Chapter 239

“….”

“Are you finally coming to your senses?”

Yutia stepped forward to stand in front of Seolrang, who was groaning in pain as she rolled on the ground.

Seolrang, a mess, covered in cuts and bruises all over.

Unlike her, Yutia showed no signs of having taken any hits.

Seolrang opened her mouth with a still-hostile gaze.

“…Master is pitiful.”

Covered in dirt.

Tear-filled eyes.

A voice slipping through clenched teeth.

At Seolrang’s trembling words, Yutia’s expression hardened again.

Her index finger twitched without her realizing it,

And in that moment, Yutia’s eyes filled with a heavy killing intent.

…‘You’re a good person.’

Suddenly, a voice echoed in her head, and the killing intent subsided once more into the darkness.

Her twitching index finger curled back in.

Yutia let out a sigh.

“Don’t provoke me like that, Seolrang. It’s not like I don’t get angry too.”

“Then why do you seem so calm?”

“Because my anger is aimed elsewhere.”

“…Else, where?”

“That’s right. I need to unleash my rage not on you, but on them.”

Yutia stepped closer to the shaky-looking Seolrang and whispered something quietly into her ear.

After hearing everything, Seolrang said,

“…I’ll be back.”

She turned around immediately.

Unlike her weakened body, her face was filled with uncontainable fury.

She took a few steps forward.

Then, Seolrang turned back to Yutia again.

“?”

Just as confusion began to form on Yutia’s face—

Squeeze—!

“…Sorry, Yutia…”

“……”

“I was just… too angry… I thought you didn’t care about Master… so I got mad—”

Seolrang rushed in and tightly embraced Yutia.

Like a child clinging on, she stammered as she apologized.

Yutia smiled, slowly raised her hand,

“It’s okay, Seolrang.”

She gently stroked Seolrang’s head for a while,

“I understand your feelings completely.”

Watching Seolrang vanish in an instant, leaving behind a small laugh—

“I truly understand…”

Yutia murmured,

“…Because I felt the same way.”

She looked up at the Milky Way illuminating the dark moonlit night.

###

The mood among the soldiers had become unsettled after the Union collapsed, but after passing Dalma, it sank into total gloom.

The hope that they had survived that hellish place had kept their morale from dropping too low until now.

But the brutal scene they witnessed in Dalma showed them a chilling dose of reality.

That night.

In the camp where everyone except a minimal watch was asleep, preparing for the next day’s march—

Alon, trying to clear his mind which was a bit more cluttered than usual, spotted Ryanga walking alone toward the forest in the distance.

He rose from his seat and followed her.

“…Chief?”

Though it was the forest, oddly, there were no trees in that spot, and faint moonlight seeped through the gray sky.

There, staring blankly at the sky, Ryanga spoke without turning around.

Alon hesitated for a moment but soon stepped beside her.

“Yeah.”

“…Why are you here?”

Her face, usually so lively, was now devoid of energy.

Ryanga’s eyes, as she looked at Alon, were clearly filled with deep sorrow.

As if she had lost something incredibly precious.

“……”

When Alon said nothing, she forced a fragile smile and said,

“Did you come because you’re worried? Afraid I might do something like before?”

Alon recalled what happened earlier in Dalma.

After seeing the bodies of her parents, and even the villagers—

Ryanga tried to end her life right there with a nearby blade, unable to believe what she saw.

As if she had no will to live anymore.

Alon glanced down at her hand.

Ryanga’s left hand was wrapped in bandages.

When he gave a small nod in response, Ryanga, who had been silent, finally spoke in a weak voice.

“Chief, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“…Why do you care about me?”

Ryanga lowered her head and looked at her own hands.

“To be honest, I don’t understand. I mean… I’m totally useless, aren’t I? I can’t do anything. I’m just a kid who happens to be a bit strong, and I only cause trouble… I’m really no help at all…”

Her voice trailed off into a barely audible question—why?

Alon was conflicted.

Objectively speaking, Ryanga wasn’t wrong.

Unfortunately, her presence was of no help at the moment.

Answering her question would have been simple.

Why did he consistently show concern for a girl who was of no help?

Because he knew she would become the leader of the Hundred Ghosts in the future.

“……”

Yet he remained silent.

Because he knew that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

That’s why Alon thought long and hard.

He sensed instinctively that this answer was incredibly important.

He hesitated, carefully choosing his words again and again.

Then—

Thump—

Suddenly, he realized that Ryanga had thrown herself into his arms.

Being shorter than him, she gripped his pants and buried her head.

“…You’re a good person, Chief.”

She said that and just held tightly onto his thigh.

After a moment—

“…Chief.”

“Yeah?”

“…Can you grant me one request?”

“What is it?”

“Help me… kill Baarma.”

She spoke slowly.

“If you help me… I’ll give you everything I have.”

Alon looked down at Ryanga.

With her face buried in his thigh, he couldn’t see her expression.

But even so, he could feel it.

That Ryanga’s words were completely sincere.

Her voice was unlike anything before.

It wasn’t trembling with anxiety like the first time she made a request.

It wasn’t full of tears either.

Nor was it a voice consumed by panic or rage.

Ryanga’s voice was simply calm.

It was so calm, it gave him chills.

That’s why, after a long silence, Alon finally spoke.

“Alright.”

