The Sacred Flame and a Decadent Master

“So, you still couldn’t bring yourself to let go of her, could you?” Eric asked, his voice carrying through the flickering firelight.The golden-haired youth, whose beauty rivaled that of a young maiden, approached, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“…She doesn’t have much time left,” Anto murmured slowly. “I can still wait a few years before I go.”

“Heh heh, generally speaking, there are only two reasons to drink,” Eric began, leaning back in his chair. “To celebrate a victory, or to drown one’s sorrows.”

“…Cough, cough.” Anto cleared his throat twice, the white-haired elder swaying slightly in his chair. “Good cough, it’ll warm you up. But you don’t usually drink hard liquor, do you?”

“Tch…” Anto muttered, settling onto a nearby seat. The gentle, almost maiden-like demeanor he had moments ago vanished, replaced by a youth whose weariness was impossible to conceal.

“…Tell me about him. How do you all speak of him?”

“What’s wrong? Are you already preparing to forge your own path forward? Compared to such a person, wasn’t your dream to become an alchemist? Also, the fire in the stove is about to die out.”

“If not for this appearance, and if not for *that*,” Anto mused, “I would gladly become an alchemist.”Dressed in a simple shirt, he extended a slender hand, unnaturally pale for a boy. His gaze fixed on the dry wood in the hearth as he effortlessly snapped his fingers in its direction.

“Snap.” In an instant, the hearth fire ignited with a sudden burst of flame, yet this was no ordinary crimson fire; it was a blaze that shone with an infinite, pure white light.

“Although I’ve witnessed it countless times, each time I see it, I can only marvel,” Eric commented. “It’s truly beautiful.”

“It’s merely fire,” Anto dismissed, reclining on a nearby sofa. “Hillevi never wanted me to display this. Every time she caught me, I’d get a harsh beating and be thrown outside to fend for myself.”

“Because this is a symbol of *that*,” Eric explained slowly. “The Sacred Flame (TL Note: A mythical, pure white fire said to be inextinguishable and a symbol of divine mission), a legendary fire of heaven that never dies, a phenomenon that cannot be analyzed by demonic arts and can only be classified as a miracle. As they say, it is a symbol granted only to righteous individuals of unwavering faith, those entrusted with a divine mission.”

“Do I look like a person of faith? Am I righteous? I just had someone killed today, using another’s hand.” Anto lifted his head. Eric observed the playful, almost mocking expression on the angel-faced youth, and shook his head.

“Those words should be spoken to the priests in the city. I am not some listening post for your little secrets. Can I offer you comfort? You possess the face of an angel, Anto, yet you are no angel yourself.”

“Am I a demon, then?” Anto asked. Eric tilted his head. “No, you are merely a person, a young man.”

“Heh, nonsense,” Anto scoffed, settling back into his seat with a sigh.

“So, you still haven’t answered my question. You must despise him fiercely, regardless of anything else, right?”

“Well, sort of. Yes, in most cases, I truly detest him. After all, for those of us who suffered, he was the instigator, wasn’t he? He was a villain to us, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he was an evil person. While current propaganda paints him as a tyrannical dictator responsible for genocide, that’s only because we won, and quite naturally so. History, you see, is written by the victors. What he was truly like, I never saw for myself, but I do know that thanks to him, I spent most of my life evading pursuit. Perhaps he had his reasons for what he did, but thankfully, he’s already gone to hell, so it hardly matters anymore.” Eric spoke with a wry amusement.

“You don’t need to dwell on him too much either.”

“Is that so?” Anto replied, finishing the remaining wine. Eric continued, “What do you plan to do after Hillevi is gone? You must understand why she doesn’t want you to display this in public. The world is in chaos right now, and so are the various religious factions. Some wish for you to live, but many more desire your death. Especially my own kind; they certainly don’t want another individual wielding the Sacred Flame to conduct a grand inquisition across the continent.”

“Then you could just expose me,” Anto offered lightly. “Perhaps then you’d be considered a great hero among your kind.”

“Hero? That’s utter bullshit,” Eric spat, an expletive escaping his lips (TL Note: A Chinese euphemism for swearing or cursing profusely). “The Otherworld Travelers come from disparate places. Past hardships united them against the natives, but they were never a cohesive group, even with the council’s existence. Differing opinions are perfectly normal. I have no interest in such things; this group has never given me a sense of belonging. Rather than being stuck in some flashy office, rotting away amidst stacks of books, I prefer to rot in this moldy shack, sipping my favorite cider that others bring me.”

“Is there a difference?”

“A sense of belonging,” Eric replied with a smile. Anto couldn’t help but add:

“Or perhaps merely the laziness of rotting away in the soil.”

“In the end, everyone eventually rots in the earth. As for me, I ask for nothing but to finally rest upon the soil I deeply love. Whether the people above ground love me, or how many will feign sorrow and send flowers when I’m buried, that’s no longer my concern.” Eric said, hunching further into himself. According to Eric, he was something of an outcast even among the Otherworld Travelers. Years of life had long disabused him of the notion, held by many arrogant Transmigrators, that he could create a new world on this continent with knowledge and methods from his original world. His era of struggle had passed. The old mage who remained here now was simply a decadent old man: fond of drink, prone to boasting, cynical and sharp-tongued, yet unwilling to even step outside for some sun on a bright day.

Yet, this man was his teacher. Anto tilted his head, pondering. Was he to feel unfortunate, or was it Eric who was truly unfortunate? Or perhaps, to put it simply, they were both equally unfortunate.

‘Do ‘gods’ truly exist in this world?’ Anto couldn’t help but wonder. ‘Do deities who answer prayers truly exist? If they do, how could they allow the world to become such a mess? Or perhaps, they are merely indifferent, uncaring?’

Still, he wasn’t a devout believer himself, so it was perfectly normal for his prayers to go unanswered. But then, in a sudden moment, he froze. The wine glass in his hand slipped, crashing to the floor, and an instant of sharp pain shot through the back of his hand. Simultaneously, in his ears—

“Ugh…” A cacophony of jumbled sounds swept over him in an instant, causing him to drop to his knees. Seeing this, Eric suddenly sprang from his chair.

“Is there movement?”

“Shouldn’t you be… concerned about me at a time like this?” Anto asked, but Eric was already moving towards the other side of the room.

“Something’s coming. What is it?”

“Hillevi’s barrier is weakening… the dark entities lingering at the border are beginning to approach.” At that moment, Anto moved to the other side.

“Master, go notify the village.”

“Is this the third time this month…” Eric muttered, glancing at the calendar. “It’s becoming increasingly common.”

“They know the ‘Witch’ can no longer maintain the border barrier. Those dark creatures, remnants from the Demon Realm War, have been roaming near the human frontier.” Anto stepped out, his gaze sweeping towards the border watchtower, where firelight and wolf smoke were already rising.

“The border guards should be able to hold them back, though.”

“No, this time is different.” Anto stared at his hand, now crisscrossed with faint red veins. “The sensation is far stronger than before. Something significant is approaching… I must go.”

“Understood, but remember the rules.”

“Understood,” the youth affirmed with a nod. He strode out of the forest dwelling, heading towards the stables on the other side, and led out a white horse.

“Hey, hey! That’s *my* white horse! Don’t get him killed!” Eric called out. “How am I supposed to get to the village?”

“Master, I think you could use some exercise,” Anto said with a laugh, mounting the horse and galloping towards the other side. Eric remained standing, shaking his head in resignation.

“What an ungrateful disciple! He has no respect for elders or care for the young! He could at least leave me a handcart!”