Chapter 15: Vanished into Smoke

Translator: Atlas Studios  Editor: Atlas Studios

In a murky space of half-light and shadows, Gawain, Amber, Betty and a nameless rogue mage sat in a circle in a crude wooden hut. In front of them was a lunch of simple bread, fried sausage and vegetable stew freshly prepared by Betty.

The scene was as colorless as an old black-and-white photo.

Gawain had no intention of eating the food that was before him. Even though it was apparently possible to make food in the shadow realm, he could not be sure of what would happen if he, a living, breathing human (probably), ate something from this world.

Beside him, Amber and Betty did not pick up their utensils either.

The rogue mage sat at the opposite end of the table did not urge them to eat, but only ate the food in front of him wordlessly, an air of quiet around him.

A strange kind of tacit understanding permeated the wooden hut.

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Gawain was the first to break the silence. “How long have you been here?”

“Very long.” The rogue mage put down his fork and knife, and said politely, “I’ve lived here since my second year of leaving the Association of Mystics.”

“You were a member of the Association of Mystics?” Gawain asked, surprised. “I thought you were a rogue mage.”

“I was originally a member of the Association of Mystics of the second rank,” said the rogue mage quietly. “According to the standards of the Association of Mystics, I’m a terrible spellcaster—my strengths are in calculation and logic, but lack any spell casting abilities. In other words, my casting capabilities are only rudimentary, and this makes me unwelcome as a wizard to the Association of Mystics.”

“So they kicked you out?” Amber was bewildered. She knew how valuable a true mage was, even if he did not have good casting abilities. His deficiencies were only seen as such by the Master Mages—in the eyes of laymen, even a mage who could only conjure up a tiny fireball were celebrated. Though these low-level casters were not treasured by the Association of Mystics, it did not warrant kicking him out.

“I left out of my own will.” The rogue mage shook his head, turning to Betty. “For my daughter. To heal her, I had to leave.”

Betty stared blankly at the rogue mage, and then nodded stupidly.

Gawain did not press the matter further. Staring into the rogue mage’s eyes, he laid his right hand on the hilt of the long sword by his waist and said slowly, “You should know what we came here to do—we don’t have much time to waste.”

There was finally a slight change in the rogue mage’s stiff and dull expression. He trembled slightly as he bowed his head. “… My guest, I don’t quite understand you.”

Betty looked at Gawain a little anxiously. “My lord?”

Gawain frowned. After a moment, he moved his hand away from the hilt of his pioneer’s sword and exhaled. “We’ll give you a moment, then.”

The rogue mage bowed his head and continued to eat his meal in silence. The only superfluous movement he made as he ate was to raise his head to look at Betty intermittently.

The food would eventually be finished, and Gawain could not wait indefinitely.

The rogue mage ate the last mouthful of his sausage before cleaning up the vegetable stew in the soup bowl with his bread. When he had finished, he lifted his head and looked in Betty’s direction—though his gaze was not on her, but looking at something far away. His body swayed as he tried to stand, but he was unsuccessful in all his attempts.

In the end, Betty was the one who helped him up.

“Papa, I’m going off now.” The little girl held the rogue mage by his elbow, only letting go when she was sure he was stable. She shuffled over to Gawain’s side. “Miss Rebecca and Madam Herti are still waiting for me—and also, my lord has returned.”

The rogue mage’s lips quivered. At last he nodded gently, his expression now serene. He instructed carefully, “Don’t eat food from strangers.” “Go to bed on time.” “Remember to listen to your teacher.” “Don’t fight with other kids.”

The light of reason faded from the poor man’s eyes gradually, and Gawain knew whatever he was saying was now only gibberish.

Though, he barely had any clarity left to begin with.

The rogue mage’s body faded away slowly, but there was something that resembled a flame that started to burn in the fainter shadows. Gawain had been waiting for this moment. He unsheathed his Sword of Pioneers swiftly, and on it a faint light danced.

Amber pulled Betty into her embrace quickly, shielding the little girl’s eyes in time.

Gawain pierced his sword through the flame burning in the rogue mage’s chest. The fire started to vibrate wildly, the rogue mage’s transformation into an evil spirit was halted. The shadowy figure rapidly solidified into an opaque entity, before the flames consumed him, reducing him into a monstrous, scorched corpse.

It took half a minute before the body burnt to ash.

A cracking sound was heard from everywhere. After losing its master, the small wooden hut disintegrated quickly. Dense cracks hatched across the walls and roof instantly, and the pale light of the outside wall spilled through the cracks into the house.

Dragging Amber and Betty along, Gawain fled the house hastily. The moment they were outside, the entire hut crashed down.

The collapsed wooden hut caught fire as they watched. The flames only lasted for a short while, as if a paper house had been there instead of a wooden one.

As the wooden hut crumbled into ash and drifted away in the wind, Amber grabbed Gawain’s elbow suddenly. Pointing at the foundation of the wooden hut, she cried out, “Aye, aye! Look at that!”

Gawain stared intently. Beneath the ashes of the wooden hut, a shimmering light lit up. Its brilliance filtered through the snow of ashes, steadily materializing into a complex and giant construction—an impressively large magic circle.

