Ch4 ... "Result"
—
Amid the dark sea, beneath a sky heavy with clouds, stood a towering black castle with sharp spires rising high above a base of jagged rocks.
Like a massive maritime prison, like an impregnable fortress, its reflection on the calm water below mesmerized the eyes.
Inside the castle, at the top floor of the tallest tower, lay a vast room shrouded in darkness. It resembled a royal chamber of the highest order, yet without the faint light filtering through its tall windows, nothing within it would have been discernible.
At the farthest end of the hall, a massive round table rested, surrounded by eight chairs of varying sizes, each unique in its design.
The place was silent.
Suddenly, the shadow of a figure seated in the chair facing the window spoke in an unfamiliar tongue. The shadow had six terrifying black horns, resembling a crown atop its head.
"Thiamad das? Dalan hal-rellmak?"
("Only three? Where is the rest?")
"Bar-raniu..."
("Who knows...")
In a soft, feminine voice, another shadow responded, twirling a strand of her silvery hair. She sat in the middle-left chair, two seats to the right of the first speaker.
"Hmm..."
"Kara frak, rakuro."
("No matter, let us begin.")
As soon as he finished speaking and with a snap of his fingers, several faint blue-silver flames ignited along the walls of the grand chamber.
Four figures materialized around the round table. Though their forms appeared human, their presence suggested anything but humanity.
In a deep voice from the last seat, the "six-horned" figure, with his terrifying appearance, continued his speech:
"Aravis dorakh der Avira, sun-drak mikaltia shier javath davirma."
("The great storm is approaching; the castle won't withstand the chaos that's coming.")
"Bivies nara azavrak."
("We must reinforce the barrier.")
The speaker had a massive build, a commanding presence, six black horns atop his head, and a thick beard reaching his chest. He wore a black robe embroidered with red-gray threads that lined the dark garment's edges.
"Marv istoria nanmad, vira-mir karl rakdakh myarla shamagh sathra luk-avran."
("This will be the ninth time the world has faced a transformation due to a similar event.")
The silver-haired woman responded, her porcelain-like face captivating, with eyes as blue as the clearest skies. At first glance, she seemed pure, a fragile soul that could shatter at the slightest touch. But the more one observed her delicate features, the clearer it became that hidden malice lurked beneath—a venomous white serpent, its radiant scales luring unsuspecting prey into merciless destruction.
She continued, "There are three solutions to this: the first and easiest is to obtain the 'Girscht' barrier technologies owned by the Adonians. The second is to create custom barriers of comparable power. The third is to relocate the castle to another place."
"Ordinary barrier technologies are no longer effective. Many races and nations have joined forces to develop new types, but to no avail. No matter how advanced they become, they can't match the level of the Adonian barriers. But the Adonians are extremely secretive about their methods. They might prefer giving you their mothers over revealing their techniques."
From the right corner of the room, a tall woman, towering over two meters, spoke with a sharp edge to her tone. Her angular features exuded strength, and her long, blood-red wavy hair cascaded down her back. She was dressed in light combat attire, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, her hands clasped over her right thigh.
On her hands, she wore a pair of elegant gray gloves, adorned with a unique emblem on the back. It depicted a vibrant red flower surrounded by thorns on all sides. From its center sprouted three fingers, each pointing in a different direction.
"The best barrier technologies currently available are the 'Mirva' systems, a fusion of ancient methods combined with techniques from the Mizdarch and Roxavar races. However, their strength is barely a quarter of the power of the Adonians' 'Girscht' technology."
"Relocating the castle, on the other hand, is somewhat complicated and would result in significant losses on several fronts, though in some ways, it is the easiest option."
"But… if we are forced to do so, it would still be better than losing the castle entirely."
"Wait a moment. Wasn't Mirak tasked with acquiring the Girscht barriers earlier?" interjected the silver-haired woman with a curious tone.
"For some unknown reason, he hasn't responded. His last message was simply, 'Almost there.'" The six-horned figure replied with a solemn expression.
"When was that?"
"Two days ago."
