Whispers in the Snow

We—the Visconti estate—had suffered a crushing defeat in the monster wave.

It was entirely expected, so it came as no surprise. The fact that we had managed to escape the castle alive with this many people was nothing short of a miracle. The same went for my own thread of life, which was far scarcer and more fragile than anyone else’s, yet somehow remained unbroken.

Sigret explained everything that had transpired in a calm, measured voice… though he kept his head turned to hide his face from me while speaking.

I had sustained a critical injury, my abdomen pierced completely through by the severed arm the demon had hurled. That demon had made it out alive.

The remaining forces of Visconti castle had successfully held off the swarming monsters for two full days. Sigret framed it as having ‘held off’ the horde, but to my ears, it sounded like ‘we only managed to endure for two days.’

And then came the third day. Today, right now. We were currently fleeing southward, desperate to outrun the pack of monsters tracking our scent. Our destination was the Ipsent territory. That region was undoubtedly in the thick of its own battles as well. Still, with a literal tail of monsters attached to us, heading toward a place with actual combat-ready forces felt like the right call.

I was in a state where I couldn’t tell if I had resigned myself to fate or achieved some twisted form of enlightenment. Perhaps I simply hadn’t fully processed the reality of the situation yet—fleeing into the freezing wild with a hole in my stomach alongside my ragged retainers. At any rate, my mind felt completely sluggish, and I couldn’t muster any distinct emotion strong enough to pin a name to.

It was just a hollow acceptance. Ah, so that is how it is. We are running away right now, and unless we get incredibly lucky, we are all going to die.

While my mind remained deceptively quiet, questions kept bubbling up to the surface.

Why am I going through all of this? What does this world want from me? What was the reason I became ‘Kaian’—a character destined to die at the age of twenty, right before the roses could even bloom?

The words uttered by that first demon weighed heavily on me as well. ‘You really have changed, haven’t you?’ it had said. And it also said, ‘You are dead.’ What on earth did ‘Priest of the Red Dragon’ even mean? But was there any point in dwelling on these thoughts? I could ponder them for a hundred days, but the answers simply didn’t exist within me.

I didn’t know.

I was just… so incredibly hurt and so thoroughly exhausted.

“Your Highness. Allow me to carry you.”

Sir Jager hoisted me onto his back. I could hear the faint sounds of the others gathering the baggage they had briefly set down and working to obscure our tracks. Burying my face against his shoulder, I closed my eyes.

Throughout the entirety of this life, I have failed, failed, and failed again.

Out of everything I had ever wished for or envisioned, only one single thing had actually been granted.

I don’t want to die.

I want to live.

…

The life I had envisioned was never supposed to be like this. I had no desire to live this way.

I wanted to live happily.

Right now… I think I am miserable.

My stomach has a hole in it, I have lost my castle and my people, and I am in a state where I could drop dead at any given moment, so calling it miserable feels entirely justified. At any rate, it is a life completely detached from my actual desires.

Even so, the thought of wanting to die never crossed my mind.

Even if I had to be miserable, I wanted to live just a little bit longer.

Because I missed them.

If I died without seeing them again, I felt like I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes in peace.

“It hurts terribly, doesn’t it? Please endure it just a little longer.”

Lamierre wiped the edges of my eyes with the sleeve of his garment. What the… am I crying?

“The wound is healing exceptionally well. I was deeply worried about demonic energy seeping into it, but fortunately, it is completely clean.”

I closed my eyes before opening them again. The unshed tears spilled over, trailing down in heavy drops. Instead of using his damp sleeve, Lamierre gently wiped my cheeks with his bare hand, locking his eyes with mine. Seeing his soot-streaked face smiling so tenderly at me was a little… amusing.

Instead of a laugh, a dry cough escaped my throat, and I blinked slowly.

“I am glad I took the time to learn healing magic.”

“…”

“To be honest, while I was learning it, I wondered if I would ever have a reason to use it. I thought a situation like ‘that time’ would never happen twice.”

The tears continued to flow seamlessly. Lamierre meticulously wiped my face, his voice quiet as he spoke.

“Ah, right. You know that dream of mine.”

“Yeah.”

A terribly cracked, pathetic excuse of a voice slipped from my throat.

“You don’t have to answer me. Just listen.”

“Mmhmm…”

Insisting on giving a response anyway, I barely nudged the corners of my lips upward. Lamierre offered a soft smile in return.

“At first, I truly thought it was nothing but a nightmare… but it wasn’t.”

The quiet, gentle manner in which he murmured his words felt incredibly comforting. It felt like a cool breeze on a crisp spring day.

“It was a beautiful dream.”

