Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 079. Proof (4)

At Anagin’s remark, in which he treated his life as if it were nothing more than a worn-out shoe, Chiron fell silent for a moment.

At first, it seemed like he might have been startled by how strong the statement was, but that wasn’t it.

A practitioner—and especially Chiron, who made a profession out of training practitioners—had heard words like that to the point of nausea.

There were far more moths than one might expect, willing to throw away their one and only life in order to become a king, to become a hero, to become a great existence whose name would remain etched in history. After all, when all you have is your life, it’s easy to stake it.

Even so, most of them failed to follow through when the moment actually came to risk that life.

Anyone could be brave behind the city walls, but once the walls fell, it was a different story altogether.

Just like when Erysichthon appeared.......

Seen from that angle, Anagin’s words carried a certain weight.

While everyone else was frozen in fear, he was almost the only one who stood his ground and fought back.

Still.

In Chiron’s eyes, it wasn’t simply because he was brave.

“Doesn’t sound like bluffing.”

“You can think of it as bluffing. I wasn’t really asking you to believe me, anyway.”

“But it’s not courage either.”

“.......”

At the remark that seemed to pierce straight through him, Anagin fell silent. Had something struck a nerve?

“Courage only exists in the presence of fear. Someone who doesn’t care about their life isn’t brave. You’re not courageous, you’re just a passive suicide hopeful.”

In the past, Chiron had said those very words to Anagin.

A suicide hopeful.

But the nuance was quite different back then.

The first time he asked, he wasn’t certain. Now, he was.

Anagin was a seeker of death.

Someone who couldn’t bring himself to cut his own throat, and so wished to die by another’s hand. That was why he could afford to be reckless. With nothing to lose, why would he ever hold back?

“Not going to deny it?”

Contrary to his expectation that Anagin would get angry, Chiron asked as he observed his quiet reaction.

“Well, it’s a pretty reasonable point, so it’s hard to refute right away. I did consider killing myself at first, after all.”

Anagin partially acknowledged the thought of suicide.

After losing even his younger sister to the plague, he had thought about simply dying.

He had anticipated her death, and having already experienced countless losses, it wasn’t the kind of dramatic grief that tore his heart apart—but he couldn’t help feeling hollow.

After all, in a single winter, he had lost both the villagers and his family.

Anagin’s world vanished in an instant.

Unlike his younger sister, Anagin had never been interested in the world beyond the village, and with nothing left to do, he had thought about simply dying.

Perhaps Anagin’s decision to become a god was, at once, an attempt to erase the humiliation of his powerless past, and also just something to try because dying outright felt like a waste.

“Still, I’m not being reckless just because I want to die. This is simply what I have to do if I’m going to reach the goal I’m pursuing.”

“You said you want to become a god.... Why do you want to become one?”

“Because I want the power to do what I want, when I want. To kill or save, to fix or destroy, at my own discretion.”

For once, Chiron couldn’t respond immediately.

It was a goal that ran on a completely different track from those of the disciples he had trained.

Beyond hero, beyond noble, beyond king—he wanted the power of an omnipotent god.

Paradoxically, the power Anagin described was something even the gods themselves did not possess.

Even the Great Twelve Gods could only exercise authority within their own domains, and the reality was that they could not directly intervene in the world.

Viewed from that perspective, Anagin’s goal was quite—

Dangerous.

Extremely so.

“That’s a rather difficult goal you’ve set for yourself.”

“That’s why I’m working so hard, isn’t it?”

What would one have to do to become a god who could do anything? Anagin still didn’t know the concrete method, but there was one thing he could be sure of.

To stand and fight without backing down, no matter who he faced.

From that angle, Anagin’s reckless battles were closer to gambling than to passive suicide.

A gamble to see whether or not he could become the god he envisioned.

If he could, he would survive by any means necessary. If he couldn’t, he would die.

Everything, or nothing.

It was a method of cultivation worthy of a terminal gambling addict.

And astonishingly, so far, Anagin was winning.

He was still alive.

“Now then, could you tell me why you called me here? I think I’ve done my duty as a guest by answering this sincerely.”

Making it clear that he hadn’t shared his story just out of boredom, Anagin demanded that Chiron stop testing him and get to the point.

It was an audacious move, but Chiron went along with it.

“Originally, I was going to suggest you enter the Tower. But I suppose there’s no point in asking.”

