C1103
Lord Raon.
Denning Rose called out to Raon as she recovered her breath.
“Are you aware of what’s unfolding in Sepia?”
Her eyes widened in astonishment, puzzled that he possessed news she had only just learned.
“No—I only received that information from you, Lady Denning Rose. But…”
Raon shook his head, signaling he had no prior knowledge.
“I simply suspected that such an event might occur.”
Given the earlier occurrences and what he knew of that individual’s nature, it hardly came as a surprise that this should happen.
“W–what is unfolding? Could it be that vestiges of the White Blood Religion still persist?”
Dorian’s jaw quivered with terror; the mention of fog and a breeze carrying the odor of blood evoked memories of the White Blood Religion.
“Is the White Blood Religion still extant?”
Martha clutched her sword tightly while deeply frowning.
“Thankfully they’ve appeared. I must be the one to exterminate them!”
She gritted her teeth, vowing to utterly obliterate the legacy of the White Blood Religion.
“Although vestiges of the White Blood Religion persist, their commanders are not Archbishops but merely subordinate Bishops. They pose no danger to Zieghart or the Five Kings.”
Denning Rose dropped her hand, signifying that the remnants were feeble to the point of insignificance.
“If there is magic potent enough to exert influence over Sepia, it certainly cannot be attributed to the White Blood Religion.”
She shook her head, asserting that not one Blood Demon exceeding Grandmaster strength remained in this realm.
“Could you please explain precisely what is occurring in Sepia?”
Raon pivoted his gaze toward Denning Rose.
“We have not yet been able to completely comprehend the circumstances in Sepia.”
Denning Rose brought her hands together in a gesture of apology.
“My understanding is that a crimson fog accompanied by strong winds is encircling Sepia, barring human entry and forbidding elves from departing.”
“Thus, every passage is obstructed.”
Raon nodded in agreement, acknowledging the nature of the issue.
“Yes. As you know, Lord Raon, Sepia is presently engaged in commerce with humans—especially with Zieghart—but I’ve heard they’re suffering severe losses because the crimson mist blocks all travel.”
She frowned, remarking that the route to Sepia was entirely sealed off.
“Then Sepia itself could not have generated this fog.”
Martha arched her eyebrows, implying its origin must be external.
“Should I go and cut it away?”
She licked her lips, seemingly inviting them to let her handle it.
“No, allow me to dispel it with my magic.”
Evelyn, determined not to be outdone by Martha, invoked a magical circle over her hand.
“Hmph.”
“Hah.”
The two women exchanged smiles, though neither revealed any warmth in their expressions.
“Ugh…”
Dorian silently withdrew, clearly exasperated by Martha and Evelyn’s forceful methods.
—You. What exactly are you aware of?
Wrath patted Raon’s shoulder in a gentle, almost massaging manner, urging him to divulge his knowledge without delay.
“I’m not entirely certain at the moment. However…”
Raon softly grasped the scabbard of his Wooden Ring Sword. A slight smile crossed his face as he sensed a clean, aromatic breeze descending from above.
“Perhaps I can resolve this predicament.”
***
“Grandfather!”
Siyana, a High Elf and the current Guardian of Sepia, called out as she stepped into the modest, dilapidated hut.
“Have you had your meal?”
She moved toward the former Guardian Sterin, who was slouched in an uneven chair.
“Siyana…”
Sterin gradually lifted his head. His body appeared as shriveled as a wilting petal, and his visage was etched with deep, permanent creases.
“You must be occupied—so why have you come here?”
Sterin slowly parted his parched lips.
“I have come to ensure that you eat, Grandfather!”
Siyana raised her chin, as though questioning why he would doubt something so evident.
“I repeatedly assure you that I’m fine…”
Sterin shook his head, insisting he could nourish himself and that there was no need for concern.
“If I don’t visit, you won’t eat whatsoever!”
Siyana exhaled deeply while setting the fruit she had brought upon the aged table.
“I still possess some of the Nadine bread you provided.”
Sterin gestured toward the Nadine bread by the window—it had become as hard as stone, apparently undisturbed for ages.
“Not that—I mean, you must consume something nourishing!” (E/N: Blasphemy. Nadine bread is very nutritious.)
Siyana removed the prepared Nadine bread and replaced it with the fruit.
“Alright. I get it. I understand.”
Sterin chuckled softly, yet still unable to outdo his granddaughter. With quivering hands, he grasped a fresh apple.
“Hah…”
He appeared too feeble to bite into the apple properly, managing only to leave indentations on its skin before lowering his hand.
“Grandfather…”
Siyana pressed her lip tightly, troubled to see Sterin unable to properly consume even fruit.
“Allow me to cut it for you!”
She infused her voice with forced cheerfulness as she sliced the apple into small chunks using a wooden knife.
“Thank you.”
Sterin exhaled a heavy sigh, evidently exasperated by his frail body and spirit, before taking a bite of the apple pieces Siyana had prepared.
