Chapter 83 - A Nod (3)

["The god of this world had its divine throne usurped."]

A voice reached Alon's ears.

A bizarre sound, warped by strange static, that could have belonged to a man, a woman, a child, or an elder.

Alon, who had certainly experienced something like this once before, realized that his body was now floating alone in a place resembling the Deep Sea he had seen earlier.

["The original gods, robbed of their divine thrones, were stripped of much."]

The static-laced voice continued quietly.

["Some, their names."]

["Some, their bodies."]

["Some, their minds."]

["Some, their honor."]

["They lost much. Much was stolen from them."]

["The black things. They stole much."]

As Alon concentrated on the unidentified voice, feeling as though the slightest lapse would make him lose consciousness, a question suddenly struck him.

As far as he knew, looking into the mirror was supposed to bring him face-to-face with the truth.

Yet all he could see was a void darker than the deep sea, and all he could hear was that static-laced voice.

'What the hell is this?'

Alon tried to speak, but unfortunately his voice would not come out as he intended.

Just as he began to find that strange—

["That is—bebelnatbyantumruknyekkwaengtungneongmulneumbeldekmalgbim—"]

"!"

The voice came again, its static so much worse that it seemed to tear through him. He instinctively raised both hands to cover his ears.

["—beldeknaetgeutdeungrwangmupkwaengryatgatryumdatbekkulkkwotheu"]

Unfortunately, the shriek that seemed capable of deafening him continued, as though it were being driven straight into his head.

Then, amid a low murmur—

["As I thought. Not yet."]

["Execute the dispossessed one hiding on the continent."]

Just as he could make out the words again—

["O D̿̈́͆ȇ̆v̅̅ò̃ù͒r̊͛è̽r̽̂ (Devour)."]

Only then could Alon see.

["For now—"]

What he faced was not the deep sea.

Nor was it an abyss.

Countless nebulae hung at the edges of his vision.

["F̴̛o҈͞r҈͡ y̵͠o̸͡u̶̕r̷͠ s҉̕a̶̛k҈͞e҈͡, I҈̕ will say no more."]

Alon stared blankly ahead, spellbound by what he had taken for an abyss until now.

At the same time, as he 'recognized' what had appeared to be an abyss, static began creeping into his vision as well.

One point in his vision.

Half of it.

All of it.

Everything filled with static.

Alon beheld an 'eye' watching him.

An abyssal eye that seemed to hold nebulae within it.

Then—

["Close your eyes."]

At its words—

"Hah—!"

He involuntarily drew a great breath. After repeatedly blinking his startled eyes, he found himself back in the observation sanctuary in the deep sea.

The Observer before Alon looked at him in utter alarm.

"A-are you... all right?"

Momentarily puzzled by her expression, he realized that the skin around his eyes was wet and looked into the mirror.

There—

"..."

He saw himself bleeding from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

####

A little later.

"... I suspected as much, but this isn't normal, is it?"

"No."

Having wiped away the blood, Alon received that answer from the Observer.

She pondered with an odd expression, as though unsure how to explain, then spoke.

"So you looked into the mirror, and someone spoke to you?"

"Yes."

"And you heard what they said there."

"Yes. Something about the gods, certainly—"

"Wait. Don't say any more."

"... Was I not supposed to speak of it?"

"No. Here or anywhere else, it would be best to avoid telling that story. Unless you want to see those things clinging to the roots crawl out."

The Observer let out a sigh.

"Anyway, you're saying that what you saw in the mirror was something enormous, obscured by static?"

"Yes."

At Alon's nod, she thought for a moment before speaking.

"... Let me explain something first. The mirror you looked into earlier is the 'Bronze Mirror That Records History.' As its name suggests, it shows the history stored within it."

"Then normally—"

"Normally, you should have seen the history the bronze mirror showed you. That is its only power to begin with. But you—"

The Observer fell silent for a moment, as though choosing her words, then continued.

"—seem to have seen something else."

"... What is that something else?"

"I can't explain it either. Even as the Observer, there's no way I could identify a being capable of intruding upon the mirror's power and bending it to its own will."

At that, Alon looked once more into the bronze mirror he held in one hand, wondering whether its power might activate this time.

Unfortunately, ever since he had witnessed that thing, looking into the mirror had produced nothing further.

As though it would not permit him to see.

Alon finally set the mirror down with a sigh, and the Observer continued her explanation.

"Still, it seems clear that you saw a being you couldn't withstand. You bled profusely throughout it, and you said every word was obscured by static."

"... Is that what happens when you see a being you can't withstand?"

"If your stature is vastly lower, yes. What on earth is going on?"

After studying the bronze mirror for some time, the Observer shifted her gaze to Alon.

"For now, with things turning out this way, I don't think there's anything more I can do to help you."

"... That's unfortunate. I haven't learned even half of what I wanted to know."

"There is one thing I can infer from what you've told me, though."

"... What?"

"The 'dispossessed one' that thing mentioned was probably an Outer God. And... it also seems possible that whatever you saw was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?"

