Chapter 43: Ashes (1)

Consciousness returned to me through a haze.

I was standing in a blank, empty space.

I looked around. Nothing.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone.

And the moment I realized that a silhouette flickered in the corner of my eye.

Not just a person. Other things began to materialize around him.

A laboratory table lined with reagents, towering bookshelves crammed with hefty tomes, a workbench stacked with rare metals—countless objects, all appearing out of nowhere.

And at the center of it all stood a man.

A tall, thin man with glasses.

His wavy, dark brown hair hung over sunken eyes, and his high cheekbones lent his face a severe edge. His pale skin suggested long isolation from sunlight. His expression was solemn, calm. With movements precise as a machine, he was pouring the contents of two test tubes into a flask, his eyes fixed intently on the graduated markings.

It was my first time seeing him—yet somehow, I knew exactly who he was.

I wanted to speak, but couldn’t form words. I could only stand there, watching him conduct his experiments in silence.

After a long time—

“…Why?” I asked in the end.

Why did you choose madness?

Why couldn’t you endure?

Why did you cause so much death?

Why did you fall so far?

“…”

“…”

“…”

I didn’t expect an answer.

And yet—

“You’ll understand one day,” the man said.

His voice was as calm as his expression. It bore no resemblance to the grotesque creature he had become.

“…I’ll understand?”

“This world is too cruel to those with talent. To me. To you.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’ll understand. You carry the same scent I do.”

“I’m not like you!”

“Let’s hope so.”

“…”

The conversation ended there.

He resumed his work, and I kept watching.

I don’t know how long it had passed, but eventually, his hands stopped. He put down the reagents and odd instruments, scribbled a few notes in a journal, and then looked at me—long and deep.

And then he turned and walked away.

The Grand Alchemist, Ian Campbell, vanished forever from that blank space.

***

When I woke, it was already noon.

How did I know it was noon?

Because of the sunlight.

Bright but gentle, it filtered through a hole in the ceiling and struck my face, just a little dazzling, but warm.

…Wait.

Sunlight?

I snapped my eyes open and tried to sit up—bones cracking and popping all over, muscles sore enough to make me want to scream, my left arm stiff beyond belief. But none of that mattered. I tumbled off the bed and staggered toward the window.

The scene outside nearly made me doubt my own eyes.

It was the aftermath of a fire.

Ash, rubble, collapsed walls, charred trees.

But everything was bathed in a warm, golden hue.

This was sunlight at high noon.

Ever since arriving in this mist-shrouded world, this was the first time I’d seen sunlight so clearly.

Looking up, I saw the sky—deep blue with drifting white clouds. Most of the trees had been burned away, so nothing blocked the view. The sun stood high overhead, just as it would back on Earth. A familiar sight, yes, but in this moment, it made me want to cry.

“The mist scattered. From the instant you slew Ian, it all vanished from this region.”

“!?”

The hoarse and aged voice behind me startled me. I turned around and saw Chieftain Lund.

He looked ten years older than before. His face was marked with fresh scars, and his once white hair had been burned away. He was clearly in poor physical condition, yet he looked more spirited than ever. Honestly, I’d thought he was a goner.

“Chieftain? Is that really you?”

“Who else would it be? You’ve finally woken, Lord Yuhong.”

“I thought you…”

“I nearly died, too. But thanks to you—if the toxic mist had lingered any longer, if the Mist King had lived just a little more, I’d be dead by now.”

“Uh… ah… well… it’s good you’re alive.”

It all felt unreal. I shook my head hard, trying to clear it.

“When you say the mist is gone, you mean…?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. As you can see, the mist that blanketed this place for over a decade is finally gone.”

The chieftain’s face brimmed with awe and emotion. Tears welled in his eyes, filled with unfiltered gratitude.

“But the fire…”

“…”

A shadow crossed his face. He shook his head.

“There’s no need to worry anymore. A powerful wind came through and swept everything away—mist, flames, fog fiends, all of it.”

