Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 160

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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 160.
The Call of the Sealed Land (6)
Daphnen shook his head slowly. Yet Zero continued as though he hadn’t noticed.
“Now that you’ve heard it, you understand—the islanders will dismiss this not as conspiracy or crime, but as sophistry and nonsense. They’ve grown so accustomed to the present state that they’ll ask: what’s wrong with venerating the Moon Queen instead of pursuing magic? What’s the harm in seeking the sword instead of scholarship?”
Zero’s lips twisted into a cynical smile.
“Truth be told, even I grow confused at times. What exactly is wrong with this? Regardless of how it began, if we live well enough under the Moon Queen now, isn’t that sufficient? Of course, I cannot condone everyone’s obsession with wielding only the sword.”
Zero laughed faintly. But Daphnen understood what Zero truly meant. It was a burden born of fear.
“I thought that you… could accomplish what Ilios could not—or rather, would not do. I know that people who wouldn’t listen to my words will nod thoughtlessly at the words of a priest, especially the Priest of the Sword. And even more so when you become the champion of Silverskull as Ilios did…”
…
Countless thoughts spiraled through my mind. I recalled what Isolet had told me long ago about the conflict between the Ilios Priest and the Regent, and the potential conflict between Isolet herself and Liriope.
Isolet’s reason for seclusion was that she did not wish to repeat the wars of her father’s generation.
She who naturally feared no combat could have become the Priest of the Sword, yet she chose instead to avoid confrontation.
Was Zero now asking Daphnen to walk the path that Isolet had abandoned?
Suddenly, I wondered if Isolet truly knew nothing of these matters.
If she had known, would she have remained silent all this time? Yet considering her cynical nature, so like the Ilios Priest, perhaps she could have.
If she possessed sufficient reason, she would unhesitatingly destroy even herself—could such a person truly have chosen seclusion merely to avoid conflict with Liriope?
Having come to know Isolet well, I now saw the contradiction in those words with perfect clarity.
Isolet knew. She understood exactly whose side the islanders would take if she became the Priest of the Sword and stepped forward to oppose Liriope.
What befalls a solitary genius abandoned by all.
The Island is a small, closed society. Abandoned by its people, one is left only with the path of forced sacrifice that her father had to walk.
So even if Isolet knew the truth Zero spoke of, nothing would change.
Ilios was once the greatest genius that the descendants of the once-great Ganapoli had produced on Moon Island. Because of memories of him, the islanders loved Isolet—yet they also feared her.
Her extraordinary nature was both a blessing bestowed upon the islanders and, far more than that, a grave threat.
Then what of myself?
Even if I brought the second Silverskull champion to the Island after Ilios, no one would regard me as his equal.
Rather than the Island’s pride, I was merely a capable outsider—that was how the islanders perceived me.
Therefore, unlike Isolet, it would not be bloodline that bred unease, but the very fact of being an invader from without—another source of anxiety.
Nauplion, by contrast, was beloved and trusted by many despite his long absence. Was it not because he concerned himself with nothing else and walked only the Path of the Sword?
I looked toward Zero.
“I’m uncertain what to say. I am… yes, strictly speaking, still an outsider. Not because I wish to be, but because people see me that way, and I myself have not yet truly integrated.”
Words I had never spoken before anyone, words I had struggled to answer even to myself, now poured forth.
“Perhaps that is why I have not yet developed the sense of responsibility toward the Island that such a position demands. Nothing is certain yet. The Priest of the Sword… I have pondered in confusion whether that is a role destined for me. But the answer I arrived at was that I am not yet prepared to bear such honor.”
“You feel it’s a burden you cannot bear?”
Zero’s manner of speech was different from Nauplion’s and different from Despoina’s—almost like that of a peer.
Today, such a tone sounded strangely uncomfortable. In the end, I could not help but voice what I had been thinking.
“I cannot shake it away. The thought that you, who speaks to me of such matters, have yourself narrowed and evaded the scope of responsibility you could bear. Not because it was impossible, but because you truly did not wish to. What is the answer?”
Zero fell silent for a moment. It was a difficult question, so I waited without speaking.
“Yes, as I said before. I came to believe that because I am ultimately not Ilios, this was as far as I could go—but was that itself a cowardly absolution I granted myself? I cannot ignore truth as Ilios did, yet I lack the audacity to step forward and change the world myself.”
Zero lifted his gaze toward the books stacked in the darkness.
“All I can do is this. In truth, I did not create this Library alone. When I discovered records of Ganapoli’s Library, I ran first to Ilios to show him. He was delighted and said we should try—and so everything began.”
Zero’s gaze fixed upon a single shaft of light seeping through the window cracks. That brilliance, that radiance.
“The two of us put our heads together and designed it jointly. Truth be told, Ilios was far superior at design work, so I mainly occupied myself with cataloging and collecting books. But by the time this place was half-constructed, he and I had grown estranged.”
Zero’s cheek trembled faintly.
“He coldly declared that he would have no part in this place. Rather than erase the sections he’d worked on, he insisted on having nothing to do with it whatsoever. Who could break through such stubbornness? If I refused, he’d only grow more furious, claiming I was dismissing his opinion. Completing the remaining work alone took me many times longer.”
Zero spread both hands before him as if to say “I’m so dull,” offering a bitter smile.
“After the Library was finally completed, I continued working diligently, and the collection grew to roughly ten times its original size. This place, created in such a manner… I guard it, tend to it, and eventually I suppose I’ll pass it on. To someone… but to whom should I entrust it?”
I naturally assumed he meant Oizis, but Zero continued without mentioning him.
“When Ilios was alive, I found peace and joy assisting in his various endeavors. I’ve always thought that if someone like him existed again, I would dedicate myself to helping them with all my strength. The dissemination of truth that I desire… Nauplion’s plain nature could never accomplish such a thing. And Isolet, having closed her heart due to her father’s affairs, cannot escape the scrutiny of others. When I saw you, a stranger, I allowed myself a glimmer of hope.”
Daphnen could not meet his gaze directly.
“Forgive me, forgive me. But my hope remains that I help you reveal the truth. If you refuse, then of course that will be the end of it. Let me ask you one thing. Is what burdens you, Daphnen, the position of Priest of the Sword? Or is it overturning the lies of the Regents alongside me? Whichever it is, I will understand you. Tell me.”
“…”
It was not confusion that tormented him, but anguish. The problem that most grieved Daphnen now was not such grand responsibility or truth, but rather Isolet herself—the effort to erase her very existence, and the daily struggle to convince himself that this was the right choice.
He had exhausted all his judgment on this matter. He had strived desperately, but being a man, he found himself unable to escape this sorrow, however much he wished to.
“I am grateful for your words, but I understand that you may not be able to understand, and there is nothing to be done about it. Because I myself do not fully understand you either. The story I heard today was no small shock to someone raised on the Continent. However, precisely because I began as a stranger, as you said, I cannot clearly judge whether I must dedicate my entire life to this truth. What burdens me is… responsibility to others. For now, I cannot even compose myself…”
Speaking with difficulty, I wished desperately that this anguish would truly fade someday. Would such a day ever come?
“And truly, I fear that after such falsehoods are overturned, my own claims might lead people astray just as the old Regents did. Knowing something is wrong does not automatically grant understanding of what is right. Until I resolve the issues within my own heart and determine my own future, there is nothing I can do for any cause, no matter how just. That is what I must tell you.”
The lamp was dying out. It seemed the oil had run dry.
“I understand.”
After a heavy silence, Zero spoke.
“There is something I wish to show you. Tomorrow, after Scoli ends, would you come briefly to the path leading to the Upper Village? I mean the rocky outcrop at the entrance where the Cypress Forest begins, just past Isolet’s House. Can you do that?”
Even after leaving the Library and returning home, Daphnen could not easily calm his racing heart.
When Nauplion returned late that night, the two of them exchanged only silent nods before retiring to bed.
Staring up at the dark ceiling, I murmured soundlessly, my lips barely moving.
What the Island’s people desired of him, what he desired himself, and what he must not desire.
Standing at a crossroads, unable to choose any path.
If he were to flee unwillingly, where would he go this time?