Anagin nodded. He had no intention of placing himself under someone else. Temporary cooperation was one thing, but that was it.

“Then I’ll mention the other matter. About using the forge.”

At the ominous opening, Anagin asked,

"Don't tell me it's not allowed?"

“Why do you think it would be allowed?”

"I thought it was okay because you didn't stop me while I was acting like a prick for fifteen days, asking to get my stuff fixed. As long as I persuaded Mr. Grumbal."

As Anagin himself said, he didn’t bother reading the room—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t.

He knew the rumors of him following and pressuring Grumbal for fifteen days had spread.

And since no one from the Chiron Tower told him to stop during those fifteen days, he naturally thought it would be possible as long as he made Grumbal give in.

“Grumbal rejected everyone, so there was no need to bring it up. And honestly, it looks better to use Grumbal as an excuse than for me to say no myself and seem petty.”

“Are you, by any chance, insane?”

Anagin asked in all seriousness.

According to Chiron, the fifth-floor forge was never meant to be used by outsiders, but because he didn’t want to look stingy by refusing outright, he’d put the stubborn Grumbal forward as a shield.

It was impressively petty.

“A hero needs not only the mane of a lion, but the head of a fox as well.”

“That’s not a fox’s head—that’s more like a viper’s.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a viper’s tongue. Keep that up, and it’ll get pulled out.”

“I’m only teasing because you don’t seem like the type to hit me over this. Don’t worry, Fox Head.”

Anagin tapped his own head lightly.

If Chiron were the sort to attack him over something like this, he wouldn’t have been chatting so leisurely in the first place.

The problem lay elsewhere. It was the time wasted over the past fifteen days.

He wasn't in a rush, but those fifteen days lost in vain felt like quite a waste.

It was then.

“Still, I might make an exception this time.”

Chiron said something completely unexpected.

“Grumbal is willing to grant your request.”

Grumbal’s goodwill. Anagin paused, then ventured a guess.

“Because of the newspaper article?”

“That seems to be part of it, and he also found your persistence over those fifteen days admirable.”

Oh. Taking this as a lesson, Anagin resolved to work even harder at making people’s lives miserable. Effort was rewarded!

“Of course, it won’t be free.”

“Ah, figures.”

Anagin immediately let his disappointment show.

It had seemed like things were going too smoothly. Of course, there was a catch. Still, he decided not to be too disappointed.

“Do you have bipolar disorder or something?”

Watching Anagin swing from disappointment to recovery in one-second intervals, Chiron asked.

“My heart is a bit like a reed in the wind. More importantly, if it’s not free, then the price is...?”

“You’ll have to visit the Ruin.”

* * *

Ruins.

The first person to explain them was Rio, the City Lord of Dysis Polis.

What did he say again?

That Ruins were, in a way, training grounds meant for practitioners.

Within Ruins slept various trials and dangers, and by overcoming them, a practitioner’s rank would rise, along with the chance to obtain all sorts of treasures.

Those treasures weren’t limited to simple valuables like gold and jewelry, but also included divine blessings, ancient magic, magical tools, and artifacts.

Anagin had understood them as massive, dangerous treasure chests and had taken a certain interest in Ruins.

That interest, however, cooled rapidly after his encounter with the Monster Merchant.

As it turned out, the Ruin Rio that had spoken of was nothing more than sweet traps set up by the Monster Merchant.

After that, he rarely even heard the word “Ruin,” and his interest faded.

Yet now, he was hearing it again.

“Oh, I see. So you know about Ruins, too, brother.”

“What exactly do you think I am?”

“Can I answer honestly?”

“Is it something nice?”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

After returning from meeting Chiron, Anagin reunited with Sphinx, let out a deep sigh, and exchanged this thoroughly unfunny conversation.

In case anyone forgot, Anagin hadn’t slept for fifteen days.

“Hm.... I get why you’d worry that this might be another scam, Ruin, but it probably isn’t.”

“Yaaawn~ And how would you know?”

“The fact that Chiron himself mentioned it is proof. Someone like him wouldn’t spout nonsense.”

“For someone like that, he was pretty petty—”

Sphinx covered Anagin’s mouth with her hand.

It was a dangerous remark anywhere, but especially dangerous inside Chiron Tower.

After a brief silence brought on by the gagged mouth, Sphinx spoke.

