Thick, muddy water.
The sky was pitch-black, shrouded in storm clouds, and the heart that surfaced within him from time to time was darker still—despair itself.
*Ssshwaaaah—*
The falling rain beat mercilessly against his entire body.
*Why.*
Why, of all moments, had he cast aside the mission he must never forget even for a heartbeat?
He rebuked himself so, pounding his heart until it ached.
"...What is this."
Legarda slowly looked down at his palm.
Into view came a hand and forearm covered in wounds, nothing but skin and bone.
"It is the past."
He knew immediately.
This was a memory from a thousand years ago.
He was inside the memory of Legarda Obierre himself—after having lost Eriael.
But was it not far too vivid to dismiss as a mere fragment of a memory?
The blood flowing from his torn wounds and the burning sting of rainwater seeping between them.
The texture of calluses, hardened and fixed after splitting and regenerating countless times.
The hunger and faint dizziness, likely from having been unable to eat properly for days.
And beyond all of that, a cold, piercing emptiness.
It was all far too vivid.
Rain and blood pursued him, clinging to his body.
His vision swayed dizzily.
Even so, an emotion he had forgotten surged through him.
"...Filthy."
Rage devoured his body.
Anger at himself.
Anger at those who would defile this place.
"You abominations."
Wretched things that ought not exist in this world.
How dare you set foot here? Do you know where this is?
—*Screeeeech!*
Grotesque, twisted things screamed.
Now that he heard them again, they sounded almost like screams of agony.
Because he knew this was a memory, there were things he could see anew.
Flecks of apricot skin visible here and there among the monster bodies covered entirely in black.
Their desperate screams.
The miserable truth of beings he had believed to be irredeemably abject.
Yet there were also things that did not change.
"Be still."
Such was the spear he gripped firmly with his wounded, emaciated hand.
And such were his two legs, holding their ground without the slightest tremor.
"This is the Temple of the Dragon."
Behind him slept Eriael.
The great dragon slumbered there—one who had been forced to seal himself away because his Dragon Knight was unworthy.
So what if this place was inside a memory?
So what if this pain was false?
Behind him slumbered a dragon.
Where he stood was before the Temple of the Dragon.
If so, then all he had to do was protect it.
"If you find it unjust, go cry out to your god."
A thousand years ago, and even now, he was a Dragon Knight.
A bolt of bright yellow energy shot toward the Abyss.
Was this memory for the sake of atonement?
Or was it a punishment for condemnation?
The agony of the flesh was terrible, but the emptiness of the spirit was even more perilous.
Fangs gnashed and claws dug into a body grown infinitely weak.
The Abyss ransacked the mind, plunged into rage and self-loathing, without rhyme or reason.
—*Screeeeech!*
Even so, his two legs held firm without a shred of trembling.
And in the two arms swinging the spear, there was not a moment's hesitation.
"Do not weep."
Though he would die once more inside that memory.
"Did you think I did not wish to weep as well?"
He simply had to protect it.
* * *
Before a brilliant, iridescent light, her eyes drifted shut.
When she opened them again, she was in a place far too unfamiliar.
'...Hmm?'
An incredibly vast space.
Though inside a building, the sky was wide open above, and passages allowing a cool breeze to pass through existed on both sides.
And the aura felt from every direction.
'Magic?'
Traces of magic.
Magic was spread across the entire interior and exterior of a space so vast it felt almost like a temple.
Densely installed magic circles. High-grade magic performed by all manner of artifacts intertwining.
Such magic—the kind the current Freya could not even begin to comprehend—overflowed everywhere.
But that was not the only oddity.
'My body...'
Using her peripheral vision to examine herself, it was not the familiar body she knew.
A body far larger and more slender.
Long, soft green hair.
Though it was her first time seeing it in reality, it was an appearance she had heard described countless times in stories and pictures.
'Eriael?'
It was Eriael in human form.
She had called it a door of memories, but it seemed she had entered Eriael's memories rather than her own.
'How fascinating!'
Perhaps this was an opportunity.
Had she not come directly to the ancient Temple of the Dragon, which she had only ever heard of by word of mouth?
An opportunity to see and learn lost magic, Dragon Speech, and the like scattered all around her.
Thus Freya tried to hop up and look around immediately, but—
'Ugh, it won't move...!'
Unfortunately, the body would not obey her will.
Instead, magical power surged from the magic circle located within the temple, and Eriael's gaze turned toward it.
Five magic circles winding along the walls.
The moment she confirmed them, magical power burst forth from Eriael's body.
The guided magical power surged toward the magic circles.
From that movement of Eriael's, Freya felt as if permission had just been granted.
As if that feeling were correct.
Once Eriael gave her permission, several figures began to reveal themselves within the vast, grand temple.
—Eriael.
Illusions without physical form.
Five dragons had appeared within Eriael's temple as projections.
Their presence was overwhelming despite being mere illusions.
—It is as expected.
—Not a single god answers our questions.
—In the end, we must step forward ourselves.
At their words, Freya's mouth moved on its own, letting out a voice.
Eriael was speaking.
"I cannot fathom the reason."
