Translator: Marctempest
Editor/Proofreader: TempWane
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Chapter 87: Mahabharata (4)
Artan’s pupils swam.
No matter how many times he blinked, the figure before him did not disappear.
Of course, it wasn’t truly her.
This world itself wasn’t reality, so it had to be something else—perhaps a memory, for example.
Now, even he had come to understand this world to some extent.
“A representation of the past… at a certain point. Or is it just a temporary reflection?”
If it were merely an illusion, it couldn’t possibly feel this realistic.
But the question lingered.
Who, why, and how?
“Why are they showing me this scene?”
The answer wasn’t easily forthcoming.
After agonizing over it for a while, he came up with a plausible hypothesis.
The hint lay in the place where he was standing.
“Ah.”
This was a landfill.
And within the magical domain, there was one famous ruin.
The greatest structure on the surface—the Obelisk.
A divine relic brimming with the power of the source… And Quellière was the source itself.
It was already an established fact that the calamity had tampered with the relic. That might have caused an anomaly, spreading the power in an unintended direction.
The power of the source, capable of anything and impossible to predict how it would act.
Its remnants were now showing him the ‘recorded’ memories within the relic.
“That must be it. There’s no other possibility.”
Of course, he was mistaken.
This was, in fact, the result of the waves of divine power materializing the ” World of Thoughts of Quellière – Past Edition.”
Mahabharata’s mistake as it tried to read her psyche.
However, Artan, unaware of this truth, convinced himself of his theory.
He raised his gaze again.
“…Quellière.”
Thump—his heart skipped a beat.
Quellière was still there, seated in the snowfield.
In front of the lonely Snow Castle.
Squatting down and moving her hands.
Artan, calming himself, began analyzing her actions.
“What is she doing…?”
After a moment of observation, he tilted his head.
He couldn’t help it. Her repetitive hand movements made her look like she was playing.
An uncharacteristic behavior for her.
What could possibly be the profound meaning behind this action…
“Huh.”
And then, when he happened to glance around the vicinity of the castle.
Artan blinked.
Whiiiish…
The area was completely empty.
On the barren snowy field, only the cold wind howled, carrying thick snowflakes.
There were no spirits present either, making it vastly different from the current state of things.
“…There’s nothing. Why?”
He had seen spirits and giants in the snowfield himself.
Not only were they missing, but there wasn’t even the faintest trace of them.
The castle appeared freshly built, with no footprints yet covering its pristine surroundings.
Every detail of life around it.
It all belonged solely to Quellière.
“…”
It was desolate and barren.
It made her seem like a loner.
Yet, she didn’t seem to care.
───.
She merely sat there, touching the snow, shaping it into balls, and stacking them like sandcastles.
As though the silence and emptiness were natural, she played alone.
Artan’s gaze turned vacant.
A significant shock struck him.
“…W-what!”
The scene before him felt impossibly distant.
A figure almost resembling a pure child.
Seen in isolation, it wasn’t a bad portrayal, nor was it anything to be shocked by.
But since the figure in question was Quellière, anyone who witnessed this could only be utterly bewildered.
It was a metaphor he never thought would fit her.
Even his eyelids quivered as he watched in disbelief.
As he stared in his stunned state, Quellière brushed off her clothes and stood up.
“…”
She quietly looked around and extended her hand toward the distance.
He could tell from the gathering of magical energy what she was trying to do.
“A spell, is it?”
As if to confirm his assumption, a breath of power condensed in her palm. It soon began to flow out.
One of her techniques.
The cold breath didn’t last long, shrinking like a dwindling stream before dissipating.
This too was different from the present.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been much stronger than this.
Is this really inside the Obelisk’s records? If so, how many years ago was this?
At that moment, when only questions filled my heart.
Quellière, having finished her magic practice, entered the castle. Artan followed her.
Shaa-aa-ang—!
The wind was so strong that I wrapped my collar tighter.
It was cold inside the castle as well, so there was no need to undo it.
“Ooh… I can’t believe there’s such a place in the Snowfield.”
