Ch.55Building a Nest (3)

The image carved on the mural clearly had the same appearance as me.

It was an intricate mural, and unlike the others, this one was almost completely undamaged.

Because of that, there was no doubt that it matched my face. This was definitely my face.

The question was, why was my face engraved here?

While my heart beat roughly and my lungs, which didn’t need to breathe, rapidly circulated unnecessary oxygen through my body.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Lu?”

Even as Isla called out to me, and the Mourner moved restlessly from side to side behind me checking my condition, I kept my eyes closed and collected myself.

I also organized what I had seen.

This is the Pantheon.

Most of the carved murals would be of gods or their servants, and this mural at the center would hold significant importance.

And there was my face on it.

No, was it just my face? I opened my eyes, feeling the pulsation gradually subsiding.

“…It’s only my face.”

Isla wasn’t carved on the mural.

The Mourner wasn’t there either, nor were Blood Knight Lorian or Melody.

In other words, this wasn’t a mural predicting the future. Then why on earth was my face here?

I couldn’t understand.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

Isla’s voice was unusually tinged with emotion, as if she had been worried about me.

Clear concern, subtle fear.

I took in the sight of her hesitating—she who always expressed her feelings honestly—before turning my gaze back to the mural.

And I noticed details I hadn’t properly examined before.

“This is… definitely my face.”

Though called a mural, it was as elaborate as a sculpture I’d only seen in photos before possession.

That’s why I could be certain it was my face.

A classically handsome face. The homunculus face that even I sometimes couldn’t believe was mine.

But something was different. Only after studying it for a while could I tell the difference.

First, the attire was different. I almost always wore armor that I had stolen from Lorian, which didn’t fit her body and had become my personal possession.

However, the man in the mural, while having the exact same face as me, was wearing what could be called priestly robes.

A loose-fitting robe. Shabby, gender-neutral clothing that a monk might wear.

There were plenty of other differences as well.

“…Something’s a bit different.”

Isla said this as she stretched out her long finger and placed it on the mural.

Then she withdrew her finger from the face on the mural and pointed it at me.

Poke, her finger was jabbing my cheek.

“The expression is different.”

“Expression?”

“Hmm, certainly… your face is more relaxed. It’s not as desperate or pitiful as that one.”

“I’d prefer to say I look melancholic.”

A melancholic face. A description that reminds me of an old friend. I nodded while staring at the mural.

The man in the mural definitely looked sorrowful.

He looked like someone who had lost much and was lamenting what he was about to lose.

Unlike me.

Unlike me, who had almost nothing to lose, and whose only experience of loss was what had been taken away before I was even born.

To have lost something means you once had it. I gazed at the man who looked exactly like me but had lived a different life.

Information flowed in.

Though it was just a simple mural, I could learn a lot just by looking at it.

A man who once had everything. A man whose name I didn’t know, about whom I knew nothing.

Turning my head to scan the surroundings, I saw many things.

Things I could only see now. All the murals of gods carved on the pillars, all the patterns and symbols engraved on the ceiling.

All of them seemed to flow toward this mural at the center.

Like flowing from the first page of a book to the final period.

Every part of the temple was a passage in the book, and the central stele was the period.

All those deities and followers were gathered, waiting for this man’s judgment.

No, judgment?

I didn’t know why the thought of judgment came to mind. While I was staring blankly, Isla pulled my hand.

“Lu. Over there.”

Looking up, I saw a bird flying from the cracked upper part of the temple.

Even from this distance, it seemed quite large.

“That’s it, right?”

“…Ah, yes. It is.”

Belatedly, I realized it was Brock.

I should have been embarrassed that Isla, who had only heard descriptions, spotted it before me, but my head was too dizzy to think about that.

“Let’s go.”

The embarrassing thing was that I wasn’t the one leading.

Nevertheless, I followed Isla’s guidance to the center of the temple.

“Is it dead?”

“I don’t think so. It’s strong.”

It’s certain that Lorian is up there. The problem is that there’s no reason for Brock to still be alive.

It’s not like he’s being kept as a treasure while unconscious; Lorian must have kept Brock alive for a reason.

Whether that intention is harmful to us, I don’t know.

