Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 88

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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 88.
Blood That Does Not Fade (1)
The Spirit Boy, who had possessed golden hair in life, tightened his lips and stepped back. His unusually large, luminous eyes narrowed slightly, like those of a skeptic.
Daphnen did not look away. The ghost’s pristine, gleaming eyes were eerie, yet simultaneously mysterious—like a forest harboring a profound labyrinth.
It was not accusation or resentment that unsettled him, but rather the gaze that spoke only of disappointment.
Yet Daphnen steeled himself.
“Fine, I have no such thing. So just send me back to the Unnamed Village.”
A smile appeared on the Spirit Boy’s smooth lips.
「You are already in the Unnamed Village. You always have been, from the very beginning. And we, too, have been living in the Unnamed Village. Always, from long ago.」

“What are you talking about?”
Daphnen asked, a foreboding sensation creeping through him. The boy opened one palm, then the other.
「The Unnamed Village was one and yet two. Your Unnamed Village and mine existed upon the same ground, yet never overlapped. But somehow, you—a person of that land—pierced through the boundary and entered here. Do not ask how it happened. We do not know either. To us, you are an intruder. I do not know how to help you.」

Cold sweat trickled down his spine once more. I cannot leave this place?
As the Spirit Boy spoke, the ghosts gradually regained their composure. It was not they who were in peril, but the human boy, and this was their space—there was no reason to fear.
Yet something was clearly amiss, regardless of who was weak or strong. A Spirit Girl cautiously addressed their spokesman.
「Should we seek help?」
「No.」
The Spirit Boy shook his head firmly. Then, moving only his lips soundlessly, he moved his hands in an unusual manner.
Daphnen immediately recognized it as a form of hand seal. Was he attempting to cast magic?
“Stop!”
Yet nothing changed. No visible phenomenon occurred.
Instead, the expressions of the ghosts began to shift. They all fixed their gaze upon the golden-haired boy, their lips moving as though exchanging opinions.
“What are you trying to do!”
Daphnen, too, suddenly realized his weakness in this place and felt fear grip him. It seemed they possessed a method of communication known only to themselves.
He could not join in, nor did he wish to. Yet his ignorance of their conspiracy left him defenseless, and that uncertainty was unbearable. He resolved that he could not remain passive.
Daphnen extended Winterer straight ahead, its point directed at the Spirit Boy with whom he had been conversing.
But before he could even open his mouth in this stance, something extraordinary occurred.
A brilliant flash erupted!
White radiance surged from Winterer like a torrent of water, forming a translucent barrier between him and the ghosts. A threatening light, serpentine in its menace, flickered across the blade’s surface.
「Stop!」
Daphnen was startled before the ghosts could react. In his panic, he attempted to retreat, but in that instant, a violent resonance enveloped his right arm and crashed through to his very heart.
“Gasp!”
He nearly dropped the sword. He wrapped his left hand around his right wrist, then barely managed to grip the blade with both hands. And he looked up at the barrier before him.
The barrier, now gleaming with metallic brilliance, had become smooth and solid, bearing an almost tangible luminescence. It towered to the height of three grown men.
Beyond the barrier, the Spirit Boy’s face was visible—his eyes now fierce and piercing, transformed from moments before.
「You wish to try?」
The instant the Spirit Boy extended his translucent hand, a dozen or more rays of light surged forth in different directions, arcing and rushing toward Daphnen.
With each collision of light against the barrier, Daphnen’s hands trembled from the impact—not merely a ringing vibration, but a crushing blow and pressure that seized and shook his very heart.
Daphnen, who had been forcing himself to endure, cried out.
“Stop! Stop it! I didn’t create this!”
“Then who did?”
The curves of light extending from the Spirit Boy’s hand were now converging at a single point, preparing to deliver an amplified strike.
Yet the boy paused his hand, as if willing to hear Daphnen’s explanation.
“If you have something to say, speak. What is wrong?”
Daphnen barely steadied his pulse, breathing heavily as he glared at his opponent.
He tried to lower the sword he had been desperately gripping, but it was futile—as if caught in a magnetic field.
“This sword… this sword is the problem. Perhaps my coming to this place was also because of this sword. There is a power within it that I cannot control with my own strength. I don’t even know what this thing before my eyes is right now!”
The light gathered in the Spirit Boy’s hand writhed like a silver serpent, yet it did not extend toward him.
The other spirits, for once, remained perfectly still like true ghosts, only listening intently. Silent whispers spread among them once more in their own peculiar way.
Then three spirits remained, and the others slowly withdrew, dissolving into the darkness.
“Do not come closer.”
It was strange that the spirits themselves had said this first.
“I… understand.”
I had no intention of approaching them. Even if I didn’t trust them, there was no need to threaten deliberately.
The three spirits spoke in turn.
“Then we won’t come closer either.”
“We don’t want to fight.”
“Will you introduce yourself?”
It was a far different tone from that earlier cry of “What are you?”
One of the remaining spirits was the small child holding the iron stylus I had first encountered before the Obelisk. The other was a Spirit Girl.
Daphnen thought for a moment but decided there was no need to hide, so he gathered his resolve and spoke.
“I’m Daphnen. I didn’t originally live on The Island. I haven’t been here long. I’m still an apprentice Pilgrim, but I will become a true Pilgrim in the future.”
As I spoke, I wondered if I truly believed what I was saying.
The golden-haired spirit answered.
“I see. That’s why you seemed unfamiliar to me.”
That remark was curious. Daphnen asked.
“Then do you know all the people living on The Island?”
The golden-haired spirit spoke.
“We can’t say we know each other, but we do know of them, in a manner of speaking.”

