< 94. A Night with Beautiful Stars (2) >
*
The glass tilted. The moon, the stars, and even the clouds were leaning. Diemonica’s liver was immune to almost all toxins in the Material World, and alcohol couldn’t get him drunk.
The same went for Abel. A body raised by soul and magic couldn’t possibly be intoxicated by mere alcohol.
Yet, the cool night breeze, the campfire, and the distant Milky Way in the sky were intoxicating them.
A group of shooting stars slid down the sky. Abel, gazing at the night sky as if it were a snack, spoke.
“In ancient times, people believed that when shooting stars fell, a hero had died.”
“From experience, that’s not the case.”
“Haha, indeed.”
Abel wisely refrained from asking Fernandez if he had ever killed a hero. She pointed to the Milky Way in the night sky.
“There are also interesting stories about that Milky Way. One says it was formed from the milk of a goddess. See that star, and that one. And that blue shining star, do you see it?”
Honestly, the night sky was so full of stars that it was hard to tell exactly what Abel was pointing at. But Fernandez nodded.
Abel smiled softly and said.
“That’s the Abelesas constellation. During the Celestial War, those who flew around each had their own constellation. I have mine too.”
“Hmm… Do you receive any special blessings or powers from that star?”
“Such an unromantic fellow.”
Abel sighed and took another sip of her drink. She refilled Fernandez’s wooden cup with clear liquor and made a sweet sound.
“Even in those days, people like you were rare. Do you know what that means? In this era where mystery, divinity, stars, and moons are subordinated to the phenomena of the Material World, you are an incomparable powerhouse.”
“That’s because I’m living this life again.”
“No, it’s not.”
Abel looked at the burning campfire. Crack, pop. The sound of wood splintering in the flames flowed rhythmically.
“If we simply mean power, magic, or authority, how far could human power reach in the days when gods roamed? Power, magic, authority. Those things are like the wind, easily scattered. But if there’s a value that remains unchanged as time flows, then it’s will.”
“Will?”
“The will to live. The will for purpose. Mortals have clear limits to their power, and immortals have vague purposes. Do you know why the Celestial War happened back then? Haha, it happened because there was a war.”
The reason the war happened was because there was a war. It was a twisted sentence of cause and effect. But somehow, Fernandez could agree. Gods are conceptual beings.
Gods are symbols of concepts. The concept of ‘war’. Vaitas. The concept of ‘light’. Shield. The ‘Dawn of the World Tree’ Melisildur.
If such metaphysical beings waged a great war in the mythical era, there must have been a highly conceptual reasoning behind it.
It was probably due to the desire for existence, wanting to possess the Material World, where concepts gain purpose and subjectivity.
Fernandez listened to Abel’s words. Abel continued in a voice that flowed sweetly, like a song.
“In those days, the beings the gods were most jealous of were those like you. Those who burned with the will to live. Those like butterflies leaping into the flame. Those who burned their wings to trace their own path. Not all mortals could do it, but those who lived such lives left their own constellations.”
“Are you saying you want to place me on par with the heroes of that era?”
“Look at what you’ve done, Fernandez.”
Killed the Elven King, returned their god to the Material World, resurrected a dead dragon, defeated ancient demons, and was recognized as the successor by a hero of the distant past.
A mage who could dismantle the Elven King’s great barrier in an instant. A knight who cut down a giant in one strike. A warrior blessed by Shield. And the saint of Vaitas.
Abel whispered, counting on her fingers. Feeling awkward, Fernandez silently looked at his cup.
Abel tapped his cup with her bottle and laughed.
“Now, at least among the humans I know, such a being is almost, almost nonexistent. Even in the distant past, no one achieved this much by the age of seventeen.”
“I’m not seventeen, Abel.”
“I know. The fact that you carry memories of a past life. But not everyone burns through their life like you do. Fernandez, do you remember?”
This era, the era of flames. Abel poked the campfire with a stick. The flames sparked for a moment.
“So go forth. More red, more bright, more intense. At the end of your path, I want to prepare a constellation for you by my side.”
“Abel, I…”
Fernandez swallowed as he looked into Abel’s closer eyes. His lips wouldn’t part easily.
Desire, passion, longing. Such things were burning hotly in his veins.
Now, she had made the best confession she could. A noble and proud dragon. In this moment when she was revealing her true feelings, he couldn’t bring himself to lie.
Taking a deep breath, just as he was about to speak again.
-Crackle.
The sound of the campfire burning. The whispers of the stars. The sound of the wind brushing through the jungle leaves.
And strangely, time stopped. In his wide-open eyes, only Abel’s golden hair seemed to cascade like a wave.
Her blue eyes softly curved and closed right in front of his face. Soon, their lips met. The sweet smell of alcohol and her breath strongly struck his senses.
From her lips, a warm spring day’s noon…
The scent of the fields wafted through the air.
“Haah…”
-Thud, thud, thud.
It felt like the sound of his heartbeat was echoing in his ears. Just as Fernandez was about to open his dry lips, a cold finger pressed against them.
“Shh.”
Abel’s eyes glowed blue, like the midday sky over the fields.
“If you say more, the romance is ruined.”
So, on this night, Fernandez gazed at the night sky for a moment. It was as if a vast curtain of stars had unfurled.
