CHAPTER 780: PALE KNIGHT

On the way back to their accommodations, Alice’s eyes lingered on the item the branch manager handed over.

Despite its capabilities, the Marker looked like a simple trinket or toy. A sphere no bigger than her fingertip yet strangely intricate. A surface composed of several tiny interlocking segments that shifted subtly whenever Alice held it against the light.

She could tell that when the market locks onto a target, these components will probably open up to reveal whatever it was hiding within its tiny walls.

The receiver looked even more so like a trinket. A compass that was stripped of the familiar components such as the needle or cardinal markings. Not even a piece of glass separated the user from the inner workings.

Instead, the central chamber was an open hollow disk containing a single shard of grey crystal, suspended by thin golden threads attached from the walls.

A crystal not unlike the one that Suyin gave when absorbing Eldritch energy.

Beneath the suspended crystal was another hidden compartment, concealed within the compass’s base. Alice eased it open with her thumb, revealing the empty capsule that the branch manager had mentioned.

Crafted from a strange black glass, there was a thin strange of light held in the centre as though waiting for something.

Alice had some theories on how the marker worked based on certain clues that the branch manager gave her. But unless she took it apart, she won’t be able to know for sure.

[Alternatively, you can write a note to Suyin no? Have her take a look at the compass for you and tell you about how it works.] Cayla suggested as Alice scratched her chin and nodded.

But she’ll need to find a private time to do so as there’s no doubt Suyin will be tampering with Eldritch energy in that vault of hers.

She couldn’t risk opening it without the possibility of Eldritch energy being picked up by Gwen. After all, if her connection with corrupted energy was to be exposed before she found out the secret to Vision, it would go against everything she’s worked towards thus far.

"Well? Did you find out what you wanted to know?" Gwen asked curiously, seeing Kaia fiddling with the marker.

"Not really. I think I’ll let a friend of mine know about it later. Rather than Abyssal Engineering, it’s more so just pure engineering with a sprinkle of Abyssal influences." Alice replied with a soft sigh.

"Oh? You recognise that kind of stuff?" Gwen blinked her eyes in surprise.

Most people wouldn’t be able to differentiate between the two. To them, most things are Abyssal Engineering.

But she could tell that Kaia saw deeper than that.

"A little bit? I’m not exactly proficient so it’s more so a guess than anything." Alice coughed.

"Heh~ That’s impressive though. Perhaps you might have some talent in tinkering. Ever thought about giving it a try?" Gwen asked curiously but Alice quickly shook her head.

"No thank you. I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime."

Every time she messed around with Abyssal Engineering, she would be reminded of the collar they shackled around her neck.

She’d rather not think about that if possible.

But with one whole day on their hands, they decided to gather some more information on the Blade Sovereign.

###

The pale knight walked amidst a land of sorrow.

He had no name.

Fragments of a life long buried. The scent of a woman, the warmth of her breath.

The weight of a small child within his arms, the joy of a small hand curling against his fingers.

Yet their faces eluded him.

Were these truly his memories, or dreams planted by another’s hand?

Had he once been a beast of battle, or a loyal guardian?

Fragments of monotony flashed through his mind.

The days where he polished his armour, raised his son into the air before catching him again.

The swing set beneath the tree, a garden at home.

Fragments of joy barged its way into his mind.

His son begging the father to learn swordsmanship. His praise towards the father, proclaiming him as the strongest.

Fragments of wonder. The three of them sitting by a fire. She would hum, his son would sleep. And he sat by their side.

He wished things would never change. But such wishes are fragile things.

Fragments of a call to action. His duty.

His wife’s tearful pleas, his son’s desperate protests, all weighed against the reality that their peace existed only through his allegiance to the cold light of the lunar sphere.

So in the dead of winter, he marched. His armour stained with mud, his blade chipped and rusted by the blood of those who fell before him.