Then another dragon spoke.
—I am the same. Why do the gods remain silent?
—Surely they must know what we know.
—I suspect there is a reason, yet they will not even tell us what it is.
There was but one reason they had gathered to speak like this.
—It is about the omens of the Abyss.
It was because of the Abyss.
The dragons had already known of the Abyss's stirring.
* * *
The moment she opened her eyes, she knew.
This was not her body.
It was a body similarly beautiful and warm, filled with love, yet unmistakably not her own.
Then whose was it?
It was obvious.
'Venus.'
Venus, the former goddess of love.
It was the body of a goddess. It was a memory.
The place was one she had visited before as well.
The sacred space of Beltesia, where she had been with Hio.
A holy place said to have been inhabited by the old gods.
Across from her sat a nameless goddess, white from head to toe—eyebrows and eyelashes included—sipping tea with her eyes closed.
Venus sat facing her in that same childish illustrated chair.
The white goddess, who had been wearing a gentle smile with her eyes closed, spoke first.
"You asked me to teach you the way to leave something behind, did you not, Venus?"
At that, Airaits felt a surge of displeasure well up unbidden.
She did not know whether this was her own emotion or one engraved into Venus's memory, but either way, it was far from pleasant.
"Yes, you hypocrite, Rifue. Whether false or true, leaving things behind is your specialty, is it not?"
Saying so, she crossed her legs.
The sequence—lightly brushing aside her crimson hair, then picking up the teacup upon the table and taking a sip—was impossibly lovely even to herself.
"It is not falsehood. I merely call all of it hope, taken together."
"I've no desire to hear your sophistry. Why don't you just tell me the way to leave something behind?"
"What is it you wish to leave behind?"
Venus set down her teacup and smiled.
Because it was from Venus's perspective, she could not see that face directly, but Airaits was certain it was an incomparably bewitching smile.
"What else? My everything."
"Would that not go against the rules?"
"It's just me, what of it?"
"You wish to convey hope, then."
"I care nothing for hope. It is love."
"That process will be filled with hope, I am sure."
"Even that is love."
Rifue's closed eyes turned toward Venus.
Her white eyebrows, gently curved, were striking.
"As expected, I simply cannot get along with you."
"That's exactly what I was going to say. This tea is needlessly warm, and this childish space likewise."
"Was childishness not your specialty, Venus?"
"Seeing you speak like that, you know nothing of love. How pitiful."
"And it seems Lady Venus does not know the meaning held within this space. A child's drawing is precisely what contains countless hopes and infinite possibilities."
The war of words between the two—or rather, between the two goddesses—continued for some time.
Venus called Rifue hypocritical.
Rifue spoke of the way hope blooms within falsehood.
She said that only if such hope exists can miracles occur.
Though Rifue seemed gentle compared to the blunt Venus, for some reason she would not yield an inch.
Listening to the two goddesses' quarrel, Airaits nodded vehemently at Venus's words and frowned in displeasure at Rifue's, earnestly immersing herself in the memory.
"...Ah, so are you going to tell me or not?"
"The way to leave behind hope?"
"The way to leave behind love, I said."
"I can teach you. But will Beltesia permit it?"
At Rifue's words, Venus let out a genuine scoff, as if amused.
"Nonsense. I know quite a few have already come to you."
"Is that so? I know nothing of that."
"That needlessly hot walking furnace too, and... you are also thinking of leaving your everything behind. Are you not?"
"I do not know what you mean, but since you seem troubled, I shall help you."
"You should have said so from the start."
"Who is the person Venus has chosen?"
Venus straightened her posture and leaned forward with a meaningful smile.
The words that followed roused Airaits's consciousness.
"A child called Airaits. A bit clumsy, but a fine one."
That was why her own name had sprung from Venus's lips.
She did not know exactly when this memory took place, but Venus had already known of Airaits.
"Airaits... What is their true name?"
"That is their true name. That child has forgotten their previous name themselves."
"That is unusual."
"Is it not? And the meaning of Airaits is 'I love you.' Interesting, no?"
"...Well, I more or less understand why you chose that child, Venus."
Venus rose from her chair and moved to the seat right next to Rifue.
"Tell me the specific arrangements. As Venus knows, this is a delicate matter, so we must proceed with caution."
"Arrangements... Well. Shall I think about it from now on?"
"...What?"
Venus's smile deepened to the point of devilish allure.
Having leaned in close, right in front of Rifue's face, she tapped her own head with her index finger.
"Airaits. Are you watching?"
In that instant, Airaits could not help but fall into confusion.
Was this truly a memory?
"T-This... is absurd!"
At the same time, Rifue shot up from her seat.
Her white eyebrows, which had seemed eternally gentle, were deeply furrowed.
"Beltesia will never permit this!"
"Hahaha! Beltesia?"
Without a care, Venus sank deep into her chair.
Stretching her beautiful legs out onto the table, she raised one hand.
Her raised hand pointed precisely in the direction of the temple.
And then, her long, lovely middle finger soared up in all its glory.
"Tell her to eat shit."
For some reason, Airaits thought it was rather exhilarating.