Everything Will Dissolve into Madness

"Sir?"

Isidore waved the Soul-Calling Banner, scattering the gathered spirits. He walked up to Kas, who was covered in blood and wounds. Beneath the cold mask, his eyes trembled with shock.

He couldn't understand why Kas and Xipel, locked in a fight to the death, had sung the same battle song. Their singing held no hatred or killing intent toward each other. Instead, its impassioned, fervent melody was filled with blessings.

It was as if they were blessing each other's deaths, honoring themselves and the gods through battle in a way that defied understanding.

What kind of belief could make someone vent such powerful emotions in the most intense way possible—through death?

Was it the gods? No. If divine will had set them against each other to compete for honor, they would surely have fought with the greatest hatred, each striving to win the gods' favor.

The only possibility he could think of was honor.

Kas released his grip on Xipel's throat. As he rose, his wounds healed rapidly. The state of his soul outside his body told him this was a dream; the dream of fighting Xipel Blackheart was over.

But had it really been only a dream?

The Barbarian turned to look at Isidore, who wore the Mask of the Departed. He might very well die...

"Isidore, as a Soul Caller, you witnessed a warrior's journey to Vagha Hall and beheld Xipel Blackheart's honor.

How could I allow this battle, witnessed by the gods, to be sullied? You're free."

Isidore showed no excitement. He knew Kas was showing respect and giving him a suitable reason to hold on to the will to live.

Freedom couldn't promise him anything if he wanted to survive in the Sorrow Mountains.

He quickly changed his demeanor and studied Kas, whose soul had returned to normal.

"Are you all right, Kas?"

"To be precise, I was affected a little..." Kas silently surveyed the spirits as they dispersed. He was beginning to understand the powerful impulse toward self-destruction rooted in the hearts of the Rishiman People.

To die in accordance with one's deepest convictions was a form of honor, even if those convictions seemed utterly absurd.

"Come on. We still have a long way to go."

The two continued along the ridge. The Soul-Calling Banner and the Mask of the Departed spontaneously caught fire. The tools that let them communicate with spirits crumbled to dust and vanished into the wind and sand sweeping across Iron Peak Mountain.

This brutal mountain, fought over for a thousand years, had witnessed another warrior ascend to join the Ancestors. He would enter Vagha Hall and drink strong liquor from a horn.

Back on level ground, the first thing Isidore did was carefully check his face for burns. He had clearly seen the mask engulfed in flames, and a searing pain, like fire, had swept from his cheeks through his whole body.

Being burned to death had to be one of the most horrifying ways to die, yet he had survived without a single injury...

He glanced back at Iron Peak Mountain. The dreadful peak, bristling with countless spires that reached into the clouds, was once again shrouded in an ordinary veil. The dead spirits lurked in the soil and ravines, at peace once more.

Iron Bone Morse stared at Isidore in surprise. He hadn't expected this Southerner to earn Lady of Death's mercy and have the Mask of the Departed removed.

Isidore bowed to Iron Bone. "Sir, I've brought Kas back. He's granted me my freedom."

Light flickered in Iron Bone's eyes. He understood Isidore's hint. "As promised, I'll tell you how to get past the spirits guarding the Sacred Forest and reach the Ancient Oak."

"Yes."

Kas stirred awake, his vision completely obscured by an enormous wolf's head.

He smiled. Losing too much blood had left him weak, but he braced himself against the ground and stood.

The first thing Kas did when he woke was hug Seneya. Feeling the furry werewolf in his arms, so different from her frail body in the dream, he whispered in her ear, "I'm back."

The red glow in Seneya's eyes faded. Tears welled in her clear, cherry-bright eyes, and she let out a soft whine.

"Awoo~"

"It's all right. I just had a dream. I saw you, and Luna, too."

"Awoo~"

He gently patted the big girl's back. He knew it had been a dream—or some other crazy, messed-up nonsense—but Kas had decided to give up on rational analysis.

I figure what I saw in the dream was what things would be like ten years from now. I've got a beautiful, gentle wife and a sweet, sensible daughter!

Kas let go and turned back toward the cliff where the messenger of Lady of Death was. He began climbing again.

He had to find Luna and hold fast to the resolve he'd had from the beginning.

Step by step, he climbed until he found the raven whose eyes gleamed like jewels in the dark.

He forced open its beak and hung the sacrificial "bunch of grapes" from its black beak. As for whether Lady of Death would accept the offering, Kas figured she probably would...

No. She had to!

He let go. The raven croaked twice but didn't spit out the offering it held in its beak. It spread its wings and flew to perch on Blackheart's head.

The two spears lodged in the eye sockets mysteriously fell away, but Lady of Death's messenger didn't eat the offering. That meant it had accepted his plea, but not quite—like a coy young woman who wanted to refuse, yet didn't.

He drew the battle axe Luna and watched Blackheart's head fall to the ground. Kas knew his sins had been forgiven, thanks to the courage Blackheart had shown in the past and the resolve of his two daughters.

As he climbed back down, Morse hurried over, staring at Kas's face in astonishment. His eye sockets were a startling, anxious reddish purple.

"Lady of Death's mark? Damn it... How am I supposed to explain this to the Ancestor? The clan's going to end in my hands!"

"Lady of Death just kissed me." Kas touched his cheek, where he could still feel it. The kiss had been gentle, yet as profound as death itself.

"Don't give me that crap. There's only one reason you'd be branded with Lady of Death's mark—she's calling you.

Death is calling you, Kas!" Iron Bone darted around in a panic, floating back and forth like a headless chicken.

"No, this won't do. I'll never be able to show my face in the arena again. Wait..." He suddenly bounced over to Seneya.

"Little one, hurry up and give Kas a son. It doesn't matter if he dies. He's just a disobedient little brat..."

Seneya clamped her jaws around the chattering Ancestor and growled menacingly, warning him to shut up.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die... No, wait. I'm already dead."

Morse wouldn't stop talking. He kept repeating how terrifying Lady of Death's mark was, urging Kas to apologize to the messenger and beg Lagrey for forgiveness.

Kas stuffed a thick wad of cotton into the Ancestor's mouth and headed straight for Ferode Canyon. He hoped the journey home would go more smoothly this time.

He glanced back and spoke to Isidore, who was gazing at Iron Peak Mountain.

"Come to think of it, Isidore, I once heard that to understand a place, you have to know how its people live, love, and die. How do you view death?"

"It's very different from how the Rishiman People see it..." Isidore hoisted his pack and walked after Kas.

"We believe that after death, people must find peace through prayer. The merciful and just god of death, Bazel, sends divine messengers to guide the departed to the Underworld..."

[Plan: Honor, Dreams, and Revelations

Status: Complete

Inspiration: For the Rishiman People, there's no such thing as hallucinations, dreams, or revelations. They're all fundamentally rooted in the Rishiman People's way of thinking: what they see, they believe; what they believe, they see.

All mental instability, sleep-talking, and hallucinations are caused by spirits. Once the Rishiman People accept this belief, they create new evidence through self-suggestion to support it.

The prophetic madness brought on by revelations serves to protect them from suffocating ignorance and unease.

Fear of fate, fear of corruption, fear of all spirits—by invoking omniscient and omnipotent gods, they reassure mortals that everything they do, however chaotic it may seem, has a sacred purpose and meaning.

Honor killings announced in advance, the battles to the death that entwine the past, present, and future of Iron Peak Mountain—all the foolishness, stubbornness, and bigotry will dissolve into madness.

Xipel Blackheart, Tina, and Delin attributed all of this to honor, dreams, and revelations, and without hesitation carried out the madness granted to them by themselves, the spirits, and the gods—death!]