Chapter 123 : Chapter 123
Chapter 123: Semenu Baperr (1)
‘…Before shattering the stars, isn’t it in order to try shattering the very earth you stand on first?’
Suddenly, my master’s words echoed in my head.
They were words I heard when I first learned the secret technique.
‘…Now.’
Did I shatter it?
I can neither see nor hear… but I can get a feel for the available magic. The earth-shattering was not that great.
Compared to my past life, its power must have been insignificant.
‘At most, it probably ended with just destroying one temple.’
Originally, it should have gone further. To the point where a real earthquake comes to mind.
I don’t know what’s around, but whatever was there, it all should have been destroyed.
‘Is this actually a relief?’
It’s not a secret technique permitted to a mere 5-star.
But considering its range, maybe now is better. It would have been a big problem if there were private homes or people nearby.
‘Originally, it would have been needlessly excessive.’
The secret technique of the Star-Breaking Style.
A form to reach the stars beyond the sky.
In fact, it is so simple that it is embarrassing to call it a secret technique.
‘It’s different from Mectera.’
The extreme application that a secret technique should rightfully contain? Finesse? I'm already doing that. Isn't the Star-Breaking Style itself like that?
Rotating mana in the body to turn it into the magic of the heart, and accelerating the harbored magic through rotation to increase its power and quality.
The training method called Star-Breaking Style itself is proof of extreme application ability.
The secret technique of the Star-Breaking Style is a secret method to effectively contain that immense power.
‘…Though it seems more focused on grandeur than effectiveness.’
To reach the stars, the expression ‘grand’ should naturally come to a human's mind.
The master taught so. I was subtly convinced, and it actually showed much effect in the war, but.
It is burdensome every time I use it. Questions also arise.
‘What are you going to do by breaking the stars?’
Simurtr habitually tried to spread his Sword Net but felt a void. There was no magic left in his heart.
A sharp pain swept through his body. Just like how saliva flows just by looking at a lemon, the magic circuit is imagining pain even though there is no magic to flow.
“Keuk.”
As I tried to convert one line of Pagna, a bloody liquid rose to my throat.
The backlash of Pegna’s amplification.
Most of his bones were dislocated, and all major muscles were twisted or ruptured. Simurtr recognized that the magic circuits throughout his body had burst.
‘It’s worse than when I was 4-star.’
At that time, I could at least see. I could also hear.
But now? My sense of touch disappeared long ago, and I feel like I'm floating above darkness. Am I even standing? I couldn't tell.
‘I had a feeling this would happen.’
4-star and 5-star.
It’s just a difference of one step… but the height difference is quite large.
Moreover, hadn't I also used Pegna? It was something that even a body strengthened by Dujeu’s Secret Elixir could not handle.
‘…I think I’m going to die.’
It’s a miracle I’m alive.
Simurtr put his trembling hand inside his clothes.
‘Is it not there?’
I thought I put it inside my clothes, but there’s nothing touching me. I don’t really know. Am I even touching it?
In the first place, is my hand even moving?
‘There should be an elixir in the subspace,’
I can’t take it out.
Perhaps even the subspace magic tool was blown away by the aftermath of Pagon.
‘Am I screwed?’
Because of that dog-like Taparel.
My mind feels like it’s going to fly away if I let my guard down for even a moment.
I don’t know where this is. I arrived through a Rift. It must be the continent. The first thing that comes to mind is the Black Land.
‘No. The 4th district is preparing something. They wouldn’t have wanted to cause a disturbance in a sealed-off district.’
It was a collapsed temple. Historical value does not resonate with the Undying King.
The vain Remeter would not just leave such a shabby thing in her district.
‘The west. It’s the west.’
Simurtr suddenly thought of Taparel.
Doom Species. The trash waiting for Luer’s resurrection. They had to be secretive.
They would be living while pretending to be human, and if they intended to reveal their true nature… it would have to be the Black Land.
If it wasn't the Black Land, it would have to be extremely clandestine.
‘Hindra?’
Yes, that would be the most appropriate place.
The road connecting the Ruo Holy See and Poruo.
The great desert whose crossing had been cut off by the manifestation of the Magic Gate.
‘I’m even more screwed.’
If I collapse here?
This isn’t the body of my past life. If I fall asleep in this body… I won’t be able to wake up.
‘In my past life, I would have been mostly healed after sleeping it off.’
Even if not the circuits, my eyeballs and eardrums would have regenerated. The shattered bones and ruptured muscles would have also roughly knitted together.
With just that, I could make it through the desert on my own.
