Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 122

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

Chapter 122.
Two Swords, Four Names (6)
I climbed the Cliff with practiced ease. My movements held no hesitation—finding handholds, placing each footfall with precision. Yet my eyes never ceased their vigilant survey of the surrounding landscape’s distinctive features.
Pausing midway up, I glanced downward once, then upward, and a thought crystallized: there was merit in this direct verification through my own body. At least in this, I could excel.
So there remained something I could accomplish after all.
I recalled the traces of snow that had lingered on the Cliff—snow long since melted and vanished. Yet the memory of that ice sent a chill through me even now. The faint perspiration that had beaded my brow evaporated instantly in the cold.
I had climbed far higher now. Should my foot slip, I could not expect the miracle that had befallen Daphnen, but unlike him, I was not the sort to misstep.
At this pace, I would soon reach a place suitable for rest.
Since childhood, I had traversed the snow-laden ridges scattered across The Island. This mountain, like all my homeland’s peaks, held no secrets from me—I knew its terrain as intimately as the lines of my own palm, whether I had climbed it before or not.
At last, I reached a place where I could release my grip and stand.
A narrow space, scarcely two paces in any direction. I meant to rest briefly and gaze upward at the sky. Even with familiarity, a thousand-fathom precipice demanded vigilance—to claim otherwise would be a lie.
Then an incomprehensible sight entered my vision.
“Isolet…?”
A figure stood in the distance, hand shading her brow as she gazed downward—yet there was nothing beneath her feet.
The only plausible explanation was levitation magic, but her posture seemed far too natural for that.
We stood at the precipice of a Gorge hundreds of fathoms deep. Was Isolet reckless enough to rely on magic in such a place?
After a moment’s hesitation, I called out to her.
“Isolet!”
She turned to face me.
Distance obscured her expression, but she gazed down at me for a long moment as though lost in thought. Then, with a light step, she moved her feet and descended toward me.
In other words, she descended as though treading upon invisible stairs, step after step.
Until she stood directly before me.
“What is happening here?”
Only then did I grasp the situation, my eyes widening. Isolet’s expressionless face closed her eyes once, then opened them again. With a simple backward step, she shifted onto the upper stone.
There she sat, letting her legs dangle below. It was a natural, practiced pose.
“…I see.”
I ran my lower lip between my teeth, then climbed onto the stone where Isolet had stood. I pressed my lips firmly together, and only after rising did I exhale a faint sigh. A chill ran down my spine.
“You are bolder than Daphnen, it seems.”
Isolet spoke in that characteristically smooth, unyielding voice of hers—emotionless, like the voice of a statue.
“So Daphnen knows of this place too.”
I wondered if it was a secret they shared. Yet I felt only a faint bitterness, nothing more.
“He knows of it—and was far too familiar with it.”
“Did he misstep here?”
Isolet swung her legs slightly, the ones dangling into the void. The ribbons of her leg wraps fluttered in the wind. For a moment, she said nothing.
I gazed down at her profile, my thoughts turning slowly over and over—until she finally raised her hands to cover her eyes.
“Is this…guilt?”
“….”
A gust of wind swept across the Cliff, and dust rose from the invisible stone. Her hair obscured her cheek and eye; her garments billowed in the breeze.
“He did not misstep. The stairs he would have stepped upon had already vanished. He had grown so accustomed that he believed he could see invisible stairs. And so he….”
“But you will awaken him.”
I grasped the sword hilt that rattled in the wind, silencing its tremor. Nauplion’s eyes remained composed.
“He’s enjoying himself somewhere. Perhaps in a place so peaceful he has no desire to return—but he will come back. He’s not someone I could forget. There are far too many things I cannot forget about him.”
These words were not meant to comfort Isolet. I spoke them with genuine conviction.
Isolet folded her legs and rose to her feet. Standing straight once more, she looked at me.
“But there is something I must do before he returns.”
Rather than ask what it was, I studied Isolet’s face. Her distinctive resolute voice rang out.
“I will find whoever destroyed the staircase.”
I parted my compressed lips with force and exhaled a turbid breath.
What I had suspected, Isolet was thinking as well. It was likely true. This was no accident.
Isolet withdrew a leather pouch from her bosom, thrust her hand inside, and scattered its contents into the empty air. Fine, nearly invisible powder scattered in all directions.
I knew what it was—the dust of golden fireflies that would emit light wherever it adhered, created by drying and grinding fireflies, then infused with a touch of magic. It was commonly used to mark paths.
As the powder settled, stepping stones suspended in mid-air began to reveal themselves. Three stones emerged in outline on all sides. Isolet moved her steps upward once more.
I too stepped upon the stones and advanced forward.
The powder was scattered again, sprinkled again, and shone again. Though this was a magical artifact whose manufacturing process was complex enough to be considered precious, Isolet showed no sign of reluctance.
