blackness.

Hello there. Your name is Aster, correct?

That’s right. What of it?

My name is Chenbi. Everyone talks about you. Word is you forced the second son of Doranpe to his knees.

The encounter had not been particularly remarkable, and he had never given it profound contemplation.

Having joined the institution at the age of sixteen—a bit delayed compared to most—he experienced a sense of displacement, and he could not deny feeling overwhelmed in the presence of the wealthy heirs from affluent lineages.

If truth be told, interacting with a wanderer hailing from the Black and White Zone felt far less daunting, and had he been turned away, he simply would have sought out a different circle; there was absolutely nothing vital about their introduction.

Oh, it’s nothing major. I merely hoped we could share a bench. I haven’t formed any friendships around here so far. It’s somewhat… challenging to insinuate oneself into established cliques. I’m sure you understand.

Go ahead. Suit yourself.

A bond that initiated without carrying any significant weight.

Blast it.

The profanity he regularly muttered was, under any charitable interpretation, superficial. His demeanor, utterly devoid of drive regarding any matter, defied comprehension.

By what means did a youth of that nature capture the attention of House Brando? Claiming he harbored no jealousy would be an absolute falsehood.

Yet, it brought him joy.

Sufficiently so that any traces of resentment dissolved entirely.

Furthermore, he felt a sense of appreciation.

To such a degree that the jealousy he naturally harbored filled him with regret.

…Wait, Aster?

What sort of nonsense is this, honestly. Hold on a moment. We can exchange pleasantries once I handle this matter.

N-no. Aster, watch out, it’s hazard—!

Could a time ever come when he might return the favor?

Where Demian represented a radiantly gleaming celestial body, Aster embodied an unbridled gust of air. As for himself, he was merely an uneven, unsightly stone protrusion jutting outward. The concept of settling the debt seemed completely beyond him.

However.

He honestly had no inkling.

The tempest he assumed would grow into a roaring gale ultimately dwindled into a mild draft and dissipated uselessly. Nothing remained in its wake.

He anticipated that it would eventually venture off to an unattainable realm far beyond his grasp, but it never crossed his mind that it would vanish entirely in such a manner.

Consequently, Chenbi now traversed this pitch-black chasm. Revisiting bygone days with every stride.

Desiring to grant closure to a parting he had never been permitted to conclude appropriately.

For what duration did he advance in that state?

By the time Chenbi had almost entirely lost awareness of his own identity and merged with his surroundings, an aged, raspy voice sounded near him.

“…The destination is just ahead.”

Chenbi gradually shut his eyelids, opened them once more, and directed his view forward. Sure enough, the extensive hallway was at last reaching its conclusion.

“In that case, I shall return shortly.”

“Simply inspect the area and return.”

Declining a vocal response, Chenbi took hold of the glowing stone and shifted his gaze toward Demian.

The instant they emerged from the passage, a spacious stone hall came into view.

Within that space, Chenbi experienced no difficulty in locating the object of their search.

Did elemental entities require slumber? A colossus composed of rock lay huddled in the middle of the room, emitting nothing more than a weak flicker of fire.

The temperature was overwhelmingly sweltering, yet Chenbi’s gaze—calmly taking in that immense form—meticulously surveyed the entire room.

The hall, for inexplicable reasons, appeared to be in utter disarray.

And yet.

…There was nothing to be found.

The solitary entities occupying the room were the hunched rock behemoth, he himself, and Demian.

Finally, Chenbi shifted his attention to Demian.

Even when Chenbi’s eyes settled on him, Demian continued to fixate on the rock behemoth for a brief period before looking back at Chenbi and offering a nod of agreement.

Having verified this exchange, Chenbi redirected his attention toward Myseolne, who had trailed behind them without anyone noticing.

“Master Myseolne, are the elemental spirits unharmed?”

“…Just as anticipated, they are unable to regain consciousness. They are currently recuperating inside me.”

“Which means you are incapable of taking action, Master Myseolne?”

“Correct. Therefore, make haste— hold on, wait.”

Detecting an unusual shift in the air, Myseolne knitted his brows. For a brief interval, Chenbi’s subtle tone carried a threatening undertone.

Right at that moment—

Crack, shatter!

“What is the meaning of—!”

Protrusions of solid stone abruptly erupted from the ground. Within a heartbeat, scores of jagged pillars materialized, aiming directly at Myseolne.

Myseolne could do nothing but lose his footing and fall backward in a panic, just as Chenbi’s sharp words pierced through the noise.

“Master Myseolne, please forgive me for deceiving you.”

“You— what exactly are you planning to— gack!”

Chenbi offered no explanation. He merely employed his arcane arts to propel Myseolne further back into the hallway.

Once Myseolne had been pushed a sufficient distance away, Chenbi acted without a moment’s pause, causing the passage they had just traversed to cave in completely.

Rumble, crash…!

Amidst the cascading boulders—

“This violates our arrangement…!”

Disregarding the echoing cries of Myseolne, Chenbi turned his attention once more to the rock colossus—Infernal.

Was the creature genuinely resting? Despite the immense racket, it remained huddled together, completely motionless.

Chenbi observed the creature for a spell, then questioned Demian.

“Are you genuinely certain this method will succeed?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Then it shall.”

Securing that definitive reassurance, Chenbi brought to mind a portion of the details Myseolne had previously shared regarding Infernal.

Infernal was a flame entity purported to date back to ancient mythological eras. Yet despite possessing a spiritual nature, its essence leaned far closer to a malevolent entity, with lore suggesting its very inception traced back to the burning depths of the underworld.

