Chapter 539 – Hadal
Adrian, Isabella, and Alpha met the Watcher of the North with Verden, and under his guidance, they witnessed a grotesque giant sealed within the frigid ice.
To have gained access to the Ark's secrets meant, in other words, that under Verden's responsibility, they were now qualified to be aware of the Ark.
Thus, matters regarding the Ark and Gluttony had already been shared in full.
For Adrian to hear the secretive conversation that had passed between Verden and the Listener's group was by no means strange.
"By the way, a group aiding Gluttony… my lord, who do you suspect?"
"The same as you. Outsiders might not even conceive of it, but at least we know the truth behind it."
Verden affirmed.
"It must be the Bohemirn Magic Tower."
Aside from Black Hour, none had such close ties with advanced human experimentation.
The circumstances that led Gluttony and the Bohemirn Magic Tower to join hands were unknown.
But there could be no doubt, that some sordid trade had taken place, one aligning their interests, and bearing great value to both sides.
"The number of enemies keeps growing."
Adrian did not care in the slightest about Gluttony or otherwise. Any obstacle that blocked his path, he would simply shatter.
"Still, it's not entirely bad. Even if we chase Gluttony instead of the Bohemirn Magic Tower's strongest force, we'll eventually learn what Balrog intends. In that sense, our options have expanded."
Of course, that also meant the enemy's scale had grown larger, but it was something they could well manage. The initiative of preemptive strike remained firmly in Verden's hands.
There was a reason they operated so relentlessly, hiding their existence from the world.
At any rate, with the dialogue with the Ark concluded, before they moved their forces in earnest, it was time to visit Isabella's homeland.
"Will you come with us?"
"No, I'll remain here. It doesn't seem like a place I should intrude upon… hmm, but her homeland, is it."
Adrian thought of the rugged mountain range shrouded in sinister mist. The refuge of the teacher who raised him after he lost his parents to demi-humans.
It was there that he learned life as a swordsman, and as a human.
Verden spoke.
"If you wish, I can take you there as well."
"…I do miss it, having not returned since I was abducted by the Bohemirn Magic Tower, but I swore never to return empty-handed. Perhaps next time, may I ask you then?"
Adrian seemed determined to visit his homeland only after his revenge was fully complete. That resolve was understandable.
"Say the word, whenever you wish."
"Yes, my lord."
Leaving Arein behind, Verden shifted to the Great Hall. Following the trace of presence, he stepped into one of the laboratories of the deep layer.
Isabella, who had been reading a book on alchemy, blinked.
"Master? You've finished already?"
"The Ark arrived a little sooner than expected. So then, where must we go?"
"Ah, wait a moment… here!"
Isabella spread out a prepared map of the central continent, her slender finger pointing toward the lower right.
At once, Verden calculated the spatial coordinates and activated the artifact.
As the entrance to space opened, violet waves rippled outward.
"..."
To return at last to her homeland, so long absent, and marked with such harrowing memories—perhaps it stirred hesitation.
Isabella swallowed faintly, and lightly grasped [Ainber]'s sleeve. Then Verden stepped forward in her stead, leading the tense young woman.
Naturally, Isabella was drawn along.
Hwoong.
The two leapt through space.
***
The place where Isabella's manor had once stood was a barony of a small kingdom named 'Maren'.
A rural land far from progress, the nearest settlement barely town-sized at best.
Even so, it was a decent place to live.
For the ancestors who had fled the Magocracy, bearing the three heirlooms—relics granted by the first Demon King in reward for halting the advance of a special-class creature alone—it was all the more so.
Here, the name of the Argyle family gradually faded. Instead, they were regarded as a respected family of mages within a minor barony.
The descendants of fallen nobility helped their neighbors, maintained good relations with the lord, and blended into an ordinary life.
Now, that was all in the past.
Sarak… sarak…
Isabella moved her steps slowly, toward the front, and halted. Before her eyes lay a desolate field, overgrown with weeds, blanketed thick with snow.
"This was our home. Back when I lived as the Melodist of Fortune, I thought I'd never return here again…"
Yet the manor and garden that should have been there had long since vanished. As though they had never existed at all.
Still, to Isabella, it all felt achingly familiar.
What had become of all that once stood here?
Surely, the Bohemirn Magic Tower had erased every trace of that day. The incinerated manor, and the corpses of her family too.
"I'll be nearby."
"…thank you."
Verden left her space, granting Isabella time alone. A winter wind blew harshly, on and off.
Though she normally felt no chill, she stood still, then moved to the center of the former manor grounds.
There she crouched down.
She carefully scooped up a handful of snow. Damp enough to pack easily.
When snow like this piled high, they would gather together, throwing snowballs at one another, building snowmen.
"Xenia… Kael… Marianne… Carver…"
In turn, she whispered of her younger sister, the youngest child, the head maid, the gardener… she recalled her dear family. In memory, their warmth still lived, vivid and bright.
The burning manor.
Her family, fallen and bleeding.
Isabella did not know how she escaped the encirclement the Bohemirn Magic Tower had woven through Crodon's power.
She only dimly recalled, losing consciousness after consuming [Blood of Resurrection], one of the three heirlooms…
Though unintentional, to have fled alone, without even gathering her family's remains as their head, weighed upon her deeply.
Immersed in her feelings, Isabella let out a nasal hum.
