Chapter 60 - The Mausoleum of Moonshadow (2)

The Mausoleum of Moonshadow revealed itself before Maphel’tan.

A dead, desiccated gray forest. Beneath a pitch-black void, a lifeless wasteland swallowed the horizon. The sprawling vegetation was grayish white, as though coated in ash, and the once-green earth had withered dry, bereft of even the smallest trace of vitality.

The stench of death filled every corner. The very space rejected life. This was the cradle of the dead, a sanctuary for forgotten beings.

The god they had worshipped was reduced to a solitary stump, yet its feeble roots still supported their sanctuary. The grayish-white roots stretching from the mausoleum’s ceiling to its floor were the World Tree’s final desperate struggle.

Maphel’tan descended along a root of the World Tree to the mausoleum floor. Grayish-white dust scattered as his feet touched the ground. Withered flowers crumbled into ash-gray powder—empty remnants, dead long before he stepped on them.

Everything before him was the same. It barely retained its form, with no life to be found anywhere. Only one thing truly existed: blind malice. All-consuming hatred blanketed the entire mausoleum.

“Ah, ah! The full moon has returned!”

“Someone, please drag that moon down!”

“I cannot bear to see it. Get that loathsome light out of my sight at once.”

“Mother is weeping. More uninvited guests have come!”

Faint moonlight seeped into the forest, which at first glance looked as white as a snowfield. Beneath it, the grayish-white vegetation cast eerie shadows. Black silhouettes darted through the shade.

‘They’re coming.’

Sensing the intruders, the dead came charging. White dust billowed behind them as though they were racing through snow. Hideous cries erupted from every direction. Screams and sobs shook the entire mausoleum.

The noise was lethal to humans. Raguel fell into a panic, consumed by primal terror. He clutched his head and began convulsing.

“D-don’t come near me! Get out of my head, please!”

Chilling echoes spread through the folds of his brain. His whole body contorted. Twisting and writhing, he limped away, unconsciously fleeing his fear.

Zal’karin sneered.

“Idiot. You’re practically begging to be made a target. Stop that nonsense and come back.”

Maphel’tan spoke calmly.

“Leave him be.”

Puzzlement filled Zal’karin’s face.

“But, great End, the brat will die if we leave him like that.”

As far as the imp could see, Raguel mattered to Maphel’tan. He was needed whenever the forbidden library had to be opened, and surely he had a use in this mausoleum as well. Yet Maphel’tan was telling him to leave Raguel in danger. Zal’karin could not fathom his intentions.

Maphel’tan said,

“Just be quiet and watch.”

Raguel was still wandering aimlessly on his own. By now, he had gone quite a distance.

“Please stop! Get the hell away!”

The blind boy flailed his arms, then fell headlong into the gray undergrowth. Withered blades of grass crumbled and scattered like dust. Black silhouettes moved nimbly through the drifting powder.

“A child of the moon!”

“One of the red-blooded race!”

“How dare you come here! Do you know what this place is?”

Jade-green eyes began to glow, one pair after another. Gazes steeped in hatred gathered around Raguel.

“Tear out his heart and offer it to Mother!”

“We shall soothe our rage with red blood!”

Breath laden with malice slowly swept away the dust. At last, the dead revealed themselves: ash-gray horrors. Pale gray Demons surrounded Raguel.

Their dry skin was split like drought-stricken earth, their bodies so emaciated that they resembled starving beasts. Their mouths spewed hatred without pause. Their two ears, once proudly pointed, now drooped lifelessly. Only their jade-green eyes spoke of their once-pristine past.

They had once basked in nature’s favor. Now the forgotten ancient race of elves filled Maphel’tan’s vision. They packed the forest like a swarm of termites.

‘What a terrible curse.’

Little of their former glory could be found in these beings turned Demons. Only withered resentment remained.

Zal’karin muttered,

“So this is goodbye to the brat.”

The fallen elves had come right up to Raguel. No human could survive such dreadful malice. Countless demonic hands reached for him at once.

Maphel’tan spoke.

“The boy still has plenty of uses. It would be a waste to throw him away like this.”

“But...”

At that very moment, the Demons stopped. Every grasping hand reaching for Raguel froze. Maphel’tan’s lips curled upward.

“Just as I expected.”

The gray horrors howled as one.

“Watcher of the Abyss! The stench of those hateful things!”

Their roaring screams shook the whole mausoleum. The elves were deeply agitated. They could not kill Raguel, because of the interdiction the moon had placed upon them.

『 Let the prisoners of the First Zone never dare escape the moon’s gaze. 』

The moon’s gaze meant the Miyatro bloodline. Killing them meant escaping that gaze—an act that violated the interdiction. Such a thing was impossible for mere mortals.

A hated human stood before them, yet they could not kill him. One might have expected them to gnash their teeth and rage, but instead, the elves were overcome with joy. Some even danced with abandon.

Zal’karin stared at them in disbelief.

“O great End, grant this ignorant wretch an answer! Why are they convulsing with happiness?”

Maphel’tan spoke.

“The elves long for the birth of a new World Tree. They have already prepared its seed. The Miyatro bloodline is one of the finest fertilizers for that seed. From their perspective, Raguel is a windfall that wandered right into their laps.”

Zal’karin said,

“So the brat will be dragged off to die after all.”

Maphel’tan shook his head.

“The interdiction prevents the elves from killing Raguel. They’ll likely keep him alive and drain his vitality.”

An eerie look settled over Zal’karin’s face.

“Now I understand. While the brat buys us time, there is another objective we must accomplish, is there not?”

