Weaving the Past, Present, and Future

"Sir, how do we get down?" Isidore asked, his voice much calmer. After encountering all kinds of strange souls along the way, even Southerner, who had never experienced the Sorrow Mountains' mysterious atmosphere, was beginning to adapt.

Iron sand filled the air, winds swept through the area, and dense fog surrounded them. The gloomy aura swallowed all the starlight and moonlight in the night sky, veiling their vision in an invisible haze.

A wall of suffocating pressure weighed on their hearts. At the edge of their vision, several streaks of black-red bloodlight rose from the blowing sand. They were the spirits of the Black Ember Tribe's most fearsome warriors.

"Don't be nervous..." Kas glanced around. In his wandering spirit state, his thoughts were no longer confined by his flesh, and he could feel countless inspirations flickering through his mind.

The only powers he possessed were twofold—his strong, sturdy arms and Sacred Number Theory.

"Did you bring a knife?"

"I did." Isidore drew a short knife. Barely thirty centimeters long, it was the last thing he had to preserve his dignity.

"Cut your finger. Do as I say, and mark ten dots on the other side of the Soul-Calling Banner...

"First row, one dot; second row, two; third row, three; fourth row, four."

Isidore quickly used his blood to draw a neat isosceles triangle. Puzzled, he said, "You can see dots, lines, planes, and columns all at once... This pattern is fascinating."

"Of course... But for now, let's get out of here, my Soul Caller."

Isidore might not understand how important a Soul Caller was to the Rishiman People, but Kas knew he had to start treating this slave with respect.

The Soul-Calling Banner swayed. The Golden-Branch Giant Antlered Deer on its front drove away the malice that feared the clan's name, while the Sacred Number Theory symbols on its back constructed a vast web of order from sublime thought.

The man and the ghost walked down the mountain. The Soul-Calling Banner and the Mask of the Departed burst into flame without a spark, turned to dust, and disappeared into the swirling iron sand.

They walked with their backs to the moonlight, raising high the banners of mystery and order. No one dared approach...

In the wavering shadows, heavy footsteps echoed through the unseen haze, accompanied by the grating scrape of sharp iron against stone.

A young man carrying a tower shield and battle-axe emerged, his massive, menacing silhouette outlined in the half-concealing shadows.

He wore no helmet. His confident face was lightly bearded, and a flame-shaped brand stretched from his forehead to his temples.

His ghostly body, without feet, stood on the hard rock. Like Kas, he too was a wandering spirit.

"Kas of the Zagwell Clan." The young man was meeting Kas for the first time, yet he sounded utterly certain.

Xipel Blackheart...

Kas likewise recognized the ghost at a glance. He stared at Blackheart's youthful, rugged face, his thoughts growing heavy.

If the place I'm in is only a dream to the Blackheart before me, yet I know clearly that this is real...

Then what about Seneya and Luna, whom I saw in my dream?

As the thought came to him, he suddenly felt an intense choking sensation rise from his lungs to his throat.

Blackheart hefted his battle-axe, raised an eyebrow, and looked at Kas's contorted face with a teasing chuckle.

"Hey, don't look so grim. We all know a glorious battle, witnessed by the gods, is about to begin. If you wear such a miserable face even as you die, the gods will laugh at how dull you are—even if you're lucky enough to enter Vagha's hall."

"What do you want, Blackheart?"

Kas stood in front of Isidore. He wanted to make sure of a few things.

"Me?" Xipei chuckled, shrugged, and said casually, "I saw a dream. I saw that I'd have two adorable, well-behaved daughters. They respected me and followed, from the bottom of their hearts, the code of honor I taught them. It was truly something to be happy about.

"Do you understand? Seeing those two adorable little ones clamber onto me and call out to me in their childish voices—it was like wearing a glove while wielding an axe, protecting the softest part of my heart."

"Yes, I understand... I'll kill anyone who threatens her." Kas nodded. Even if he had only seen his daughter in a dream, he would still do whatever it took for Luna.

"Then that's good..." Xipel Blackheart's smile faded. He stared at Kas without expression.

"I saw their deaths. I saw how resolutely they plunged daggers into their own throats. Tina and Delin followed the code of honor I taught them, preserving what little dignity their blood kin had left.

"And as their father, I have to do something..."

He lifted his head and gazed at the summit of Iron Peak Mountain, where a single shaft of moonlight fell beneath the thick clouds. His voice was flat.

"Such as an honor killing."

"Even though those two unborn daughters and I, here and now, are nothing but a dream to you, you'd still choose to kill me?"

"A dream?" Xipei shook his head, rejecting the idea.

"This is a divine revelation. Everything I've seen will come to pass."

Knowing the fight was unavoidable, Kas still gave one final warning.

"Your wandering spirit is here. If you lose, you'll never wake up...

"You don't have to take such a risk over a false dream. All of this is far too confusing, stripping everything of meaning."

Blackheart suddenly burst into laughter. His laughter pierced the thick haze of iron sand, passed through the shadows of death and torment, and reached the ears of people far away.

He tightened his grip on his weapon. The battle markings on his forehead made his eyes burn like flames.

"I know. I can't tell why I saw this dream. It leaves me bewildered, like a grain of iron sand falling into a furnace, unable to know whether it'll become slag or be tempered into black steel.

"I fear this fate. I feel as if I've developed a terrible mental disorder, and I'm afraid this pollution that brings on delirium will drive me mad.

"But since the gods have shown me this, there must be a deeper meaning behind all this confusion. I can only obey the gods and do what must be done!"

Blackheart aimed his battle-axe at Kas. A murderous tension swept over them.

"Draw your sword! I've been wanting to face your father, Malik Axe-Breaker. Let's see just how powerful the world-famous Zagwell Clan really is!"

"Sir..." Isidore stepped forward, leaning out to reveal a corner of the Soul-Calling Banner. He believed the banner could surely drive away Xipel Blackheart, who would not stop haunting them.

"Stand down, Isidore... This is the Rishiman People's affair."

Kas sighed. Dreams were truly a torment. A Barbarian could attribute everything he saw to divine revelation, but he... couldn't.

He spread his empty hands and roared at the desolate mountain ridge:

"Will the son of the Larona Clan really be denied even a weapon, as he faces a battle witnessed by the gods?"

One after another, old battle-axes, swords, and spears, stained with blood and inscribed with runes, were thrown from every corner of Iron Peak Mountain to land around Kas. All the spirits silently watched this utterly absurd duel.

Kas ignored the many weapons of legend lying around him. He opened his right hand and softly called the tender name.

"Luna..."

He held out his arm, gripped the battle-axe in his hand, and faced Xipel Blackheart. The absurdity of it all weighed ever more heavily on his heart.

A man from the past, fighting his present self to protect the daughter of the future.