He marveled after entering the interior.
A beauty that could not be seen outside. It was not very human-friendly, but the architecture was extremely mystical and elegant.
“It’s a pity. It would have been better to see it in reality.”
Although I had collapsed before even reaching this place.
Seeing such a beautiful view, old memories resurfaced. He turned to the side, slightly excited.
And then he froze.
Quellière, who was curiously observing her surroundings.
She wore a similar expression to mine.
“…Why are you here?”
If this is your domain.
You must have seen the same scene countless times, thousands upon thousands of times.
Why do you look so amazed?
As if it’s the first time you’re seeing it.
She then began climbing a spiral staircase.
Artan followed her with a head that had rapidly cooled.
“There are so many rooms.”
Even as he glanced around, the castle seemed vast.
It surely had many facilities, but he couldn’t recognize them yet.
After reaching the upper levels, Quellière entered a room.
It was a clean and desolate room with hardly any decorations or furniture.
Shwaaaah…
She sat down in the center and gathered her magical power.
The clump of magic squirmed.
And then it stayed like that.
She focused with a serious expression.
“Is this something that takes a long time?”
Artan sat nearby.
Patience was not difficult for him.
In this endless, distant world, it was even easier.
One fact added to the equation.
Up until then, there was no one around her.
Not the mischievous snowflake spirit, nor the frost giant, nor the white silver dragon.
In the midst of all this emptiness, he was the only one there.
She might not even know her own existence right now, but wouldn’t it be less lonely if there were at least two instead of just one?
“Hmm…”
As he quietly watched her work, Artan pondered. Where was this place? Was he missing something?
Somehow, something seemed to flicker in the corner of his mind…
“Ah.”
After quite some time passed.
The clumped magic began to stir and take on a faint shape.
Chwaaah—!
From her hands, a life was born.
A snowflake spirit with thin arms and a pure white body, wriggling.
It was the same spirit he had seen before.
───
Quellière did not smile.
But her joy was evident.
The fact that it showed on the outside meant that her feelings were strong, which was a good thing, but Artan, instead of smiling, was horrified.
“…!”
It was because of a sudden realization.
The vague doubts he had about the timeline.
They were cleared up the moment he saw the spirit.
It unraveled.
Where this was.
No, when this was.
Yes, this was probably…
“…A distant past.”
It couldn’t simply be categorized as ‘long ago’; it was a far, far time.
A day from the ancient past.
A time when neither he nor the empire existed.
No, the continent itself must have been in a very different state.
Perhaps this was the day when the goddess herself first created the spirit.
It wasn’t a baseless theory.
Because everything made sense now.
“The strange and pure appearance of the world, the clumsy magic, the fact that there’s no one around…”
If her creation was not long ago.
It all makes sense.
Could there be a more plausible theory?
At least Artan didn’t think so.
His pupils, filled with strong conviction, trembled violently.
“······I don’t know how long you’ve existed, but it must be far beyond what I can fathom.”
I murmured in a tone filled with reverence and gazed at Quellière once more.
She was brushing away the playful Snow Spirit with a curt expression.
Even that amusing sight felt like a bittersweet nostalgia to me.
And so, my conviction grew stronger.
──But of course, it was an absurd misunderstanding.
Chronologically, it was eleven years ago.
That was when Quellière had just been transferred and was devoid of any particular thoughts.
Artan’s musings continued, unaware of this.
“Quellière. To think even she had a time like this······.”
Meanwhile, the days in the World of Thoughts passed steadily.
Quellière created spirits, honed her magic, and spent tranquil yet uneventful days.
Was it the peculiar nature of this world?
There was no anxiety evident in her faintly perceptible emotions.
“······.”
Her frosty expression lacked contempt or disgust.
There was no hatred, no fear.
Artan realized something else.
“A time before humanity’s original sin and calamities existed.”
Thus, there was no need for her to struggle or rage as she did now.
Although his emotions surged, causing him to bite his lip······.
Of course, this too was a misunderstanding.
