Chapter 153: Chains and Bridges
The forest exhaled a heavy breath. The air trembled faintly, and the moss on the ground rose in ripples, clinging to the rocks. At first it seed like chaotic change, but gradually it took on a shape familiar to human eyes.
It was a mural rendered in green and red.
Within it, a large man was reflected. Copper-colored armor, a sword worn to a shine. On his chest was the ancient crest of Niboria.
Raimund Ashapel.
Soon the lines of the mural shifted, and a battlefield unfolded. He led heroes through narrow gorges. Wherever the banner flew, Raimund was always there.
The second figure was Ranita. A woman who carried the blood of mages, and a genius of tactics. The figure of Raimund took her hand. Warmth spread through the silent image.
The last was Caracal. The man who beca the first emperor. Behind him, a map depicted the expansion of Niboria's territory. He read the hearts of n, and did not hesitate to sacrifice even friends and family. The eyes within the mural narrowed.
And then the tragedy ended in a single night.
Dawn, a burning fortress, a brief scream. The moss turned red and scattered in an instant, and Ranita's figure lost its light and fell. There was no explanation at all—yet the single word death remained vivid.
Raimund cried out, rose again, and fought alone.
Above the wasteland. Stars blanketed the sky, and sand and shadows layered thick upon the ground. Not a single person survived. tal was ground to fragnts, and only the dry wind heralded the birth of an absolute.
He awakened the power of chaos only after he had lost everything. His family, his beloved, his friends. From within that vast grief, he gained a paradoxical strength.
He slaughtered every pursuer Caracal sent—yet the contours of his heart still bore the shape of vengeance. At the end of it all, only a deep and boundless darkness remained.
Sothing surged violently from his heart, and the world bled black.
The na Raimund was thus forgotten. His eyes and mouth, his shoulders and torso, his entire body sank into shadow. The Niborian crest fixed to his chest eroded away. Soon every line was restructured into a single word.
De Generitum.
The mont that na rose, the sunlight filtering through the leaves flickered out—and returned. The form shaped by moss scattered completely.
All that remained were the humans who had witnessed it.
'Raimund too wielded a power like mine. Yet in the end, the balance collapsed, and the darkness consud him.'
Calix t the Gatekeeper's gaze without looking away.
This was a warning. That he, too, was walking the sa path as Raimund—a brutal but unadorned answer.
* * *
A quiet clearing. The Gatekeeper's hooves pressed gently into the snow. As he slowly tilted his head, the wind coiling around the mountainside grew still.
"You fly high. The shadow grows just as deep."
His voice resonated across the entire mountain range.
"You may rise further—or fall without end."
At those certain words, Calix's hand drifted to his hip. It was not to draw his sword. It was a gesture of steadying his own breath.
'Is that how the path I've walked appears to others?'
A brief question flickered through his mind.
The core in his heart beat with a dull thrum. Not to release energy—but like a shake of the head, it sent out a pulse.
Calix exhaled a long breath. The vow exchanged with Gregor, the answer he had given Royce, and everything that had unfolded since—all of it settled onto his shoulders at once.
"You're right."
He stood at the boundary of darkness. The number of tis he encountered De Generitum in dreams had grown, and there had been monts when he was swayed by Draug's whispers.
"As you say, there is immature evil within . I know it grows little by little with each battle. But—"
That was not all of it.
Calix continued speaking, unbothered by the pressure pricking at his skin.
"I do not deny that fact. That matters. When it overflows, I reduce it. When it leaks out, I bind it. And when even that falls short, I accept the help of my comrades."
In that instant, sothing flickered through the Gatekeeper's eyes.
"I move forward in step with those at my side. Raimund cast away his na—but I have not cast away mine."
"You are greedy."
The brief reply drew a smile instead. There was no better word to describe Calix himself.
"Yes, I am very greedy. But that greed is also what holds in place, and what makes rise again."
"……."
"I am not alone. There is much I must tend to—and even more people I want to tend to."
His opponent was a mage. There was no aning in speaking falsehood, and so he poured out his truest feelings more openly than he ever had before.
He did not look back.
If his eyes t Volga's, or Zahira's, or Hadiya's—it would be embarrassing.
"So do not tell I am the sa as Raimund. He yearned for vengeance—but I put my strength toward living alongside others."
The Gatekeeper fell montarily silent. His eyes drifted past the far side of the mountain ridge. No special proof was needed.
The Mountain Rabbits had advanced while keeping their oaths. They had protected wanderers and cared for commoners. They had defeated the Legion Commander and saved both Astria and Niboria. The path they had walked was the most certain rebuttal of all.
Then Calix spoke his final words. In them was a conviction as clear as the white breath he breathed.
"I do not wish to cross this boundary. Rather than step beyond that threshold—I would beco a bridge for everyone."
The Gatekeeper's eyelids blinked, very, very slowly. But when he raised his head again, only a dry light shone within his eyes.
"Truly different, are you."
He continued in a low voice.
"Hatred arises from knowing. If one does not know, one cannot hate."
The Gatekeeper's gaze dropped to Calix's nape, then to his chest—then returned to his eyes.
"You who embedded tal into bone and flesh—your roots reach the sa place. Have you ever looked inward and asked who it was that first planted that 'speed' within you?"