“The World Tree’s seed. That is our first objective.”

“... We are going to steal their treasure?!”

“You could say that.”

Zal’karin exclaimed in admiration.

“If we simply follow them, they will lead us straight to wherever the seed is hidden!”

“Exactly. The elves will guide us to their sanctuary.”

The World Tree’s heart was carefully concealed. Ordinary methods would hardly suffice to pinpoint its location. But with Raguel, things were different. Distracted by him, the elves would lead Maphel’tan to the seed’s cradle.

Zal’karin let out another admiring cry.

“Your timeless knowledge and magnificent stratagems never cease to amaze me!”

Maphel’tan clicked his tongue.

“I have no need for an incompetent fool who can do nothing but flatter me. One day you’ll have to prove your worth, so don’t waste an opportunity to grow like this.”

The Abyss overflowed with virulent demonic energy and malice. Even breathing properly here would make the imp grow stronger.

Somewhat cowed, Zal’karin said,

“... I swear I shall meet your expectations.”

Maphel’tan started walking.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

The elves lifted Raguel and began to move. Maphel’tan immediately followed them.

* * *

It felt as though he were trapped in a cramped iron cage. He struggled, but could not move so much as his little finger. In the grip of utter terror and darkness, Raguel could do nothing. He could only crumble beneath the blind malice directed at him.

It was a familiar experience. Before Yohan appeared, Raguel’s life had been much like this. He had always groaned beneath his father’s resentment and violence, trapped alone in the dark and trembling, over and over, just as he was now. He had never once managed to truly fight back.

This helplessness was his very life. Thanks to Yohan, he had forgotten it for a while, but nothing fundamental had changed. A weak, worthless cripple. A coward who could not stand his ground. A scared little fool who could do nothing but wipe away tears. This was who he had always been.

The realization brought him a little peace. Shrinking back suited him better than furious resistance.

Raguel stopped screaming. He no longer struggled. As he had before, he began submitting to his fate. He yielded to the fear, shutting himself away with the darkness. A twisted sense of security came over him.

Just then, a voice rang sharply in his ears.

“Fight back!”

The blind boy slowly raised his head. Two blood-red eyes stared at him through the darkness. It was a familiar gaze—the faint light that had once hauled him out of the darkness in which he was drowning.

“... Y-Yohan?”

The red light drew closer. A fairy-like figure flickered before the blind boy’s eyes. It was a Nightmare Spirit.

“Struggle! Fight! Don’t give up! This time, seize your fate with your own hands!”

His voice drowned out the screams and wails of the dead. The sense of self that had been isolated in darkness slowly began to surface.

“Yohan! Are you there?! Get me out of here! Please, please!”

The black fairy fluttered its wings.

“Don’t rely on me. Get up on your own!”

“B-but...!”

“Move your body! Fight until you collapse from exhaustion!”

Emotion surged within Raguel.

“I tried! But I can’t! Do you have any idea what my body is like?”

The Nightmare Spirit chuckled.

“No. I don’t, but if it were me, I’d die fighting! Shouldn’t we at least give this shitty world the finger?! Let’s struggle together until our dying breaths!”

Raguel bit down hard on his lip. He tried, little by little, to put strength into his limbs. They still would not budge.

“They won’t move. I really can’t.”

“If your arms and legs won’t cooperate, use your hands and feet! If even that is impossible, bite with your teeth! I’ll take your warding mask off.”

“W-what am I supposed to...?”

“I’ll lend you a little help.”

The black fairy’s shape gradually changed, taking on a familiar appearance. Raguel swallowed hard.

“F-Father?”

Grian’s spiteful face was right in front of him.

“Bite down on his nose! Show him you won’t just lie there when he steps on you!”

“But...”

Grian bellowed.

“You bastard who killed your mother being born! As if that weren’t enough, you’re a piece of human refuse riddled with disabilities! Utterly useless trash!”

Raguel’s voice trembled.

“N-no. Don’t.”

Maphel’tan’s voice reached his ears.

“Fight back! Tear into his face and flatten that nose!”

Grian shouted.

“You fucking crippled moron! A thing like you should never have been born!”

“No! It’s not my fault!”

Maphel’tan’s voice came again.

“That’s it! Deny it! Show him who you are!”

Grian sneered.

“You can’t do anything! All you’ll do is bury yourself under the covers and cry, just like before! Just like your stupid mother!”

Raguel screamed in fury.

“I said stop!”

Maphel’tan’s voice pierced his mind.

“Yes, now! Bite him!”

Grian opened his mouth again. Just as he was about to spew more abuse, Raguel’s upper body lunged forward. His small mouth clamped down on the blunt nose.

A squeal like a pig being slaughtered rang out. Raguel’s mouth filled with a refreshingly tangy liquid. An unidentified essence began circulating through the boy’s entire body.

His joints twisted, and his blood flowed backward. His vision flashed wildly. Excruciating pain consumed his body and soul. He could not even scream.

“Khh, haaagh.”

Every element of his body ran wild. It felt as though he were shedding his skin.

Amid pain that seemed to carve away flesh and bone, his surroundings slowly brightened. Countless clusters of light flooded his dilated pupils. Unfamiliar signals ravaged his brain cells. His optic nerve fibers spasmed. His vision flickered.

A familiar voice reached his ears.

“See? You can do it, can’t you? Well done.”

Something came to rest lightly on Raguel’s head. At the same time, the world around him opened into clear view.

“Well, High Elf? How does it feel to be reborn?”

A fearsome being was smiling.

In the blind boy’s new world.