The imperial palace was still dark.
Sophien sat in a chair in her inner chamber, facing the uninvited guest who had come so suddenly—Rohakan. And Rohakan, a faint smile on his face, accepted her emotions. He endured her contempt, her anger, her sorrow.
In that awkward atmosphere, the silence stretched on.
“……”
As though bored, Rohakan silently swept his gaze around the chamber. On one wall hung the portrait of a man.
The former emperor of the empire, and Sophien’s father.
“He was a great sovereign, and a good friend.”
Rohakan’s tone as he reminisced about him was bitter. Sophien watched him and propped her chin on her hand. Her gaze narrowed sharply.
“And also the husband of the empress you killed.”
When she added that, Rohakan tilted his head slightly.
“……That’s right.”
He murmured softly, as though admitting it, but that only displeased her more.
Sophien clenched her teeth and exhaled a heated breath.
“Rohakan.”
A hateful name.
One of the chief reasons she, as emperor, had come to loathe not only the Red Garnet but even the desert, and the worst of black hands who had dared to assassinate the empress.
“I shall ask you again, now that it has come to this.”
The emperor’s chilly voice settled heavily over the room. From that voice alone, Rohakan seemed to know what her question would be.
“You must speak the truth.”
A private matter she still had not been able to let go of, even after becoming emperor.
Sophien had no memory of that day.
The day the empress died, the day her own mother was murdered—those memories did not exist within her.
As if she had been bewildered by a fog of oblivion, as if they had sunk into the depths of a deep sea, they were only vacant and faint.
“Was it truly you who killed her?”
And so, Sophien asked once more.
Rohakan’s expression stiffened.
“……Is there really any need to ask again?”
“I ask because my memory of that day is hazy. Because that is the only evidence from that day.”
“Would your memory not be enough? The memory of you, the emperor.”
“Even if it is enough, what is certain is that mouth of yours.”
Sophien pointed at Rohakan’s mouth.
“To be satisfied with ‘enough’ when ‘certain’ is within reach is the act of a crippled fool.”
“……”
At that, Rohakan smiled quietly. He brought two fingers together—his middle finger and his thumb.
“Well.”
Snap—!
The sound of finger striking finger.
Whoooosh……
In an instant, the scenery changed with the wind.
Sophien looked around and took in the place.
It was a white vineyard.
A place where dense mist swayed, filled with the fragrant scent of fruit.
Rohakan’s vineyard.
“More importantly, are you not curious as to how I died?”
Rohakan spoke just then. Sophien furrowed her brow, but then, over there—
At the figure of someone dimly visible in the mist, she lost her words for a moment.
“See for yourself. My timeline is spread out here.”
A smile rose to Rohakan’s lips. Sophien quietly stared at that “someone.”
In the hut in the middle of the vineyard, sitting side by side with a somehow younger Rohakan—
A familiar face.
A man with clothes too perfect and neat, too handsome and too beloved.
Sophien murmured his name blankly.
“……Deculein.”
“Yes. Deculein. To be precise, Deculein of the past. The fellow from that time, when he came to find me and spoke with me.”
Rohakan pointed at Deculein as he spoke.
“That fellow showed his true feelings, in his own way, before me. Most of those feelings concerned you.”
“……”
Sophien looked back at Rohakan.
Rohakan smiled kindly.
“It is a timeline I preserved on purpose to show you. So watch from here.”
What conversations Deculein and I had.
What Deculein thought of you, Sophie.
Rohakan indicated Deculein with his eyes, and Sophien looked at him once more.
—Rohakan. Did you truly kill the empress?
Deculein asked Rohakan the very same question she had just asked.
With that as the beginning.
All of Sophien’s attention began to sink into Deculein within the vineyard……
* * *
……Perfect.
Flawless.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
The more she analyzed his formulae, the clearer that “impression” became.
It was the “conclusion” she had reached after neglecting food and drink, immersing herself only in his formulae.
Of course, magic was a realm of subjectivity, a discipline and mystery that could not be evaluated uniformly.
Thus there was no such thing as a correct answer, and naturally, the evaluation of any magic varied according to each person’s views and tastes.
Nevertheless.
There were certainly results that were beautiful “to anyone.” There were certainly outliers that, despite being complex and subtle magic, felt like art.
“This is……”
To Luina, Deculein’s work now was precisely such a thing.