When she had just been transferred, she had rashly judged this world to be identical to the Four Seasons War.
Believing that the continent’s dangers were a matter for a thousand years in the future, she had allowed herself to settle in complacency.
Naturally, to Artan, who didn’t know this, she seemed entirely different.
That leisurely demeanor and indifferent face were unlike anything he had seen before.
“Back then, was Quellière······ this peaceful?”
He clenched his fists tightly.
He ground his teeth as he swallowed the guilt, the inexplicable anger, and the complex emotions.
For some reason, his vision blurred.
Amidst that haze, it felt as though his consciousness was being drawn away, the world growing distant.
It was nearly time for him to leave.
Sensing this instinctively, Artan looked at Quellière one last time.
He etched that serene face into his memory.
From that day on, he made another vow.
“······I will succeed, no matter what.”
He vowed as he muttered under his breath.
The Burial Grounds conquest.
That absurd, audacious feat—I will achieve it.
I will eradicate the calamity and return her to her peaceful days.
“Yes······.”
Because that’s the best I can do.
Even after the World of Thoughts crumbled, his firm resolve did not waver.
*
A world of nothing but darkness.
Suddenly pulled into that place, I came face-to-face with Mahabharata.
I tensed up involuntarily.
“What’s going on······.”
A writhing mass of crimson-black grudges.
The vast cluster, the ceaselessly wriggling currents, the veils.
Everything was overwhelmingly intense.
More striking than its power was the aura stirring on the other side.
An incomprehensible ray of light.
I couldn’t understand it, yet somehow, I could recognize it.
“······Divine power.”
There was an obelisk, and seeing it made me realize.
This is the depths of the Magical Domain.
The calamity had dragged me here using some form of power.
This wasn’t the calamity’s usual ability.
If so, then it must have used divine power.
“Seems like you’re pretty desperate, huh?”
I put on a bold front.
The barking of a dog cornered—the one truly in a bind was me.
The instant my cold voice fell.
The still currents began to stir.
【You think I’m desperate?】
The curtain-like veil of darkness swayed.
A voice, soaked as if from a well, reverberated in my mind.
【You’re not wrong. Goddess.】
“······.”
【I’ve resolved to endure much. In thousands, tens of thousands of years, this has never happened.】
That cursed word, “Goddess.”
I was utterly sick of it, but I had no time to dwell on such irritation.
The calamity’s words were sincere.
Even without an expression, I could clearly feel that he was very serious.
Cold sweat ran down my back.
I was not as strong as he mistakenly thought.
“This is the deep end of the landfill. What’s your game?”
I glared at him while fiddling with my ring.
Mahabharata responded.
【That’s what I want to ask.】
“What?”
It was not a playful question but a sincere one.
There was a definite sense of doubt and caution from the disaster. He gave me the answer, as I didn’t understand.
【What is the reason you willingly accepted my invitation? Winter’s great goddess?】
Only then did I realize the reason for the disaster’s caution.
I had been dragged here without a choice, but from his perspective, who was mistaken about my power, it wasn’t that way.
【Do you have something to say to me as well? Or did you intend to use this as an opportunity to kill me?】
“······.”
He spoke with an ominous energy swirling around him.
Fortunately, it seemed like he planned to clear up his questions first and didn’t attack immediately.
This was the chance.
To come up with a strategy, I decided to comply for now.
“Well…”
【Are you planning to hide something after coming this far? What does that even mean?】
“Don’t ask, just think. How long has it been since I said it? Have you already forgotten?”
An instinctive sharp retort.
My Snow Maiden nature became quite an obstacle in smooth conversation.
However, he seemed to have adapted, as he didn’t show any particular reaction.
【······Are you referring to what you said in the landfill maze? I see. You’re right. I should figure it out for myself. I can’t just let things happen without knowing anything······.】
He just spoke something rather random.
The disaster continued.
【You are well aware of my birth.】
“Of course. You’re just saying something stupid again.”
【The sins of humans. I am their product. So, goddess, I will ask you this.】
Suddenly—his eyes locked onto mine.
