Chapter 70 ….
Damian looked around the office. Aside from the fragrance filling the room, nothing particularly stood out. As he shifted his gaze, he noticed Ayla’s eyes lingering somewhere. He followed her line of sight.
At the end of it was a chessboard.
The moment Damian saw the board, he understood why Ayla had been staring at it. It wasn’t meaningless. A chessboard without a single pawn could not possibly be meaningless. This was the message that bastard had sent them.
At the center of the board stood a lone queen, all enemy pieces eliminated.
The most powerful piece—the one and only queen.
He was declaring that he himself was that queen. That he could go anywhere and do anything.
Damian wanted to sneer at the man’s arrogance, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to. After all, the man was already manipulating them from the palm of his hand. He had anticipated this far ahead. He knew they would come here.
Which meant there was nothing left to find here.
A queen who could do anything would never leave nothing behind.
At this point, there was only one option left. The trap he had set would have to provoke the man.
Damian snapped his fingers.
At the sharp sound, everything froze. Ayla’s eyes, which had been fixed on the chessboard, turned toward Damian. When their gazes met, he smiled faintly.
“Looks like we have a lot to talk about. Don’t you think, Ayla?”
With that, Damian slowly walked forward. He stopped in front of the desk—the one with the chessboard on it. Reaching out, he picked up the queen piece. The jet-black queen dissolved like smoke in his hand.
Damian quietly stared at the now-empty chessboard. The alternating black-and-white pattern made his head feel strangely dizzy.
Or was it his thoughts that were spinning?
He placed his hand on the board.
The chessboard did not disappear.
Which meant it had originally been here.
Damian slowly closed his eyes. Faint mana swirled in his palm—the same as what had been left on the count’s corpse and in the Empress’s palace.
That bastard’s trace.
The trace was clearer on the chessboard. Damian dug deeper into it.
And finally, he caught something.
At the very bottom of the trace—
That magician’s magic was close to Beatrice’s.
The tower master’s words flashed through his mind. That the man might be of Caesar’s bloodline.
He did not know Beatrice’s magic. He had never been able to visit her grave. The only one he knew was Soledina—and the man’s mana was close to hers.
That mana that had surged toward him in the royal palace of Radia.
Mana that had felt slightly different from his own.
Damian slowly opened his eyes. Red smoke was rippling beneath his hand. He withdrew his hand from the chessboard and turned.
He met Ayla’s wavering gaze.
“Ayla. Will you tell me now… the things you didn’t tell me before?”
After finishing her story, Ayla cautiously studied Damian’s expression. He had listened to her in deep thought.
In the end, she did not mention Soledina.
It was a decision she made after much deliberation. Once she became more certain about Soledina—once the tower master uncovered something—it wouldn’t be too late to speak then.
If one looked at it simply, the magician was “creating” mages.
But from another perspective, he was conducting inhumane experiments on ordinary people who could not contain mana.
Beatrice had died long ago, and no records remained.
And that magician still hadn’t “succeeded.”
…Or had he?
Was that why the count was killed?
Because he was no longer needed?
Just how many people had disappeared like that?
…And the ones who had “failed” the experiments?
Ayla suddenly felt chills run over her entire body.
She didn’t want to think about it anymore.
The more she thought, the more horrifying it became.
“Ayla.”
At the voice calling her name, Ayla felt her tense heart instantly loosen. The thoughts that had been suffocating her settled down.
It was a strangely powerful sense of relief.
Ayla met Damian’s eyes. He was smiling gently, as if he had finished thinking.
Snap.
With another sharp sound, everything that had been frozen began moving again. Libern turned and faced Damian.
Damian spoke.
“We should go to Amo.”
“…Amo?”
It was rather sudden. They had only just arrived here. After all that chaos, had he really found something—and now they were leaving?
With subtle resistance, Libern asked,
“Did you discover something here?”
“Quite a lot.”
Damian turned his head. His gaze fell on the chessboard, and Libern followed it.
At the end of his sight—
Red smoke flickered above the board.
It was something Libern could not understand.
“That is…?”
“It’s the message he sent us.”
He.
The person the crown prince was referring to—the magician Libern considered a monster.
The scattered puzzle pieces fell into place.
The magician had been here.
Probably to kill his father.
“…Was it that magician who killed my father?”
He already knew the answer. The question was merely confirmation.
Libern clenched his fist, trying to suppress his emotions. His hand was trembling.
Anger. Grief. Loss. Despair.
Unfortunately, it was not easy for an immature boy to hide such tangled emotions.
But he had to face it.
And Damian answered for that very reason.
A short, merciless reply.
“Yes.”
After Damian’s answer, a heavy silence settled over the office.
Ayla noticed drops of blood falling from Libern’s hand to the floor. His nails had clearly dug into his flesh.
But Libern looked as if he felt no pain at all.
Ayla couldn’t bring herself to claim she understood what he was enduring—not even as empty comfort.
She had almost lost someone, but hadn’t.
He had.
The gap between those two truths was too vast to bridge.
The silence stretched long.
Damian and Ayla both waited for Libern to speak first.
At last, Libern opened his mouth.
“…I don’t think I can guide you. I’m sorry.”
Amo was located within the Letir Count’s territory.
Of course, Damian had never expected guidance from him.
“…If it would not be improper, may I remain here?”
At Libern’s question, Damian nodded.
The boy would need a great deal of time.
Libern saluted Damian in a soldier’s manner.
“May boundless glory be with Your Highness.”
“…May peace find you as well.”
That was as much of a farewell as Damian could offer.
He reached out and took Ayla’s hand.
In a flash of light, the two of them disappeared.
Even after the light faded, Libern remained there for a long time, kneeling on one knee.
For a very long time.
Libern Letir did not cry in the end.
Chervan looked up at Cientia’s vast collection of books.
The desire of humans who sought knowledge and wished to reach the heavens.
True to that ambition, the shelves lining the walls held countless volumes of knowledge. Long ago, the mages of Radia had desired it—and the mages of today were no different.
As if such greed were written into a mage’s blood.
But unfortunately, despite the abundance of knowledge, very little remained about Radia.
The glorious 700-year magic empire had vanished, leaving behind only sand.
If the ruins of Radia had not resurfaced, the nation would have remained nothing more than myth.
Langas.
If the ruins had not appeared there.
There were no records of when Langas had become a desert.
After the ruins were discovered and research into Radia began in earnest, it was revealed that Langas had once been Radia’s capital.
It was merely assumed that the desertification happened sometime after Radia’s fall.
Then why had Langas become a desert?
Where had all the people who lived there gone?
There were no maps of Langas.
After the ruins were discovered, maps were created with the help of guides for excavation.
Guides.
The gypsies of Langas.
Those who knew every path in the desert.
No one knew when they had begun living there.
Or why they had remained in such harsh lands for so long.
…As if they were waiting for something.
“…Waiting.”
Chervan murmured quietly.
It felt as though his head had been struck with a blunt weapon.
After Radia disappeared—
Where had the royal family gone?
Those who desired to become gods—
Those who were nearly gods—
Could they really have abandoned everything?
To that question, he had an answer.
They could not.
