Chapter 1082

‘What are you—!’

The man holding the sword staggered and fell to his knees before he could even finish his sentence.

The unseen link began to scream in response to Kishiar’s power.

He shoved it all away without hesitation. It was a truly bizarre sensation.

How could one push or pull something invisible to the eye and untouchable by hand? And yet Kishiar la Orr did it. Countless restless hours spent searching for a way to make this work flashed through his mind. But in the end, the key to the method he was now attempting hadn't come from any of those efforts.

It had come from none other than the man before him.

When Kishiar remembered how that man had refused to settle for the powers he already possessed and instead sought to combine them with entirely different forces to evolve further, he realized the answer may have always been right in front of him. Though the one who had shown him this would never know it.

A crack split the wall behind which he'd forcibly sealed his emotions. Through that narrow fracture, the other man's emotions poured in—chaotic, quivering in shock and pain.

Even the entanglement had been painful, so how excruciating must the separation be?

Perhaps there was a better way. But sometimes, even without certainty of the outcome, a thing had to be done. That much was beyond question.

He faintly recalled the moment he realized they were connected.

That brief thought in the moment he realized there was despair even greater than death for someone at death's door.

His first concern had been what this connection might do to the other person.

If he were perfectly fine, maybe it would’ve been different—but Kishiar la Orr was once again standing before death, one he thought he’d escaped.

If one of the two bound by this unknown force were to die, what would happen to the other? It didn’t take much imagination to guess the likeliest result. If you tie two objects together and drop one into the sea, the other will be dragged down and drown as well.

That’s how it worked physically—so what about them?

He’d learned that physical distance could lessen the effects somewhat, but never sever them entirely. Like a beast on a leash, losing control and crossing the threshold of the other man’s bedroom again and again—that ugly reality was irrefutable proof.

So could such a powerful connection truly vanish cleanly just because one died?

No.

Kishiar harbored no baseless hopes.

What if the pain of a death so violent it might wipe out an entire region was transmitted through that connection?

What if it wasn’t just pain—but death itself?

Whatever happened, the likelihood that the other would be affected by Kishiar’s death was far too high. That awareness, even as he stood once again before death, pushed him into a foreign despair and fear he could barely contain.

Was this the price of the final selfish wish he’d dared to make?

Wasn’t it enough for him alone to fall prey to death’s stubborn, repulsive grip? The other—he had a radiant future still ahead of him. Too bright to be helplessly dragged down.

He remembered the faint joy he’d felt in seeing him again at a time when he thought all had been lost. He couldn’t let even that last possible future, the last dream once held, vanish because of him.

He had already taken too much. So just this once—he had to give something back. The future, if nothing else.

He couldn’t be sure this would work as intended, but it had to be better than dying and taking him along.

With that thought, Kishiar drew out even more power.

‘-----.’

The world shook. Light and darkness blinked and collided chaotically, and pain screamed through his body like a piercing siren. It felt like nothing could be heard, and yet like everything was screaming inside his head. His senses became so twisted he could no longer make out anything properly.

The agony of barely holding back an explosion that could tear everything apart.

He could no longer hold a coherent thought.

Living each day while feeling yourself crumble—that’s a horrific existence. After repeating that sensation countless times to get here, Kishiar wasn’t even sure what kind of person he used to be.

But he hadn’t forgotten the purpose he resolved to carry out. And maybe, that was enough.

Kishiar exhaled a shallow, fading breath.

Within the dizzying world, the presence of the one connected to him stood out with odd clarity.

Even while collapsed in pain, his hand still clutched his sword tight.

It was almost laughably cruel how that sight hurt more than his body racing toward death.

He was the one who taught: “Once you draw your weapon, never let go until it’s resolved.”

And even now, that hand still followed that rule.

He couldn’t look away from it...

‘Stop...!’

“Kishiar!”

As the other shouted and pushed off the ground, a strange sight overlapped with him.

The man gripping the sword was right here—so who was that identical face behind him?

Wearing different clothes, his face pale as death, shouting something.

Time and space twisted around him. A momentary warp made Kishiar’s head reel.

Ah. That was when Kishiar finally remembered who he was.

He had followed Yuder here, chasing their connection—the seal—and drifted into this unknown place.

So this wasn’t real. This was...

‘A dream.’

One of those inexplicable nightmares he always forgot upon waking.

Was this that place?

The moment he realized it, the power he’d been unleashing to sever their bond faltered. The man with the sword crashed into Kishiar’s body, sending them both tumbling wildly as the chair they were on nearly fell over.

That jolt threw his consciousness loose.

In the sinking blackness, he saw the golden-haired man coughing while the black-haired one pinned him down by the throat, shouting something.

‘Why...!’

That shattered voice. That distorted face pierced Kishiar’s chest with a stabbing pain. The golden-haired man—wearing the same expression as Kishiar—gazed weakly up at the one atop him.

That bitter, desperate look in his eyes.

Kishiar saw him open his mouth to say something...

Then the world completely collapsed.

———

Falling through a world like a black sea, Kishiar looked around undaunted by the suffocating darkness.

‘Yuder.’

The one who had brought him all the way here was nowhere to be seen. He was sure he’d just seen him in the dream—so where had he gone?

He didn’t know how Yuder had recognized him, fully immersed in the dream as he was—but he had. That voice calling his name had pulled Kishiar’s awareness back ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) with clarity. Without it, he likely wouldn’t have made it this far.

‘I have to go where he is.’

He had promised—wherever Yuder was, he would follow. Nothing came before that vow.

But perhaps because this place was neither dream nor reality, the seal that always appeared when he sought Yuder with desperation was nowhere to be seen.

So how was he supposed to find him?

In response to that need—deeper than anything he’d just felt—a vague shape appeared in the darkness.

Kishiar instinctively turned toward it.

And in that moment, for once, his thoughts came to a complete halt.

‘.......’

A cold, fishy stench ran down his spine.

A repulsive presence that instinctively screamed something was deeply wrong.

What stood there was a pair of hands wearing white gloves.

“...I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

There was no doubt. This was the bizarre entity that had appeared in Yuder’s dreams more than once. The moment he saw those hands—identical in size to his own—a shudder ran through him like a jolt of electricity.

The hands hovered before him for a moment, then slowly pointed a finger into the distance. It was strange, but somehow Kishiar understood what it meant even without a word.

He began walking in the direction the hand pointed, following its path.

Walking through the darkness was an arduous, grueling task. The pressure felt heavy enough to crush him if he relaxed even a little. Even his Swordmaster senses couldn’t properly perceive his surroundings. He had to squeeze out every ounce of strength to keep moving. It made him feel like a helpless child.

But Kishiar didn’t stop. The hand in white gloves would vanish if he slowed down, only to reappear faintly again once he caught up.

How long did he walk like that? It could have been a moment or an eternity.

And at last, beyond the pitch-black dark, he found the man with black hair.

Floating silently, eyes closed, as if asleep.

‘Ah.’

Kishiar pulled Yuder into his arms with a deep sense of relief. Only after finding him did the golden threads appear—emerging like mist and beginning to wrap around both of them.

The stagnant darkness began to flow. The pressure trying to drag him down became impossibly strong.

But Kishiar no longer resisted.

He let it carry them.

As they plummeted through the darkness, the hand in white gloves was nowhere to be seen.