With eyes burning as if branded into his chest, he asked.
【Will you kill me and also destroy humanity?】
That was purely a word birthed from his delusion. A question formed from his own imagination.
“······What nonsense is that?”
I responded, almost grinding the words out.
I needed to buy time, but I didn’t know how to answer him.
On the other hand, the disaster was endlessly serious.
【Are you, a higher being, the creator of winter, trying to avoid responsibility?】
“No—”
【Is there no reason not to destroy us? If there is, what is it? Does humanity, which created disaster, and which has failed to eradicate it for thousands of years, still have value?】
The swarm of disasters surged violently.
His voice was filled with emotion.
This was an important topic.
An important topic, but not one I could answer.
【Answer me, goddess!】
“······.”
But he kept forcing me to answer.
Destroy humanity? I didn’t have even a speck of power for that, so what was he even talking about?
I furrowed my brows.
Anyway, if he wanted an answer, I had to give it.
Not as some divine goddess but purely from my own perspective.
“You’re mistaken. I don’t care about humanity’s survival or destruction.”
To be precise, I had never really thought about it.
Humanity was something that naturally had to exist.
【What? Then—】
“What shouldn’t exist is you, Mahabharata.”
I declared with eyes that glinted like blue flames.
Mahabharata flinched.
【······.】
In the end, this was the real problem.
The source of all evil in the Four Seasons War.
If this one guy disappeared, what need would there be to discuss anything else?
The disaster stood frozen as though turned to stone.
Then, at some point, he spoke.
【Yes. My true name······.】
His voice sank like the depths of an abyss.
A sound like a torn animal’s scream echoed, scorched with agony.
【That’s why you are a god. You are the supreme being, as I recognize.】
“······What.”
【You are different from the fakes who couldn’t look into the Book of Revelation······. Unlike those failed attempts to impersonate gods.】
Suddenly, something brushed against my cheek.
When I touched it, something small crumbled.
It was snow.
Saaaah…
The snow, foreign to this space, swirled and fluttered down.
“······?”
I squinted my eyes.
Looking around to find the source, I realized it.
If I had to describe it, it was winter.
This place was a magical phenomenon where winter among the four seasons had been embodied.
The calamity had deliberately chosen such a place as the stage─I was assessing its peculiar taste when it spoke in a voice lower than ever before.
【Therefore, I will face you as an equal.】
Immediately after.
Fwoosh─!
The swirling currents of the cluster surged.
I braced for an attack, but it didn’t come.
Mahabharata simply began to shift by itself.
The grudges that made up its being rippled, disassembled, then reformed and entangled.
A changing form.
That in itself wasn’t unusual.
The form of a calamity is never fixed.
But when I saw the new form it had taken upon completion.
“······!”
I was shocked.
It was one of the most startling moments since I came to this world, likely ranking near the top.
The sight was that incomprehensible.
“You are······.”
Tattered, worn-out clothing that didn’t belong to this world.
Deep dark circles under hollow, emaciated features.
The man who appeared to be utterly broken and destitute—was me.
*
Meanwhile, immediately after Quellière disappeared.
Nell, who had been walking alongside her, noticed her absence right away.
“Quellière? Quellière!”
She hurriedly called out to her.
But only echoes returned; there was no response.
The cold, indifferent voice she usually heard was nowhere to be found.
She began to feel uneasy.
To dispel that unease, she moved quickly.
She searched and scoured the surrounding area.
“She’s not here······ not here. Where did she go······.”
Even as she shouted repeatedly, there was no response or clue.
Quellière had vanished without a trace, like a mirage.
Nell’s anxiety deepened.
After some time searching, her face pale with dread, she finally dashed in the opposite direction.
“Wait, wait, wait! Everyone, listen to me!”
She arrived at the campsite.
Her companions, including Chandrafail, looked at her with puzzled expressions as she raced toward them at an incredible speed.
And when she, now entirely ashen-faced, shouted,
“Quellière has disappeared!”
Their faces contorted as if they’d heard something utterly ridiculous.