It was the melody of a self-composed song, simple like a fairy tale, the one Xenia and Kael had especially loved.
Perhaps because the world was so quiet, it felt as though she were standing once more upon a stage.
Dagadag, dagadag.
As she sang a requiem, mourning the departed, hoofbeats echoed steadily across the ground.
She turned back. A young man approached, pulling a horse-drawn cart. White breath billowed and scattered in the cold air.
"My, what are you doing here alone, on such a frigid day…? You seem to be a traveler I've not seen before. Do you need any help?"
With the hood of her robe pulled low, Isabella had hidden her appearance. To him, she seemed no more than a woman.
But Isabella knew otherwise.
'This person…'
He was an acquaintance.
Yes, he must have been a young man from the village closest to the manor. An heir to his family trade, a farmer who tilled the land on a larger scale.
Until Crodon Olentia had attacked the manor, she had frequently gone back and forth to the village, so in truth, they had known one another.
'Was his name Henry?'
Though more than a dozen years had passed, enough time for his impression to change a little, not so much that she could not recognize him.
"Excuse me?"
The young man, Henry, asked again.
Isabella hesitated before answering. She was truly glad to see him, enough that pretending not to know felt wrong… yet now was not the time.
"I'm fine. I don't need help."
"Ah…"
Firmly refusing, she walked past the cart.
Since she had declined, he could do nothing more, yet Henry felt uneasy about leaving a woman walking alone. He turned his head.
"But the village is still a way off, at least let me take you that far… huh?"
No one.
All that remained were footsteps in the snow, abruptly cut off. Henry blinked blankly, mouth agape.
"Uwaaaaah!!!"
Goosebumps turned to sheer terror. He whipped the reins frantically, while the horse, indifferent to its master's panic, snorted and pulled the cart at its usual pace.
Thus was born the rumor of a robed female ghost, spreading through the barony.
Meanwhile, Isabella, having flown
Verden, approaching her side, asked.
"An acquaintance?"
"A neighbor."
"You could have greeted him. Even if you revealed your identity here, it would not hinder the plan to come."
"I'll save it for later. Before something so great, I don't want to create variables. Even the smallest variable… isn't it so?"
Isabella mimicked Verden's tone, and smiled faintly.
"Haa, I think I'm glad I came after all. My heart feels lighter. In this state of mind, I feel as though I can do anything."
"That is good to hear."
"And I have one more, small goal."
Her pale hand pointed to the hill below, where she had just been.
"One day, I'll rebuild the manor there. I'll make a modest garden, add my own tastes… and use it like a villa. A place I can come whenever I have time."
Isabella smiled alluringly, imagining the future to come.
"The master's room will be the grandest one, of course."
The sun sank, and night descended.
In the horizon's blazing sunset, her dark green hair and golden eyes glimmered.
***
A few days later, the Listener's party had left the ownerless land, and within the Grand Hall of the Great Hall, the Society and Black Hour were assembled.
As during the succession ceremony, the two groups stood divided left and right, yet without the same tension as before. Though their magical goals differed, they now acknowledged they belonged to the same force.
At last, Verden appeared.
"Homage to the Supreme Divinity."
As Dahit Wethroel had become Darkmoon, so had Verden become Divinity. The title stemmed from the epithet, Divinity of the Eastern Continent.
Olnord, once a high-ranking Black Hour officer stripped of his mana circuits by Isabella, now devoted solely to magical research, bowed his head.
So too did the other mages.
Walking at the center of reverence, Verden, staff in hand, slowly climbed the steps. He stood before Black Hour's throne, and looked upon them all.
Silence fell.
"You will have heard the news."
His low voice rang through the solemn air.
"The second leader of Black Hour. Darkmoon, Dahit Wethroel, has begun to unravel the rigid hierarchy of systemized magic."
"..."
"By our withdrawal from the frontlines, the West Continent's Magic Tower Alliance rejoiced, celebrating victory, yet still unaware of the truth. The magical world beyond this Great Hall is now in chaos."
Verden's tone sharpened.
"Rest ends here. From this moment, I will assign missions to each force."
His blue gaze turned left.
"First, the Society. Since many of your members' identities remain unknown, you will blend into society, and monitor the activities of the Bohemirn Magic Tower. There is no need to force out secrets. Instead, focus on locating the 'officially' revealed elements across the continent. Can you do that?"
"No problem, senior!"
Unia, by chance at the very front row, shouted confidently. The Sages inwardly found the sight admirable.
Nodding, Verden cast his gaze to the right.
"And Black Hour, you will divide into magical research and combat divisions. You will analyze, thoroughly, the unique magics of the Bohemirn Magic Tower, which I will provide, then construct countermeasures, and share them with all."
"We will obey your will."
Revana, a high-ranking officer who has survived Dahit's purge, knelt and answered.
Through flexible thought, she had long since accepted the reality that the invader of the Great Hall had become its master.
Control of a vast organization.
Having defeated Dahit Wethroel and inherited even the concept of annihilation, Verden was, by now, almost an object of worship to Black Hour.
Boom!
At their leader's will, the Grand Hall's gates swung open.
"I expect great deeds."
Encouraged by Verden, the mages moved with perfect order.
The final preparations for vengeance had begun.
***
Time flows everywhere.
In Black Hour's Great Hall, and across every continent.