Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 194

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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 194.
Choose the Dawn (6)

Boris hesitated with an ambiguous expression before responding.
“If it’s ‘Chase,’ I know how to play that… but that’s the only dice game I know…”
The dice game I had learned from the Regent King, Endymion’s Father, in the Land of Spirits was precisely ‘Chase.’
Boris glanced at Nayatrey, curious to see what expression the young lady—who rarely showed surprise—might wear. Yet Nayatrey merely had her eyes slightly widened.
“There’s no helping it. Nothing in this world is perfect, after all. We have an opponent, and the opponent knows the rules, but we lack the tools. Still, that’s better than having the tools and knowing the rules well but lacking an opponent. If we have an opponent, we can simply play a different game. What games can you play with just one die…?”
The figure, who had been speaking cheerfully while wearing a tattered hood, tilted their head and soon spoke as if disappointed.
“It’s been so long that I can’t quite remember.”
The impression of disappointment was inferred from the figure’s tone, the movement of their head, and the trembling motion of their upright fingers. But could those even be called fingers?
To be precise, they were finger bones.
The figure who had crawled out from within the Illusion Well and appeared before Boris and Nayatrey wore a black cloak with a hood, was of medium height… and beyond that was difficult to describe.
Facial features, hair color, build—they possessed none of these things. The face within the hood remained invisible, and what protruded from one sleeve was bone of a bluish hue, utterly devoid of flesh.
Nayatrey cut to the heart of the matter.
“Are you dead? Or alive?”
“If I were dead, I wouldn’t be overcome with nostalgia upon seeing an old die at this late hour. If I were alive, where have the organs and flesh that once clung to my body gone? Though admittedly, even in life, little flesh clung to me. But the young lady of the Myo Tribe should consider something beyond those two options.”
Yet Nayatrey’s answer was simple.
“All humans are one of two things. Dead or alive. If not, then you’re not human.”
“True. But the body that comprises me was once human bone. That human is, of course, dead. And I am here. In life, that person was called… Epibiono.”
It was a name I seemed to have heard before. The sort of name the Island people bore. So it must also be a name of Ganapoli. Where had I heard it?
Among the countless names I had seen at the Obelisk in the Alternate Space, the names of the dead that had flowed from people’s lips, and countless other records…
Just before drowning in those names, Boris shook his head and, though somewhat different from Nayatrey’s approach, posed the essential question befitting his nature.
“Are we your enemies?”
“You are.”
The two of them nearly simultaneously stepped back and grasped their weapons. Yet the figure continued without much reaction.
“Originally, I should have killed you. I intended to do so from the moment you first set foot on this land. Do you know why?”
Boris was not flustered.
“You must be a guardian or some such entity protecting the ancient lands of Ganapoli. Otherwise, unlike other spirits, there would be no reason for you to wander here alone while possessing a sound mind. If you consider us unwelcome intruders whom you must kill, then we have no choice but to test our fortunes against each other here.”
“Wrong. It means that *I* must be the one to kill you. That way, you won’t fall to the hands of other corpses.”
The figure extended a hand toward Boris. The die that Endymion had given rested precariously on the tip of the middle finger bone. It was the very object that had fallen from Boris’s possession.
“If you die by the hand of another corpse, your body is taken from you. You remain as mere spirits, and recovering your bodies becomes impossible, so you become mad spirits. But I am not satisfied with this current body… rather, because I can never escape this state originally, I can cleanly annihilate your bodies without desire.”
Boris watched as light was drawn into the die resting on the figure’s finger.
At first it appeared to be light, but he soon discerned its true nature. The die sucked in and erased the scenery that had formed around it as if it were a picture drawn in smoke. The well vanished, the flowers vanished. And after emitting light one final time, it fell silent.
“Now you understand why I called it a good die?”
Boris instinctively moved to retrieve the die but flinched and withdrew his hand. His brow furrowed with suspicion.
If Endymion’s die possessed such power, why had nothing happened until this very moment? And what was the nature of that power?
Then Nayatrey spoke.
“You said you should have killed us. Does that mean you don’t have to anymore?”
The skeletal-handed figure neither affirmed nor denied, simply raising the bony hand to lower the hood.
The day gradually brightened. In the darkness, I could see only the bluish hand bones of my companion, but now their face began to reveal itself in outline.
Boris felt a slight dread at seeing their face. If it matched the hands, their skull would likely be halfway weathered away. They might even be moving their jawbone to speak. Such a gruesome sight would hardly be welcome.
But the expectation was wrong.
What appeared was not a bleached skull, but short hair the color of blue-grey ash. When they lifted their head and turned toward Boris, a young man’s face—perhaps in their early twenties—came into view, with sharp, distinct features.
The eastern sky had begun to glow red like a winter hearth.
