The Devil’s Sacred Sword (5)
“It seems so.”
Dalen replied, his tone casual, which only made Felber’s eyes sparkle with excitement.
“Incredible! It’s true! I had a feeling you’d reach this point quickly, but you’ve far exceeded my expectations!”
Why is he making such a fuss? Dalen scratched his chin and asked, “Is it really that impressive?”
“Of course it is! Achieving a domain means you’ve proven your capacity to wield greater power. Tommy, how many in our mage tower have achieved a domain?”
“Just you and the tower master, sir.”
The blond young man answered, his hands clasped respectfully. Felber nodded vigorously.
“See? Even in our renowned Elgaia, only two have managed to achieve a domain. It’s not just about intelligence or strength.”
He paused, catching his breath after speaking so passionately, and continued, “Creating a domain that embodies your own essence is something only those who have faced and overcome their past can do.”
“Hmm.”
Dalen stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Overcoming the past,” he mused. He had an inkling of what that meant.
The memory of the cabin on the snowy mountain lingered, a shadow of his former self etched there. Even after ten days, he remembered it vividly—the moment he berated himself for his past life.
Back then, he had shouted against the tide of guilt, “I did it to survive.”
In his previous life as an ordinary office worker, he had sought refuge in games and other escapes to withstand life’s storms. Even now, as a warrior capable of defeating giants, his actions were driven by the same motive.
To survive. And to move forward.
Though his methods and means might not always be justifiable, living in the present was far better than being shackled by past regrets.
This was the path he had walked and would continue to walk.
“Haha, perhaps I brought up an old topic unnecessarily,” the elderly mage chuckled, watching Dalen lost in thought. Dalen snapped back to the present at the sound of his laughter.
Creak.
Felber rose from his chair and slowly walked towards the inner part of the rooftop.
“Anyway, it’s time to answer your question. But first, do you know how to handle a domain?”
“Not at all.”
Dalen shook his head. He knew how to use skills; the knowledge flowed into his mind the moment he acquired them. It was up to him to analyze and master them through practice and training.
But handling a domain was a different story, a concept he only knew from the game’s settings, never having experienced it firsthand.
Felber, hands clasped behind his back, continued walking and asked again, “Do you know where a domain is created?”
“In the realm of illusions, isn’t it?”
This was something he had read in the settings, though he didn’t fully understand it.
Felber nodded and kept walking, with Dalen following at a leisurely pace.
“That’s right. A domain is established in the realm of illusions, a space of infinite possibilities, unlike this continent bound by laws. There, nothing is impossible.”
Crunch.
The soil crumbled underfoot. The rooftop of Elgaia’s mage tower was mostly covered in earth, like a garden left to grow naturally. In winter, the grass was yellowed and dead, and dried leaves piled up, decaying beneath.
Except for a narrow stone path, the rooftop resembled a small forest.
“All mysteries, including magic and arcane arts, defy the laws of this land. They are miracles brought forth by projecting a domain established in the realm of illusions into reality.”
Felber spoke as they passed through sparse trees.
“Achieving a domain means you’ve materialized your own possibility in that infinite space.”
“That’s… difficult to grasp.”
Dalen scratched his head. He had never been fond of abstract concepts like possibility or destiny, even before he ended up in this world. He had always disliked philosophy or theoretical classes in college.
Of course, Felber was a far more experienced teacher than any college professor. After a moment’s thought, he offered a simpler analogy.
“Think of it as conquering a small part of another world.”
“And that world is the realm of illusions?”
“Exactly.”
Dalen chuckled. “So, assuming I’ve conquered a piece of it, how do I use my territory? It’s supposed to be the source of magic and arcane arts, but it feels so different.”
“Seeing it in action is better than a hundred explanations. Tommy, you can go and rest now.”
Felber gestured to Tommy, who had been following them. The young mage, though slightly disappointed, bowed and left the rooftop.