"Hmm…" Staring at the ceiling, her delicate face betrayed an expression of doubt, puzzlement, and a hint of realization.
"There is a fourth solution."
Suddenly, a new voice broke the momentary silence, coming from beside the red-haired woman, seated directly to her left. Compared to her towering stature, the speaker seemed almost… insignificant.
"Oh? The silent one finally speaks~" teased the silver-haired woman in a mocking tone.
Ignoring her, the new speaker continued, "We could sacrifice everyone in the dungeon to activate 'The Feature.'"
The speaker was a man the size of a child, no older than ten years in appearance. Yet, his face carried none of the innocence of youth.
His hair was disheveled and jet black, his visage grotesque, almost monstrous. What stood out most was his left eye, split by a jagged, red, vein-like mark that divided his star-shaped pupil into two symmetrical halves—an upper and a lower portion. It resembled the process of cellular division, as if his eye contained two star-like pupils in one.
The room fell into a tense silence as the dwarf's suggestion hung in the air, especially on the six-horned figure, whose expression darkened visibly.
Continuing his argument, the dwarf added, "Some solutions demand sacrifices, and sacrifices require courage. This is the optimal way to weather the storm without incurring massive losses—assuming, of course, that acquiring the appropriate barrier technology fails."
"Following your 'unique' idea, we would lose all the reputation we've painstakingly built."
From the left corner, the silver-haired woman interjected, dismissing the dwarf's words.
"Heh, reputation. You're the last one who should be talking about that."
He retorted with a smirk before adding, "In any case, we can concoct excuses for it—perhaps a 'strange' plague or some 'unknown' conspiracy. Whatever works. We hold the upper hand as long as no one knows about us."
"Cunning as always~ Just curious, can't you hide that 'peculiar' eye of yours?"
She replied, pointing at her own left eye mockingly, clearly trying to provoke him.
"Just curious, can't you hide that fake flesh of yours?"
"Oh, are you interested~?"
"Nah."
Ignoring her taunts, he shifted the topic: "The Mizdarch and the Veykt collaborated to send several secret expeditions to explore the southeastern depths three weeks ago. Four expeditions in total, from what I've heard. Not a single one has returned. It's believed they either perished or got lost."
"Additionally, the number of shadow creatures has increased exponentially in recent times, particularly around Luxaria and its neighboring regions. Some say it's due to the approaching great storm, but nothing like this has ever occurred in previous instances. The fact that their concentration is so high in Luxaria alone raises questions..."
"This either reflects the severity of the upcoming storm or suggests another reason for their agitation. While I don't rule out the former, my perspective leans toward something else—a hidden force manipulating them for an unknown purpose."
"Heh, fools. It took years of sacrifices and relentless effort to merely uncover the first boundary, yet the unknown still outweighs the known. They're using those expeditions as pawns to chart the safest routes and avoid the worst. Nothing more."
The silver-haired woman scoffed.
"The Ashen Lands are an unstable place. Even the first boundary, which is considered relatively 'settled,' is rife with chaotic occurrences that would make anyone's hair turn white. It's a hellscape of disorder."
The red-haired woman chimed in, agreeing.
"As for the shadow creatures, it's indeed puzzling, though I doubt it's of great significance. They're weak beings, so they won't pose a major threat—though they might cause some minor inconveniences. Still, caution is never unwarranted. Luxaria has a long and deeply hidden history, concealed with great care."
The six-horned figure remarked, his voice steady and commanding.
"I agree."
The red-haired woman nodded in assent.
A sudden silence descended over the room once more.
After a brief pause, she initiated the conversation:
"Arvis Tower was subjected to a suicide attack by unknown 'tourists,' suspected to be pawns manipulated by someone..."
"A suicide attack... could it be 'Marlos the Degenerate'? He's been responsible for several similar incidents in various locations for unknown reasons. Rumor has it he went mad after his disappearance," said the silver-haired woman.
"Possibly, or it could be that cult..." replied the six-horned figure.