Shortly after, a magnificent vista unfolded—dozens of glowing outlines suspended above the thousand-fathom Cliff.
The number of floating stones was far greater than what had been reported to Daphnen. There were multiple intersection points and starting points. Nearly all the surrounding peaks and precipices were connected by these stepping stones.
The path that led to where I stood was one of those routes.
Moving across such stones without a moment’s hesitation was enough to make any observer’s heart clench. Eventually, Isolet stopped and turned to face me.
The stones glowed like water droplets crowned with radiance from all directions, and the girl’s golden hair standing upon them trembled in the wind. In her expressionless yet somehow hollow face, the faint shadow of someone long dead seemed to flicker.
I felt a slight ache in my chest but quickly suppressed it. I approached Isolet and peered beside her.
A gap as abrupt as a missing tooth caught my eye.
….
My hair, bound high, began to trace a long curve. It was a gust of wind that commonly passed through the cliffs.
Isolet’s short hair became disheveled, and the ribbon binding her leg guards, the hem of her upper garment, and the cord hanging from her sword hilt fluttered. Yet both of us stood without wavering.
Standing rigidly, I merely turned my head to avoid the wind when the other’s face came into view.
“These stones… are they the work of Ilios Priest?”
When that name left my lips, a stronger gust swept around us. Isolet shook her head.
“A considerable magical field envelops this peak and the cliffs below. It has existed for a very long time—perhaps even before we Pilgrims arrived. But now the balance has been broken. A new incantation has intruded, and I can feel all the stones trembling. Standing here like this may not be entirely safe either.”
Rather than flinch, I let out a quiet laugh.
“We might be mistaken for a murder-suicide.”
….
Isolet did not laugh. She too understood the meaning behind my jest. Yet she was not yet old enough to regard the past from a step’s distance.
Eventually, I changed my expression and looked down below as I spoke.
“To pierce through such a vast magical field would require considerable magical skill, would it not? There cannot be many people on The Island capable of such a feat. We can narrow down the suspects quite easily. Let us keep today’s events secret for now.”
Isolet stared at me with one hand planted on her hip. She seemed to want to ask something but found it uncomfortable to voice.
I smiled with only the corner of my lips, answering her unspoken question.
“The first step of the hunt is to make the prey lower its guard.”
“Hm?”
Daphnen turned his head. He had the feeling that two people he could not see from where he stood were conversing—and they were very familiar with each other.
“What are you doing? Come here! They will attack soon!”
I tilted my head in confusion, then simply forgot about it. Daphnen soon dashed into the Forest with the other children, his footsteps light as if he might take flight at any moment.
They were in the midst of a war game, divided into two factions. I was the leader of one side. Endymion commanded the other group.
“Come on, let’s make this pile of logs our fortress. If we crouch down just a bit, we can see over the edge. What do you think? Isn’t it brilliant?”
My advisor was the small boy I’d first met at the base of the Obelisk. His name was Nikitis.
He’d taught me that his name meant “the one who wins,” then giggled mischievously, asking how someone with such a name could possibly lose.
“Endymion always likes to do things by the book. Just wait a little longer. He’ll definitely come at us with a frontal assault.”
A mischievous, almost cunning smile played at the corners of little Nikitis’s mouth. Seeing it, I was reminded of someone I’d known long ago. Who was that? Certainly someone who had caused me considerable trouble.
Yet the memory remained obscured, as if hidden behind mist like a faceless figure.
What did the past matter anyway? Right now, I was simply enjoying the game.
“They’re coming!”
As Nikitis called out in a low voice, I quickly waved a juniper branch like a broom twice as a signal.
Immediately, the two groups of boys and girls lying in ambush on both sides rushed out together, splitting the enemy forces in two. Soon the stick-fighting began in earnest.
“Thrust! Thrust!”
“Ow! You poked my eye! Go easy!”
“Hey, there’s no ‘going easy’ in a fight! If you lost, raise your hands and surrender!”
As the battle progressed favorably for my side, Endymion was nowhere to be seen. I dropped the branch and leaped out from behind the log pile, shouting.
“Endymion! Where are you! Don’t hide—settle this with me!”
The answer came quickly.
“Just sit there quietly like a bride, would you? I’ll be right there.”
Suddenly, someone dropped from above and tackled me. Endymion, landing skillfully on my shoulders, covered my eyes with both hands. I thrashed my shoulders, straining with all my might to throw him off, and shouted.
“That’s not fair!”
“You set up an ambush too, didn’t you? You have to know various methods to win! Is there some rule saying I can’t ambush the enemy commander?”
Of course there wasn’t. But the moment I heard those words—specifically, “you have to know various methods to win”—I realized someone else had said something like that before.
I froze momentarily, lost in thought. Endymion’s movements stopped as well.

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