“What does he want from the Ruin?”

“He said a metal called Orichalcum was found there, and wants me to get it. Strange name, isn’t it?”

“Orichalcum?”

“You know it?”

“You don’t— ah, right. You don’t.”

“What’s with that reaction? That’s annoying.”

“But you’ve probably seen it before. Remember the identification plaque Mr. Sanchonius showed you?”

He remembered. It had been quite a striking item.

A centaur intricately engraved atop a gold-like metal tinged with red.

He’d thought it was an unusual metal, but he hadn’t realized it was that valuable.

“Is it really that amazing?”

“By weight, it’s ten times more expensive than gold.”

“It’s just gold with some red mixed in.”

“The performance is different.”

“What, is it ten times harder than iron or something?”

“You could look at it that way. Depending on the magic it carries, it can become ten times, even a hundred times stronger than iron.”

Orichalcum.

According to legend, it was a metal formed when the blood of a god seeped into the earth.

Regardless of whether the legend was true, Orichalcum could contain far more powerful magic than ordinary metals.

Normal metals would fail—shattering or gradually wearing away—once they were forced to hold magic beyond a certain threshold. Orichalcum did not.

“In fact, it even amplifies the effects of the magic imbued in it. It depends on how it’s used, but there’s no doubt it’s an incredible material.”

“And something like that is in the Ruin?”

“It probably isn’t in the form of a vein.”

“? How do you know that?”

“I don’t know why, but I’ve never once heard of an Orichalcum vein being discovered. You can only obtain it as fragments of metal or as items manufactured from Orichalcum. Which means the Orichalcum in the Ruin is an artifact.”

“Hm....”

Anagin listened half-heartedly, but Sphinx offered her advice with unusual seriousness.

“If you’re going to go, you should hurry. Artifacts are valuable, and Orichalcum artifacts are even more so. I bet it’s already swarming with flies.”

“I see. Then I should sleep for three days before moving.”

“...You didn’t misunderstand what I just said, did you?”

“If it’s that amazing and no one’s taken it yet, despite the news being out, then something must be up. In that case, sleeping a bit should be fine. I haven’t slept for fifteen days.”

Sphinx couldn’t come up with a response.

According to Chiron, it had been discovered quite a while ago, yet no one had managed to conquer it—so it wasn’t entirely wrong. Still.

“What if someone else takes it first?”

“Then I’ll think of it as not being fated to me.”

Just when she wondered if he was serious, Anagin added one more line.

“And looking at it the other way, if it’s meant to be mine, no one else will be able to take it.”

Leaving those words behind, Anagin finally went off to sleep.

* * *

After Anagin left.

The butler entered Chiron’s chamber.

“He didn’t depart immediately. He went to sleep first.”

Unexpected, or perhaps exactly as expected.

Two thoughts coexisted in Chiron’s mind.

According to Chiron’s investigation, Anagin was active to the point that once his business was done, he would move straight on to his next destination. Seen from that angle, choosing to sleep was unexpected.

Yet at the same time, Anagin was also someone who read the other side’s intentions keenly. Considering that, it was exactly as expected.

With a little thought, one could easily guess that something was hidden in the Ruin Village.

Well, he would know for sure once Anagin actually went there.

“Master. Did Anagin say he would enter the Tower? Shall we make preparations to receive him in advance?”

“No. He’s not the type to enter the Tower.”

“I see.... The two children who came with Anagin have shown interest in the Tower. They’re training with the other children on the first floor, and they’re approaching it with great enthusiasm.”

“...For now, leave them be.”

“Understood.”

After exchanging a brief report and decision, the butler withdrew once more.

Outwardly, he remained composed, but inwardly, the butler was somewhat shaken.

Anagin wasn’t the type to enter the Tower.

Even a dog gains political sense by staying close to nobles; likewise, a butler who had remained long in Chiron Tower could read the flow of affairs.

There were three kinds of people who would not enter Chiron Tower.

First. Those whose abilities and talents were meager.

Second. Those whose disposition did not suit the Tower’s teachings.

Third. Those whose ability and character were already too great for the Tower to contain.

None of the three were good outcomes, but aside from the first, the second and third were the worst.

The reasons differed, but in both cases, the end result was the same.

They became offerings that would make Chiron Tower shine.

Offerings for the creation of heroes.