To consider that the one who devised Nadine bread—because eating was too much trouble—would ultimately be the one to slice fruit for me. It appears that elves indeed must endure long lives to witness such transformations.
He offered a soft smile, clearly pleased with Siyana’s positive change.
“I can accomplish anything for you, so you ought to live for many years!”
Siyana grasped Sterin’s aged hand firmly, pleading for him to remain by her side.
“Although elves enjoy longer lifespans compared to other races, ultimately everyone meets the same fate when their time comes.”
Sterin shook his head with a strained smile.
“One cannot defy the course of nature.”
“Grandfather!”
Siyana knitted her brows, evidently disinclined to listen to such words.
“You have the potential to be a far superior and kinder Guardian than I ever managed to be. Aren’t you already followed by many?”
Sterin smiled at her, remarking that she was excelling.
“No! I am still far from adequate!”
Siyana’s eyes welled with tears as she implored him not to utter such words.
“Now that my brother is gone, I cannot bear to lose you as well, Grandfather.”
She pressed her face against Sterin’s chest, beseeching him to remain with her until the very end.
“Alright. I shall…”
Summoning his remaining strength, Sterin tenderly caressed his granddaughter’s head with his trembling hands.
“Hic…”
After leaving traces of tears and mucus on Sterin’s shirt, Siyana slowly raised her head.
“Seeing you now, you truly remain a child.”
Sterin offered a faint smile while gently dabbing the tears and mucus from Siyana’s face with a handkerchief.
“That’s exactly what I’m stating—I’m still a child!”
Siyana pouted, insisting that she remained young and inexperienced.
“Heh.”
Sterin smiled softly, regarding his mature granddaughter with affection.
“Ah, have you received any word from Elayim recently?”
“Yes, she gets in touch with me frequently.”
Siyana nodded in affirmation, acknowledging that Elayim had been in regular contact.
“She mentioned that the stabilization of the spirit realm should be completed shortly.”
Both the Water Spirit King Elayim and the Fire Spirit King Ifrit remain occupied with stabilizing the spirit realm, rendering them unsummonable on demand. Nevertheless, with the work nearing its conclusion, Elayim has begun to reach out more often.
“That is reassuring to hear…”
Sterin nodded gently, appearing relieved. His eyelids fluttered slightly, likely fatigued from excessive conversation.
“You ought to rest now.”
Siyana assisted Sterin in reclining on the bed.
“I must depart now; I have further tasks awaiting me.”
“Alright. Please take care.”
Sterin cast his eyes downward, acknowledging the efforts Siyana had put in.
“I shall return!”
She exited Sterin’s room, promising to come back later in the evening.
“Haah…”
Sterin emitted a prolonged, deep sigh while gazing at the ceiling, which appeared as worn as his own skin.
“Although I empathize with Siyana’s sentiments, clinging on is not a simple matter.”
Siyana was following only him and Rimmer. With Rimmer deceased and him hastening toward demise, Siyana’s features grew increasingly somber with each day.
“Such a weighty burden.”
Given her capabilities, Siyana had the potential to become a Guardian even exceeding him. Yet, she remained delicate and inexperienced. Having spent an extended period confined to her room, there was much she needed to learn—and her heart was as fragile as glass. As she had mentioned, he wished to impart further lessons and allow her to accrue more experience.
“I should have acquired that insight.”
Owing to Raon, he had garnered a modest understanding when Eden and the Dragons assailed Sepia. He attempted to achieve longevity by leveraging that insight, but his failure instead hastened his aging and accelerated the approach of death.
“I’m sorry.”
Even though he clung desperately to the thread of life for Siyana’s sake, the limitations were unmistakably apparent.
“You fool.”
Sterin tightly closed his eyes and exhaled a lengthy sigh.
“Why did you have to leave in such a manner…”
***
Pressing firmly against the outer wall of Sterin’s house, Siyana bit her lip.
“Grandfather. I apologize.”
She was acutely aware that Sterin was struggling to persevere. Yet, after Rimmer’s passing, she feared that she might perish as well if Sterin were to depart—so she resolved to remain with him for as long as possible, even if only a little longer.
“If Lord Raon were present, I would have been able to bear it.”
Raon was someone who could console her as effectively as Rimmer and Sterin did; merely his presence would soothe her spirit. However, Raon was so occupied with duties for Zieghart and the Continent that even duplicating his efforts would not suffice. Although she longed to summon him, she found herself unable to do so.
“Guardian.”
Erian, the chief of the Guardians, approached Siyana and bowed respectfully.
“How is the former Guardian faring?”
“He continues to struggle…”
Siyana bit her lip, evidently overwhelmed with guilt.
“Guardian, please do not burden yourself with too much blame. The former Guardian undoubtedly comprehends.”
Erian gripped Siyana’s quivering shoulders with determination.
“Guardian…”
Siyana closed her eyes momentarily before reopening them as she absorbed Erian’s words.
