Chapter 210 - Black Spire (1)

They moored along the island’s shore.

The turbulent sea of the Outer Lands was deathly quiet around the island. Only the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore broke the silence.

"..."

Najin stepped off the boat onto dry land and surveyed his surroundings. The island was thick with fog, and the only thing on it was the Black Spire, soaring high into the sky. In a silence that made even his breathing sound loud, he looked up.

A tower reaching high into the heavens.

Its summit was hidden by fog, and it had no windows. There was only a single entrance. Najin narrowed his eyes at the tightly shut, jet-black iron door.

"If you’re thinking of climbing the walls or smashing the tower, forget it."

Merlin read his thoughts and cut him short.

"I tried. It didn’t work."

'... What?'

"Everything that witch bitch makes is like that. It’s designed so there’s absolutely no way through unless you use the proper method."

Something even Merlin couldn’t do? As Najin blinked in surprise, she let out a long sigh.

"Why do you think I kept quiet when that Anton kid called the Witch of Camlann ‘the strongest mage’? I hate to admit it, but that bitch is in a higher league than I am."

The baleful star, the Witch of Camlann.

The final enemy Najin would face. Merlin looked as though she had bitten into a bug as she spoke of the witch. She also looked as though she was holding back a torrent of profanity.

"The Black Spire—that tower? It was used to imprison witches, but it was used far more often for something else. It was also a tower she bestowed on one of the witches under her command."

'What was it used for?'

"Torture," Merlin said curtly.

"That tower is a well-made torture device. Its mistress used to kidnap humans and throw them inside, to test just how thoroughly humans could be broken and how pitiful they could become. That’s the kind of place it was."

'If it was that kind of place...'

"Right. Not anymore. I tore the mistress of the Black Spire to pieces and killed her. Her name was Malkuth, a nine-star lunatic, but we can talk about that crazy bitch later."

"Anyway," Merlin added, "there will still be traces left."

"I wouldn’t really recommend it, but I don’t think trying to stop you would do any good," she muttered, looking at Najin.

"You’re going in, aren’t you?"

'I did make a promise.'

"All right. Then brace yourself."

Merlin gave him a brief explanation of the Black Spire. As he listened, Najin glanced beside him. Anton stood there, staring wide-eyed at the tower.

"Oarsman."

"Yes, Captain."

"Is that tower our destination? My instincts are telling me she’s somewhere inside it."

"You must have good instincts."

"Does that mean...?"

"Yes. That’s right."

Najin nodded and pointed at the tower.

"The person you’ve been looking for is in there."

"What is this tower?"

"I’m told it’s both a prison for witches who have committed crimes and a device for torturing humans."

"... Then is she being tortured too?"

Najin relayed Merlin’s answer in his own voice.

"I don’t know. We don’t know where in the tower that witch Lapis might be. My guide says that if she’s reached the top, the torture will be over."

"Then she won’t be suffering torture. She always liked the highest places. With a tower like this before her, she would certainly have climbed all the way to the top."

Anton smiled as he spoke.

"To be honest, I didn’t expect much from you. I followed you across the sea merely to make a splendid adventure story, but now that we’ve come this far, I’m starting to think differently."

Anton looked at Najin and placed a hand over his heart.

"It was true. My heart is pounding. I can feel her nearby. At last, at last..."

Excitement, longing, anticipation.

With all those emotions mingling in his eyes, Anton looked back and forth between the tower and Najin. Then he tightened his grip on the staff in his hand.

"Thank you, guide."

"You’re welcome."

"You’ve fulfilled the commission admirably. As promised, I’ll tell you about La Mancha..."

"The commission isn’t over yet," Najin interrupted.

"Did I ever tell you I used to be a collector?"

"That’s news to me. Why?"

"A collector’s job isn’t done until he tracks down the bastard who took the money and vanished, then either beats the shit out of him or brings him before the client. And as far as I can see, this commission isn’t finished yet."

Najin shrugged.

"That witch who stole your heart and disappeared for four hundred years—I haven’t brought her before you yet, have I? I’ll take my payment once the job is truly done."

"... Does that mean...?"

"It means I’m climbing the tower with you. I’m curious myself, you see. Just what sort of person is this witch you fell in love with?"

And how would Anton bring this story to its end?

"..."

Anton’s eyes widened in surprise at Najin’s words. Then he let out an incredulous laugh, which soon turned into uproarious laughter. Laughing loudly, he clapped Najin on the shoulder.

"Indeed, the voyage isn’t over yet. Oarsman? Are you ready to row? All the way to the top of that tower."

"You want me to row where there’s no water?"

"You already have an oar in your hand, don’t you?"

He pointed to the spear in Najin’s hand, then to his own staff.

"An oar is, in the end, a tool for pushing through the water and moving forward. There may be no water here, but don’t we have to push through something to advance?"

He planted his staff against the ground.

Perhaps he was rowing through the earth as he moved forward.

"Let’s go, oarsman."

The two pushed against the spire’s thick iron door. With a creak, the door of the Black Spire began to open.

CREAAAK

2.

"Apparently, the Black Spire was a mage tower managed by a witch named Malkuth roughly a thousand years ago. She’s dead now, and only her Mystery remains in the tower."