It was at that moment.
Suddenly, Simurtr tilted his head to the left. It was an instinctive movement. A magic arrow grazed his hair.
‘What. Did I dodge it?’
I must have dodged it, since I'm thinking about it.
Simurtr checked his body's condition. It was when he started to feel a presence.
‘One person. No…’
The five senses.
His eyes and ears had lost their function. The same for his sense of touch. As for smell and taste… they are largely useless in battle.
But instinct. His sixth sense remained.
The master comes to mind. Sparring with his five senses sealed was, in the master's opinion, a very necessary experience.
That was… in Simurtr’s opinion, the most thrilling thing, and a very good excuse for the master to admonish his disciple.
‘But can I even respond with this body?’
I probably can.
Simurtr decided to think so.
‘Elder?’
I’m probably holding it in my hand.
I trust my past life, the experience I've accumulated. I don't let go of my sword just because I'm injured. That's how it was. I can probably swing it at least once.
‘There’s quite a lot of something?’
The first presence I read was one.
But… it increased. I feel one large lump. The presence is not great. It’s not one superior individual, but a group of weak ones clustered together.
‘The one in front is the lead. The lump is behind. The lump isn’t moving.’
It must be that one person is leading the group.
It would have been much easier if I could just use the Sword Net.
I had only focused for a moment, but in that time, enough blood had pooled to submerge my tongue. Simurtr carefully swallowed it. Without spilling it, without making it obvious.
‘What should I do.’
Hostility? I don’t feel it. Actually, I don’t know.
If I think positively, I can do so endlessly. This is Hindra, which was once classified as a forbidden zone.
If you meet a suspicious person during such a harsh journey, of course you should attack first. If I were to understand, I could understand it that way.
‘But that’s too optimistic.’
One should not take a first strike lightly.
There is hostility. It’s more comfortable to assume so.
‘Though it’s strange that no second attack is coming.’
What is certain is that I haven’t felt any killing intent yet.
Instinct is signaling death, but that stems from my current body’s condition, not from them.
‘I can’t drag this out.’
If they want to see a corpse, they can just watch from the side. Time is on the opponent’s side.
Simurtr barely held onto his consciousness, which felt like it would snap at any moment. I must not show my injuries.
I have to make my current state look insignificant. My appearance must already be terribly ruined, but anyway.
“Ah.”
Simurtr touched his neck.
He forced strength into his hand so it wouldn't tremble. His expression does not change despite the sharp pain.
“Ah. Ah.”
He slowly massaged it and barely swallowed the lump of blood that was still stuck in his throat.
Only then did he realize that his hand was functioning properly.
He just doesn't feel it, but if he wants to, his body moves.
“If you’re not going to fight, get lost.”
Even to myself, it’s a rather funny sight.
My eyes and ears have burst, but my throat is alive. A dying body making threats.
“Or at least give me a potion.”
A newly blinded swordsman… hides his face. He takes that wound as a shame.
In the wound of an old hand, there is an undisguisable pride. A sense of superiority. The pride in his sword, that he has survived until now despite having no eyes.
I want to be seen as the latter. How did they act? Simurtr recalled the common habits of the blind.
‘Slow.’
Simurtr.
Felt something approaching. It was different from before. It wasn't an attack.
It seemed to draw a parabola, and I wanted to catch it. I felt like I had to receive it. I raised my right hand.
‘Did I catch it?’
Did I catch it? I must have.
It doesn’t explode. What is it? Seeing as no attack comes, it’s not a trap either.
‘A potion.’
I can't hesitate.
Here, I have to believe so and act immediately.
‘Not the eyes.’
Who would give something good enough to restore burst eyeballs on a first meeting?
Simurtr tilted his head to the side and put strength into his hand. He couldn't uncork it, so he had to break the bottle.
‘That’s right.’
The effect is immediate.
A change occurs in his left ear. A crackling noise starts to grow slowly. He roughly wets his left arm and pours the rest into his mouth.
“Can you hear me?”
Simurtr could finally hear the voice.
A man. Fortunately, young. Generally, the older, the more dangerous.
“Not really. You gave me a bad one.”
“Greedy for a first meeting.”
“I was attacked.”
“Please understand. This is the middle of the Great Desert Hindra. It's a natural response to encounter a human covered in blood alone there.”
“Don’t you have a guide?”
Hindra.
My guess was correct. The cozy place for Taparel was that great desert.
Was there a temple in Hindra? I couldn't tell. It was a vast place, and even in my past life, Hindra was a place I had only been to a few times.
