Chương 163: 154. Balcony talk

I tried moving my mana and noticed it flowed much more smoothly—not at peak, but better than the previous day. Then, slowly and delicately, I stepped over the sleeping people. While moving away from my spot, I heard something right next to me. Looking to the side, I noticed it was Ophelia. She was murmuring under her breath. Only after I reached the adjacent room where the stairs were did I realize what she was doing. She was praying.

Not meditating over the power granted or spells, but actually praying to communicate with her god. The realization gave me pause. Actual prayer for comfort felt strange to me, but I didn't exactly discourage it. Her deity might as well be listening. I smiled at the newfound faith of my apprentice and began stretching to check my body for injuries. A lot had healed, but the overall exhaustion must have slowed my regeneration, as I still felt pangs of pain with certain movements.

When I was finally done, I ate some dried meat from the pouch and looked around the room. I was tempted to go down and search through the documents for something useful, but I dropped the idea. The atmosphere was already tense. I didn't need the Church to accuse me further, and, most of all, I had my own thoughts to deal with. Looking around, I noticed a door that led to a small balcony and went to check it out, but was immediately disappointed when it opened onto a wall of the adjacent building.

Most of the windows in front were closed, with a few exceptions revealing empty rooms, dark silhouettes moving around inside, hiding from the light. The place was still bathed in the yellowish glow with no indication of the time of day. When we checked the time before going to rest, everyone's watches still pointed to 8: 08.

I waved to the person on watch, sat by the entrance with my back against the wall, and looked at the wall of the large building that housed the office, my hand touching the scribe's notebook in my pocket. The small thing almost caused a fight, or rather, I almost caused a fight over it. We looked through most of the notebook and could have just given it to the pope to check as a group later. My decision in the moment was a mistake, or at least not the best one. I sighed and pushed the thought aside for now.

It wasn't that important. Instead, my mind naturally wandered to the fight that almost killed me. The memory wasn't as uncomfortable as before, since the list of things that almost killed me had grown rapidly in the past few hours. But it was still on my mind, replaying itself—every mistake to be analyzed—as the uncomfortable feeling of wrongness swelled inside me. I pushed my back harder against the cold stone and sighed, hoping the cooling sensation would also cool my mind.

"I thought someone was deflating balloons here, and it's you," I heard a voice say from the doorway. I turned my head to see Astrid standing over me. She wore an elegant dress with rough animal skins in decorative patches around the waist and shoulders. The clothing was torn slightly above the knees for ease of movement. I had to say, this style suited her better than before. I could also see the oracle looking toward the balcony, making sure not to leave us alone.

"I feel like I'm deflating, so close enough." She smiled and stepped onto the balcony, looking around the silent city. Finally, her eyes fell on the dark silhouettes in the windows, and she turned to me with a light grimace.

"Lovely view."

"Mhm. The darkened windows really bring out the doom and gloom of the place." She nodded wisely to my words and sat down, her back against the railing as she faced me.

"So what's got the heir of the Alhazreds so worked up that he's sitting around sighing loud enough to wake the dead?" I looked at her with raised eyebrows and then swept my gaze over the scenery behind her.

"That's all?" she asked.

"Should there be more?" I answered, which earned me a shrug.

"We have a plan and a safe spot. It's not the worst place to be, all things considered."

"That's overly optimistic."

"Yeah. And I can feel fear. So why are you in a worse state than I am?" Silence blanketed the air between us. I looked at her with a light frown, but she held my gaze without flinching—or so I thought—as her eyes were milky white. Though now that I looked closely, there was something more in them, deep and barely visible. Finally, it was I who broke eye contact as I looked at one of the things standing in the office windows.

"And what brings the apprentice of our only oracle to this place?"

"Whoa, someone's changing the topic."

"Someone's trying not to answer?" This time, she looked away briefly.

"You tell me yours, I tell you mine?" she proposed. I chuckled. The prophecy she must have received before coming here was still at the back of my mind, curiosity killing me. She spent most of the time with the oracle, and the old woman should have sensed something if her apprentice was dead and worn by the creature, but… I couldn't be sure.