"Do you mean the 'Remnants of the Camels' Cult? Haha, those fellows are the definition of madness. It's said their leader suffers from some kind of mental disorder, but I doubt that. While their behavior seems chaotic on the surface, their core is sinister. I once encountered one of them, and he was smarter than anyone I've ever met. They hold some ridiculous beliefs about life, and their actions might appear random, but based on my experience... I'd classify them as the most dangerous cultic presence in this world."
"I wouldn't rule that out, but I believe the first possibility is more likely given the similarities in methods," responded the tall lady.
The six-horned figure nodded silently, affirming her statement.
After a brief moment of silence, the silver-haired woman spoke enthusiastically:
"Heh, looks like it's my turn now~"
"The political relations between Mizardia and Viarda are deteriorating more and more. It seems a war between them might break out soon."
"I don't think so. I've heard that the current king of Karashian is a prudent man who prefers to avoid conflict when possible," said the red-haired woman.
"That's true, but his current army commander is a hot-blooded young man. Despite his youth, he's a strategist..." the dwarf responded, and the discussion continued on this topic for some time.
…
"Several individuals have mysteriously disappeared recently, including the young princess of Hoshvast, Si—" Suddenly and without warning, a sound echoed from the end of the room, interrupting the conversation.
It was the creaking of a massive, double-door entrance to the grand chamber.
As their gazes focused on the intruder, a noble figure with piercing crimson eyes emerged. His face carried a strange allure—a blend of charm and authority.
He wore a black suit over a pristine white shirt, reflecting his elegant, enigmatic persona. Then, as he moved, his attire transformed magically into a black-and-gold cloak draped over his shoulders.
The intruder strode forward, his black hair streaked with a single white strand at the side, tied back into a sleek ponytail that swayed as he ascended the short steps covered by a long red carpet.
Up to this moment, the only sound in the vast chamber was the echo of his deliberate footsteps. Then, breaking the silence, he spoke:
"What a warm welcome! Did you miss me that much?"
"Did someone just snuff out your candle?" the silver-haired woman retorted sarcastically.
"Oh~ Arelien, I missed you! Give me a welcome kiss~"
"Scram." She waved her hand dismissively, a clear gesture of rejection.
"Actually... I've been occupied with a few matters." Pulling back the chair, the speaker sat across from the six-horned figure.
"What kind of matters? Searching for your stray dogs, perhaps?" the red-haired woman interjected, her tone dripping with disdain.
Scanning the area with his eyes, he then said, "Hmm, so I'm not the only one who's late… Where are the others? Or… that's something you don't know, naturally. You… but not me."
Shifting his gaze toward the six-horned man with sharp eyes, he added, "Alright, I'll get straight to the point."
"I have two pieces of news. One is bad, and the other is… much worse."
"You and your cursed news… Can't you bring good news for once in your life?" Arelin replied with a sigh.
"Arelin." The six-horned man looked at her and spoke in a calm tone that carried a hint of annoyance.
She raised her hands in the air, signaling her intention to stop interrupting.
"Go on." The six-horned man shifted his gaze back to the distant newcomer.
"firstly, the Ravens Tree has turned into a pile of black ashes, wiped out entirely."
"The Ravens Tree? Isn't that the stronghold of Vesper… the Spider Colony? It's impossible for it to be destroyed just like that overnight. The forest alone is the size of a massive city! Not to mention that even the weakest spiders there are at the level of ten silver knights," Arelin replied with astonishment.
"Yes, assuming it was a natural attack. But it wasn't." He continued, "It was devoured by a great black fire, taking it all by surprise."
"Black fire…" With a look of suspicion, the dwarf seemed to piece something together. In fact, everyone appeared stunned upon hearing his words.
"Black fire? Are you referring to Virga? The fire that consumes souls… Could it be those immortality seekers?" the red-haired woman interjected.
"Oh, you mean that revered Whale Sect? Or as they call it, 'Avalon, the Black Whale'? I see why you'd make that assumption, given the tree's association with death and all that nonsense. But I don't think that's the case, for several reasons," the newcomer replied, offering his perspective.