“You are correct. As the Guardian, I must not allow myself to succumb to despair.”
Although her demeanor might differ in Sterin’s presence, she could not afford to display vulnerability when responsible for protecting the elves.
“Let’s address that matter first.”
Siyana scowled as she surveyed the red mist and wind enshrouding Sepia’s barrier.
“What exactly is that mist?”
The breeze and fog were permeated by a dense odor of blood—as though imbued with the lifeblood of countless souls—yet, peculiarly, it did not exude any sinister aura.
“No matter how I examine it, I cannot fathom who is responsible for this or for what reason.”
Erian furrowed his brow, remarking that it was the first time he had encountered such an odd mist.
“The issue is that it resists vanishing with ease.”
As Siyana retracted her finger, a unicorn radiating a blue luminescence materialized out of nowhere. It was the highest-grade water spirit.
“Attack!”
As she directed her gaze toward the crimson mist blanketing the sky, an enormous jet of water erupted from the unicorn’s horn, slicing through the mist with a resounding whoosh! Yet the mist swiftly mended the breach as if undisturbed—no water magic, even when fortified with highest-grade spirit energy, could break through this red mist and wind.
“It appears to be a formidable curse. However…”
Siyana squinted as she observed the rippling mist.
“It exhibits no signs of aggression whatsoever.”
Typically, when one assaults a potent curse, it retaliates with amplified force; however, this mist remained inert, merely persisting in its encirclement of Sepia.
“The White Blood Religion has been vanquished, and the moment for Eden or Derus to act has not yet come. Indeed, furthermore…”
Siyana’s fingertips quivered as she watched the crimson mist undulate akin to ocean waves.
“I perceive a familiar aura within the wind that encircles that mist.”
Oddly enough, amidst the wind bearing that unpleasant blood odor, she detected a reminiscent and pristine aura. So faint was it that she nearly dismissed it as mere imagination, yet it was ever-present—heavily burdening her heart.
“Nonetheless, I must eliminate it.”
Grandfather would fret. Sterin, now so elderly, was incapable of perceiving that mist. She had to dispel this fog and wind swiftly to prevent further distress.
“Moreover, it’s obstructing entry to Sepia.”
The mist barred both outsiders from entering and inhabitants from departing—it appeared designed to isolate the elves.
As Siyana amassed her spiritual energy to its peak in order to summon several highest-grade spirits simultaneously…
“Guardian!”
Leylan arrived in a sprint, shouting urgently.
“They report that humans are infiltrating from the west!”
“Humans?”
Siyana’s eyes widened in astonishment.
“How is that possible with the mist present? Who exactly is approaching? Are they adversaries?”
“They mentioned that the mist obscured the features, making identification impossible.”
Leylan shook her head, explaining that they had not yet ascertained their identities.
“Then how did they manage to get in? The passage is sealed by the mist.”
Siyana furrowed her brows in perplexity.
“The mist…”
Leylan’s lips quivered, reflecting her own disbelief.
“They claim that the mist itself created an opening for them!”
***
A whooshing sound swept through the air as the Great Forest became enveloped in a red mist akin to a blackout curtain. The roaring wind emanating from deep within the forest was so powerful it resembled a furious tempest.
“Uaah…”
Dorian’s jaw fell open as he observed the crimson mist enshrouding the forest.
“I–it’s genuine? The mist indeed carries the odor of blood.”
His shoulders quivered as if the very sight instilled terror in him.
“It is considerably vast…”
Martha gulped, clearly unprepared for such magnitude.
“I am capable of eradicating it.”
Evelyn unleashed a blazing spear, asserting that her magic could dispel it. Yet even after her assault, the crimson mist remained unaltered.
“Erase my foot! Let me try!”
Martha snorted and executed a sword strike, yet the mist remained steadfast—unyielding like the walls of a fortress.
“Did you truly swing your sword? Not even a hint of disturbance.”
“Grr…”
Evelyn sneered, while Martha’s expression turned grim.
“…”
Without a word, Raon advanced toward the crimson mist.
“Lord Raon, it’s perilous! They reported that the mist forcefully repels individuals!”
Dorian shouted, recalling Denning Rose’s warning.
“It’s alright.”
Despite Dorian’s admonition, Raon pressed on and placed his hand upon the red mist. With a faint sound, the mist—so renowned for repelling humans and confining elves—softly parted at his touch, unveiling a pathway ahead.
The pristine aroma of the Great Forest and its colossal greenery seemed to sway in welcome.
“Uh…”
“What is this…”
Martha and Evelyn’s eyes widened in astonishment.
“As anticipated.”
Raon stroked his chin, remarking that he had foreseen this outcome.
“You sense it as well, don’t you?”
He shifted his look toward Wrath, offering a subtle smile.
—I am growing weary of this.
Wrath furrowed his brow as he gazed upward at the sky, rippling with red mist.
—That pointy-eared fellow. When will he finally vanish! Not even a zombie shows such persistence!
-
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