“I roughly know the way. But are you not healing your eyes?”
“They won’t heal. It’s an old injury.”
“For that, there's a lot of blood. Something is flowing, too.”
“I tried putting one in. But I can't see.”
“…A black magician? I’ve heard of a similar secret art in the Black Land.”
“I’m holding a sword.”
“Indeed.”
“But why did you put in someone else’s eye?”
“If I do that, the remaining enemies get scared.”
“That’s plausible. It would be effective.”
A satisfactory response.
Past lessons and accumulated experience were not in vain.
My left hand seemed to be holding Elder.
“And you are?”
“…I do not wish to answer.”
“Fight right away?”
“No. I mean I want to talk more and then decide.”
“What are you curious about?”
“What happened?”
“Suddenly?”
“What do you mean, suddenly? I asked from the moment I first saw you. Ah. You couldn’t hear.”
The pain that had been throbbing throughout my magic circuits along with my heartbeat lessened slightly.
At this rate… I can hold on a little longer.
“Was it your doing?”
“I don’t know what you mean. What?”
“The earth is a mess. This isn’t an area where sand pits occur in clusters.”
A wariness about an unusual phenomenon that occurred during a journey.
And a curiosity about its cause and effect.
Simurtr realized why the man had handed him a potion.
“There should have been an abandoned temple around here.”
Taparel’s cozy temple had collapsed.
The sands of Hindra seemed to have already swallowed its fragments.
“Why there?”
“…I have business there.”
“At a collapsed temple?”
At a place carefully selected by a Doom Species Marquis?
“Yes. I was using it as a supply point. I had stockpiled necessary things and was using it whenever I passed through Hindra.”
I had looked at the structure of the temple as soon as I arrived.
“Where in the temple?”
“Is there a need to specify? I keep them in a place you can see as soon as you enter.”
“What if someone takes them?”
“Of course, I had placed a magic spell on them.”
There was no such thing.
I would have believed him if he had mentioned the basement instead.
‘Why? Is he wary of me?’
Or because I seem blind?
“…How did you know it was collapsed? I said it was an abandoned temple.”
The man realized it belatedly.
“I destroyed it. But I didn’t see what you mentioned.”
“Weren’t you blind?”
“I still know what I need to know.”
Sensation returns to my left arm.
As the man said, I was holding Elder. It was a satisfactory state. Now I could probably swing it about twice.
“You. Are you a Basor?”
“…I am not.”
“You are.”
It was then that a new voice was heard.
“Please save me!”
Behind. The presence lumped together. The young voice came from that direction.
Only then did Simurtr realize why their presence was so weak despite being gathered in a group.
“And Kua on top of that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nonsense. Are you the Matrix? Or an experiment?”
“…You know too much. I shouldn’t have helped you recover.”
“Which circle?”
“I will not kill you.”
***
The man.
Looked at the blind man before him. By his face… nothing could be discerned. It was covered in blood.
He knew the man was blind through his actions.
‘His face is turned this way. He naturally dodged the attack, and easily caught the potion that flew without a sound. He has been blind for a long time.’
Crucially… the man did not sprinkle the hard-earned potion on his own face.
For a swordsman, his eyes would be more precious than his eardrums.
‘If he had just lost them, he would have been even more obsessed.’
But the man chose to regenerate his eardrums.
He didn't even hesitate. Clear proof that he is used to a life without eyes.
‘Finding out what happened at the temple is the priority.’
Subjugation? Not difficult. An easy task.
The blind swordsman in front of him seemed to have trouble even walking. His knees were not in good shape, and he stood barely, and his right arm hung limp as if the nerves were severed.
‘Left-handed.’
The man chose his left arm after his eardrums.
He also held his sword with his left hand, which means that's the only thing to be careful of.
There would be no surprise attacks. The blind swordsman’s legs had lost their mobility.
Anything sudden seemed impossible.
“……”
The man’s lips move.
Small. But, if I concentrate, it’s not impossible to hear. An incantation. Confirming this, Simurtr’s left ear twitched.
“So you’re from the Red Tower?”
Even though it has developed much, and new spells have poured out… the old things do not disappear.
If it is excellent, it is not obsolete. It is a spell that proved its usefulness in the war. Simurtr recognized the spell the man was about to complete in advance.
“Shouldn’t you blow some wind too?”
Fire and wind are the symbols of the Red Tower.
The man flinched but finished his incantation. He created a flame the size of a carriage and asked.
“…How did you know?”
“I know by looking.”
“Was the blindness a disguise?”
