Creak. The sound of Orthes’s shoe heel striking the stone slab of the temple echoed.
As he broke the serene darkness that filled the temple, Orthes marched forward without hesitation.
At the end of the direction Orthes was heading, there was a massive stone relief. The intricate carvings across the entire wall undeniably depicted tales from ancient myth.
And in the middle of the mythology, there was a door carved in the direction Orthes was heading.
A stone door. Not one that could actually open and close, but simply a carving on the wall. Orthes slowly traced the door’s carving with his fingers.
“What’s that?”
Carisia asked. There weren’t any myths in this world that specifically highlighted a ‘door.’ Even if there were, it wouldn’t be significant enough to be carved right in the center of such a grand relief.
Surely, the Blasphemia agents who visited before must have investigated this door too.
And they probably left empty-handed.
The sacred power that must have once filled this place had scattered and disappeared, and this abandoned ruin without any altar or symbols was indeed just as the Blasphemia report described: ‘No reaction to divine power. Original purpose unknown.’
Orthes seemed to ponder for a moment before opening his mouth.
“As you can see, it’s a door.”
Is he joking? Carisia was pleased with the idea that Orthes was joking with himself and scrutinized his expression.
However, his expression was too serious for it to simply be a joke.
If others could read Carisia’s thoughts, they might have wondered, “They’re both always grinning, so how do you tell them apart?” But Carisia’s analysis was spot on.
Orthes wasn’t joking.
“Let’s think about extra-dimensional beings. They cast shadows across this world as they cross the ocean of dimensions. Though everyone says it’s a murmur, it truly is a divine power.”
Those who possess god-like power and reign like gods from on high.
Then what else should we call them besides gods?
“Are you implying that the vanished gods and extra-dimensional beings are essentially the same?”
“My wisdom doesn’t quite reach such grand tales about the essence of gods. But I understand that the gods once came down to this world from beyond. This door is a metaphor for that descent.”
An ancient myth deliberately omitted from the Ten Commandments.
Orthes’s statement regarding forgotten wisdom reminded one of a prophet of the gods recorded in the ancient era.
“This space connected to this door is the true temple. It’s a place where the gods metaphorically embody the entire heavens. The relic of Phoibos must be there.”
*
As I squeezed my memory of reading the original story in response to Carisia’s question, I kept wrestling with this damned door.
The protagonist barged in, casually muttering lines like, “Hoo-hoo, is this an ancient protective spell?” and opened it in one go.
How the hell am I supposed to open this?
‘Maybe I should just open my eyes and take a look?’
My eyes are all-purpose, but I am not. Surely if I open my eyes, I could figure out how the spell is applied to each atom that makes up the door.
But the structures of these ‘ancient’ spells weren’t just complicated. The magic compressed an amount of information that transcended a typical information level, leaving lingering effects for quite a while after seeing it once.
Reading such ancient magic or deciphering complex and powerful beings like Grand Mages is beyond my brain’s processing speed.
To put it simply, it’s like video editing. No matter how high the resolution of the original video shot with a camera, if the graphics card or CPU can’t handle it, proper editing is impossible.
The resolution my brain can handle is around 2K, yet occasionally phenomena with 8K or 16K, or even completely unmeasurable resolutions pop up.
As I pondered in front of the door, Carisia suddenly approached.
She placed her hand on the door and injected magic power.
…Magic power?
This is a temple sealed by the Mage King, right?
“Boss. It’s dangerous!”
But nothing happened.
Chuckle, Carisia smiled as she looked at me.
“If injecting a bit of magic power triggered a trap, it would have been written in the Blasphemia report. This wouldn’t set off a trap with just this much.”
Carisia extended her magic net even wider. A massive wave that felt like it would envelop the entire mountain peak.
“Aha, this structure!”
It was a scene that any ordinary mage would hesitate to even replicate. Not because the technical level was high, but due to the sheer amount of magic required to project continuously over such a vast area.
Any mage attempting to imitate it would faint in less than a second due to the depletion of magic. Carisia closed her eyes and maintained the release of magic for about a minute.
No wonder the Blasphemia couldn’t find it. Even if they searched the entire Ten Towers, there wouldn’t be many mages like Carisia.
Perhaps none.
Eventually, Carisia opened her eyes. The white glow gathered on her gauntlet.
“Boss, are you…?”
