Chapter 113: Let Us Begin Our Final Journey
The image in the light screen shifted.
From a dim alley, after winding through several turns and evading the handmaidens on duty… they finally arrived at the grand and magnificent palace.
They ran side by side through the palace’s back entrance and went upstairs together.
A few minutes later, accompanied by Rast’s gentle goodnight, the lights in the bedroom window dimmed.
And with the soul-bound recipient of the image-transmitting crystal—Akxia, or rather, Helen, the Queen of the Underworld in the Sixth Era—returning to her palace…
The image on the light screen once again fell into silence.
It returned to Helen’s unchanging, wave-less daily life that had remained the same for decades.
The playback speed of the footage was once again accelerated, from normal speed back to the several-times speed used earlier.
This monotonous palace routine had already played out countless times on the light screen… even now, upon rewatching it, the Dean Silver couldn’t help but yawn repeatedly.
It had even grown so bored that it wandered aimlessly around the Hall of the Arcane Tower, spinning in circles chasing its own tail, sometimes even play-fighting with its shadow.
It looked just like a silly and adorable cat.
However, on the other side of the hall—
Ophelia’s expression was completely different from the Dean Silver’s.
Though she had also grown tired of such dull content earlier… now, as she watched the scene in the light screen, a glint of interest emerged in her wine-red eyes.
“Rast…”
Previously, this name had only been mentioned by Ophelia in a careless tone.
But now, as the young princess uttered the name, there was an inexplicable weight in her voice.
No longer just a “classmate of Big Sis,” or “a possible future brother-in-law”—labels that only held meaning due to his association with Shiltina.
Now, he had drawn the attention of the Empire’s little swan purely by his own identity.
“Then let me see.”
“You, who made Big Sis do something even I could never persuade her to change…”
“Do you truly hold the weight to match it?”
Ophelia’s words were soft, like she was speaking to herself, and only a snow-white ermine heard her.
Yet, when they fell into the Dean Silver’s ears, they brought a slight chill to her heart, and she suddenly lost interest in playing boxing with her tail.
“What exactly is going on inside Little Tina’s little sister’s head?”
A hint of suspicion flickered in the beastly eyes of the Dean Silver.
Although within the Imperial Capital—whether among royalty or nobility—everyone spoke of Ophelia as “the Empire’s little swan,” “the flawless princess,” and “His Majesty Allen’s most perfect heir,” with endless praise.
But as the greatest victim of Ophelia’s claws, the Dean Silver knew all too well the hidden side behind that pure and noble facade of the little princess.
Not only was she a white lotus turned black inside, but she was also a complete siscon… and not just in the sense of deep sisterly love, but something slightly twisted.
That previous line—“To stop Big Sis from being cheated on, I must eliminate all the sneaky cats first”—though said jokingly, was far from a mere jest.
And now, Ophelia had actually shown interest in Rast himself…
That was a truly disturbing thought. So disturbing, in fact, that even the Dean Silver dared not think any further.
She feared someone might silence the ermine to keep it quiet.
…
Inside the palace, in a room designated for the attendants.
The candlelight flickered, illuminating Rast’s eyes.
He sat at the desk, calmly writing something with a fountain pen.
Each stroke of his angular characters was copied onto the paper with precision, as neat as printed type.
Beside the desk lay an old book spread open.
Occasionally, Rast would turn a page before continuing to write.
On a bookshelf in the corner of the room, over a thousand pages of such handwritten manuscripts were already stacked, with many compiled into volumes.
Suddenly, Rast’s fingers paused, the pen ceasing its movement.
He seemed to sense something and lifted his head, gazing out the window at the night sky shrouded in darkness.
In the next moment, a crimson beam streaked across the sky.
It came from the far edge of the horizon, piercing through the solidified dusk outside the palace in an instant…
Then stopped right before Rast.
The light revealed its true form—a radiant rainbow bird, glowing as though it had been forged from the light of the sun.
The instant it perched on Rast’s fingertips, the brilliant bird ignited in silence, and within the fire appeared a roll of illusory letter paper.
【Traces of the “Gravekeeper” legend found. Recovery of the Reaper’s relic will commence in no less than seven days.】
【The “Lost Paradise” plan must be initiated before then.】
【Sisel Balsat】
After Rast finished reading, the moment his gaze left the phantom letter, it too vanished into silent flame.
It was a fiery blaze like the midday sun, yet it didn’t harm Rast in the slightest, leaving behind only a pure warmth akin to sunlight.
Moments later, the letter became nothing more than solar embers, transforming into countless particles of light that drifted into the night sky.
Without a doubt, this secret letter came from the current leader of the Shoreguards—Sisel.
Only a “Sun”-sequence high-ranking legend like him could deliver confidential intelligence across such vast distances, from the Watchtower to the Paradise…
And even bypass the solidified dusk—Helen’s domain as Queen of the Underworld—and send the message directly to Rast without anyone noticing.
Truly worthy of being the only confirmed human legend in this era.
However…
According to Leader Sisel—
The “Gravekeepers.”
This hidden organization mentioned by Sisel, shrouded in secrecy and said to have witnessed the rise and fall of multiple era-level civilizations…
The first time it revealed itself in the Sixth Era, it had already dispatched a legendary-level entity.
Unlike Sisel—who was the undisputed leader of the Shoreguards for hundreds of years and the organization’s only legendary figure, standing at the apex of this era’s transcendent beings…
The Gravekeepers’ legend was merely the tip of the iceberg of a group that spanned multiple eras.
If they sent a legend just to test the waters… then what level would the leader or founder of the Gravekeepers be?
Eighth-tier? Ninth-tier?
A demigod? An angel?
Or perhaps… a true god?
They had witnessed the birth and collapse of multiple era civilizations.