Sir Jager shifted his posture, hoisting my limp form a bit higher onto his back. I rested my cheek against his shoulder once more and closed my eyes. Tears traced the bridge of my nose and my temples, pooling beneath my cheek. Supporting my resting cheek with his hand, Lamierre slipped something soft beneath it. It was a handkerchief that smelled faintly of dust.

As I lay there silently with my eyes closed, Lamierre placed his hand firmly onto my back. A wave of soothing warmth washed over me. It was a heat distinct from mere body warmth, spreading much wider than the actual surface area of his palm. It was healing magic. It felt as though it were gently cradling the raw wound so it wouldn’t throb.

While continuously pouring his mana into my punctured abdomen, Lamierre spoke of the things he had witnessed in his dream.

Boys running around and chasing a ball on a school playground, crowds of people rushing toward a place where food was piled high, the experience of nodding off repeatedly because one couldn’t fight off drowsiness despite a professor standing right in front of them, and a room hidden away in the furthest corner of the topmost floor of an annex building—a room cluttered with easels, canvases, and picture frames, and the single person who was always sitting there…

“For me, you see.”

I opened my closed eyes. Lamierre was staring intently at me. His hand reached up to brush away the tears that had pooled between my eyes and the bridge of my nose.

“Does it still hurt terribly?”

“…”

“I am sorry for my lack of skill. But it is definitely healing, so…”

I wanted to reach out and grasp Lamierre’s hand, but my completely drained body refused to move an inch.

Suddenly, someone from the trailing group called out to him. “Hey, mage!”

Murmuring another “I am sorry,” Lamierre quickly dashed off toward the voice.

Fleeing was an arduous task. Skirmishes broke out multiple times a day, and casualties mounted with each passing encounter. The only reason we were able to abandon the dead and injured to keep moving forward was not due to the heroic exploits of our brave knights or mages, but rather because of the bizarre behavior of the monsters, who consistently retreated the moment victory was within their grasp.

No one dared to voice it aloud, but every single living soul among us knew the truth. That demon was deliberately playing with us.

Did that reality leave me feeling indignant and furious?

Not at all.

Thanks to that twisted whim, we were gaining another thirty minutes, a few more hours, an entire extra day of life.

Though, admittedly, I was intensely curious about the reason behind it.

“What exactly are they hoping to achieve by doing this?”

Perhaps he had been harboring the exact same thoughts, as Sir Jager voiced the question while tossing a dry branch into the campfire. I shifted my body slightly against the creeping chill rising from the ground, merely lifting my head. Thanks to receiving Lamierre’s constant healing magic throughout our transit on Sir Jager’s back, I was still in excruciating pain, but I had finally regained enough strength to move my limbs and head to some degree.

“Maybe… because they are bored?”

Lamierre let out a faint chuckle at my response. Sigret, who was currently utilizing magic to dry out a damp piece of wood, grumbled in agreement.

“That seems highly probable. Otherwise, there is absolutely no reason for them to act in such a ridiculous manner.”

Tonight marked the fourth night since our crushing defeat and subsequent escape from the castle. The reason we could afford to gather around and light a campfire despite the monsters tailing us was simply because we had not faced a single night raid over the past four days. Realizing the demons had no intention of wiping us all out in one fell swoop, we had desperately ‘indulged’ in a period of rest, and so far, that gamble had paid off reasonably well.

The surroundings were profoundly quiet. Crackle, pop. Aside from the sputtering sound of the damp wood catching fire and the desolate whistling of the wind, nothing else could be heard. The wind carried a faint, metallic stench. It was the smell of the blood belonging to the people we had left behind to ensure our own survival, as well as the distinct musk of the monsters encamped in the distance.

[That is not quite it…]

Sir Jager leaped to his feet instantly, his hand clamping firmly around the hilt of his sword resting beside him. Commander Elindo also unsheathed his blade, stepping forward to block the space ahead of me.

“Who goes there?!”

The deep darkness blanketing the desolate snowfield rippled violently before coalescing into a distinct form. It was a shadow shaped like a four-legged beast, entirely different from the humanoid entity we had encountered previously.

[Sheathe your blades.]

The entity commanded in a perfectly serene voice.

[I have no desire to strip away what has already been granted.]

I reached out toward Lamierre. Grasping my hand firmly, Lamierre carefully assisted me in raising my torso. My torn flesh and internal organs felt as though they twisted violently with every minor movement. I gritted my teeth tightly to suppress any agonizing sounds, but a sharp, ragged gasp of pain escaped me nonetheless. The soothing warmth of healing magic flowed immediately through our joined hands.

“What exactly… did you grant?”

[A day of respite. A day of life.]