Daylight would return and scorch the yellow Wasteland like a salt desert. Though preparations for sleep were complete, they had to wait for the llamas to return, so neither Boris nor Nayatrey could rest yet.
There was another they had to wait for.
Boris watched the figure sitting and gazing at the eastern horizon—Epibiono, to be precise. Epibiono stood wrapped in a black cloak, his eyes never leaving the blazing sun.
A human would have been unable to endure the heat radiating from beneath that cloak. Yet he remained motionless, as indifferent as someone gazing down at a cool Grassland from a breezy Hill.
Was it some kind of ritual?
I tried once more to remember where I had heard the name Epibiono, but still failed. Yet it was certain I had heard it before.
He had asked me to wait. He said he had things to do while the sun rose, and that we would talk afterward, then sat down of his own accord.
And he did not move a muscle until the rough Wasteland became luminous like an oyster shell filled with gold.
When I first saw his face, I found myself looking down at Epibiono’s hands again. The skeletal hands and the young, clean face simply did not match.
I had heard that the Land of Mortals contained countless Spirits, each with varied appearances. Epibiono’s form was surely a kind of Spirit, but I would not have felt so unsettled meeting any other creature.
But when dawn ended and morning broke, he rose and came to Boris and Nayatrey.
“Introductions, perhaps?”
“….”
While Boris maintained a suspicious silence, surprisingly, Nayatrey answered.
“Nayatrey.”
“I see. You can call me Epibiono. My name carries a most cursed meaning. Because of it, against my will, I have come to punish visitors like yourselves, or to exchange words with them. Ah, but this is my first time exchanging words.”
More surprisingly, Nayatrey pointed to Boris and spoke again.
“Boris.”
“Ah. I see.”
It was fortunate he did not offer his hand. Boris saw Epibiono move his hand slightly as if to offer a handshake, then stop. After hesitating briefly, he concealed his skeletal hand within his sleeve.
Despite possessing a skeletal hand, Epibiono was neither translucent like a Spirit nor pallid like a corpse. He was simply a man of rare clarity—with a broad white forehead beneath which gleamed large, vivid jade-green eyes.
His short philtrum and upturned eye corners typically conveyed a sharp impression, but his delicate features gave him an appearance reminiscent of an elf.
Yet hearing his archaic accent, I could not help but recall the Spirits I had met before.
“You were walking along the old roads of the kingdom? This path leads to the Capital, Arcadia. Do you have business in Arcadia?”
By “kingdom,” he of course meant Ganapoli. Since there was no need to hide it, I answered simply in the affirmative.
“At least I do. I heard there is no life in this place—are you a Spirit who has not yet lost reason?”
The young Epibiono studied Boris intently as the surroundings grew brighter, his eyes gleaming ever more clearly, then shook his head with a mysterious smile.
“What happened to me, I cannot easily explain even to myself. Let us postpone that explanation until we know each other better. You said you were going to Arcadia, but as everyone knows, Arcadia sank into the earth long ago. Many sought it to gain treasure, but none ever glimpsed even one broken spire of Arcadia. Yet you have remarkably come this far. Who is guiding you? Is it the sword you carry?”
Boris realized his companion was referring to the Winterer and grew tense. It was difficult to give an honest explanation before someone whose identity remained unknown.
“It is true that I seek Arcadia because of my sword. But I cannot reveal more than that.”
Epibiono looked at Boris and laughed softly.
“You need not hide it. You must have met the descendants of those who escaped the kingdom and survived, yes? You took their counsel and came here at great risk to solve some problem, did you not?”
Did Epibiono see into one’s heart? Boris, flustered, replied.
“Your words are correct, but how did you know?”
“Your dice. It was made in the kingdom, and moreover, it is the possession of royalty. Without their favor, how could you have obtained it? And from what I can discern, I do not believe you possess the power to threaten or harm the royal family.”
With those words, Epibiono extended the dice again, held in his skeletal hand that he had retrieved once more. Boris hesitated for a moment before accepting it and spoke.
“And who exactly are you to speak in such a manner? If you truly differ from the dangerous spirits of this place, then explain why you appeared before us—ease our concerns, if you would.”
“An amusing arrangement of words. Very well. My position is somewhat complicated, but to put it simply, it is my daily routine to extract the souls of foolish humans who set foot here seeking to claim gold, and shatter them to pieces. That was the kindness I intended to bestow upon you initially.”
Though the words were horrifying, I made an effort to conceal my reaction and asked again.
“Then why did you let us live?”
“Do you not understand better than anyone? I apologize, but after more than a thousand years of maintaining my sanity alone, I have come to easily see through the hearts of creatures whose lifespans amount to mere decades like yourselves. The Myo Tribe lady’s purpose for coming here is so absurd that I find no value in discussing it further, and your objective… is certainly grave enough that I cannot help but inquire further. In any case, I cannot recall how long it has been since a visitor felt the need to converse rather than be annihilated on the spot. Ah, perhaps this is the first time.”
“Do you believe you could annihilate us instantly if you so wished?”

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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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