He sought neither glory nor honour. Only the quiet hope of returning home. But the drums of war knew no mercy.

Fragments of bloodshed. . .

Fragments of screams.

Fragments of brother and sisters in arms dying by his side.

A battle against the darkened sun was never going to be smooth. But the man persisted.

He fought, he cleaved, he pierced. He tore through the battlefield with the very same swordsmanship that he taught his son.

Fragments of a battle won yet bad omen stirs.

The darkened sun retreated but not for long. They simply needed reinforcements, new soldiers.

Fragments of loss-

The pale knight flinched and kneeled.

Pain lanced through his mind, his body trembling. Warm memories always ended this way, drowned in a sudden, icy void.

It was always like this.

He could never quite remember the final fragments.

Or perhaps he didn’t want to. A rejection.

But regardless of the answer, he walked within this coffin of steel.

Before him stood a hunter, one who desires his power. The pale knight sees the hunter’s allies.

Was he also a father?

Or was the hunter a son?

To rend the lad in two would mean a despair.

Not for him, but for whomever waits his return.

The pale knight did not stop, he strode past the hunter for he wished not to deprave the lad of his life.

For he too was someone who had to return home.

His own war had ended, though his memories failed him. So he would march on, march until the road carried him back to the home he could no longer clearly see.

The hunter struck from behind.

A man with no honour.

The pale knight watched as a sky of flaming arrows rain down towards him. He recalled the Fragment of Bloodshed, a familiar scene.

His war has ended yet battle still raged on.

To return to his home, he was now forced to deprave another of his chance.

Thus the pale knight will pray. Pray that in the next life, the hunter would not be so foolish.

Moonlight crashed down from above, solidifying as an armoury of blades.

The pale knight marched into battle, blades lit with lunar radiance.

He dodged, he cleaved.

Fragments of memory manifest once more. He felt her tears on his skin.

Was it from the farewell? Or something else.

With one down, the hunter cried out in panic. A clear misjudgement of their power.

The pale knight saw the flames of anger, of rage in his eyes.

He will give the lad another chance.

To leave before another loses their life.

To avoid a dark future where all of them are buried beneath the ground they stand upon.

As expected, the lad could not put down his fire of anger and struck.

The pale knight offered words of apology before rending them in two.

How many days must he continue down this path, how many months.

Perhaps even years have passed.

But he believed. He believed that he’ll reach that home.

###

A puppet sat by the tree. Her eyes gazing upon the walking set of armour wading through a river of blood.

A knight of the moon church, a man who was once their strongest cardinal.

A broken man with a mind fragmented.

She sees his soul controlling his body with a single objective in mind.

To return home.

"Old friend. . ." Griselda muttered.

It was a pitiful sight.

She sees the shadows of his past self, the days long gone.

But all that remains now was a baleful shadow and a fragmented mind.

She wanted to liberate him much sooner, to ease his pain.

But his fate was not in her hands. . .

No.

Her master lost the bargain, his soul was now a properly of the Sun.

To be used as fuel for the one that the sun deems worthy.

At long last, will his endless journey come to an end. At long last, can her old friend get the rest he desired.

To finally reunite with the family he lost in that war.

To begin with, it was their fault. They should’ve known that his family would become targets when the Eclipse was pushed back.

They should’ve protected them better.

But the location of his home was exposed, burnt down.

His family was taken, materials for reinforcements.

Soldiers specifically crafted to fight him.

The face of his son grafted onto a hulking monstrosity, waving the sword around in a crude reminder of his swordsmanship.

His wife’s memento strapped onto a skinless body begging for death. Her familiar voice called his name but this time in desperation. For liberation.

There was no home for him to return to.

No wife waiting for him, no son calling out his name.

Only an endless pursuit until death takes him.

Griselda took a deep breath and looked up at the sky.

She offered him one last prayer before leaving.

The cardinal was no more. In that broken mind was only the beast Syrion, the Blade Sovereign.