“This is probably the rogue mage’s greatest achievement in his entire lifetime.” Gawain nodded his head slightly. “There was probably something awry with his spell that caused his fate.”

As he spoke, Betty’s shadow began to transform into floating pinpricks of light, which circled around twice before flying towards Gawain and Amber.

Amber looked down at her hands. Color now returned to those greyed hands just as color began to return to her and Gawain’s bodies, their rejection from the shadow realm increasingly apparent.

Shadowy objects began to coalesce from the thin fog around them, shapeless, yet malevolent. Now, the natives of the shadow realm would finally be able to sniff out outsiders, and the low-level ones emerged, their behavior akin to a gathering of hyenas smelling blood.

“We have to flee!” Amber said to Gawain. “We’re no longer welcome here!”

Gawain cast a last meaningful glance at the ruins that had once been a hut, and tried to etch the glowing lights and sigils into his memory. Then, tugging at Amber’s elbow, he barked, “Let’s go!”

After a brief moment of vertigo, the light of reality appeared before his eyes again.

The malevolent fog had dissipated and the dense forest returned to its original state. Rebecca and Herti, who had both spent their power, were supporting each other under a tree. Meanwhile, Knight Byron was holding himself up with his longsword as he tried his best to protect the two ladies by his side. However, the two soldiers who had survived were now collapsed on the ground.

Betty looked in the best shape out of all of them—she was hugging her pan as she stood beside Rebecca, a blank look on her face. It was as though that expression was permanently frozen on her features.

After Herti saw Gawain, she straightened up immediately and said, “Ancestor—we’re so glad you’re safe!”

She then spotted Amber behind Gawain, and her face instantly morphed into surprised. “So this thief hadn’t fled?”

“Hey! What kind of discrimination is this!” Amber sprang up as though she were a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “I’ve just traveled to the shadow realm with your ancestor to save you from near death, excuse you! You big-breasted, no-brain woman…”

Herti had never imagined that this young thief would insult her like this, and her expression turned sour. “Hold your mouth! That’s an utterly rude thing to say! Do you know what will happen to you if you insult a noble like…”

Gawain cut in quickly and said, “Stop fighting. Amber wasn’t lying; we did just solve the crisis together earlier, though it is wrong for her to have insulted you…”

Everyone present fell silent. Rebecca raised a timid hand. “Lord Ancestor, did you just pardon Amber for the sole positive thing she said out of everything else…”

Herti looked like she had lost the will to live.

Gawain: “…”

Luckily, Herti was a woman of common sense and did not dwell on such trivial nuisances for long. After Gawain explained what had happened clearly, all the misunderstandings melted away.

Also, the sights and sounds Gawain and Amber had experienced in the shadow realm surprised everyone. Even Knight Byron, who knew nothing about magic, could not help but listen intently.

After all, this was an experience that was hard to imagine.

“You could actually enter the shadow realm?” Apparently, Herti’s first concern was Amber’s special abilities. She looked her up and down with suspicion, as though trying to seek the answer from the half-elf girl’s face. “Only a few powerful shadow mages or the ‘chosen ones’ of the Shadow Gods have this ability. How did you do it?”

Amber looked away. “I was chosen by the Goddess of the Night, okay?”

Herti glared at her. “Don’t lie. How can a chosen one be struck to the ground by Byron’s ordinary steel sword?”

“Enough of this questioning.” At last, Gawain stopped Herti’s interrogation. “I’ve already promised to not ask her about this—she’ll reveal it when she’s ready.”

After the Heavens and the Earth, the will of their ancestors commanded the greatest respect. Since Gawain had already spoken, Herti could only give up.

“Let’s bury the dead first.” Now that the fog had cleared, warmth returned to everyone’s bodies. Seeing that everyone had recovered a little of their strength, Gawain rose and stood beside the soldier who had died because of his broken soul. “He had put up a brave fight, and should be buried as a warrior.”

The two soldiers who had survived stared at Gawain in shock.

Gawain was confused. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“He was the son of a serf.” Knight Byron walked over. “It was by the Viscountess’ grace that he could enter the army to redeem his freedom—but because he had only been in the army for half a year, he is still a serf whom cannot be buried as a warrior.”

Gawain frowned and turned to look at Rebecca. “Is that so?”

Anxiety washed over Rebecca instantly, as though she had committed an offence. “S-Sorry! But I thought that serfdom wasn’t… wasn’t very fair, so I thought to make them earn their freedom by serving in the army. I know this is against the rules, but…”

Gawain’s frown softened. “No, I wasn’t blaming you.”

He then crouched over and fumbled for a coin from his breast. Then, he slipped it into the dead soldier’s front pocket against his heart.

That coin was placed in Gawain Cecil’s breast pocket by Charlie the First’s own hand when he was buried.

Upon seeing the coin, Amber realized what it was immediately and covered her eyes. “Goodness… at least half the manor…”

However, Gawain had no idea of this, only going through the motions according to the rules in his memory. Then, dusting his hands as he rose, he said, “Now that the debt of his soul has been redeemed, bury him.”

Byron hesitated slightly. “But the laws…”

Gawain looked him in the eye. “I am the law.”