The searing temperatures it generated possessed a fatal intensity even against physical forms, but their true devastation was wrought upon spiritual entities.

Blazes capable of completely erasing spirits—beings that otherwise possessed no notion of mortality—was that the case?

Under ordinary circumstances, this was an adversary he would never have presumed to face, yet Chenbi narrowed his concentration, exhaling a slow, profound breath.

If Demian asserted that success was possible, then success would follow.

He harbored no reservations whatsoever.

“Demian, let us prepare ourselves.”

“A single opportunity is all we possess.”

“I understand. I shall endure for as long as my strength allows.”

Uttering this, Chenbi shifted his position to stand directly ahead of Demian, shielding him from view.

Demian gazed at Chenbi’s rear silhouette for a fleeting moment, then shut his eyelids and commenced his incantation. His mouth formed words, releasing an unconventional, rhythmic cadence of sound.

The velocity of the recitation intensified rapidly, eventually accelerating to a degree where individual phrases became entirely indistinguishable.

Crackle, snap…!

Responding to the verbal spell, the ambient Mana began to violently agitate, resembling dense tempest clouds gathering mass ahead of a lightning discharge.

Did the creature perceive this threatening indicator?

Creak, groan.

The huddled rock titan began to slowly enlarge its stature. Or rather, it did not truly grow; the combustion blazing with renewed fury merely gave the impression of dilation.

Chenbi erected a defensive barrier to counteract the blistering heat while keeping his unwavering gaze locked onto Infernal.

Truly immense.

A height of three meters… perhaps it was even nearing four meters.

‘…The timeframe given was five minutes, correct?’

Chenbi took a singular pace forward and shut his eyes.

Once a duration equivalent to a single breath cycle had elapsed, Chenbi gradually parted his lids.

The colossal form of Infernal occupied his entire field of vision. Held loosely by Chenbi’s unresisting fingers, the glowing stone dangled unsteadily.

At this precise instant, Chenbi was crossing over into an entirely new domain.

Through Mang-a (忘我), by relinquishing his own ego…

And Ilche (一體), he integrates completely with his surroundings.

This approach diverged entirely from the method of a prodigy who commands and rules over reality. He simply obliterated his own existence, transforming into an element of the universe.

This represented the sole avenue available to Chenbi, an individual possessed of merely ordinary talent (凡才).

Drop…

Inevitably, the loosely held glowing stone slipped from his grasp into a straight descent. Within Chenbi’s perception, which had unified with reality, the entire trajectory was imprinted upon his consciousness with the vivid sharpness of an illustration.

And then—

Clatter!

Chenbi initiated the initial strike.

“I… despise golems.”

Shatter, grind!

Scores of earthen spears erupted violently from the stone floor. Their frigid, metallic azure points surged forward with great speed, targeting Infernal.

Within a realm of awareness sharpened to its absolute pinnacle, this image mirrored briefly across Chenbi’s perception.

It is designated as the “Spear of the Earth.” The title sounds rather majestic, doesn’t it? …Haha.

It isn’t particularly grand.

Is that so?

Yet it isn’t entirely ordinary either.

……

What is your perspective, Aster?

In the case of spells such as this, the user must demonstrate whether the performance justifies the title. Its grandeur is determined entirely by your execution.

Does it not seem rather appropriate?

Harboring this final reflection, Chenbi dissolved entirely into his surroundings.

…The crimson droplets escaping from his nostrils glowed far more intensely than any blossom.

An unusual fracturing noise resounded throughout the expansive stone hall.

Myseolne, gazing stupidly at the obstructed passage, recognized instantly that the confrontation had commenced.

“How could this be…”

He had been utterly blind to miss the signs.

If Chenbi’s sole objective had truly been an inspection of Infernal… how could his gaze have possessed such absolute clarity? It was an impossibility.

If Demian truly harbored no intentions of vengeance… for what purpose had he been honing his abilities so intensely? There would have been no logic behind it.

Pressing his teeth firmly into his lip out of frustration over his oversight, Myseolne felt a wave of vertigo.

Yet it was not merely his own miscalculation that brought him sorrow.

Rumble… crash—!

Past the barrier of stone where fracturing sounds continually echoed—even without accessing the aid of his elemental spirits—Myseolne’s innate awareness detected the situation clearly.

A singular life force was combusting with immense ferocity. Akin to a flickering taper on the verge of burning out, consuming its own vitality to stay alight.

‘…This cannot happen.’

For those possessing mere ordinary talent, a specific boundary exists. There is a deliberate pace they are required to maintain, alongside a threshold they must never transgress.

Yet Chenbi had discarded that limitation.

‘Why—why must you act with such recklessness…?’

By advancing along one’s journey deliberately, at the prescribed tempo, an individual might eventually forge an avenue that even prodigies cannot access.

For what reason, then, would he consume his own potential with such frantic desperation?

Myseolne squeezed his hands into tight fists and shut his eyelids.

The moment for a decision had arrived.

He had hesitated previously because the consequences might prove utterly final, yet… the hour of choice was upon him.

Following a fleeting interval—

Myseolne unsealed his eyes and peered past the collapsed stones.

In reality, it was not an issue that required deep deliberation.

If an individual was required to incinerate their future prospects…

‘…Then let it be this old man who pays that price.’

The spirit summoner of Sakpung (朔風).

This venerable elementalist—formerly reputed to stand as a peer to the devastating magus Muspellun—solidified his determination and closed his eyes once more.

“An eternity has passed since then… I cannot be certain of my success.”

Shortly thereafter, the latent energy of the entities residing within his soul migrated into his withered physical form.

All for the sake of the youthful mage.