“Breaking it would be quicker, wouldn’t it?”
Considering her temperament, she’s definitely right. That’s a given.
“…I suppose it wouldn’t be wise not to be considered an intruder, would it?”
“Let’s destroy everything. Isn’t that how we always do it?”
Saying “that’s how we always do” is slander. I was in a desperate position to prevent her from destroying everything.
*
As Orthes nodded, looking troubled, Carisia’s right hand moved.
The light that gathered on the black gauntlet didn’t explode but seemed to envelop the entire gauntlet. The glowing gauntlet resembled a lightsaber split into five beams.
Carisia moved her hand in line with the symbols carved into the door.
The door’s carvings sliced like butter rather than stone. Watching Carisia’s delicate yet swift cutting work, Orthes thought.
‘This is likely better than melting people like in the original story, right?’
She had melted plenty of people already. However, unlike the original ruthless ways, it was more of a defensive concept—
“What are you doing?”
Carisia, finishing her cutting work, turned to Orthes and asked.
Originally, there should have been an auto-closure procedure that would destroy the portal if the door was damaged to counter such an intrusion, but Carisia forcibly injected her magic to hold onto the diminishing portal.
It was based on the logic that as much water spills out, if you pour water in, the quantity can be maintained.
Understanding how Carisia was maintaining the portal, Orthes contemplated saying something but shook his head.
“No, let’s go.”
‘I wish I could waste magic power like that too.’
*
“They say it’s the gods’ space, but it doesn’t seem as magnificent as expected, does it?”
“Well, that’s the metaphor. In reality, it’s probably just a place carved out somewhere underground in this mountain.”
The secret temple of Phoibos was a space adorned with white marble. Everywhere you looked, it was bright white, like being on a cloud.
At the center was a marble altar with a gem that had several facets. A craftsmanship that surely didn’t lack care.
“There must have originally been a priestess who would convey prophecies by gazing into that crystal. In other words, the place we just left was the waiting room. This spot is the audience chamber with the priestess.”
Orthes stepped closer and reached out to the crystal.
The moment his fingertip touched the crystal—
The white marble darkened.
‘No, it wasn’t the marble that darkened—’
The light disappeared. The mystical light that illuminated the marble chamber, the source of which remained a mystery, began to be drawn into the crystal that came into contact with Orthes’s hand.
Carisia watched the scene with interest. At the same time, a peculiar sense of relief enveloped her.
No one could miss the relationship between Orthes and the old gods observed in this scene. Nevertheless, Orthes did not refuse to accompany them.
He shared his secret with Carisia. She felt happy about that fact.
Orthes pondered.
‘What is this?’
*
Suddenly, the crystal that devoured the light began to shine oddly. Like a movie projector, light was projected onto the marble walls.
The flickering shadows coalesced into the silhouette of something human-like.
“Why…?”
An echoing, yet faint voice that seemed to be about to scatter. The volume was immense, yet it felt devoid of strength.
There was no such description in the novel. What’s going on? Did they find something and leave behind some residual thought before the protagonist?
“Why, you ask? To take this relic.”
“That’s not it. Why are you with ▅ that? Who are you that holds the Ten ▍ above anyone else…”
Weird noise. I could tell it was questioning my companion rather than aiming for the relic.
I opened my mouth, feeling an odd discomfort.
“Who I accompany is my choice, is it not? Now tell me, who are you to cling to the relic of the old gods and carve fleeting thoughts upon it?”
“I am the priest of Phoibos. I have endured a long time to pass the relic to one who possesses the appropriate qualifications. Surely you have that qualification. However, accompanying you is—”
Ah-ha. Got it.
The safety device of the relic rejecting the Mage King in the original story. The very essence of the thoughts of the priest who once served the old gods acted as the relic’s safety device.
The fierce rejection of Carisia might be due to the knowledge and magic power of the Ten Commandments bestowed by the White Light Tower.
I wish I had magical powers like the Mage King to forcibly prevent self-destruction of the relic, but I don’t have that. Maybe Carisia could manage something similar.
For now, I need to persuade this grandfather who woke up too late before he goes “I don’t like you” and self-destructs.
Seeing that I have qualifications might make it easier to convince him.
*
“What does it matter?”
“The shard of respect that brought down our age—”
“I have chosen them.”
In an instant, silence fell.
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