Chapter 131

Homecoming

The snow covering the plains was the passage of time.

It was oblivion.

Snow buries truth, hides wounds, and erases history.

The rusted, ancient sword—Ulleorn.
That sword cut Isaac’s palm, drawing blood.
The boy’s blood seeped into the snow that blanketed the entire plain.
It spread in an instant.
Like veins, the blood quickly stained the snowfield.
A crimson plain lay before him.

The snow began to melt.

Soon, as if it had all been a lie, it vanished.

Blazing sunlight and a deep blue sky—
beneath them, ruins stretched out, and history revealed itself.

Everything from the past of the Granak tribe, once buried beneath snow and time, extended all the way to the horizon.

Isaac walked across the endless desolation—
their era, their memories.

The remains of warriors, torn banners, final breaths, shattered wooden dolls, abandoned weapons, and unspoken last words stretched on without end.

“Footprints?”

As Isaac wandered aimlessly through the mental world, his eyes caught sight of massive tracks.
They were the footprints of a beast.

As he followed them, red clouds began to gather in the once-clear sky.
Red rain fell.
Pools of blood formed across the plains.

Awooooo—

A wolf’s howl echoed.

Isaac walked toward the sound.
Passing several mounds of bones, he finally found it—a white wolf.

Its fur was white, yet it could never truly be called pure.

Half its flesh had been stripped away, exposing its teeth and jawbone.
From its mouth flowed not blood, but dust and ash.
In its eyes, there was neither the light of a living beast nor the sorrow of a spirit.

“A beast resides within the blood, and within the beast lies an oath.”

The wolf’s voice rang in Isaac’s ears like a hallucination.

“I, Agmar, with the aid of the gods, discovered the stone that splits thunder.”

It sounded like wind, like crackling firewood, like flowing water, or even like the falling rain.

“I cast my firstborn son into the flames, and from that fire forged iron into a sword.”
“And I named it Ulleorn, after my eldest.”
“Ulleorn—born through pain.”
“One permitted after passing through the path of blood.”
“And thus, the first war began.”

The wolf’s remaining flesh soaked in the red rain, turning blood-colored.
Its form gradually dissolved into the rain until it vanished without a trace.

—

A low hum resonated.

Before he knew it, the scenery had changed to a lush mountain ridge.
From somewhere nearby came a low, rumbling cry.

The ground trembled.

It was the cry of a bison.
It felt as though the mountain itself was breathing.

As Isaac made his way along the mountain path, he once again found beastly footprints.
Following them, he came upon a massive, double-horned bison whose frame was made of swords and spears.

“I, Baldor Kar, a warrior beloved by the gods. Victor, unifier. Yet in the struggle to claim Ulleorn, my children were divided.”

The bison bled endlessly.
It was not only from the red rain.
From the blades forming its body, thick, dark blood seeped out continuously.
Soon, it too dissolved into the rain and disappeared.

—

The sun set, and the sky darkened.
Night came, filled with stars that seemed ready to spill from the heavens.

The Milky Way stretched across the sky.

The forest was pitch black.

Nothing could be seen.
Even Isaac’s Wolf King senses were useless in this mental world.

He wandered through the darkness.

Hoo—hoo—

The cry of an owl echoed.

Because the darkness was so deep, even the faintest light could be seen from afar.
Isaac followed the light.

In the forest, perched on the branch of a towering tree, sat an owl.
Its faintly glowing eyes were empty.
Its wings were made of scriptures, and from the pages arranged like feathers, a pure white light flowed.

“I am Bernu Natblick. I refused to fight my brothers and received revelation from the divine.”
“I turned away from false gods and served only one. Laws and order arose, kings and people were formed. We are no longer savages.”

“You, descendant of Ulleorn—seek the serpent that whispers in two tongues.”

The light faded, the night lifted, and morning came.
The owl, the forest, the mountains—all were gone.

Isaac’s feet sank into shallow water.

Sss—

The sound of breath, like a tongue flicking in and out, rang clearly in his ears.

Before he knew it, Isaac stood at the center of a massive black serpent’s coil.

“I, Rodhar. I coveted and sought, exterminated the descendants of Bernu, and tried to reclaim the tribe’s traditions.”
“Negotiation, alliance, betrayal. We returned to the forest, while Bernu’s descendants retreated behind walls. An irreparable rift split the same land.”

—

Wolf, bison, owl, serpent—
after that came bear, lion, fox, badger, eagle, raven…

The past chieftains of Granak, each taking the form of beasts, appeared before Isaac.
Each told the story of their era, then vanished like mirages.

—

And then, snow fell again.

Isaac stood upon a frozen plain, facing the biting wind.

The forty-six beasts that had greeted him now watched from afar or circled the sky in low flight.

The snowfall grew heavier—
a blizzard so fierce he could barely see a step ahead.

Yet the spirits of the chieftains still observed him.

Isaac waited for the last one.

It was a span of time too long for a single human to endure.

And at the same time, it was the fleeting history of mankind.

Had Isaac not endured decades underground,
he would have long since lost himself and wandered this mental world forever.

Hummm—

Suddenly, through the raging blizzard, a clear humming could be heard.