As Dalen watched him go, Felber quickly explained, “Witnessing a domain unfold is too much for him right now. It would only confuse him with unfamiliar magical flows.”
The elder mage spoke as he pressed the dead grass underfoot, forming a circle.
“Watch closely.”
He extended his hands forward, twisting his wrists and fingers to form a circular gesture. Dalen hooked his fingers into his belt and leaned against a leafless tree, observing.
Then.
Whoosh—
A breeze blew.
Dalen’s shaggy hair fluttered gently in the wind. It wasn’t a powerful storm, just a mild breeze.
”······.”
But Dalen, watching the mage intently, could sense it. The air around them was subtly swirling, forming a vortex centered on Felber.
In the eye of that vortex, Felber’s gestures grew increasingly intricate. His focus was on his fingertips, his movements fluid and continuous.
Just as Dalen’s high intelligence struggled to comprehend the patterns, Felber spoke.
“Elle—Memento Elegus.”
Vrrr—
A brief incantation. The air began to tremble.
Instinctively, Dalen heightened his senses. His awareness sharpened, his sixth sense awakening.
His magical sensitivity came alive, detecting the flow of magic in the air.
“As I said, achieving a domain means you’ve established your own space in the realm of illusions.”
And he could feel it. The magic swirling around Felber was distorting the space, or rather, the world itself.
In that distortion, Dalen recalled a recent memory. The battle with the archbishop.
When he had awakened every fiber of his muscles to deliver a thunderous blow.
‘Back then, the flow of magic around me changed too.’
It wasn’t magic he had used. He had simply prepared his body for a single, decisive strike, engraving it in his mind.
Yet in that process, the space around him had warped as if under some immense pressure.
“You’ve realized it, haven’t you?”
Felber’s lips curled into a smile.
“Yes. Bringing the domain established in the realm of illusions into this reality, overlaying the impossible with infinite possibility.”
Ripple—
A wave spread out. The magic emanating from Felber’s intricate gestures seeped into the ground, extending in all directions.
Feeling the ground momentarily undulate, Dalen gripped his hand axe and took a half-step back.
Felber’s eyes glowed golden as he spoke.
“That’s what it means to use a domain.”
Sssshhh—
The ripple surged. Not just magic, but a wave of some concept.
The wave rising from the ground swept over Dalen from his toes to his crown in an instant.
Unlike the destructive force of Dalen’s punch during the battle with the archbishop, Felber’s domain didn’t produce a violent outcome.
Yet Dalen could clearly sense it. Just as his single punch had unleashed a storm of power, reducing the demon’s tentacles to shreds, Felber’s domain was achieving something physically impossible.
“Hoo. Age makes everything more taxing.”
The elder mage patted his shoulder and sat down on the dirt, watching Dalen, who was deep in thought.
With a voice feigning more frailty than he felt, he asked, “So, do you think you can use a domain now?”
“Yes, but I doubt I can use it often.”
“That’s how it is. Powerful arcane arts and spells come with significant limitations. Overcoming those is the essence of warriors’ training and mages’ research.”
“Remember, the power of your domain isn’t limited to just one ability. Keep developing your own unique skills,” Felber advised, and Dalen nodded in agreement.
Now that he had a starting point, he felt confident he could figure things out, whether it meant balancing his abilities or developing new ones.
With that, his purpose for visiting the Tower of Magic was fulfilled. Leaning back against a tree, Dalen suddenly asked, “What is your domain’s power, old man?”
“Mine?” Felber replied, stroking his long brown beard thoughtfully.
Though the ripples of energy that had filled the space had faded, the strange flow of magic around Felber remained palpable. Dalen didn’t know much about Felber’s abilities, as he wasn’t a major character in the game. But since they had crossed paths, it seemed like a good opportunity to learn more.
Felber continued, “I have several abilities, but primarily, I can read the memory of the earth. The ground holds the history of everyone who has walked upon it. Not only can I reflect on the past, but I can also glimpse the near future, albeit vaguely, based on countless memories of the earth.”