He gave Ryanga the answer she wanted.

He didn’t add anything else.

He didn’t say her offer wasn’t necessary.

He offered no consolation.

He simply responded with the same calmness she had.

Because he knew what she needed now wasn’t comfort, but a comrade willing to walk into hell with her, even if it meant staking everything on a contract.

“Thank you, truly.”

Ryanga’s voice came again, near Alon’s ear.

Her calm tone had begun to tremble slightly.

“Really…”

His thigh was slowly becoming wet.

Alon instinctively moved his lips several times, trying to say something comforting, but stopped himself.

He knew well that meaningless consolation had no power.

Instead, Alon simply patted Ryanga’s head.

Just silently.

Beneath the faint moonlight, a quiet sobbing sound flowed softly.

For a while.

It continued.

###

A few days passed after that.

Ryanga was slowly beginning to return to her old self.

Of course, the innocent childlike brightness she once had was gone, but she was gradually regaining her energy.

However—

“Chief.”

“Yeah.”

“Want some sweet potatoes?”

“Yes, please.”

“Just wait a sec!”

It was a little strange that this only happened when Alon was around.

“……”

As he watched Ryanga run off in the distance, Alon suddenly remembered that day.

The morning after they made their pact.

Ryanga hadn’t been seen for a while and only returned by lunchtime.

The horns on her head, once barely noticeable, had grown longer.

Her body reeked of blood.

The moment he saw her, Alon realized what she had done the night before.

He understood why the horns on her head had grown.

And why her body smelled so strongly of blood.

He had no choice but to understand.

He had met the Queen of the Hundred Ghosts several times in Psychedelia.

So he knew.

How she obtained her power.

But Alon didn’t say a word to Ryanga.

He didn’t want to comment on her choice.

“Phew—It’s almost ready now.”

While Alon was still watching Ryanga from afar,

Penia approached him and spoke.

Alon nodded and followed her gaze.

Thick fortress walls came into view.

They were still quite far away, so it was hard to gather any information beyond their presence.

But as Penia had said, Alon’s group had managed to reach the Union base exactly on the sixth day.

“I see.”

“Good thing nothing went wrong.”

Penia, sighing as if her life had been spared, suddenly clapped her hands as if she remembered something.

“Come to think of it, Lord Marquess, there was something I wanted to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about the spell technique.”

“Spell technique?”

She nodded and showed him the book in her hands.

“I finished reading it.”

“…Didn’t you say it was hard to read because you barely recognized the characters?”

“After a bit of study, I managed to get the gist.”

He was reminded again of how much of a genius Penia was.

“Was there anything useful in it?”

“Hmm—This book doesn’t go into deep detail; it only gives a general understanding of spell techniques, so it doesn’t seem to contain any truly critical info. But I found one point interesting.”

“For example, it said that every mage contains the potential to become a god.”

“…The potential to become a god?”

Alon repeated, and Penia nodded, beginning to explain what she had read.

Alon listened carefully to her explanation for a while.

“I’m not sure if my interpretation is accurate, but that’s the general idea.”

“So, to become a mage, you first have to become a god…?”

“What if the spell technique isn’t passed down from a predecessor?”

She added briefly that it was only written in the book and hadn’t been cross-verified.

Then, as if she remembered something, Penia called out to Alon.

“Oh, by the way, Lord Marquess.”

“What is it?”

“This might be a bit off-topic, but—how’s your divinity?”

“My divinity?”

“Yes, I was wondering if it’s been recovering well.”

At her words, Alon momentarily examined his inner self to check the divine nature of Kalannon.

Unlike the other divinities that remained unchanged, Kalannon’s divinity was still steadily recovering.

No, more than that—

‘It’s recovering… faster than before?’

Alon opened his eyes with a strange expression at the clearly quicker rate of recovery.

“It’s still recovering. But why do you ask?”

“Because it’s a little strange.”

“It’s the past, but it’s recovering?”

“Right? If this really is the past, then your divinity shouldn’t be able to recover at all.”

“…Unless time and space are somehow connected?”

“If we were inside the Strange Gate, that assumption might make sense.”

“But this place isn’t unstable—it’s a fixed point in time and space.”

“Hm.”

“Anyway, we should just be thankful that you can use your divinity and make the most of it.”

Then, furrowing her brow, Penia began muttering to herself.

“…Could time  and space really be connected? But if that’s true, then—”

Before anyone noticed, she had already fallen into her own world.

###

At that moment—

Somewhere far away, deep in the jungle, inside a massive temple.

Sitting on a stone throne, carved in an unmistakably ancient style, was a woman revered by a tribe—no, a small nation.

A woman holding a blue-glowing spear in one hand.

With an indifferent expression, she stood tall above her people who bowed repeatedly in devotion.

But inside, her thoughts were the opposite.

Despite her detached, meaningless gaze, her mind was in turmoil.

The reason was—

‘Where the hell is my divinity going…???’

She had never used it.

The divinity she had been saving solely to ascend as a higher god was disappearing without a trace.

The amount and speed of gathered faith remained the same.

Yet not only was it leaking without her realizing,

Even the faith she had painstakingly collected was vanishing endlessly.

…Why the hell?

The woman—no,

‘My divinity… give it back……’

The one called “Kalannon, the lightning receiver,” wore a pained expression behind her cold, composed face.