Where Darkness Gathers (4)

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The 100th floor, the very top of the tower. A space only permitted to those who have perfectly mastered the attributes the tower represents. This dream space, which every climber should rightfully aim for-was dark.

There were no lights or anything. As if it had been designed that way from the start, the ceiling and walls were bare. Even the windows installed for ventilation were tightly shut and rusted.

Only the small light coming through the gaps in the transparent curtains served as a guide.

Beyond the window, a glimpse of a gray city could be seen. The North, covered with dark, gloomy snow. But unlike the snow piled on the ground, the snow viewed from this height was chillingly white.

Granshel chuckled as she watched Shuriel and Pawin throw open the curtains.

“I think it’s one of the privileges the Tower Lord enjoys. Look at that pure, flawless flow of Mana. Isn’t it beautiful? Being able to see such pure, crystalline snow in the North… this is the only place you can.”

As all the curtains were opened, the outline of the room became clearly visible.

Furniture and magical materials were scattered here and there. The haphazard arrangement of the items gave off an eerie feeling.

Granshel began to chatter on, starting her usual spiel.

“Freshly fallen snow is so pure that you can admire it, but as it gets closer to the ground, it comes into contact with evil energy and becomes tainted black. That’s the true nature of the black snow that falls in the North.”

We listened to Granshel’s story in silence. Because even if we told her to get to the point, her muttering wouldn’t stop.

She only gave a precise answer near the end, but that didn’t mean she was just listing meaningless words.

I listened carefully to find the sentence that pierced through the theme in this disjointed conversation.

“Remember what Grimm said? The evil energy remaining in the North is just residue. It’s too weak to have even a small effect on the human body.”

Just like now.

Whenever she asked us something.

It meant we were entering a slightly more central topic.

“But like the snow falling from the sky there. The purer the Mana that makes up existence, the easier it is to become tainted. Ever heard of anything similar?”

The second question.

“Souls.”

The topic becomes clearer.

“Messing with souls is a very dangerous thing. Even a slight mistake can cause it to go wrong. But… if you succeed in controlling it in some way.”

And then came the end of the story.

“…It can become a weapon in itself. You’ve probably heard of them a lot. Or maybe you’ve already caught countless of them. Necromancers. You know? Those bastards who are called black magicians in the world. Those detestable guys who share the same name as us.”

-Necromancy.

Pawin and I closed our eyes tightly and sighed. Only Shuriel, who hadn’t properly listened to Granshel, blinked his eyes.

I roughly understand how things are going.

‘Curse.’

“A wraith has attached itself. Spirits with very deep grudges. It seems they tortured the soul before taking control… I’ve never seen a soul so severely twisted like this. What on earth did you do?”

“Wraith…?”

“Ummm… How on earth did this happen? A Demon’s soul? How?”

“What?”

A word I couldn’t miss.

‘Demon?’

Everyone, including me, stared at Granshel with wide eyes.

“There’s a Demon’s soul among the attached wraiths.”

A Demon’s soul has attached itself? Understanding didn’t come just from hearing the explanation. It only became more complicated. Catch a Demon, control the Demon’s soul, and then attach it to the Agent’s body? Who? And why?

I hurriedly asked.

“Wait, just a minute. So, what happens?”

Granshel, equally flustered, didn’t ramble and answered directly.

“They die.”

They die.

---

It was a one-sided notice.

The time given to Pawin and Shuriel was a mere month or so. In reality, it was no different from a death sentence.

When and where the curse was placed didn’t matter. How to undo it was more important.

However, Granshel flatly stated that even that was impossible.

There are several ways to shake off a wraith, but usually, it’s common to help them achieve enlightenment. The basic premise of enlightenment is empathy. The experiences in life, the levels they’ve built up. You must understand all the emotions felt right before death.

That was the problem.

The wraiths attached to these two had nothing but pain. To borrow Granshel’s words, it was the pain of souls being crushed, ground, eaten away, fragmented, torn apart, and burned. She concluded by saying that her expression was too poor to express it any other way.

To maintain form while inflicting such pain on a soul. If the bastard who committed this insane act was human, then that person was no different from a Demon.

“Should I get tortured or something?”

Shuriel chuckled self-deprecatingly.

Torn apart and burned, what? Empathize with that? You can never empathize with this kind of resentment without experiencing it yourself. It was practically the same as telling them to die.

“….”

Pawin had been silent since earlier.

She was just blankly staring at the ‘Stigmata of Dullness’ engraved on her arm. The Stigmata that shone with pain whenever she strayed down the wrong path.

-Why didn’t it shine? If it had shone before the curse was placed, she could have avoided the crisis. But she stubbornly denied that the God would do that, thinking there must be a reason. Pawin silently adhered to her own faith in God.

I was the only one who was okay.

“…Are you alright?”

“The Agent selection will be held soon, how can I be alright? If we don’t find a solution before this news gets out, we’ll be replaced immediately.”

“Surely they won’t cut you just because you’re cursed?”

“…Agents are expendable. Those guys would do it and still have some left over.”

“Don’t say things like that. There’s definitely a way to solve it. We have plenty of time, right?”

