Chapter 195 : Chapter 195
Chapter 195
We fell.
Through the gate to the Underworld that had pushed its way through the ground, we fell down, further down.
An abyssal darkness enveloped us, threatening to swallow us whole.
There was not a speck of light.
The only brightness was the faint sliver of light shining through the gate we had passed.
Even after falling for a long while, the gate did not grow distant.
It offered its light right beside us.
Obro, Amethus, and I reached the bottom. I walked on air using my Fantasy Finger, and Amethus landed with extreme lightness.
Obro missed his footing and rolled on the ground.
“Ughh…….”
No sooner had Obro let out a groan than the gate began to close.
It made a grinding sound, as if to abandon us in the darkness.
As the light dwindled, the darkness rushed in at a terrifying speed.
Lumps of shadow.
All was black and dark.
I couldn’t make out an inch ahead.
They approached, quivering as if to swallow the three men who had crossed the gate.
They looked just as if they were alive.
I felt the Mana Armor Valziart quiver as if greeting them and said.
“For mere shadows, you seem to have hearts.”
Then be gone, all you with hearts.
The second Ars of the Septem Arcana,
‘The Unclosable Twenty Steps’.
The Ars that pushed away all things with a heart pushed away the shadows.
One, two… by twenty steps. But for twenty steps, it was quite far.
The laws of space were clearly distorted here.
Having stopped the shadows from rushing in, I turned my head.
The gate to the Underworld was still closing. I gestured with my chin, not the least bit tense.
“Amethus.”
“Yes.”
Amethus was still wearing the face of Light, burning with a jade-colored flame.
He thrust his double-edged sword into the ground before the gate.
Then, the jade flame became a single streak of light and held onto the gate.
The closing gate stopped.
It was thanks to Amethus holding it fast.
The ancient weapon had a strange power, allowing him to instinctively know what power the jade flame he’d never used before held and how to use it.
“How long can you hold it?”
“…Ancient weapons, they consume quite a lot.”
He held the gate fast with the jade flame.
Even Amethus, who was confident in his stamina, couldn't help but feel his energy being drained away.
“…Ten days is the limit.”
“You can hold it for a long time.”
I turned my head.
“You heard him, Mr. Obro? You have to be back within ten days.”
“…Eh?”
Obro Denoebang tilted his head.
“When you say it like that, it’s as if you’re telling me to go alone……”
“I am telling you that.”
I continued.
“Amethus has to keep the gate from closing, and I have to keep the shadows from approaching Amethus. We can’t move from here. If we move, the exit will close and we’ll be trapped.”
This was the gate that had imprisoned an ancient god.
Even for Amethus and me, if we were trapped, we weren't confident we could open it from the inside.
Obro Denoebang trembled.
“…Does that mean……?”
“There are people in that darkness.”
It was thick.
An insanely thick darkness.
Once my eyes adjusted, I could see small paths and trees, but it was still a place covered in bizarre shadows.
“Find them all within ten days and bring them back.”
“…Alone?”
“Alone.”
***
Obro Denoebang set off on the road.
He was alone.
Fear arose as he walked the path of the other dimension called the Underworld.
His only comfort was the torch in his hand.
Since it was lit with Amethus’s jade flame, the shadows could not come near.
Thanks to that, he could at least make out the path nearby.
Even in this other dimension, there was grass, there were roads, and there were stones.
There was no wind or sun, but he thought that people might be able to survive somehow in these conditions.
He staggered along the small path.
Even with the torch, the darkness was dreadful.
“Ugh, alone, alone, you say……”
The time he had spent cowering was too long.
Though his fear had lessened somewhat after spewing out the poison, he was still a drunkard.
Anxiety surged as he wandered through the darkness without a single drop of alcohol.
“…I had no choice but to step forward, but can I… can I do it…….”
He was still a swordsman who could not hold a sword.
He was worried if he could even properly swing a club.
With no one to answer him, he only repeated his monologue.
“Where should I go…….”
He walked through the darkness.
He wandered aimlessly.
As he repeated his monologue, alone in the darkness, a familiar feeling suddenly came over him.
Come to think of it, hadn't he lived like this every day for eight years?
And yet, it was truly strange that he hadn't gotten used to it at all.
This damn darkness, this damn solitude, this damn fear, even after experiencing it tens of thousands of times, instead of getting used to it, it felt like falling into an even deeper place… suffering.
“Liquor…….”
Obro Denoebang pulled at his beard.
A handful of beard was ripped out, and a drop of blood formed in its place.
The pain in his chin proved that he was alive.
It was shorter and cleaner than before, but that was only a relative improvement; it was still a long and dirty beard.
The drunkard trudged and staggered into the darkness.
“I’m craving liquor…….”
***
In the darkness, Obro Denoebang recalled the past.
It rose up like a haze, leaving no room to resist. He was captivated by the illusion.
***
The first time was probably about 20 years ago.
“Denver, my friend. What brings you here today?”
“Obro, a child was born.”
“What? Already? Is it a boy or a girl?”
“A girl.”
“Congratulations!”
Obro Denoebang barely remembered the joy and laughter of that time.
The Obro of them was a more cheerful man than anyone.
“There’s no day I regret not drinking more than today!”
“Perhaps…….”
Denver asked cautiously.