Felber’s eyes glinted with a golden hue. Dalen absentmindedly rubbed the head of the axe tucked into his belt and muttered, “A fantasy version of big data, huh.”
“What was that?” Felber asked.
“Nothing,” Dalen replied with a grin. Felber’s explanation had sparked a question in Dalen’s mind—one he had pondered most since arriving in this world. A question that had grown hazy over the past two years, buried deep in his bag as a scribbled note to prevent forgetting.
“May I ask you one more thing?” Dalen asked, sitting down in front of Felber and lowering his voice.
“Who am I?”
The next day, after spending the night at the Tower of Magic, Dalen had a hearty breakfast and set out leisurely around noon. As he approached the central square, he saw a bustling crowd gathered in front of the towering barrier spire.
Lucia stood among them, her nose and ears flushed red from the cold, suggesting she had been waiting since early morning.
“Have you been waiting long?” Dalen asked.
“Oh, no… Ah-choo! No, not at all. Patience and waiting are virtues of a paladin,” Lucia replied, sneezing.
Dalen chuckled. “You could have waited inside.”
“I was going to come get you if you didn’t show up…”
“Do you even know where I stayed?”
Lucia sniffled, her transparent runny nose making her look pitiful. Dalen shook his head and said, “Let’s go inside.”
“Yes, yes—ah-choo!”
The two entered the first floor of the barrier spire. True to the reputation of the Silver District, where everything was taxed, the entrance fee was a hefty ten silver coins.
“Money just keeps slipping away,” Dalen grumbled internally. The weight of his coin pouch had halved the moment he entered the Silver District.
“I’ll need to make a big score in the labyrinth this time,” he thought, considering the many opportunities for profit.
As Dalen scanned his mental list of potential ventures, he found a spot in the crowded hall filled with explorers. After a moment, Lucia, who had paid her entrance fee, cautiously joined him.
“Do we just wait here?” she asked.
“Yes,” Dalen replied.
“Until when…?”
“See that clock over there? The door will open at noon.”
Lucia followed Dalen’s gaze, spotted the clock, and nodded with an “Aha.”
Watching her, Dalen chuckled again, shaking his head. How did this clumsy, inexperienced novice become the legendary paladin?
Despite bathing in the blood of countless monsters and demons, she couldn’t refuse a flower offered by a passing child. Strong yet gentle, sharp yet warm—such was the hero known as Lucia Castachild, the demon slayer.
“Are you not nervous?” Lucia asked, noticing Dalen’s smile.
“Are you?”
“A little.”
A little, she said, though her stiff shoulders and neck suggested otherwise. Instead of pointing it out, Dalen chose a different approach.
“It’s simple. We enter the labyrinth, go to where your friend disappeared, track the signs, and deal with the demon.”
Lucia looked at him incredulously as he ticked off each point on his fingers. “Is it really that simple?”
“It is, as long as you’ve hired me.”
So relax a bit, novice. Dalen added, patting Lucia’s shoulder reassuringly. For Dalen, who needed to change the future, the current situation was not bad at all.
Unlike Reberon Ahakim, who grew alongside the player from the ground up, Lucia Castachild was an NPC who appeared fully formed. Seeing her before she reached her full potential could lead to positive outcomes.
Perhaps he could recruit the elusive demon slayer as an ally. And maybe, in this iteration, she would become even more formidable than she had been on the other side of the screen.
As Dalen pondered this, a familiar voice caught his attention from across the hall.
“Why don’t you believe me? The demon with the holy sword is on the brink of death, I tell you.”
Dalen turned his head. Among the three to four hundred people in the first-floor hall of the barrier spire, he spotted a familiar face.
“It’s that guy from the inn.”
A bald mercenary-turned-explorer in decent armor, the same one who had swung a mace at Lucia, was whispering conspiratorially with another explorer.