“Let’s go up and see.”

The fastest way would be to check with our own eyes.

There was no objection to my suggestion. They glanced up at the high temple roof.

“It’s high. How do you plan to climb up? My knees aren’t good, so I don’t think I can reach up there.”

The Mourner had been limping since we first met, perhaps due to a knee injury.

So his jumping ability would be impaired as well.

“I can’t either. Even if I transform.”

“Transform?”

“I have something like that.”

Isla responded curtly to the Mourner’s question.

She was a transformation race, capable of becoming a were-snow leopard, borrowing half the form of a human and half of a snow leopard.

While her jumping power and various abilities would increase significantly in that form, it still didn’t seem like she could reach that height.

That left only one option. Me.

I rolled my eyes, recalling my abilities.

The Mourner’s special ability called Explosive Leap.

It’s a high-speed movement ability proportional to strength, agility, and health.

In the game, it only allows movement in four directions, but in reality rather than a game, it should function as a leap as the name suggests.

The problem was that even so, there was no guarantee I could reach it.

The height to the temple roof was about 4 stories.

It seemed to be over 10 meters.

And my strength, agility, and health modifiers combined were 17.

Considering that in the game, one square is 0.5m, and each modifier point equals one square.

The leap distance would be about 8.5m. Not quite 10m level.

But there was a way.

I retrieved an item from inside my cloak that Isla had put there long ago and forgotten, then approached the Mourner.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Perhaps.”

“That’s right. I need a running start.”

He made a troubled expression.

“Hmm, my legs aren’t good, so after this I won’t be much help for a while…”

“It’s fine. We won’t need to fight.”

“In that case.”

While the Mourner formed a foothold with his hands clasped together, and Isla waved her hand slightly in encouragement from behind.

I gathered strength in my body while checking the position and height of the temple.

I didn’t need to use Mourning. Not like the old man would.

I just needed to use Leap at the right time. If I failed, I’d have to wait a long time before trying again, so better to do it in one go.

“Are you ready?”

“Hmm. Come whenever you’re ready.”

Hearing those words, I took a crouching start position I’d never learned before, then straightened up normally.

Just at the moment our eyes met.

BOOM!

I stomped hard and ran forward.

I approached rapidly. He didn’t move an inch, as if he wasn’t afraid.

Most people would flinch if a monster like me came charging.

Whether it was because he wasn’t afraid of death, or because he trusted me, I didn’t know.

Either way, it was good for me. Because the result would be good.

Running up, I lightly jumped and placed my foot on his clasped hands, supporting my entire body on that one foot.

No dialogue was necessary. As the Mourner’s arm muscles bulged as if about to burst.

A feeling of buoyancy immediately greeted my body.

But just flying wouldn’t get me far. Before even letting the rebound take my body, I unleashed the condensed power.

The skill name is Explosive Leap.

And true to its name, an explosive leaping force propelled my body into the air.

“Ugh…?!”

I heard the Mourner’s surprised voice. I could hear him falling, but I couldn’t miss this opportunity to check on him.

This was necessary for the Mourner’s sake too. I took out the grappling hook and rope I had stored in my cloak while watching the temple roof gradually approaching.

The roof was just barely out of reach. The remaining distance was less than 1m, but I couldn’t reach it.

That’s why I prepared the grappling hook and rope. I swung the hook with the mighty strength flowing through my entire body, from shoulder to fingertips.

CLANG!

The hook shot out and embedded itself deeply. Before the rebound could affect my rising body, I swung on the rope.

The rope made straining sounds and the hook rattled madly, but.

Creak, creak…

I was finally able to climb onto the roof.

After dropping the end of the rope toward the ground and climbing onto the roof, I was greeted by things I couldn’t see from below.

First, Brock’s massive nest.

And Brock flying above it, under the vast sky where Brock was soaring.

It was a clear sky that one wouldn’t expect in a snowy mountain.

I observed that sky carefully before approaching the nest.

In the nest, the scene I had expected awaited me.

Well, the overall situation had been proving it.

Lorian’s combat ability is clearly superior to mine.

Since someone like Lorian could have escaped on her own but didn’t, I easily guessed.