“…Will you be my child’s godfather?”
“Of course, Denver. What’s the problem, that you ask so cautiously?”
“The problems, there are many…….”
Denver’s face was dark. He didn't seem like a father who had just had a daughter.
“I am the son of a farmer, and you are the eldest son of the Denoebang family, are you not?”
“Hey, Denver! You are my best friend. That’s enough. And I have never seen a man as wise as you!”
“Those are very kind words.”
“Thank you for giving me the chance to be your daughter’s godfather. What is her name?”
“Mariet.”
Denver said.
“I named her Mariet.”
***
A memory from an unknown time followed.
It was probably about 6 years after the previous memory, so about 14 years from now.
It was after Obro Denoebang had returned from Schmeizen.
“You were almost in big trouble this time, Obro.”
“What’s the problem, Denver?”
Obro Denoebang was full of confidence.
It was around the time his nickname, the White Lord, was spreading through the West.
He was, in name and reality, the West's greatest swordsman, and everyone considered his confidence justified.
“Just trust me. I am Obro Denoebang.”
“…Not everyone can be like you.”
But the more famous Obro became, the more the world saw him as a perfect hero, the deeper Denver’s worries grew.
It was because he had known Obro Denoebang since he was young and knew that he was not a perfect man.
“And you are human, too. I’m worried. Worried that you’re shouldering too much weight. I think it would be better to select trustworthy people and share your work with them……”
“Who could do it like this Obro?”
“……That is true.”
Obro Denoebang had no intention of yielding his burdens.
“I like how things are now, Denver.”
“Right. I was worried for nothing.”
The White Lord was used to not showing his fatigue.
He was also used to pretending to gratefully accept his friend’s concern while letting it pass over him.
“More importantly, can I have dinner at your house tonight?”
“You want to see Mariet, don’t you?”
“Of course! I bought a ton of presents for Mariet in Schmeizen!”
***
Back to the present.
Obro, walking through the dark Underworld, wandered and muttered.
“Denver… This place is dark. How I wish you were here…….”
Having said it himself, Obro was startled.
He was instantly engulfed in immense guilt and trembled.
“No, no……. What I have sullied… what I have ruined…….”
His face was distorted with sorrow.
“Obro, Obro, you vile and cowardly drunkard……. How dare you, how dare you look for Denver……. With what nerve, how dare you…….”
***
In the darkness, the past surges endlessly.
He ended up recalling the memory of that day.
It was the day after the ‘Night of Inversion,’ 11 years ago.
“Obro! Obro Denoebang-!”
“Umm.”
It was a headache the likes of which he had never experienced in his life.
It was what they called a hangover.
Obro Denoebang had been through a lot yesterday.
His first drink, his first time getting completely drunk.
The feeling of becoming a drunkard wasn’t so bad, he thought, as he came to his senses.
“Denver!”
Even though he had slept so much, the alcohol still lingered, and he couldn't help but burst into laughter.
“My friend! Mariet’s father! Right, did you give my present to Mariet?”
“……You……”
The stench testified to Obro’s previous night. Denver slowly asked.
“……Did you, drink……?”
“Yeah, I had a glass. It wasn't as bad as they say.”
Obro Denoebang burst out laughing.
“Forgive me, my friend. I just couldn’t help it, hearing that Mariet is starting school.”
“……You, you… carefree bastard!”
Denver strode over and slapped Obro across the cheek.
The sound of the smack was sharp. Even after being hit, Obro Denoebang couldn’t grasp the situation and just turned his head blankly.
“…Huh?”
He had been slapped by his best friend.
Even though he was the White Lord, Obro Denoebang.
Anger quickly welled up.
Even if he was Obro Denoebang, couldn't he have just one drink?
It didn't seem like something to be slapped for. He was about to get angry, but Denver didn't give him a chance.
“Do you know how many people were looking for you, the White Lord! That child too……!”
“……What are you talking about?”
“I always told you! To share your work. That you too are human and could make a mistake-! In the end, in the end, something like this……”
Denver was crying.
Why was he crying after he was the one who slapped him?
Obro Denoebang just had a gut feeling.
Something that shook Denver’s life to its core had happened.
“Tell me calmly, Denver…….”
“…I am sorry, Obro. It’s not my place to say such things either……. As a parent, I failed to protect my child…….”
“…Mariet, did something happen to Mariet……?”
“…Find out for yourself, White Lord. What became of that child……”
Denver’s tone was stiff.
It did not feel like he was addressing a longtime friend.
His gaze was the same.
His eyes, suppressing a deep anger, were so intense that even Obro found it hard to meet them.
“…Yes, you too are human, so you could have a drink. It just so happened that something like that could happen on that day……”
“…Denver……”
“But Lord Obro…….”
Denver’s words remained deeply etched in Obro’s mind.
“I am lacking a person…. I don’t think I can forgive you, even if it takes a lifetime……”
“Denver!!”
“……I am sorry, I hope we never see each other again.”
***
He never saw Denver after that.
The same went for his daughter, Mariet.
Obro Denoebang found out that on the day he was drunk and asleep, the people of the three cities had been dragged into the Underworld.
And that they had desperately called the name of the White Lord, Obro Denoebang, throughout the night.
It was the beginning of all of Obro Denoebang’s nightmares.