"The Ravens Tree is special. Just the idea of its presence in the Ashlands gives you an idea of its uniqueness."
"After its discovery, the market saw a significant leap thanks to the exceptional properties of its branches. Extracting even a single small branch takes the spiders around twenty days of hard work, which alone is proof of its toughness. That's why black fire seems like the perfect solution to destroy such a powerful tree quickly and without raising suspicion. This way, no creature could approach it."
"But the real question here is: what's the motive? Why would someone want to destroy such a massive tree and use a force as risky as black fire? Not to mention their incursion into the Ashlands, which indicates their immense confidence in their own strength… This suggests that the person or people responsible hold a very high position."
"I don't see any logical reason other than personal vendetta or hidden motives—assuming there was an 'instigator' in the first place," the six-horned man remarked.
"Indeed," he continued. "The Ashlands are the epicenter of chaos; you can never predict what might happen there, no matter how hard you try. It's a lawless place. So, it's not far-fetched to think what happened to the forest was just an 'ordinary natural disaster' by its standards."
"So, the spider race has been almost entirely wiped out..." Arelin spoke softly from the side, a faint tone of sympathy in her voice.
"What a waste."
In truth, she cared little for the spiders' lives or their race in general. Her pity was reserved for the loss of resources and labor.
"Strange... Didn't Vesper sense anyone? Especially someone with that kind of power? How could he not feel their presence?" The red-haired woman interjected, her voice tinged with curiosity.
"He was in a temporary slumber," the six-horned man interrupted, cutting off the newcomer, who was about to answer as well.
"As he said," the white-streaked man added. "In fact, the aura of the black fire is what woke him up in the first place. Otherwise..."
"Did he tell you his next step?"
"Hmm... He didn't give me all the details, but his tone suggested anger, as if he seeks revenge. However, he mentioned he would investigate first."
"Ridiculous! What if the culprit is a group or sect? How would he avenge himself then?"
"I don't know. All I know is that he's aiming to form an alliance with Cassadia, the Black Widow. I don't have much information about her since she's a 'wingless raven,' but I'm certain she's of the same spider race."
"Cassadia..." The six-horned man sank into thought. It seemed he knew something, but he chose not to say anything.
"I sent Blaise to investigate the matter," the white-streaked man concluded, turning his head toward the dwarf sitting beside the towering red-haired woman. Smirking, he asked sarcastically, "What's the matter, my friend? Cat got your tongue? You haven't said a word since I arrived. Are you shy? Is it a stomachache? Perhaps diarrhea? Or are you thinking about the children you left without dinner? Did a mule eat your tongue? Wait, do you even have a tongue?"
He fired off a string of random jokes like a machine gun, partly to lighten the mood and partly to force the silent companion to speak.
Unfortunately for him, it didn't work. The dwarf turned his head away, ignoring him. For some unknown reason, he seemed to be in a bad mood today. Normally, he would have been the one cracking jokes, not the other way around.
Realizing that something was clearly bothering him, the white-streaked man decided to leave him be for now, planning to ask him privately later.
"If that was the 'bad' news," Arelin interrupted, "then what's the worse one?"
After a sudden pause, during which anticipation filled the room, the man finally spoke, his expression shifting to one of unprecedented seriousness.
"Mirak was killed by someone. That person offered to join us in exchange for revealing all the barrier techniques, including those of the Girscht."
Shock and astonishment rippled across everyone's faces before morphing into a mix of emotions—grief, disbelief, and blank stares. A strange, awe-inspiring blend.
From the left side, Arelin bombarded him with questions in a serious tone: "How did he know about us? No, the more important question is, how did he figure out our goal? What does he want from joining us?"
"I'm not sure," he replied. "But what I do know is that the killer introduced himself as..."
"Marlos Ecarthia, the True Heir."
-
Inside a radiant white cavern, covered in intricate, glistening silk webs woven with unparalleled precision and artistry, a massive city of silk emerged—a city entirely crafted from spider threads.
The place was exceptionally majestic, carrying a blend of terror and beauty, like a masterpiece that could only be created once every thousand years.