The two were seriously down after hearing about dying.

I emotionlessly comforted them, saying that wouldn’t happen.

“Haa….”

Was she annoyed by my nonchalant expression? Shuriel let out an annoyed sigh.

Or maybe he was frustrated with me for not grasping the situation.

He didn’t hide his feelings and expressed his frustration in a heavier tone than usual.

“Yujin.”

“….”

“…Do you also know how to handle Necromancy?”

Pawin’s eyebrows twitched at Shuriel’s words.

I ignore it.

I quietly waited for the next words.

“Answer me.”

“…If it’s a few things.”

“Even eliminating souls?”

“….”

Necromancy….

The Empire defines all magic that deals with creating life and handling souls as Necromancy.

For example-the Crimson Maw I created before.

An unidentified monster that drags people into a pool of blood and tears them apart. I didn’t use human souls, so it was unstable, but I created life with magic. It was an act that the Holy Empire abhorred, defying the laws of nature. Well… if you expand the scope extremely, reconstruction is also included in Necromancy.

However, I’ve never used souls as ‘materials’, let alone transferring minds or becoming souls themselves.

“Shuriel Ruchellini.”

-Theoretically, it’s possible. Just as I opened my mouth to say that.

“If you’re going to walk the same path as those heretics to live, I will commit suicide in this spot.”

Pawin glared fiercely at Shuriel as she spoke.

“What?”

“I’m saying I’d rather die than break the laws set by God and live. I can’t give up paradise because I’m afraid of immediate death.”

“Paradise? Ha. Sorry, but I don’t like God that much.”

Shuriel replied, grinding his teeth.

“You’re making heretical remarks.”

Not to be outdone, Inquisitor Pawin growled, gripping her mace.

She was forced to become an Agent at a young age and had painful stigmata engraved all over her body, but her faith in God was genuine. No, she had no choice but to believe. If there was no God, all this sacrifice would have been in vain. The only reason she didn’t go crazy amidst the pain of the stigmata and the cold gazes of her family was because she believed in God.

“Why do you follow him so much?”

“It’s natural to follow God.”

“Follow God? Ha! That’s a ridiculous thing to say. Remember your actions so far. Who did you follow?”

And at the same time, they answer.

“God.”

“Family.”

Family.

Pawin bristles at those words. Pajik, a blood vessel stands out on her forehead. The hand gripping the mace tightens. An atmosphere that seems like she’ll swing it at any moment. But Shuriel didn’t move a single step. The shoulders that had been raised high at that cold expression lowered.

The two’s staring contest continued for a long time. Eventually, the moment the heated atmosphere found its orbit, reason came between them.

“You’re… the worst.”

“I know. Are you done being angry?”

“My opinion hasn’t changed.”

“Do you think I’m crazy enough to use Necromancy? Asking Yujin was… well. I can’t deny that I was tempted. I’ve never had a deep faith to begin with. But I want you to keep this in mind.”

“…If it’s worth listening to.”

Words I really want to say.

Shuriel looked at Pawin with a complicated expression. A frustrating woman who blames everything on herself. A pitiful woman who only endures unreasonable resentment.

The words that had been building up in his throat finally burst out.

“Live for God, but don’t become a slave. I have nothing more to say. You have your own life too. Now let’s look for realistic solutions.”

There was no elaboration. Shuriel turned his head coldly and turned his attention to me.

I casually ignored Shuriel’s gaze and watched Pawin’s condition. A trembling hand, a lengthening breath. -Confusion. It’s confusion. Confusion that completely changes a person has come. I, who have experienced more changes than anyone else, could tell.

Normally, she would have ignored Shuriel for being bad, but people become honest in the face of death. Pawin had already fallen into a trap. I can’t ignore it. The emotions that have arisen now will never be erased in her lifetime. She will somehow bring about change.

As expected, he has a knack for shaking people’s hearts. I chuckled and turned my gaze to Shuriel.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Are you perhaps going to preach to me too?”

“There’s no time to joke around. Tell me without hiding it.”

Tsk. He’s quick-witted as always.

The reason I silently watched the two’s conversation and acted so listlessly in the face of the serious issue of death was all planned. No, there is a plan. I don’t know if it will work out well. Honestly, there’s also desire mixed in.

“Um….”

“Hurry.”

“Don’t rush me. I’m also thinking about it.”

What I’m about to do now will break the things I’ve banned myself from.

Making copies of Ego, making spare bodies, not getting used to dying, etc… That’s what I say, but it was a promise to myself not to raise the threshold. If even death becomes boring, there’s really no answer. I could become a living corpse. Recently, I’ve been ending it relatively softly with limb amputation… but I’m starting to get tired of that too.

“If a wraith is to achieve enlightenment… you said you have to empathize with everything they experienced in life, right?”

“….”

“Prepare a mental link. It would be good to go back to the Black Magic Tower and get some help from Granshel too. I can’t see other people’s souls.”

Wraiths that have been crushed, ground, eaten away, fragmented, torn apart, and burned?

“Let’s just help them achieve enlightenment.”