So, did that mean the Gravekeepers might have transcended the Sixth Era and still exist in the current time?
Moreover, being one of the only two things Rast knew to have spanned multiple eras—
Could there be some elusive and mysterious connection between the “Nightworld” and the “Gravekeepers”?
Whoosh—
Rast watched the sunlit fragments drifting from his fingers, slowly adjusted his breathing, and let out a long breath.
These matters were of such magnitude that they remained far too distant from him at present.
Overthinking them served no real purpose and only wasted time.
At this moment, all he could do was focus on the “Lost Paradise” plan before him… the only opportunity to approach the Gravekeepers and glimpse their true form hidden in the fog of history.
Rast collected himself and sat back down at the wooden desk.
Then, by the candlelight still flickering in the room, he once again picked up the pen and wrote a few lines.
After completing everything, Rast rang the bell in the room, summoning one of the palace’s handmaidens.
He walked over to the bookshelf in the corner and casually ran his fingers across the volumes that had already been compiled.
“Please deliver these books to Her Majesty the Queen, as a gift.”
As someone trusted—one could even say favored—by Her Majesty Helen, Rast naturally held a position higher than the average servant, so asking for small favors wasn’t unusual.
Besides, even if one set aside his status as a royal confidant… Rast was flawless in appearance and possessed a gentle temperament. His relationships with the other maids were likewise well-managed.
Although his closeness to Her Majesty made them wary of harboring improper thoughts about him…
Emotionally and rationally, they had no reason to refuse the young man’s request.
“Understood.”
“Mr. Rast, please rest assured and leave it to me.”
The maid nodded respectfully, picked up the newly compiled books, and quietly left.
…
Between the thrones.
A girl leaned back on the throne, her ice-blue hair cascading down, surrounded by the frozen dusk.
She munched on fruit and flipped through a book on her knees, just like she had done countless times before in her repetitive life.
Only, for some reason—
Although this had long become a familiar and routine part of her life…
At this moment, every movement Helen made carried a hint of lethargy.
Ever since the last time she went out with the boy—what he called a “date”—Rast had taken leave from most of his previous duties as her personal attendant, letting the other maids take over.
Aside from occasionally borrowing some old fairy tale books from her, he spent most of his days locked in his room.
The handmaidens suspected that Rast’s isolation might be due to illness…
As he had never received Her Majesty’s blessing, he could not possess the same immortal life as the handmaidens, and would still age, fall ill, and die like an ordinary human.
When such speculation reached Her Majesty’s ears, it deepened her feelings of guilt.
The other maids knew nothing, but Helen herself understood… Rast had started staying in his room only after that outing with her.
Perhaps it was her own whim and playful nature during that date that caused him to fall ill.
Helen’s gaze involuntarily drifted outside the palace, toward the hills cloaked in dense forest on the outskirts of the royal city.
That scenery was strikingly similar to the ending of “Chronicles of the Silver Wings.”
It was also the place Rast had promised to take her to next week—at the end of their last date.
After their last outing, she had kept thinking about that place, as well as their promise.
But if going out with her meant making Rast ill… Helen would rather suppress her longing and restrain her willfulness.
She picked up a bunch of grapes from the fruit tray at her side and reached for something else.
But then, her pale and slender hand froze in midair—
This was a fruit tray prepared by the other maids, and naturally lacked the thoughtful toothpick Rast would have included.
They were all minor details she had long grown used to and never noticed before.
But now that Rast was no longer her personal attendant, every little detail of daily life reminded Helen of his absence—
Leaving her heart hollow and filled with a sense of loss.
Behind the throne, the maids who had replaced Rast exchanged glances, each seeing helplessness in the other’s eyes.
They could all sense Her Majesty’s melancholy these days… often distracted and dazed, spending most of her time gazing toward the attendants’ quarters.
They wished to ease her worries, yet could not pinpoint the exact cause.
Or rather, even if they knew the reason, they were powerless to help.
“Your Majesty.”
“Mr. Rast entrusted me with this gift for you.”
The moment the new maid finished speaking, she saw Her Majesty—who was usually lazy and aloof—suddenly rise from her throne.
Joy sparkled in her deep violet eyes.
Helen walked briskly to her, gently accepted the stack of compiled manuscripts from the nervous maid.
Her ice-blue hair danced in the dusk, and the very first thing she saw was a volume of “Chronicles of the Silver Wings.”
But unlike the old, worn-out version she knew, this one was clearly newly compiled—its pages smooth and pristine.
She eagerly flipped open the new edition of “Chronicles of the Silver Wings.”
【Your Majesty, your fairy tale books have been read too many times, and many pages are worn or missing.】
【But those books, relics from the Golden Age before the Cataclysm… are too old to be reprinted.】
【These handwritten copies are a gift I’ve prepared for you during this time. I hope Your Majesty will not be displeased.】
The dedication on the front page still carried a faint warmth from the boy’s ink.
Helen eagerly opened the fairy tale book.
The stories within were so familiar she could recite them by heart.
But the neatly written characters on the pages were still fresh, the scent of ink lingering faintly.
Her pale and slender fingers gently turned the pages, the soft rustling sound echoing.
This “Chronicles of the Silver Wings,” rewritten by Rast, soon reached its final page.
Then, in the next moment—
Helen’s deep violet eyes widened unconsciously.
Between the final pages of “Chronicles of the Silver Wings,” where the Plague Witch and the knight Lyle reached their happy ending—
A small piece of paper slipped out silently.
On the paper, there were only a few short lines:
【Your Majesty:】
【I wonder if you still remember the promise we made during our date, the one we’ve yet to fulfill.】
【Four days from now, at one o’clock in the afternoon】
【Just like the protagonists of “Chronicles of the Silver Wings,” the knight Lyle and the Plague Witch…】
【Let us begin our final journey.】