Lorian.

As a member of the Three Clans and a Blood Knight, unlike me who had to intuitively piece together information from the stele, she would know something.

So she waited for us to come, and kept Brock alive to make it easier for us to find her.

That’s why I approached the woman who was lying in the nest, blankly staring up at Brock.

“You’re late.”

Standing beside her and glancing at Brock, she continued.

“It’s fine. I beat it up and chased it away, so it’ll stay put until I leave the nest.”

“It could still charge at us out of spite.”

“That won’t happen. Brock is smart. Though it has an obsession with shiny things, it will give up if it could get killed.”

Indeed, as she said, Brock just flew around cawing without coming down.

So I sat down next to Lorian and stared blankly at Brock.

“Aren’t you going to kill it?”

Lorian shook her head slightly. She was lying with her long hair spread out beneath her like a pillow.

“I don’t harm the weak.”

It was an absurd statement. So absurd that I couldn’t control my expression, and when I inadvertently looked at her, Lorian noticed my thoughts.

“Ha, I’ve seen many who call themselves strong, but this is the first time I’ve met someone who admits to being weak.”

“Am I not?”

“Luvellin, you are strong.”

“I got my ass kicked.”

“…If you could speak more properly… no, never mind.”

Lorian sighed deeply and took the beheading sword I handed her, saying:

“I’m not simply talking about raw power or technique. Even with technique and power, the weak remain weak.”

“Then?”

“Those who don’t choose their own life, select battlefields worth falling for, and possess the fighting spirit to dedicate themselves to battle—they are all weak.”

In other words, she was saying I was such a person. I stared blankly, not understanding, but Lorian smiled, raising the corners of her mouth.

Judging by her appearance, she seemed like she wouldn’t have emotions, and that was my first impression too.

But Lorian was more emotional than I expected.

“So you are strong. Unlike the blood bags I’ve seen until now. That’s why we fought, isn’t it?”

In the sky fortress, Lorian and I fought.

Though I was half out of my mind with mourning, it was a fight I chose, and I tried to escape by beating everyone who stood in my way.

Even though I was blocked by Lorian along the way.

She didn’t leave me to other Blood Knights but fought me herself and voluntarily chose to pursue me.

Even though she didn’t need to.

“Star Blade.”

“…The owner of that sword was also strong.”

“His subordinates?”

“Are you saying they were weak?”

Lorian laughed as if incredulous. This time she really was mocking me.

“They were strong. Although they were used and discarded by the clan, they didn’t avoid the fight. They were always ready to risk their lives. If I hadn’t consumed enough essence before coming, it would have been dangerous.”

I was just showing respect. Her words were filled with various emotions.

A perspective on struggle that was almost pure.

I was at a loss for words, staring blankly. As a modern person, I couldn’t understand.

“Is that why you followed me?”

That was the only thing I could say.

No answer came. There was no need for an answer since I already knew it.

Lorian remained silent, and we lay and sat side by side, looking up at Brock.

“Did you see what’s below?”

“On the way here, with blood magic.”

“Is that how you knew I was coming too?”

“No. In the Blood Clan, there’s magic to track ‘assets’ who have escaped like you. That’s how I knew.”

“Ah.”

So that’s why assassins always dropped directly on my location.

Then it wasn’t strange that the Aulbear shapeshifter didn’t recognize me.

If it’s a secret known only to the Blood Clan, and the Three Clans don’t cooperate well, they wouldn’t know.

“That’s not what you want to ask, is it?”

Lorian seemed displeased with my silence. She looked up at me with an eager expression.

A look that begged me to ask. A look that desperately wanted to reveal something.

So I moved my lips and finally spoke.

“The stele below. The man carved on the central stele.”

Gulp, I heard the sound of swallowing.

“Who is he?”

Lorian spoke with a relieved expression.

“The Son of God, the last priest of the Pantheon, the Wisest One.”

That wasn’t an answer. But I didn’t press. I knew the most important word would come soon.

“And we… called him Father.”

Lorian, who had been looking up at Brock with a complicated expression, turned to look at me.

Her eyes trembled slightly as they reflected my face.

A face identical to the one carved on the stele.