“But your village…”

“As long as the people survive, we can rebuild any time. Besides, we can finally return to the town.”

“But your people… the rotted-face people…”

“…”

He could no longer hide his sorrow. Tears streamed down, soaking into his now-sparse beard.

“Don’t tell me!?”

“No, no… the younger ones, the children and women—most of them survived. Even nearly half the able-bodied men made it. All thanks to you.”

“And the others?”

“They died bravely. Every one of them was prepared from the start. It was their own decision.”

“And the others?”

“You mean the other divine envoys?”

“Of course.”

“Lady Felice is alive. She suffered the least injuries. Lord Mizan was lucky too—just minor wounds from the fire, and the others pulled him out in time.”

“And Booker?”

“Just before you woke, Lord Booker finally pulled through. Turns out, he’s sturdier than he looks.”

“…”

Felice, Mizan, Booker—they all survived.

Which meant, Jelena…

“Lady Jelena… she faced the Mist King directly. There was nothing we could do. I’m sorry.”

“…”

My mouth went dry. The joy of seeing blue skies vanished instantly. The weight of regret pressed down on me again. In the end, this was my failure to judge the situation correctly. If I’d found Ian sooner… if I’d waited for him in the forest from the start… if I’d just used the Lustrous Core as a weapon right away… I could have saved more people.

I should’ve thought it through.

I should’ve protected them.

I should’ve—

“Chieftain, I—”

But he raised a hand, cutting me off.

“For ten years… we’ve lived beneath a sky choked with mist, locked in a cage walled by fog. We’ve clung to life in poisonous air. Yes, we’ve suffered terrible losses. We’ve paid dearly. More than half our warriors have gone to the underworld, and that wounds me, but…”

Though tears streamed down his face, he still smiled.

“Honestly, the moment I saw this clear blue sky, the moment my skin felt sunlight again, I thought, all the suffering—none of it mattered anymore.”

“…”

“Thank you. You’ve done more than enough. Truly… thank you.”

“No, I… I could’ve saved more—”

“You’ve already saved so many. Thank you… thank you… Forgive me… an old man like me… forgive me, I don’t know what else to say but ‘thank you.’”

By then, he could no longer hold back his sobs.

“It was the fog fiends who took our people. You defeated them. You are a hero, a true hero. No words can express our gratitude. So please, don’t blame yourself.”

“Please don’t blame yourself,”—the chieftain repeated again and again.

Don’t blame myself.

That’s impossible, isn’t it?

I know guilt serves no purpose now, but the rot in my chest continues to gnaw at my heart.

A hero?

Do I deserve that title?

The answer is probably: No.

Once, I yearned to be like the heroes of legends. Not the ones surrounded by comrades, but the lone heroes who walk the dark alone, save everyone through sheer will, expecting no reward or praise.

Foolish, maybe. But romantic, too.

If I didn’t drag others into my fights, then no one would die because of me. Wouldn’t it be ideal if I could be that kind of hero every time?

As I stumbled forward in a daze, my foot caught on something.

I looked down and saw a caterpillar.

No, not a caterpillar—a person, bundled up like one in blankets.

Felice’s head peeked out from the top, her long hair trailing across the floor. Eyes closed, sleeping soundly. Her face, in rest, was so serene, so beautiful, that for a moment, I forgot all my gloom.

“She’s…?”

“Lady Felice saved many in the fire. And after you collapsed from defeating the Mist King, she’s been nursing you, changing your clothes, applying medicine, wiping you down. If not for her, you wouldn’t have recovered this quickly.”

“I owe her, then.”

I gazed at her sleeping face for a long while.

Just that was enough to calm the storm in my heart.

Strange, isn’t it?

The chieftain gently patted my shoulder.

“This might sound presumptuous coming from me, but I’ve lived for decades, and there’s only one truth I’ve come to believe, one that holds up anywhere.”

“What is it?”

“So long as you keep living, good things will come your way.”

“Heh. I hope so.”