"Malkuth? I’ve never heard of that witch."

"I only heard of her today myself. Anyway, it seems she served as both the warden watching over the witches imprisoned in the Black Spire and their torturer..."

Level zero of the tower.

Walking through the tower’s chilly air, Najin continued.

"I’m told her method of torture used memories."

"Memories?"

"Yes. Using the victim’s memories to create a sort of illusion? The same principle as the Graveyard of Stars? What? What does that mean?"

"Who are you talking to?"

"My inner guide. Give me a moment."

"... Once this commission is over, I’ll introduce you to a healer I know well."

Ignoring Anton’s pitying gaze, Najin listened to Merlin’s explanation and nodded.

"It shows you illusions based on your memories, and there’s one on each level. If you can’t break through them, you’re trapped in the dream forever."

Merlin explained that Malkuth had been a witch with a Mystery called Recollection, which she had used to torture humans.

"It begins the moment we cross that line."

Beyond the entrance lay the place where the trials began in earnest. Pointing toward the tower’s first level, Najin steadied his breathing.

"Are you ready?"

"Of course. If you pass out, I’ll grab you by the scruff of your neck and carry you upstairs. I’ll wake you even if I have to slap you."

"You certainly sound confident."

"The reality awaiting me is far too enticing for me to lose to some illusion."

Wearing a confident smile, Anton led the way. Najin followed him onto the first level. And the moment they crossed the line marking that level—

Everything abruptly cut out.

Najin’s vision went dark, as though the lone candle burning in a dark room had been extinguished. It wasn’t only his vision. His consciousness cut out in an instant.

A blink.

Najin closed his eyes as though slipping into a deep sleep. He felt as if he were sinking into deep water. Something caught him as he sank endlessly and pulled him upward. It was a set of fingers with sharp, extended nails.

A Mystery that remained in the tower despite losing its master.

A hand that drew memories out of souls.

The fingers reached out to probe Najin’s memories—and touched his soul.

CRACK

The sharp nails broke. The skin and muscles of the fingers tore, and even their bones were crushed. Najin sensed that something had gone wrong.

CRRUNCH!

As though they had seized something far too heavy to drag out by hand, the fingers shook violently, yet still managed to wrench something out of Najin. But what they pulled free wasn’t his.

It was the memory of someone else residing within him.

"Oh."

He heard the voice of the memory’s owner.

"I didn’t think of that."

Along with Merlin’s flustered voice, a brilliant white light flashed across Najin’s vision. Blinded by the flash, he blinked again and again, trying to recover his sight.

How many times had he blinked?

"I..."

Someone’s voice reached Najin’s ears.

"You must have thought I looked like an easy target."

It was a chilling voice. Cold and devoid of emotion, it rang in Najin’s ears. Frowning, he looked toward its source.

The first thing he saw was frozen ground.

Next came a mountain of corpses.

And after that—

"I’d better gouge out those eyes first."

A girl stood on the frozen ground, holding a witch aloft by the hair. The girl’s hair resembled a lake. So did her eyes.

A woman who resembled a lake.

Merlin, the Mage of the Lake.

The woman Najin knew so well was tearing out a witch’s eyeball with her bare hand.

3.

What was going on?

Wasn’t this supposed to be created from his memories? Najin hurriedly called inward. He spoke to Merlin, who was always there to listen, but—

'Merlin. Merlin?'

No answer came. Just as when he had entered the Star of Separation’s dream, he couldn’t sense Merlin within him.

"You know..."

The Merlin who was always with Najin wasn’t here. Only the Merlin of the past was present, and he couldn’t possibly see the woman standing alone on the frozen ground as the Merlin he knew.

"I hate you. I hate devils. I hate dragons. I hate witches. Looking at you makes me so sick I can’t stand it. Why are you alive? What could possibly make you think you should keep living?"

Her voice was more than chilling—it seemed capable of freezing everything solid.

Looking down at the witch without expression, she was pulling out the witch’s eye with her bare hand. The witch couldn’t even scream. Her mouth was frozen shut.

"...! ...!"

The witch convulsed over and over. With bleeding fingers whose nails had been torn out, she clawed at the ground. Unable even to scream, she trembled, but Merlin continued to stare down indifferently as she slowly pulled out the eye.

With her bare hand, without using any magic.

Inefficiently. Excruciatingly slowly.

Only after tearing out one of the witch’s eyeballs did Merlin smile. Grinning, she brought her face close to the witch’s remaining eye.

"Is your mother, the Witch of Camlann, watching? I really hope she is. Please, please, please. I hope she’s trapped in there, unable to do anything, watching her own kind get slaughtered. I hope she at least screams."

Merlin burst into laughter.

"Just as you took everything from me."

Gripping the witch’s face tightly, Merlin pushed her thumb into the remaining eye.

"I want you, every witch, and the Witch of Camlann to suffer."

Forever.

SPLAT

The witch’s body convulsed violently, then went limp. With blood trailing from her hand, Merlin turned her head. Her vivid blue eyes settled on Najin.

"Who are you?"

Twelve stars shone in the sky.