Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 103

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 103.
Blood That Does Not Fade (16)
When Nauplion first stepped into the Town Hall, he felt little emotion at being summoned after so long.
It had been some time since he handed the Winterer over to Priestess Despoina, and he hadn’t returned here since. Even he didn’t know why.
“You’ve come, Nauplion Priest. Please, sit here.”
Despoina sat in the seat of the Priest of the Staff among the seven circles. Morpheus was also present.
Nauplion averted his gaze, unwilling to meet Morpheus’s eyes. Every time he saw his face, he was reminded of the broken tooth. He had said he would repay the debt, but Morpheus had flatly refused.
Since then, the two had lived without even a proper conversation. Once they had been friends without pretense, transcending the gap in their years.
As Nauplion took his seat at his own circle, Despoina spoke.
“I summoned you both because there is something important to discuss. Nauplion Priest, you must tell me the truth.”
“The truth?”
At first, I couldn’t grasp what she meant. But the moment I heard what followed, I understood.
“About the day Ilios Priest passed away.”
Nauplion deliberately fixed his gaze on Despoina alone and asked calmly.
“Is there something more you wish to know?”
“Indeed. Nauplion Priest, you were the only one who witnessed the final moments of that creature.”
Morpheus listened in silence, his brow furrowed. Nauplion protested again.
“I have already told you everything I believed should be said. Do you think I am hiding something?”
“I said no such thing. I don’t understand why you’re being so defensive. You haven’t even heard my question yet, have you?”
“I—!”
Nauplion started to say something but closed his mouth instead. Morpheus spoke.
“Desi Priest, there must be a reason you called for me as well.”
It was a question asked while already knowing the answer. Despoina nodded.
“Yes. As you both know, I took custody of Daphnen’s Sword, and I said I would investigate its true nature. That is why I asked to see you both—to share the conclusion I have reached.”
“You’ve reached a conclusion? What is it?”
Morpheus showed keen interest. In contrast, Nauplion remained silent.
“Well then, consider this. The greatest event we have experienced because of that sword recently was the darkness that fell upon the entire Island that day. I made inquiries to determine whether this darkness was confined to the Island alone, or if the same phenomenon occurred on the Continent. Word came back not long ago—there was no such occurrence on the Continent. It appears the darkness’s reach extended only to approximately Ebb Tide Island.”
“Hmm….”
Nauplion glanced back at the entrance through which he had entered earlier. It was rare for the Town Hall’s doors to be closed in broad daylight. Yet now those doors were firmly barred.
“This leads to a single fact. The darkness brought by that sword appeared only in the territories we Pilgrims occupy. In other words, this means the sword’s power reacted with us—the descendants of the Ancient Kingdom—or with the Moon Queen’s dominion. Then what is its true nature? When we trace back through ancient history, we find only one comparable precedent.”
“Surely… you’re not referring to the power that destroyed the Ancient Kingdom?”
Despoina looked at Morpheus, who had spoken thus. Her voice fell with finality.
“Precisely. The power that destroyed the Ancient Kingdom devastated only the lands where our ancestors dwelt.”
Nauplion’s brow tensed. He tried to steel himself against whatever conclusion might emerge. But it was not easy.
“As you know, the Ancient Kingdom fell because of evil artifacts that emerged from Old Man’s Well—the Bleeding Spear, the Green-Patina Gauntlets, the Bronze-Hued Shield, and the Silver Helm. You all know this well. Those evil artifacts took hold of our King, the great Sorcerer. Corrupted by those evil artifacts, His Majesty summoned thousands upon thousands of malevolent spirits and monsters from beyond the well, and they brought the great kingdom to ruin from its very roots.”
“Yes, and so we had no choice but to set sail and come here. This is a story we all know. What is it you wish to say? Do you mean to tell us that Daphnen’s Sword is the same as those evil artifacts? That it will bring calamity upon us once more?”
The sudden outburst drew the eyes of both to Nauplion.
Despoina regarded Nauplion with her grey eyes, then shook her head.
“The process may be the same, but the outcome need not be. Nauplion Priest, I know better than anyone what you think of that child. For I too once had such a boy. He grew well through harsh trials, and now he bears great responsibility on the Island and does so admirably. Do you think I do not understand your heart?”
She spoke of none other than Nauplion himself. Nauplion drew a deep breath and pressed his lips firmly together.
“My conclusion is as follows. While I cannot hastily judge the sword’s power, it seems certain that its origin lies beyond this world.”
The conclusion seemed like a poor excuse compared to the reasoning that preceded it. Had it been anyone else, they would have immediately declared the sword identical to the instruments of evil that destroyed the kingdom in those days, and therefore it must be destroyed or banished.
Yet Despoina omitted any concrete conclusion, offering only superficial words.
She was not one to be swayed by mere sympathy. Did she harbor other thoughts?
At that moment, Morpheus suddenly posed a question.
“But what does this story have to do with Ilios Priest’s death?”
Daphnen walked through the undergrowth.
He carried two swords. One hung at his waist as usual, while the other was sheathed in a scabbard that fit poorly, suspended across his back.
The blade that did not fit entirely within the sheath glimmered like a fish’s spine in the afternoon sunlight.
