Chapter 218 - Lapis, the Witch of Distrust (2)

Anton climbed the stairs.

He took a step forward and upward. With every step, his half-heart pounded harder. Was it because the other half, lost more than four hundred years ago, was drawing closer? Or because he was excited to see her at last?

His heart beat for the former reason, but Anton attributed it to the latter.

He panted as he climbed the spiral staircase. Ordinarily, a transcendent being like Anton could ascend such stairs in the blink of an eye, but he was in no condition to do so now. The tower’s prolonged trials had exhausted him both mentally and physically.

“Thank you, Guide.”

“Weren’t you calling me Oarsman before, Captain?”

“You’re both an oarsman and a guide.”

Anton chuckled. He was grateful to Najin for supporting him. That introduction as the finest guide had been no lie.

“At last.”

Anton reached the top of the stairs.

“At last, we’ve made it.”

Before him stood a firmly shut iron door: the entrance to the highest floor of the Black Spire.

Standing before it, Anton Quijano steadied his breathing. He fussed with his clothes for no particular reason and cleared his throat.

“What are you doing?”

“Look, this is a reunion four hundred years in the making. A man always wants a lady to see him at his finest. I can hardly go in looking this shabby, can I?”

As he muttered, Anton gave a brief “Ah.”

“No, perhaps looking this shabby will earn me a few points. Doesn’t it prove how hard I’ve struggled to find her?”

“Do as you please.”

Najin shrugged as though Anton were hopeless, and Anton chuckled too. In truth, he was merely making excuses because he was nervous about their reunion.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP...

Anton laid a hand over his pounding heart and exhaled slowly. What would she look like as she waited for him? What expression would she wear when she saw him? She might be disappointed. She might grumble about how long he had taken, or perhaps even burst into tears or lose her temper.

Imagining Lapis’s reactions, Anton finally broke into laughter.

She was lovely in every one of them.

He simply wanted to see her face as soon as possible. Anticipation outweighed his fear that she might be disappointed. Anton took another step forward.

Then he gave the iron door a light knock and opened it. Remembering the first time he had visited Lapis, remembering the cottage where they had spent time together, Anton pushed against the door.

‘I hope you won’t turn me away this time.’

The iron door opened with a heavy rumble.

Beyond that open door, Anton’s heart, which had been racing wildly at the thought of seeing Lapis again, now had to race for a somewhat different reason.

GRRRRR.

The moment the door opened, the cries of beasts echoed out. Monsters filled the space beyond the iron door. These were no ordinary magical beasts; they resembled the twisted creatures that inhabited Camlann. Dozens of beasts whipped their heads toward Anton.

“Oh, dear,” he groaned.

“It won’t let us have it easy even at the very end, will it?”

Twisted creatures of Camlann swarmed before him.

Sighing, Anton took his cane from inside his clothes and lowered it to his side. But the hand holding it trembled violently—not from fear, but because he barely had the strength left to grip it.

Mentally and physically, Anton was at his limit.

He had spent far too much of his strength and stamina overcoming the trials. Normally, they might not have troubled him, but in his present state they would be difficult opponents. Even so, he was panting and preparing to fight when Najin stepped in front of him, a spear in one hand and a sword in the other.

2.

The twisted creatures of Camlann.

Monsters born when the magical beasts of the Outer Lands were warped yet again by Camlann’s influence. Though this was the Outer Lands rather than Camlann, twisted beasts inhabited the tower, as befitted a creation of the Witch of Camlann.

“They aren’t easy monsters to fight. Dealing with them is tricky.”

Listening to Merlin, Najin gripped his spear.

“On the other hand, that means they’re manageable if you know how.”

A spear in one hand, a sword in the other.

“What are you going to do?”

‘What else?’

One step forward.

Najin answered with action.

“... Guide?”

With his back to Anton, who stared at him blinking, Najin let out a long breath. He steadied his breathing, then drew up his mana in an instant.

“It’s been four hundred years since you last saw her, hasn’t it?”

The beasts had spotted them.

“Those monsters aren’t worthy of spoiling a reunion four hundred years in the making. You’ll stink if you get drenched in their blood, and we can’t have that, can we?”

Najin chuckled.

“Go on.”

Najin raised his weapons toward the beasts charging at him and Anton.

“I’ll do the rowing.”

Go where you need to go.

“This isn’t your destination, is it?”

At the place indicated by Najin’s spear tip, beyond the countless beasts, stood a birdcage. A birdcage with a person imprisoned inside. That was the destination Anton had spent four hundred years searching for.

“... Ha.”

Anton burst into laughter.

“Yes. I’ll leave it to you, Oarsman.”

As he nodded, Najin kicked off the ground. Closing the distance to the beast charging toward him, Najin narrowed his eyes.

... Until now.

From the underground city, across the continent, and into the Outer Lands.

Throughout that entire journey, Najin had always been the protagonist. He had been the leading character, and every story had revolved around him. But he felt that this moment was different—and that it had no need to be otherwise.

A knight who had spent four hundred years searching for a witch.

A witch who had spent four hundred years waiting for a knight.

In their story, Najin was merely a supporting character. And he felt no particular regret about that. Remembering those who had always willingly played supporting roles for him, Najin chuckled.

A supporting character.

Someone who helped the leads, made them shine, and cleared the path ahead of them. For the lead who had stepped onto the stage and was running forward, Najin gladly chose to play a supporting role.

BOOM!

Najin stamped his foot down.