“Do I look like it?”
“…No. One more reason to capture you alive has just been added.”
A thick curiosity wafted from the man’s voice.
‘A magician, for all he’s worth.’
A race that seeks to explore all the cause and effect of the world.
And one that wants to express all such things through magic.
Their curiosity about the Doom Species and their dimension, the Void, their joining hands with Remeter, and their use of Kua must include such intentions.
In their own minds, it’s a pure and noble quest for knowledge passed down from the beginning of time, but to Simurtr, they are no different from human scum.
“Are you confident?”
“That is what I want to ask. What on earth are you trusting to be so relaxed? It seems your life is already on the line.”
“You’ve become curious about that too?”
“It is a trivial curiosity compared to other things. More so, it is greater that you figured out the true meaning of the incantation with just the first verse. Were you perhaps a fellow student?”
“I plan to be.”
“So you are a future junior.”
The man laughed lightly.
“Are you going to let me live?”
“As a senior, I shall give you a lesson. The path of magic is not permitted to a lowly and frivolous blind man like you.”
“Your true nature is coming out now.”
Hwiiing. A sudden gust of wind blows.
His body, already at its limit, staggers.
“You were scared, weren’t you?”
Simurtr realized it was magic.
The man, uneasy about his incantation being read, had substituted hand gestures for the incantation.
“You talk like some great magician, but now I see you’re just a coward.”
“…You don’t seem much different.”
“Hey. I’m different. You only believe in that, don’t you?”
“What else is there?”
“There is.”
“What is it?”
In this situation.
Simurtr let out a hollow laugh.
If it were me, I would have caught him and asked. That’s what the magician race is like.
They bite at anything you throw at them. They must win any verbal argument, and if you throw something, their curiosity bites the bait.
“First, me.”
“Then it is the same.”
“I said ‘first’.”
“…What is next?”
“Degrate.”
“What did you say?”
When the man’s eyes widened.
Simurtr rubbed his left eye with the back of his hand.
“It shouldn’t be broken.”
“Were your eyes not broken long ago? Are you perhaps a snake?”
“Not that.”
“Then what? A crow? You don’t seem to be of the bloodline. Ah. Are you perhaps in disguise? Our Red Tower guarantees the best treatment for Degrate.”
“I think I’ve dragged this on long enough.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to help? Are you that busy?”
“Of course, I will help. Do you need more potions? Or entry into the Magic Tower?”
“Semenu. I’m hurt.”
It was then that a reaction occurred.
The wind that had been battering his aching body subsided. The large, blazing flame was devoured by a green light.
“Oh!”
Green light. That unique color, hinting at Degrate’s illusion, covered the desert landscape.
The man’s gaze followed the flowing green light. The thing that had silenced his magic was connected to somewhere.
The blind man’s left eye. In the spot where an eyeball should be vacant, a green light was shaping a key.
“You were granted a key!”
Unique Phantasmal Realm. A fictional world where only what the implementer allows exists.
That key is the only means to allow entry for an outsider.
“You were trusting in a Phantasm of Degrate!”
The man said in a voice full of joy.
The long-cherished wish of the magical path. The origin of the Word Spirit… the man is now witnessing it.
With the key as a medium. The Phantasm, from somewhere far away, had noticed the blind man’s condition, connected to each other through the Phantasmal Realm.
“…Captain.”
Ssook. A hand stretched out from the eyeball.
A shoulder, then a head emerged. A green-haired girl stood in front of Simurtr.
“Captain, you need a scolding.”
“Go easy on me.”
“No.”
“Come on. You’ve pretended not to know about this until now.”
Having sheathed Elder, Simurtr pointed to his left eyeball.
“…Is it him?”
Semenu, who had been examining Simurtr’s appearance, looked at the man. A murderous intent began to dwell in her characteristically emotionless eyes.
“You think it’s him?”
“…It’s not?”
“He’s an enemy, though.”
The simplest and easiest medium for Phantasmal Ability.
A wave of green light that rose from the shadow swallowed the magician. It was an instant.
The magician vanished along with the green.
“I killed him.”
“Where’s the body?”
“In the shadow.”
“Disgusting. Spit it out roughly… no. Let’s dump it somewhere else.”
“Okay. There are many more in the carriage behind.”
“Carriage? Ah. The kids.”
“Kill them?”
“Don’t.”
“Then let’s go.”
“What? Hey…”
The key. A green light shot out from Simurtr’s left eyeball and spread.
Like a fountain stream bending to gravity, the gushing green light bent its direction and swallowed Simurtr