"Why tell me?" I asked.

"Aren't you afraid I'm the monster in disguise?" She tilted her head at my words.

"Of all the people here, your psyche is hard to read, let alone mimic, and… I did see you in the vision." That did surprise me a bit. I had a quick decision to make.

'Do I trust her or not?' The apprentice of the oracle would be a dangerous person to wear, and she did spend most of the time tending to the old woman. After a bit of hesitation, I gave another deep sigh and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, at least with what was on my mind. I cast Muffle over the doorway.

"It's about the fight I had before my 'arrival.'""Before you flopped down the stairs like a dead body."

"Yes, before that." I smiled.

"It… bothers me."

"That you lost?" she tilted her head.

"First time?"

"More or less—at least against people at a similar power level. Or at least… I think…"

"Yeah, I get that. I had the same shock some time ago," she said with a chuckle.

"I spent quite some time going over our fight, trying to think of better moves."

"Did you come up with any?"

"Many. Not sure any would work…" I nodded in understanding. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"So you're this bothered because you lost?" she asked, a mixture of confusion and humor on her face, but I shook my head.

"No, I'm bothered because… the more I think about the fight, the more certain I become that the opponent wasn't human." My words gave Astrid pause as she was clearly taken aback.

"Why?"

"Well, that's the thing: the main clue I have is that I lost. Even if I were at my full strength, it would be a tough fight. I'd still bet on myself, of course."

"Of course." She rolled her eyes.

"But they shouldn't have been able to put up that kind of fight, not with pure technique, not without a difference in power."

"So you think they can't be human because they could beat you two-on-one?" she asked, skepticism growing in her voice.

"No, it's—" I tried to explain.

"It's more than that. There are things that don't fit, but I have trouble telling whether they are really as I remember them."

"You hit your head too many times on the stairs?" Astrid asked with a smile, to which I gave her a flat stare.

"No. I want to believe that the enemy wasn't human, and I have my reasons… I think. I can't tell pride from my own instincts. It's like there are two people screaming at me in the same voice, and I'm trying to distinguish which one is which." Astrid looked confused at this. She squinted lightly, trying to find words.

"I know it's not much help, but can't you try to think about it clearly, without emotion? Isn't that your specialty?" I shook my head with a sad smile.

"I just don't feel fear. My mind was never muddled by emotion. You would be surprised by how many things that get in the way of clarity are rooted in fear. Disgust and worry are hollow to me. Fear of failure is nonexistent. A lot of hesitation goes with them, but it's the first time my pride aches like that. And now that there's an emotion getting in the way, I can't tell if I'm lying to myself." Astrid nodded lightly, listening to my words, and once I finished, silence fell over the balcony.

"Okay," she finally said.

"Convince me."

"What?"

"Convince me they weren't human," she said, straightening her back against the railing.

"Did they lack a spark?"

"No. They felt alive, at least from a distance."

"Then were their bodies made of mana?"

"It was flesh." There was a pause as Astrid looked at me with even more skepticism.

"It's not about how their presence felt—it felt human. It's about the moment when I landed a hit." I tilted forward.

"I wanted to kill one of them and retreat. And I kinda did. I managed to pierce the forehead—a surefire kill shot, right? But the wound appeared on the other man. The one in front just stood there with my spell sticking out of his forehead while his brother fell to the floor."

"Dead?"

"I'm not sure…"

"There are ways to pass on wounds, right? Healing—flesh magic?"

"Yes. But that's the problem. There was no magic activation, no fluctuations—I didn't sense anything. A spell transferring a killing blow—that's not easy. But it happened as if I had landed the attack on the other man, not the one in front."

"Soul magic?" Astrid proposed.

"No. I mean, it's possible, but we're talking about really complicated spells. And still—instant activation? With no mana to be felt?" Astrid pondered for a few seconds.

"And you think it's because they were constructs?"

"Demon bodies could explain that. Ifrit would absorb any fire magic with no spells used. It would explain how they matched my casting." Astrid's frown deepened.