His eyes darted about, identifying the beasts’ weaknesses. He determined where to slash, where to thrust, and how to move. By the time the rubble kicked up by his stomp had traveled a handspan, his assessment was complete.

All that remained was to move.

Najin glided between the beasts. They could neither follow with their eyes nor comprehend the way he wielded his spear and sword as he passed.

Then, having swept through their ranks, he planted his foot with a thud.

SHRRAAAK!

The beasts’ bodies split open. They came apart, cleaved into pieces. Bursts of starlight followed a moment later, burning them. And Najin did not stop after that single maneuver. He kept moving without pause.

The free knight’s clothes fluttered.

The cross-star spear flashed, and each flash of his longsword butchered more beasts. Cutting down the endlessly regenerating creatures without cease, Najin made a path.

With a twirl, having established a rough flow through the motions of spear and sword, Najin tossed his sword into the air. Gripping the spear firmly in both hands, he imitated transcendence. What he copied was the spear technique of the knight of the Forgotten Kingdom called Blue Spear.

Blue Hydrangea.

Najin pulled back the spear he had extended like a grasping hand. The flow entwined around its tip swept toward him as well. Every beast scattered around the room was dragged toward Najin.

Though he could not scatter beautiful petals as Blue Spear had, Najin made flowers bloom with the beasts’ blood.

And so a path opened.

A straight path to the birdcage.

Anton Quijano began running along it.

3.

Anton Quijano runs.

As he had for four hundred years, as he always had, he ran with his eyes fixed on a single destination. The difference from the past four hundred years was that now he could see it before him.

The birdcage imprisoning a witch.

A birdcage made to punish a witch who had broken the taboo against loving a human. Inside was the woman Anton had searched so desperately for. He forced strength into his unresponsive legs and ran.

“Ugh!”

Stumbling, Anton nearly tangled his legs, but braced his cane against the ground and just managed to regain his balance. Feeling the cane in his hand, he smiled despite himself.

Yes, this is because of you too, Lapis.

[“What’s wrong, Lapis?”]

[“Hm? Oh... It’s nothing. Nothing you need to worry about.”]

[“How is it nothing? You tremble every time you see this. Do you dislike swords?”]

[“I told you, it really is nothing. I just don’t particularly like sharp things.”]

At first, you wouldn’t tell me. But when I kept pressing, you finally sighed and reluctantly explained. You had come to hate sharp things because you remembered being slashed all over with skewers and blades as a child.

[“Anton. What’s that?”]

[“What do you think? My new weapon.”]

[“Weapon? That’s a cane.”]

[“Well, yes.”]

[“Didn’t you use a sword?”]

[“Surely it depends on how you use it? A Sword Master has no need to be particular about weapons.”]

[“What kind of reasoning is that? You’re ridiculous. Honestly.”]

So I discarded my sword and took up a cane. A blunt cane without a single sharp edge. Whenever I held it and greeted you in some comical fashion, you would burst into laughter, so delighted for reasons I could never quite grasp.

How could a knight’s dignity matter more than a little laughter?

Only then did I understand those words my uncle had murmured. Yes, if you would smile for me, I could change myself as much as necessary.

My speech. My expressions. My clothes. My tastes. Even the smallest gestures and the way I carried myself. Wherever I looked, I could feel your traces, Lapis. I changed for you alone. To a foolish human burning through his life to kill every witch, you gave life.

[“Listen, Anton.”]

Lapis.

[“Please find me.”]

You were everything to me.

[“I’ll be waiting.”]

Anton raised both arms. Gripping his cane in both hands, he swung at the birdcage—the last thing barring his way—with every ounce of strength he possessed.

BOOOOM!

The birdcage buckled with a deafening crash. Its iron bars shattered and flew away. Panting, Anton took a step toward the opening he had made.

She was there.

A witch imprisoned with shackles around her ankles and arms.

Lapis, the Witch of Distrust.

She sat perched on the ledge beside the spire’s only window, so small that it admitted only a handful of sunlight, and gazed outside. Her eyes were hollow.

Empty eyes. Eyes that had lost their life.

But then—

“Lapis.”

When Anton called her name, a little light seeped into her eyes. Lapis turned her head. She looked ahead rather than out the window. The moment she saw Anton standing there...

“Ah.”

A brief exclamation escaped her. Life returned to Lapis’s eyes. Her empty gaze filled with light. She had waited here for Anton for four hundred years, dreaming of their reunion. Countless times, she had imagined what she would say and what expression she would wear when they met again.

Yet now, she could not utter a word.

Neither could Anton.

As an awkward silence hung between them, Anton was the first to speak.

“Lapis.”

Anton took a flower from inside his clothes.

[“Listen, Anton.”]

[“What is it, Lapis?”]

[“Could you perhaps get me a red rose?”]

[“A rose?”]

[“Yes. Not just any rose—a red one. I’ve seen a red rose just once, and it was so beautiful.”]

[“Aren’t they common flowers?”]

[“Only to humans like you! Not to me. The moment you bring a rose into the Outer Lands, it loses its color. It turns white instead of red.”]

What he held was a rose.

[“So, the next time we meet...”]

A rose he had grown in the Outer Lands after long years of research.

[“Bring me a red rose.”]

A rose that had not lost its color, that retained its red hue.

[“I’ll find one to bring next time. I promise.”]

A flower prepared for her alone.

“I kept my promise.”

Offering her the flower, Anton smiled.

The smile he had practiced over and over before a mirror.