“Ah, Daphnen, it’s been a while.”
I heard someone calling out as I made my way up toward Scoli, and I turned to look.
Sitting alone on a nearby rocky outcrop, leaning on a sword, was none other than Hector. I had only heard that he had volunteered for the garrison stationed on Silence Island, but I didn’t know when he had returned.
“Is there something you need?”
“No, nothing. I just called out because I was glad to see you. Go on.”
Hector wore a thick belt studded with earth-colored rivets, a short sword thrust through it, over a leather vest. As I watched him brush back his unkempt hair with a hand clad in worn leather gloves, a strange feeling suddenly washed over me.
All the events that had transpired between Hector and myself were from centuries past, and we were facing each other without remembering any of it—that was the source of this inexplicable emotion.
Hector had grown as a boy of the Island should, naturally coming to resemble the Island’s elders. Yet the thought seized my mind that I could never become like them, like a grass seed struggling to take root on a stone floor where it had fallen wrong.
At Silverskull, we had not faced each other in battle, and we would never do so again.
Our paths had already crossed once, and now they flowed in directions that would never collide again.
Was this too part of the foresight I possessed?
“Then I’ll be going.”
I turned away. Behind me, I sensed that Hector was smiling. In this moment when my foresight had grown acutely sensitive, I knew without seeing.
Why was he smiling? Had everything truly ended? Yet there had been no conclusion at all?
Or had events unfolded beyond my sight, changing everything?
I climbed toward Scoli.

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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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