“Well, aren’t I just incredibly grateful…”

Even uttering those few words left me completely short of breath. Gathering my faltering form into his arms, Lamierre held me securely. Leaning heavily against his chest, I stared intently at the shadow.

[I am not particularly generous toward those who bare their claws at me.]

“Don’t be like that… give us a break, will you?”

The shadow closely resembled the silhouette of a wolf. Its sheer size… was difficult to gauge accurately since it stood a fair distance away. A compact car? A small hatchback? At any rate, it seemed roughly the size of a small vehicle.

“If you don’t come any closer, we won’t scratch you. Just stay… right there. Just stay put.”

[…]

“It’s not as if we are on the kind of terms… where we should be having a face-to-face chat, right?”

The cheeks I had forced upward to deliver a hollow smile trembled slightly.

[Well, very well.]

I hadn’t wanted to command the two warriors who had drawn their swords to protect me and themselves to stand down. This was a relief.

“Did you come here to ask questions too?”

[You are incapable of answering my question. Priest. Summon the Black Dragon.]

The Black Dragon? Arjen? How on earth am I supposed to summon a dragon that is already dead?

I stared blankly at the demon.

[Did he fail to explain it to you? How thoroughly insidious…]

[Who exactly are you calling insidious?]

“?”

Without me reaching out or even consciously thinking that I required the weapon, Arjen’s bow manifested abruptly in midair and dropped cleanly onto the ground. Staring at the artifact with a thoroughly bewildered expression, Lamierre quickly picked it up and cradled it gently in my arms.

“You?”

‘You do not need to speak aloud. I can read your thoughts.’

“…”

‘I am indeed dead. But I am no ghost.’

If you are dead yet your presence remains in the living world, that is the literal definition of a ghost.

‘No, it is somewhat different… I shall explain that to you later.’

The fact that he had remained perfectly silent all this time while pretending to be a mere bow was incredibly exasperating, but since understanding his motivations wasn’t the most pressing matter right now, I accepted it internally.

[Black Dragon. The reason this human remains alive is because of your intervention, isn’t it?]

‘I did meddle slightly. I felt that if I left him be, his very soul would be shattered into pieces without a trace left behind.’

Through my hazy memories, the image of that mysterious entity who had told me to endure while violently rummaging through my insides flickered back to life. It had been so agonizing that I had actively wished for death right then and there, and Arjen was the one behind it?

‘You did not truly wish to die.’

Well, that much was true. I began to form a silent retort to Arjen’s words before pausing abruptly. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he could read me; he was actively parsing every single thought inside my head.

[No. What I am asking is whether you are the one who warped this human’s destiny.]

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

[There was never a place reserved for this human within Capre’s dream.]

‘What?’

Arjen questioned, his voice laced with clear bewilderment.

[Why is a priest who was abandoned by his own master still drawing breath to this day?]

‘Wait, hold on just a moment. Shut your mouth, shadow.’

Despite Arjen’s clear warning, the demon refused to halt its speech.

[Capre never desired a sacrifice. He promised to bestow everything that was prepared unto us. The very instant Capre gave us his firm confirmation, that existence should have vanished entirely. Yet he stands right before my eyes. Why is that?]

Though I couldn’t comprehend the deeper meaning immediately, I meticulously gathered and memorized the words being spoken, recognizing them as something of monumental importance. A sacrifice, a priest, a promise made to the demons, and ‘Kaian’—an existence that should have vanished but somehow remained.

[My companion who attacked that human has been ‘denied of its very existence’. Black Dragon. I trust you understand exactly what that implies.]

The shadow’s ‘companion’ presumably referred to the humanoid demon that had pierced my stomach before fleeing. Hearing it state in such a mournful tone that the entity had been ‘denied of its existence’ suggested… it was dead. Serves it right.

‘Shadow. Quiet.’

[Why does this world actively protect an existence that its own god cast aside?]

‘Shadow.’

[Did you, within Capre’s dream—]

A sudden, intense burst of flames erupted violently from the snowy ground where the shadow stood. The demon leaped backward nimbly, retreating from the spot.

‘Speak any further, and you die.’

Arjen spoke. The nuance behind his words wasn’t a threat that he would personally murder the entity if it continued. Rather… it felt as though he were simply stating a fundamental, absolute rule of reality. If you swallow cyanide, you die. If you consume over four tons of tomatoes, you die. It carried that exact type of absolute certainty.

[But I must know. O Black Dragon, are you the one who kept that existence alive?]

After a prolonged, heavy silence, Arjen delivered a brief response.

[No.]

Whether it had sustained an injury from the flames that had flared up momentarily, the shadow staggered slightly before dissolving back into the shifting darkness. I idly ran my fingers over Arjen’s bow cradled in my arms, my mind racing.

It wasn’t him?