No, other mages would likely think the same.
Rustle—
Setting down the documents in which she had studied Deculein’s formulae, Luina covered her face with her hands. In that state, she let out a sigh.
“Haa……”
If she were to unravel and describe the magic he had applied to this lighthouse, even a total of one thousand pages would not be enough.
It was that vast.
Magic deeper than the abyssal sea, more distant than the great ocean.
Even a mage outstanding in theory would lose their way, and even Luina herself had lost her path dozens of times while analyzing it.
However, if one poured in every effort and every ounce of ability and finally came to behold its whole—
If one discovered the sight of magical formulae numbering not in the thousands or tens of thousands, but in the “hundreds of thousands,” meshing together like exquisite cogwheels, turning without even a hair’s breadth of error—
One would be appalled.
One would be astonished.
No matter how vile a mage he was, no matter how heinous a criminal he was…… one would come to respect him.
“In magic this vast, there is no need to distinguish schools.”
There was no need to distinguish schools.
Because every school was harmonized within it, running freely at play.
Through his magic, she realized anew that attributes, schools, ranks—all were merely classifications mages had made for their own convenience.
“Every circuit has a basis.”
Every circuit had a basis. Not a single circuit was wasted even slightly, nor was any circuit inefficient.
Every line, point, and circle of the formulae, which could only be described as “countless,” even the tiniest parts, functioned and operated with utter perfection.
Thus, magic more like art than art, more like sorcery than sorcery.
The realm of enlightenment that the mage called Deculein had reached by pouring in all his heart and soul.
“……A wall.”
A wall.
Luina felt a wall.
No, it was not even at that level.
“Has he already become a giant?”
A realm where she felt neither inferiority nor a sense of inadequacy.
The essence of the discipline called magic, and, if she dared say it, a holy land.
Deculein had already become a giant. His theories, his magic, his knowledge, his ability had transcended the limits humans could pursue.
“……But why.”
If that was so, was the purpose of this magic truly the destruction of the continent?
That was what troubled Luina.
“Truly……”
The purpose of the magic. The true purpose of this great magic, which would be realized through the medium of the lighthouse by the gathering of hundreds of thousands of circuits.
Was it truly the destruction of the continent?
“……Why.”
Luina found that questionable.
Considering Deculein’s current actions, considering his tyranny and wickedness, the destruction of the continent certainly seemed to be its essence. It certainly seemed to be his purpose.
“Why does it feel like that isn’t it?”
Luina—or at the very least, the insight of Luina, who had once been called a “genius”—could faintly sense another purpose to this great magic.
“……Deculein.”
Luina called Deculein’s name. She rubbed her weary temples and picked up her pen.
“You truly are a genius.”
A genius of formulae.
The nickname that had once been attached to Deculein.
Though now you are smeared with disgraces such as plagiarist professor and Icarus who flew too high.
“They say there is no end to scholarship, but no. I think you have seen the end of the discipline called magic. I think you have understood the roots of magic.”
Magic, of which it was said that even a lifetime of study would never be enough, and that there was no end.
But Luina wanted to correct those words.
The end of magic existed.
It was not a metaphor, nor was it a vague compliment.
The “end” of magic was here, now.
Right before her eyes.
“You are not a fake.”
Deculein was not a fake.
He was more perfectly real than anyone, and these formulae he had left behind were an innovation that would completely change the continent’s level of magic.
Even if one borrowed only the logic of the magic melted into this great spell right now, hundreds of thousands of papers would pour forth.
“……You are connected to the truth.”
Luina clenched her teeth.
The truth.
Deculein had already reached that realm, said to be something beyond magic.
That was why Luina was curious.
Just what motive, what resolve, and what ability had made Deculein so magnificent? What had advanced him into a great sage?
“That is why it is even harder to believe.”
The Deculein Luina knew did not waver.
Should she call it an immovable mind?
The mental strength one could obtain only by upholding one’s convictions and possessing firm faith in oneself.
“You are not loyal to the Altar.”
A mage that great would not entrust himself to an external power.
He would not be tempted by a desire so petty as extending his lifespan, and there was no way he would offer his loyalty to something as paltry as a cult.
One who had seen the end of magic, one who had finally seized the truth after painstaking effort—
There was no way he would destroy the “continent,” which was no different from the fruit of that truth.