The nests were constructed with remarkable elegance. At the bottom of the cavern lay thick, unusually shaped silk nests on an entirely white floor.
From the ceiling hung several sturdy threads, suspending enormous oval-shaped nests. Groups of spiders could be seen busily transporting goods to and from these nests in an orderly fashion. Guarding each one stood a massive armored spider with three sharp spikes protruding from its back.
Scattered throughout the cavern were numerous stone pillars—or rather, silk pillars, as spider threads had completely overtaken them. Around each pillar stood magnificent white silk palaces of various forms and designs, resembling nothing from the real world. These were wild, beastly palaces with a unique aesthetic charm. The higher one went, the grander and more beautiful they became, showcasing the social hierarchy of this cold, surreal realm.
The cavern required no external light or artificial illumination, as the threads themselves emitted a soft, soothing glow. To facilitate movement, a vast network of bridges and pathways had been woven, dangling in every direction and forming an intricate web of roads. From the ground, the sight of these suspended paths was overwhelming.
Despite the complexity, the buildings were arranged with stunning precision, creating an empty pathway in the middle that led to a massive, imposing nest at the far end of the cavern. From above, the layout resembled one of the seven wonders of this strange world.
…
Within a dazzling royal nest, the echo of slow, deliberate footsteps reverberated. The decorated pathway was covered in pure white silk, distinct from any other silk in the entire cavern.
Step. Step. Step. The pale man, with eight spider-like legs protruding from his back, ascended the smooth stairs. With each step, ripples of light danced across the surface, vanishing in a mesmerizing fashion. This was a different, special kind of silk.
Reaching the top, he looked up to behold a massive, inverted spider throne—a giant circular structure with jagged, uneven edges. Random threads dangled down from above, forming a sort of curtain, with visible gaps between the strands.
It seemed to be a blend of throne, nest, and bed all at once.
Suddenly, a sound came from above. One by one, terrifying spider legs stepped across the ceiling until a dark shadow finally appeared.
"It's been a while, Vesper," spoke the shadow in a calm, feminine voice as it moved into the light.
A woman with sharp features emerged, her pale skin and extraordinary beauty stirring even the coldest of hearts. Her stunning appearance was truly captivating.
With black horns atop her head, long flowing black hair, and loose black garments, she stood in stark contrast to the white silk that enveloped the space, like a black hole stealing light from a blank void.
Immediately after speaking, she began descending gracefully from the ceiling, defying logic. For a moment, it seemed as if gravity had ceased to exist, as though an invisible staircase had materialized between the top and the ground.
If Newton had witnessed this, he might have abandoned physics to pursue culinary arts.
"Yes," replied the pale-faced man tersely.
"I assume you know why I'm here, don't you?" he added.
"There's only one reason I can think of that would drive you to leave your dead forest and come to me," she responded, facing him directly. She was much taller, moving with her own spider legs unlike him.
Noticing his annoyed expression as he looked upward, she felt amused but quickly retracted her claws and landed gently, touching the ground with her human feet.
Vesper addressed her, "Indeed, the prophecy of that Piaria has come to pass. The forest was consumed by a great black fire in an instant."
"Did you sense anything?" As they spoke, luxurious silk chairs and a simple table materialized from the floor's rippling threads. Both of them sat down.
"No," He said. "As She described exactly, it wasn't caused by a natural disaster or a powerful individual, but something else entirely... There's a mysterious instigator."
"Hmm..." She shifted her gaze to the side as a thin thread appeared out of nowhere on her finger. She toyed with it skillfully, lost in thought.
Then Vesper continued in a calm tone, "Understanding the cause is irrelevant for now. Let us focus on the result. And the result... is in our favor."
"What do you think, then? Shall we follow the same plan? Will you place your faith in this... in her vision?"
"Yes."
"The rift has widened, and the fractures have deepened. The variables are countless, and time slips away with every passing moment. We must seize the opportunity before it's too late."
"This is the signal. It's our turn to ascend the stage."
"It's time to annihilate the Madoth."