Suddenly, the Spirit Girl interjected, her voice clear and cheerful.
“That’s our game, you see.”
Our game?
Daphnen struggled to gather his scattered thoughts. As he did, the luminous barrier extending from Winterer gradually faded.
“You mean you’ve been observing the living and amusing yourselves? Like watching a puppet show?”
In that instant, a flash of premonition surged through me, confirming that what I had just said was true. Such an intense premonition had been rare of late, and I was somewhat startled.
The radiance that had glimmered in the golden-haired boy’s hand also grew progressively weaker. He shook his head.
“That discussion can wait. First, I must ask—if you came from somewhere other than The Island, then you brought that sword from there as well?”

Daphnen nodded.
“That’s right. So when did you start living here? Were you originally from The Island before you died and became this?”
Only after finishing did I wonder if I had been somewhat rude. But the spirit shook his head lightly.
“No, we never lived on The Island.”
“Then why are you here? Or rather, you were originally human… that much is true… isn’t it? You’re not some tree spirit or anything like that…?”
“No.”
A moment later, a soft laugh echoed. It came from the small child I had seen first.
“That’s amusing. If we were tree spirits, why would we take human form? We’d be shaped like trees.”

Now that I thought about it, that seemed reasonable—though it was the first time such a notion had occurred to me.
If tree spirits took the form of trees, then would spirits of the sea or river take the form of water? That would make them indistinguishable and nearly impossible to recognize…
Besides, did spirits truly need to be visible to human eyes? They simply existed in their own way, didn’t they?
If a tree spirit and a river spirit met, both wearing human form, wouldn’t that be like watching a procession of disguises?
Or perhaps, from the perspective of a tree spirit, the river spirit appeared in tree form?
The thought seemed logical yet absurd at once, trailing into increasingly peculiar tangents. Then the golden-haired spirit spoke.
“We have much to be curious about. But such matters can be explored gradually later. What matters now is how to return you to the world of the living. And we must discover why this has happened.”

He was right. At that moment, I realized the protective barrier Winterer had created had nearly vanished entirely. I moved my hand experimentally, and the sword lowered easily.
Simultaneously, the radiance emanating from the golden-haired spirit disappeared completely.
“How do I return? Do you have any idea?”
“One thing seems certain. You entered here because of your sword. I’ll say it again—lay the sword on the ground. That blade carries a resonance incompatible with this place, our world. If you continue holding it, things beyond your control will happen again, and we might be harmed. Should that occur, I cannot simply stand idle.”
It could have been interpreted as a threat, but the spirit’s gaze was earnest. A clear intention transmitted itself—do not provoke conflict, yet if it comes to that, there will be no mercy.
“Give me one reason why I should trust you.”

“Hmph. If I meant to harm you, would there be a better moment than now? You cannot wield your sword as you wish, but my power is entirely mine to command.”

I had no idea what the golden-haired boy’s abilities were, but it was certain he possessed magical power. There would be no good outcome from fighting such a person without reason.
Daphnen lowered his sword to the ground and slowly released his grip, rising to his feet. Yet he maintained a ready stance, prepared to seize it again at any moment should circumstances take an unexpected turn.
As he lifted his gaze, a smile graced the other’s lips.
Daphnen felt somewhat taken aback. Why was he already displaying such a friendly demeanor? Nothing had been decided yet, had it?
Then it occurred to him that he had failed to ask one very simple thing.
“What’s your name?”

The emergency meeting of the Priesthood held at the Town Hall finally concluded at three in the morning.
Nauplion made his way home, his weary body dragging behind him, questioning whether his own conduct had truly been right.
Morpheus—that water-logged fool of a priest—had undoubtedly brought Daphnen in. Though the Morpheus who attended the meeting kept his mouth firmly shut and played innocent.
The moment Nauplion witnessed the sky darkening, he could think of only one cause: the Winterer.
He did not rule out the possibility that some secret he was unaware of lay hidden somewhere on The Island, but as far as he knew, the Winterer was the greatest potential threat The Island faced.
Had the Winterer not been an unusual person like Nauplion, it would not have been something to entrust to a child like Daphnen. Yet despite this, he had respected Daphnen’s decision and had not confiscated the sword.
He had merely offered counsel: to wait and not draw it carelessly.
But upon returning to The Island, he had carelessly let slip information about the sword to Morpheus, an old friend he had not seen in some time. The moment he saw Morpheus’s keen interest, he realized his mistake—but it was already spilled water that could not be gathered back.
Not long after, he heard from Priestess Despoina that Morpheus was researching Daphnen’s sword. He confirmed the truth of it with Daphnen himself.
And then the incident occurred.
“Truly….”
Tomorrow I would absolutely ascertain the truth. And I would give that fool a stern warning to ensure such a thing never happened again, Nauplion resolved firmly as he reached the door and pulled the handle.

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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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