This night was a night of beautiful stars. Yes, even if just for a moment. Fernandez looked at Abel. As he regained his composure and looked again, she seemed oddly anxious and tense.
Fernandez smiled and stroked her hair. She flinched, trembled, and closed her eyes, looking unbearably beautiful.
“The night is deep.”
“…Huh?”
“Let’s rest now. We need to prepare for tomorrow.”
“…You…”
Fernandez chuckled and burrowed into the blanket, lying down. Abel glared at him for a while, panting, then turned her head away.
He could faintly hear her grumbling.
“It’s not easy.”
Fernandez stifled a laugh and closed his eyes. It was a beautiful night.
*
Batras wanted to scream as he counted the remaining troops, but he held it back. He glared at the young human man who was grinning in front of him.
“Is that what you call an explanation?!”
“Anyway, what’s done is done, right?”
“If you had just kept your mouth shut, at least you would’ve been the only one to fall! This wouldn’t have happened, you damn fool! Do you even know what you’ve done?!”
More than half of Batras’ tribal warriors had died or been severely injured in that day’s battle. His tribe was now almost irreparably damaged.
The oasis area they had occupied was devastated by the Pharaoh’s army, and they had been reduced to a wandering tribe in this vast wasteland.
They were already running low on food and water for tomorrow. If that damn fool hadn’t suddenly assassinated the envoy, none of this would’ve happened!
He struggled to suppress his trembling hand. He couldn’t kill him. After all, the only backing he could rely on now was the Empire.
“I’m sick of your Empire’s antics. Damn it!”
“Think about it. Even if the negotiations had ended peacefully, it would’ve only delayed the inevitable doom. Did you really think those skeleton bastards would spare you?”
“At least we could’ve had time to prepare!”
“Consider it a drastic measure.”
The young man laughed cheerfully. It was a lighthearted laugh, hard to believe coming from someone who had crushed the skeletons, the enemy general, the envoy, and the priest in succession.
“Chieftain. Piel is looking for you.”
“…That child?”
The anger in the chieftain’s eyes subsided for a moment. Piel was the only daughter of the tribal prophet who had died in battle, struck by a stray arrow. Poor thing. With no standing left in the tribe and being a powerless woman, her future didn’t look bright.
“Let her in.”
“Yes.”
As Batras glared at the smiling young man as if he wanted to kill him, the young man tapped the map and said,
“If you keep heading straight east and then turn north, you’ll reach the Empire’s second forward base. I have connections there, so don’t worry.”
“…Damn it.”
Though unintended, now that they were at war with Tutankhamun Gartep, they had to side with the Empire to survive. The Federation of Beastmen Nobles wouldn’t welcome him with his tail between his legs, and the Sultanate was too busy with multiple fronts.
As Batras chewed his lip and glared at the map, the tent flap was drawn aside, and a woman entered.
Brown skin, beautifully shining golden eyes. Long black hair. Intricately tangled ornaments.
It was Piel, the daughter of the tribal prophet. Batras sighed at her growing beauty. If only she were ugly, or if he were younger.
He could’ve taken responsibility for her future or saved her. He wanted to apologize to his old friend, the prophet.
If the hot-headed youths of the tribe or the rough soldiers of the Empire saw her now, they would surely have other intentions.
Until now, he had protected her with his and the prophet’s authority. To Batras, Piel was like a niece, and that made it all the more regrettable.
“Yes, Piel. What is it?”
“A revelation has come.”
“…What?”
The prophet had once said that his daughter hadn’t inherited the gift of prophecy…? Batras looked at her in confusion.
Her honey-colored eyes calmly gazed at the map.
“A prophecy?”
“No. A revelation. Chieftain. I received a revelation.”
“…Has it awakened?”
If her prophetic abilities had awakened, allowing her to take the place of the tribal prophet, the dark clouds over her future could be lifted. Batras looked at her with hopeful eyes.
“No, Chieftain.”
“…What?”
“I’ve always seen them. My father always told me not to trust my eyes…”
“Ha!”
Only then did Batras understand. The life of a prophet is lonely. He must not have wanted to pass that fate onto his daughter! But now, with the situation rapidly changing, the only path left for her was to become the tribal prophet.
‘She’s become more cunning than I thought, Piel.’
Batras stifled a laugh. He was actually glad that Piel wasn’t foolish. Yes, one must find their own way to survive.
“Tell me. What did you see?”
“The time of the hunt has begun.”
“The time of the hunt?”
“Therefore, we must head south.”
Piel’s unwavering eyes looked down at the map. To the heart of the Great Wilderness, where the Federation of Nobles stood.
“South…”
As Batras crossed his arms and muttered, the young man who had been silently listening spoke up in disbelief.
“Are you seriously taking this kid’s words to heart?”
“At least more than the words of an outsider who wiped out half our tribe. This child doesn’t lie.”
“Unbelievable.”
As the young man chuckled, Piel looked at him and said,
“The time of the hunt has begun, and the gods will be with us. Young knight.”
“In my religion, we call people who say such things heretics, but whatever. I’m not an Inquisition Officer.”
The young man, Daryan Schryke, shrugged and drew back the tent flap.
“I need to see for myself what you saw.”
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