I revised my hypothesis about Argeyirion. Carisia told me about Argeyirion during our meeting in Elysion.
“At first, it seemed like Carisia couldn’t recognize herself, but the moment we truly faced each other, memories came rushing back.”
Eroders are generally individuals whose minds have been absorbed by extraterrestrial mana, leaving them blindly destructive to the current world. A rational eroder like Argeyirion is extremely rare, and even the “rationality” that remains is usually limited to knowledge for destruction, such as strategy, tactics, or magic application.
Though there are eroders who manage to preserve their memory and rationality entirely, if they were common, would the Ten Towers consider Argeyirion so dangerous?
This was a case so rare it could be called sparse, which is why the Ten Towers assessed Argeyirion’s potential danger at the highest level. They preferred to mobilize excessive resources to prevent unexpected situations rather than underestimate abilities and suffer greater losses.
However, I had slightly different thoughts from the mainstream opinion of the Ten Towers, based on my experience observing many eroders while practically living in the extraterrestrial erosion zones.
There are types of erosion.
If one is alive when eroded by the extraterrestrial dimension, their original self resists the erosion, while the extraterrestrial dimension attempts to dominate the self, starting a chain reaction. The endpoint of this chain reaction is typically the collapse of the self.
This is the widely known eroder as an indiscriminate weapon of destruction. Since the foundation of the self collapses, making rational judgment impossible, only reflexive acts of destruction can occur.
On the contrary, dead bodies lack a self to resist erosion, making it relatively easy for extraterrestrial mana to seep in. The extraterrestrial mana that replaces the departed soul forms a replica of the human spirit using the undecayed brain. One might call it a forged soul.
While a forged soul can reproduce most of the life’s capabilities, it isn’t identical to the original human. A forged soul always acts prioritizing the will of the extraterrestrial dimension.
Naturally, there is some loss of memory since it’s formed using the cells of a dead brain. However, if there is a catalyst to recall memories or deeply engraved memories within the flesh, some may regain partial awareness.
I speculated that the officers of Argeyirion might be such ‘corpse eroders.’
The issue was that during the Golden Desert Operation, Carisia and I aimed not to k*ll them but to incapacitate them and push them into an extraterrestrial storm.
“Perhaps someone else, not me—like a hidden traitor among the trackers at the time—killed them after incapacitation?”
In this case, we must add the assumption that there was an apocalypticist within Blasphemia. This apocalypticist must have possessed knowledge about corpse eroders, which can only be found when fresh corpses are left under appropriate conditions in extraterrestrial contamination zones.
But the situation was strange enough to lead me to this hypothesis. For nearly all the trackers to become conscious eroders? It was an impossible event to explain with the magical knowledge I knew.
Even with my discerning eyes, distinguishing between a forged soul and an original soul requires considerable effort. Careful observation is necessary, something impossible during combat.
Sprigo’s expanded consciousness overwhelmed my mind with a massive influx of information. The pressure felt like having my brain directly stirred. Yet, I maintained a smile.
The more consistent my smile, the more anxious they became.
Beyond fragmented surface consciousness, Sprigo extracted visual information through tens of thousands of eyeballs and delved deeper inside.
“…No?”
My hypothesis was wrong.
A forged soul created by extraterrestrial mana inevitably produces an alien feeling compared to a genuine soul grown together with the body.
One might say the coloration of the body and soul subtly differ. To liken it to written information, the content might be similar, but the handwriting differs.
However, Sprigo’s soul, though clouded by mixed mana, shone identically to his body. He retained his original spiritual and physical essence.
It was a perplexing result, but I couldn’t keep my eyes active indefinitely. I might fall unconscious from dizziness before even fighting. Having seen what needed to be seen, I now blocked my vision.
‘There will be no occasion to see you again.’
No one present with such pure brains would mistake this seemingly ordinary farewell for anything but a declaration of m*rder.
It was an arrogant proclamation, yet precisely because of that, Sprigo regained his sanity.
The figure before him was Argeyirion’s adversary. The one who single-handedly overturned Blasphemia…
“No.”
Sprigo recalled Haltos’ cautious explanation about the adversary.
“There are two adversaries.”
One is the monster of White Light, and the other is this trickster.
Haltos, the leader of Argeyirion, attached the noble epithet of “trickster” to the smiling man, but to Sprigo now, he was just a dog-like fellow.
The difference between the two adversaries, ‘monster’ and ‘trickster,’ was simple.
The monster was literally monstrous. Colliding head-on with Argeyirion’s elite agents, it possessed overwhelming levels of mana. Its magic was nothing short of a pure embodiment of destruction.
The trickster didn’t use such methods. Obsessively hiding his identity, he mocked Argeyirion.
Ideally, the monster should have been powerful but ignorant of how to conceal itself. Monsters are that kind of beast, leaving enormous traces with every step.
But everything changed with the trickster’s interference. The monster lurked in the darkness, suffocating them. This was the reason why reality diverged so fatally from expectations when White Light Tower first received the commission for ‘monster hunting.’
“Trickster, where is the monster you’ve raised?”
Sprigo, facing his adversary for the first time since the formation of Argeyirion, had an obligation to gather as much information as possible.
He didn’t expect the nameless trickster to answer easily, but engaging in conversation might yield clues.
‘Soon enough, I’ll secure sufficient output to send a message to the base…’
“I’m raising it? Me?”
I was speechless. The monster he referred to was Carisia, but how could I possibly raise her?
If anything, it was the opposite. I was the one receiving a paycheck from Carisia.
“How absurd. Haven’t you realized yet?”
“What?”
“The person you call a monster—I don’t command her.”
*
What nonsense!
Gorgoph, excluded from the conversation between the two, wondered. That unknown imposter. The one Sprigo called a trickster clearly had a long-standing feud with Argeyirion.
But Gorgoph himself couldn’t estimate how far back this ‘long-standing’ feud extended, despite being one of the first to grasp the greater purpose at Amimone Magic Tower.
He had only just learned today about the existence of Argeyirion’s adversary.
“I merely serve Her. From the beginning until now, this relationship has never changed.”
“What…?”
“Haha. You call her a monster, thinking she’s merely a beast? Impossible.”
A sardonic smirk appeared on the trickster’s lips.
“She is fairer than your truth and grander than your justice.”
“Dare you insult justice!”
“Why fear beings beyond the wall who haven’t even entered this world? I fear only one.”
Ortes shrugged and turned his gaze toward Danao. The rising and falling chest indicated he was still alive.
Turning his head back to Sprigo, Ortes read Sprigo’s intentions during the process of fragmenting his consciousness to peer into his soul.
Relentlessly expanding roots to pierce through the extraterrestrial storm and transmit information about himself.
It was something Ortes had anticipated. Given the extent of the enmity that made Sprigo curse upon sight, it was unlikely he’d engage in conversation without defense.
‘Haltos… Did you remember me?’
It was astonishing. Despite his faint presence and the fading memories from becoming an eroder, Haltos still harbored animosity. And Sprigo’s determination to collect information despite the risks in this situation.
Having read all this, Ortes still responded to the story. Time wasn’t just necessary for Sprigo.
Because Ortes’ eyes revealed more the longer they stayed open.
Now Ortes could see all of Sprigo’s body spread throughout Algus City.
And in Ortes’ possession lay an extraterrestrial artifact borrowed from a friend with a special promise.