It was hardly a word that naturally came to mind after what had just happened.

Seeing Alon's bewilderment, the Observer paused as though gathering her thoughts before continuing.

"I told you, didn't I? This bronze mirror lets you see history."

"Yes."

"But not everyone sees the same history. The starting point differs."

"The starting point differs?"

The Observer pointed to the mirror.

"For most people who look into this bronze mirror, the history they see is based in what you commonly call the forgotten age of the gods. But a few exceptional individuals can see even further into the past."

Listening to her, Alon asked a question.

"... Are you saying there is a past even older than the forgotten age of the gods?"

"I haven't seen it myself, but I believe it definitely exists."

"Why?"

"... The previous Observer—my teacher, that is—died after seeing that past and leaving last words."

"Last words warning me never to look at the past before the age of the gods," she murmured, smacking her lips bitterly.

"It was an absurd death. After using the mirror dozens of times without ever seeing that past, my teacher suddenly saw it and died."

"... You can die simply from looking further into the past?"

"Yes. Without the appropriate 'stature,' it is inevitable."

She continued.

"If you had seen that past, it wouldn't have ended with bleeding from your eyes, nose, and mouth. You probably would have died on the spot, blood pouring from your entire body. Even if you were lucky, you would have been left a wreck."

"..."

"Of course, I don't know precisely what determines how far into the past someone can see. But if you can look all the way back to the beginning, like my teacher, then that thing effectively saved your life."

"Couldn't it be unrelated?"

"No. I think there is a connection."

The Observer spoke as she looked at the bronze mirror in Alon's hand.

"When my teacher died after looking at the beginning, the bronze mirror lost its power for about a year. Just as it has now."

"..."

A faint trace of inexplicable anger and longing lingered in her eyes.

A little later.

"For now, I'll take you back outside. With the bronze mirror powerless, there's nothing you can do here. Perhaps in a year, though."

"... Please do."

After leaving the cavern and boarding the sphere the Observer had created, Alon asked her a question.

"There's something I'd like to ask. May I?"

"What is it?"

"... This isn't something I heard earlier. I heard it while dealing with an Outer God. Do you happen to know the term 'star eater'?"

####

After Alon disembarked, Pelin and Penia likewise went ashore in the Sifra Isles.

Besides investigating the fishfolk, they had come because goods from the Blue Magic Tower were being secretly supplied to the islands.

As a rule, a magic tower's goods were only to be handled by places with lawful contracts.

Penia and Pelin had disembarked in Sifra to discover where the illicit goods were circulating, as well as to investigate the fishfolk.

"Ugh, what a pain. Why the hell am I doing this when I'm the deputy tower master—"

The instant Count Pallatio disappeared, she reverted to her usual self, dragging her staff along with an expression that suggested life itself exhausted her.

Watching her, Pelin thought of Count Pallatio.

'Just as I thought.'

In truth, most of his doubts about the count had vanished by now.

The magic the count had displayed in the battle against the fishfolk a week earlier was so extraordinary that even Pelin could not readily fathom it.

But the reason watching Penia brought Count Pallatio to mind was no longer a question of why she grovelled before him. It was a question about the next step—no, a certainty.

So, after watching her for a while, Pelin spoke.

"Sister."

"Why are you talking to me when I'm dying from the heat?"

Penia's reply was irritable.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

Looking at her, Pelin casually tossed out his question.

"Do you happen to like Count Pallatio?"

Then—

WHACK!

"Aagh!"

Without breaking stride, Penia struck him on the back of the head.

Pelin stared at her, startled and utterly bewildered.

"Wait, why did you suddenly hit—"

Before he could finish, however, Penia smacked the back of his head again.

"For fuck's sake—I'm already pissed off enough from this heat! Do you want to die, you little bastard?!"

As though an active volcano had erupted right there, she seized his hair and began pummeling his side indiscriminately with her other hand.

"Ow! Ow! Wait, Sister?! What's gotten into you?!"

"Like him? Do I like him? You call that a question?! Why would I like Count Pallatio?!"

"No, I just—you act so demure whenever you're beside him...!"

"You little bastard, I've always been demure!"

"No, normally you aren't—"

"Bullshit! Why the hell would I like that man?! How the hell did you reach that conclusion?!"

"Then... you don't?"

"There's no reason for me to like him in the first place! What is there to like?! Count Pallatio—I—"

As though Pelin's bewilderment only infuriated her further, Penia accelerated her punches.

Instinctively realizing that he had stepped into trouble, he belatedly tried to beg forgiveness, but—

"—do. Like him."

"...?"

Penia abruptly stopped punching and said those words. Rubbing his stinging side, Pelin looked at her in confusion.

"I do, like him. Yes, of course I do."

He realized that her gaze was fixed on a single spot, the corners of her eyes trembling.

"..."

When he turned his head, Count Pallatio was there.

The count stood watching Penia and Pelin in silence, his face expressionless.

Then—

"I-I wuv, you...?"

... Penia's forlorn, mournful voice reached Pelin's ears.