He was alone. After parting with Scoli, he had met Hector and the other boys, but they had soon separated, each climbing the mountain at different times.
Even their meeting times differed. He would arrive first, with Hector coming later—all part of a scheme to avoid the eyes of others.
The Ruined Village nestled in a depression beyond two peaks. It had seemed impossibly distant, yet he arrived before he knew it.
From the high vantage point, it resembled their own village perfectly. He could see the Town Hall standing at the center, with houses spreading outward in a circle around it.
Yet as he descended, the landscape changed.
Rather than resembling the village, it bore the likeness of another memory. For a moment, Daphnen searched his recollection. It seemed ancient, but soon became clear—broken doors and collapsed walls, rolling stones and still stones.
Round columns lined the broken pavement, stretching into the distance.
He walked slowly along the columns. Dark plant stems caught at his feet. There were not many. The scale of the columns bore no comparison.
Yet the atmosphere flowing through this abandoned space was unmistakably the same.
As the vision he had witnessed upon first reaching The Island.
“As if it were a miniature…”
Did the village where Daphnen lived also resemble that hallucination? Now that he thought about it, yes.
It was certainly similar. Yet because the village was not a ruin, he had not easily perceived it. But now, seeing this Ruined Village, everything became clear.
His steps, which had been wandering without thought, had somehow brought him to the courtyard before the Town Hall.
The Town Hall here stood upon a high platform. More than a dozen steps led to its entrance.
“Hm…”
The Town Hall was very similar to the one in the village. Yet something kept catching his eye. After looking about, he understood why.
It was the reliefs carved densely around the Town Hall. Both places bore reliefs, but their content was strikingly different.
The reliefs carved upon the Town Hall in Lower Village depicted the Moon Queen and honored her resolute decisions. Yet here, nothing similar could be found.
Instead, the figures in these reliefs appeared mostly to be sorcerers, their mighty magic producing countless miracles. The backgrounds showed vast plains, towers and statues of unknown purpose, and enormous structures erected in great cities.
In contrast, those in Lower Village often had steep mountains as their backdrop, with the sea and islands appearing frequently.
Why had such a difference arisen?
“Have you been waiting long?”
A voice came from behind, and I spun around. Hector stood some distance away, treading upon broken pavement. No other boys were nearby.
Hector, his arms crossed, took a few more steps forward.
“You chose this spot? It looks suitable.”
Broken stones lay scattered throughout the village, leaving no spacious area suitable for a duel. The courtyard before the Town Hall was the best available.
Daphnen made no reply, descending the steps to stand at one side of the courtyard.
“You’re quiet, aren’t you.”
Hector strode forward, taking his position across from Daphnen. His hand moved toward his waist. Just before drawing his sword, he suddenly let out a soft laugh.
“Do you know the meaning of my name?”
Daphnen unfastened the Winterer strapped across his back and laid it on the ground. Then, without waiting for his opponent, he drew the sword at his waist. His expressionless eyes fixed upon the enemy.
Hector drew his sword as well. At the same moment, he spoke.
“Hector—my name means ‘One Who Opposes,’ the one who stands against his foe.”
Unlike Oizis, Hector was not revealing the meaning of his name as a gesture of familiarity. In this moment, he laid himself bare completely. Here in the Ruined Village where no one could see or hear, he faced the opponent he had waited for all this time.
Did “One Who Opposes” mean that he was destined to meet a formidable enemy worthy of his name?
“I have long wondered whom I would come to oppose. Now that it is revealed, I am glad I need not wait for a hidden foe any longer.”
The sword Hector held was not the practice blade he had used in their brief duel before. A straight, keen blade I had never seen before was gripped firmly in his hand.
At the end of the hilt’s pommel, a diamond-shaped weight resembled a spinning top, and from its tip hung a golden tassel.
Finally, Hector raised his sword and cried out with thunderous force.
“An invisible enemy strikes fear, but a visible one is nothing more!”
The two youths rushed forward almost simultaneously.
Sunlight glanced off the two blades. Edges that would have severed a throat in an instant sliced through air, cut through wind, and clashed.
Clang!
A strange sound rang out. Daphnen saw a chip break away from the blade of his sword. Yet the blade did not shatter.
A smile appeared at the corner of Hector’s mouth.
I could not afford to miss the moment while my opponent was caught in his confidence.
Daphnen’s sword came down three times in rapid succession, riding the momentum of his attack. Left, right, left again—he pressed forward with the force of a tempest. Hector found himself retreating several steps, driven into defense.
Hector looked at his opponent’s face once more. Bronze-colored hair streaming in the wind, eyes darkened to the same hue, utterly devoid of expression. Even as he unleashed overwhelming attacks, there was no anger, no hint of arrogance.
Only pure killing intent, the will to pierce through all obstacles—nothing else.
“Do you think you will lose!”
Driven back five steps, Hector kicked away a broken stone caught beneath his feet and shouted. He pulled his arm to shield his body and slid to the left.
As he leaped onto the stairs, Daphnen swung his sword twice and followed, ascending the steps.
Though Hector, being tall and holding the higher ground, should have had the advantage, it was still Daphnen attacking from below who maintained the initiative in their duel.
The two exchanged blows as they gradually climbed the stairs.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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