A melody carried by the rough voice of a weary old man.

Isaac had heard it before.

He, his younger brother, and his mother—
they had often played it together.

Tritis Draco.

The dragon that weeps.

Along with it.

Thud.

The earth trembled.
Under the dim sky, a gray curtain of raging snow swallowed all sight.
Within it, a massive shape revealed itself as a dark silhouette.

Boom.

Thud.

It was approaching Isaac.

It was no mere beast.
The way it split the earth apart—
it was a dragon itself.

“You do not belong to this time.”

It—the dragon, or perhaps the forty-seventh chieftain—spoke.
Whether it truly was a dragon or merely a symbolic form like the others in this mental world, he could not tell.
But the red scales engraved with thousands of forgotten names, the immense wings, the weight that shook the snowfield, the claws that tore up the earth, and the flames boiling from its maw—
it was, undeniably, a dragon.

The dragon’s heart—its pulse—pounded in Isaac’s ears like the drums of warriors.

And when the dragon drew close enough to shake the very ground beneath Isaac—

It took human form.

A thick bearskin draped over enormous shoulders,
a cloak of snow leopard fur flowing beneath,
adorned with goat horns and fangs like ornaments.

It resembled Asra Valdruun’s attire.

But instead of a massive old woman, it was an old man.
Larger than Asra—truly a giant of a man.
His long white hair whipped in the blizzard, and his blazing eyes were like those of a living beast.
In his hand, too, was a rusted sword like Isaac’s—
though far larger.

“I am Brynskar Eldfyr. What is your name, child?”

“…Isaac von Vinfelt Goethe. Your descendant.”

Isaac shouted through the storm.

“Lift Ulleorn. Prove yourself before your ancestors.”

The giant swung his sword.

Splitting the blizzard, the giant’s time surged toward Isaac.

The great chieftain shouting amidst the snowstorm.
A warrior’s bloodied face crossing frozen mountains.
The shadow of an old warrior beheaded without bowing in Winterband.
Granak warriors clashing with Goethe’s soldiers, blood spraying.

Isaac swung his sword.

Two times collided.

—

“So you’re saying the founding king of this kingdom was a barbarian… no, an ancestor like you?”

“Bernu Natblick. One with keen night vision. After accepting the god you believe in, he changed his name to Theodoric Nachtblick—one who watches the darkness and rules over the people of God.”

“So that’s why the kingdom is called Belnata.”

At Asra’s words, Raphael nodded.

The ancient root of Belnata meant discipline and order.

Translated literally, it meant a land built upon order.
In a broader sense—a nation born at the end of the night.

“Interesting.”

The symbol of Belnata was an owl.
The Royal Academy’s emblem was also an owl, soaring while holding a laurel wreath.

“More importantly, the position of Grand Inquisitor must be quite idle. Listening to the history of barbarians… Has the world changed that much while I was holed up in the mountains?”

“I never thought I’d have a conversation like this with someone who serves the gods either. As I said, I remain here to plant seeds of faith. The baron has received a holy relic from the Holy See. A relic must remain in land of faith.”

“You’re planning to build a church in Vinfelt?”

Asra half-opened her eyes.

“If possible.”

“Whether your god is stronger or the old gods are stronger, I don’t know. But I do know I’ve lived far longer than you. Why not be honest? You’re staying here because you’re worried about my grandson, aren’t you?”

Asra said this and sipped her tea.
Because of her size, the teacup looked absurdly small.

Raphael drank his cold ale.
The northern winter was so harsh that cold ale had become a delicacy.

Four days had passed since Isaac entered Asra’s trial.

Asra’s guess was correct.
The reason Raphael still remained here was precisely that.

If the Grand Inquisitor stayed in Vinfelt, he could delay a war even if Botmer marched with a large army.
At the very least, he intended to buy time until Isaac completed the trial.

“Is it acceptable for a man of faith to be this biased in worldly power struggles?”

Asra grinned, revealing her missing front tooth.

“That’s because your faith is lacking.”

Raphael replied without the slightest change in expression.
There was no shame, anger, or discomfort on his face.

“That boy is peculiar, so I suppose it’s no surprise the people around him are strange too. If you’re worried about my grandson, you don’t need to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Botmer will not march on Vinfelt. He no longer has time to waste.”

Asra drained her cold tea and muttered,

“Many things will change. Very many things.”

—

At the entrance of the Goethe estate, a woman dismounted her horse.

Compared to the biting northern wind, her clothing was thin and inadequate.
Strands of ash-gray hair peeked out from beneath her shadowed cloak, glinting silver in the faint light.

As if familiar with the place, she entered without calling for a servant.

Her gray coat, patched together from scraps of cloth, was worn and tattered—yet the aura she exuded remained unchanged.
Her steps were slow, but not weary.
Her expression was as cold as steel.

“Halt! This is Count Goethe’s residence!”

A guard, having noticed her late, rushed forward.

But the moment he saw her face, he froze in shock.

“C-Countess…!”

“It’s been a while, Guintes.”

“Y-Yes!”

Recognizing that the mistress remembered his name, the guard hastily saluted.

Adele passed by him without pause and headed straight toward the inner courtyard.