"Demons use different casting than we do. Was their—""They cast like humans." Astrid was now looking deeply into my own eyes.

"You know what you are suggesting, right?" she asked.

"Living flesh demons. I know how it sounds."

"Demons can be created only by gods…" she said in a heavy voice.

"I know." We both sat in silence before Astrid finally gave a deep sigh, much like mine before.

"It makes sense."

"It does?" I blinked, like she was the crazy one.

"Not much, but the damage passing you described... I'd consider it beyond just wounded pride." I felt a burden lift off my shoulders. The fight bothered me more than I thought, but the fact that my logical mind was still operational—hurt pride or not—was a reassurance I needed.

"Thanks," I said with a genuine smile.

"Oh wow. And I heard Alhazreds' smiles make children cry and dogs howl. You did hit your head on those stairs."

"Only ninety-nine percent of the time. Sometimes we do look almost human," I said, ignoring the stairs part.

"Well then, I'll consider this a rare sight to pass on to my children." I rolled my eyes at her serious proclamation.

"So I showed you mine…" I said. Her smile morphed into a flat stare.

"Your words, not mine." I shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure I worded it differently," she said with a flat gaze.

"Oh, did you? Must be all that damage from hitting my head on the stairs." We both smiled before her face relaxed into a serious expression.

"Okay. I'll tell you the vision," she said.

"You sure it's not the self-fulfilling type?"

"No, but… I'm at a loss, and I think it's not the type meant entirely for me." I waited in silence. She took a while to gather her thoughts, then described to me what she saw in as much detail as she could. As always, there was a lot of symbolism that I didn't catch, not to mention my presence in the dream. And after hearing it, I was as confused as she was.

"Five horns on each side of the head?" I asked absentmindedly and got a nod in return.

"Any numerology?"

"It depends. Five is usually associated with freedom and adventure. Fifty-five is a master number for change, charisma, but also manipulation. And five plus five is new beginnings and leadership. But I have no idea what to think—not to mention all of those are really, really shallow interpretations," Astrid said with a frown. And I had to agree. Five and five depicted as a crown of horns… not to mention the ominous line the oracle voiced at the end.

"Dead shall walk on borrowed bone," I whispered under my breath, mulling the words over.

"I thought it might be about the servants if it really was a corpse explosion they used. But I have another theory," she said, shifting her body into a more comfortable position.

"In the texts of our tribe, there are descriptions of an undead man and woman. People who died before their flesh expired." A name popped into my head.

"Hollows."

"Yes," she nodded.

"They would fit the pattern, no rotting flesh, no obvious sign of an artificial soul." I went over my knowledge of them. Hollows were mentioned in my books on death magic, but more as an anecdote about soul control than anything.

"But you know how hard they are to create? You need prolonged mental suffering combined with massive mental shock and powerful soul magic to get someone's spark out of their soul while it still sits in the flesh."

"A lot of time and preparation," Astrid agreed.

"It would need to be a plan worked on for a very long time, right?" I winced at her words.

"Yes, but you see the obvious issue."

"It destroys my interpretation of the vision." She was right. Any undead could be described as 'walking on borrowed bone' with a foreign soul construct using the body, although whether that was borrowing with no inhabitant for the flesh was still debatable. But there was one exception, and it was the hollows. They were undead made using the owner's original damaged soul, the only undead type, as far away as possible from the description of 'borrowed bone.'

Before we could ponder any more, one of the D'Arc men walked onto the balcony.

"Come," he said.

"We want to look through the documents." I got up and noticed the people in the adjacent room were slowly rising, getting themselves ready. I also noticed Darius, who was giving me a teasing smile, and Luna, who looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"Trying out the lines from the notebook, eh?" Darius asked with a wide smile.

"You need some blood control tricks, you can always ask," Luna added from next to the dwarf. I ignored them and looked at Ophelia.

"How was the prayer?" I asked my apprentice.

"I prayed for the end of my teacher's loneliness. Very fruitful," she answered with the same deadpan expression, not missing a beat.

"Why do I even bother?" I groaned and dragged myself toward the other room, as we began getting ready to check the documents in the basement.