Calix furrowed his brow, revealing a look of confusion. He did not fully understand the aning. He was about to ask imdiately—but his throat seized, and no sound ca.
"The one who gave you a second chance at life—had eyes like yours."
"……."
An afterglow flickered before his eyes.
Yellow moonlight, the sll of heated iron, the bitter taste of burnt oil, a calloused hand gripping a small wrist with rough force. The face was blurred beyond recognition.
It was a figure buried deep in his unconscious, long ago.
'……Father?'
His knees turned to stone. His heartbeat twisted a half-beat, thud, reverberating through his chest. The Gatekeeper's words echoed at his ear, and the afterglow before him refused to fade. His voice failed him—only his lips moved once, soundlessly.
Clack!
In that mont, Yelayen stepped one pace forward. He struck his staff against the ground, and the wind burst outward in all directions. His energy clashed hard against the Gatekeeper's chaos, surging and colliding.
Only then did the Gatekeeper's gaze turn.
"Gatekeeper."
Yelayen spoke in a gentle voice.
"Leatus has been extinguished. The Storm Forest has lost its master. The world's circulation has halted, and the scales have tilted to one side."
His tone was quiet, but it carried weight.
"And furthermore, as Kohtan has fallen, the void it left behind grows ever larger. Power abhors emptiness. Just as water flows toward lower ground, it will ultimately converge upon a single point."
He glanced briefly toward Calix, then returned his gaze to the Gatekeeper.
"It is true that he is not yet complete. But you already know this, do you not."
"……The core."
"Precisely. He is closer than anyone. Still rough and crude—but that is the nature of beginnings. He stands sowhere between boundless possibility and imnse danger."
With those words, the two mages fell into a long silence. Rather than colliding violently, their energies interlocked smoothly.
Sssssss.
While the Gatekeeper observed Calix in silence, the entire forest swayed in the wind. In that gaze, there was no emotion—only cold calculation and judgnt.
"Can he reach it."
Yelayen smiled faintly.
He exhaled a breath mixed with relief and answered at once.
"He will reach it. No—I will see to it that he does. I know how treacherous that path is, but we have no other choice. If it were otherwise—"
He paused briefly to choose his words, then added quietly:
"This continent would be swallowed by darkness once more."
* * *
The Gatekeeper held his silence for a ti. He made no movent, gave no sign of his presence. Yet he could not go on weighing indefinitely.
At so point, he twisted the tip of one of the horns extending from his shoulders.
Snap— with a sound, a small fragnt rose into the air. The flow of energy swirled around it and narrowed into shape. A texture that was neither tal nor living tissue—a matte substance gradually took the form of a thin ring.
"……This is a fragnt that holds my authority."
A ring—or rather, a lusterless band—glided toward Calix. He extended his hand, and it slipped naturally onto his fourth finger.
"It is both the chain that binds you, and your final support."
In that instant, a cold current rose from his fingertips. Simultaneously, a burning energy poured into his chest. He could not tell which of the two was correct.
'The core……is being pushed aside.'
Calix clenched his teeth. A searing pain, sharp as a brand being pressed into flesh. Two forces—alien and paradoxical—interlocked into a single layer.
As if matters could not worsen further, the energy of chaos pressed in from all directions.
Calix staggered, but he did not go down on his knees. With each ragged breath he swallowed, the pain within reshaped itself to match a new set of rules.
The ring on his finger vibrated faintly, and its pulse aligned precisely with the rhythm of the second core.
Yes—the second.
The power contained within it was clearly chaos, but it was not his own. The Gatekeeper had forced it inside him.
"This ring will warn you. When the balance within you begins to overflow."
He cautioned in a desolate tone.
"At that mont……make the decision yourself."
A brief silence hung in the air. Calix raised one hand and looked at the ring. The band imbued with the Gatekeeper's power was of an entirely different order from the necklace Minebris had given him.
The sensation was unfamiliar, and it weighed like a thick iron chain. But it was just as unyielding.
As the pain slowly subsided, the energy settled in his heart beca more distinctly perceptible. It was a mass large enough to suppress the darkness.
He clenched his fist and opened it again. Neither runaway nor emptiness—a third state entirely. As if drawn by an external force, the balance within his body was set right.
Around that mont, his gaze t the Gatekeeper's. He betrayed no emotion. He simply turned his back and looked toward the far side of the mountain range.
"Depart now. I have no more ti to spare."
Rumble—!
A roar rose from the distance. The mountain ridge split, and chunks of rock ca crashing down. A black energy rising from beneath the earth spread into the sky.
Sothing wicked had drawn near.
The Gatekeeper whose very na had been forgotten moved his hooves toward fulfilling his calling.
"I……."
"This is my share."
He spoke no further. His form was swallowed by rays of light and vanished in an instant. In that mont, the trees encircling the clearing shook all at once. Snow flurries scattered, and from beyond the mountain, a grotesque cry continued.
Calix looked for a long ti in the direction where the Gatekeeper had disappeared. It had been a brief encounter—yet the conversation they had shared still echoed at his ear.
It was ti to leave. But instinctively, he knew.
That before long, they would et again.
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