──Therefore, Luina’s conclusion was one.
“……You are hiding something.”
Having reached that conclusion, Luina rose from her seat.
At that moment.
—What is it that he has hidden?
A chilling mechanical voice rang out like some frequency.
“Eek!”
Luina was so startled that she stumbled. She hurriedly turned toward it.
“……You are.”
Luina’s eyes trembled. The being standing there was that unexpected.
—Allow me to introduce myself. I am Elesol.
The leader of the Red Garnet, Elesol.
As though she had heard all of Luina’s muttering just now, her face was rather grave.
—Just what is Deculein hiding that has you talking about truth and whatnot? And what is this mess?
“……”
Luina silently looked around.
Papers analyzing Deculein’s formulae filled every direction—indeed, a mess just as she had said.
Amid it, Luina……
“……Auuugh.”
—?!
Collapsed on the spot, and the flustered Elesol quickly supported her.
It was because she had analyzed nothing but formulae all this time and had eaten nothing at all.
* * *
……It had been five days.
For a full five days, Sophien did not open the main gate, and I knelt before it.
It was not only me.
All the empire’s retainers had gathered, not eating food, not drinking water, kneeling and chirping like parrots only such words as, “Please, Your Majesty, grant us your gracious consideration—”
“……The rain will stop soon.”
It had rained throughout those five days, and thanks to that my whole body was covered in mud, but today was rather different.
Most of all, the sky was clear.
The dark clouds had parted, and sunlight bent warmly down.
Your Majesty, please grant us your gracious consideration———!
The retainers’ cry rang out once more.
“Tch. Their voices are still intact?”
I glared that way as though quite annoyed, and just as the emperor’s retainers glared back at me with contempt—
Creeeeeak……
From the main gate came the sound of interlocking gears.
It was very faint, but because everyone’s gaze was focused on the imperial gate, it was exceedingly clear.
Creak, creak……!
Then, the sound of the main gate came more distinctly.
——!
Everyone exhaled loudly.
The eyes of the retainers were already fixed only on that place.
Gulp—
The simultaneous sound of swallowing.
The flow of time, where one second felt like an hour.
Click……
At last, at the very moment when the fading rain had completely stopped—
Rrrrrrrumble────!
The gates of the imperial palace opened.
Everyone raised their heads and looked beyond.
──Ah……!
Exclamations.
Within the sunlight descending like radiance.
Beyond it, beneath particles of light draped like a dazzling curtain.
——Your Majesty!
There stood Sophien, as though she were aflame.
She quietly swept her gaze over the area, and I looked at her.
“……”
Without a word, I thought.
What she had agonized over all this time, and what thoughts she had entertained.
How she had reached her decision.
Those things, most important to me, were still uncertain.
“……All who have gathered here, listen.”
At that instant, Sophien spoke. Her voice was somewhat hoarse.
Had she cried?
Or had she suffered that much anguish?
“We……”
Sophien looked at me.
My heart, already dead, could not even beat, but my skin standing on end spoke for my tension.
“Will now go to the Land of Annihilation.”
Sophien’s declaration that she would go to the Land of Annihilation.
Hearing those words, I felt relief inside, and as though she found that impudent of me, Sophien added,
“In that march, all of my Imperial Guard will accompany me.”
The emperor’s Imperial Guard.
The moment Sophien mentioned them, the gazes of everyone before the imperial palace focused on me.
There was only one reason.
“Did you hear that clearly, Deculein?”
Because even now, I was still the captain of the emperor’s Imperial Guard.
“……Yes. However.”
I answered so and rose to my feet.
I brushed the mud from my body and looked straight at Emperor Sophien, visible in the distance.
“Your Majesty. Can you trust me?”
Insolent words and actions that the other retainers would consider some sort of “declaration of war.” The behavior of a true traitor, for a mere subject to dare ask the emperor whether she trusted him.
And so the other retainers glared, eyes wide, staring at me as though they might kill me with utterly shocked faces.
But to Sophien and me, who knew each other, that question was rather different.
“Do you truly trust me?”
What I had asked was whether she could kill me.
“……”
At that, Sophien said nothing for a moment, merely glaring at me intently.
Very slowly, as though absorbed in some thought, or as though carefully choosing the words she would say to me.
She moved the most beautiful lips on this continent.