Chapter 23

Darkness had settled over the land. Mariax was still among the humans. No one paid much attention to who she was or why she was there. The recent events had left everything so chaotic that no one had the luxury to question her presence.

The Faldoa sisters, who had brought Mariax here, had flown off cursing furiously after the yak god left, shouting that they’d find those bastards and hack them into 188 pieces each. A group had followed in their wake, yelling that the “mad dogs have been unleashed, we have to stop them somehow!” Though to be precise, it seemed more like mad birds than mad dogs.

As a result, Mariax was left standing alone in a corner of the busy path, where people came and went. A few curious glances passed her way, but her deeply drawn hood diverted them all. As she habitually suppressed her presence to the extreme, her existence among the towering, loud humans became smaller than a pebble on the road.

At this rate, even if she left this place and slipped past the outer walls, no one would notice. Returning to the castle wouldn’t be difficult at all. But Mariax stayed. She couldn’t bring herself to move. The image of the god’s child, cold and lifeless beyond the fortress wall, kept hovering before her eyes.

“Tell the master of this land. Burn the child with the white flame that lights the night.”

That incomprehensible message from the god was another reason her feet felt so heavy. The master of this land must surely mean that man. The hero, Gart. A man with overwhelming strength capable of destroying anything, a cruel temperament, and the thick stench of blood as though it belonged to him. To entrust the child to that savage man who barely even deserves the title of “hero”? Even knowing it was a human who killed the child? Her head spun. Regardless, for the ending to come, that man needed to be here. She never thought the day would come when she’d wait for someone she had once hoped would never return.

“Are you waiting for Anir?”

That voice clearly targeted her. Mariax turned her head. It was Oze, even harder to spot in the night. Mariax swallowed dryly. Did he recognize her?

“Lady Mariax?”

“…Yes.”

“You must have really missed him.”

She wasn’t sure if she had ever looked at someone this coldly before. Mariax’s face was hidden, but as if he could sense her reaction, Oze gave a small smile.

“I was joking.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.”

Oze chuckled and removed his cloak, wrapping it gently around Mariax’s shoulders.

“I was going to come take care of you sooner, but the Faldoa sisters were rampaging and I had to calm them down. They don’t listen to others very well.”

His dark face showed a trace of trouble. Mariax recalled the smallest of the sisters—probably the youngest—who had earlier been restrained by others. After punching down the men grabbing her wings and limbs, she’d spat, “I don’t take orders from anyone weaker than me!” and flown off. Judging from their divine power and abilities, the sisters were clearly extraordinary even among Gart’s subordinates. The fact that Oze could restrain them meant he might be far stronger than he appeared.

“Ah, already?”

Oze’s murmured words broke her train of thought. He looked at Mariax with a bright smile.

“Sharp as always, Lady Mariax.” His gaze turned toward the far side of the dark fortress wall. “Anir has returned.”

Exactly ten minutes after he said that, the master of Olkiedpan returned. Thanks to the heads-up, the Faldoa sisters, Oze, Three Thousandth, and Gart’s subordinates all crowded around the front of the wall.

A man atop a massive black horse glanced indifferently over the assembled crowd. Mariax, hood pulled low, hid behind a large man and peered at him. Gart’s face was splattered with dried blood, making him look even more savage.

The mission had been estimated to take anywhere from a week to a month, yet it was completed in just three days. It was hard to even imagine how fierce the battle must’ve been. Despite his calm expression, the aura around him was sharper than usual.

“I’ve never seen anything good come from you lot gathering like this… so? What now?”

Three Thousandth approached Gart and began explaining the situation. The reason the Faldoa sisters had returned late to the fortress was because they had a separate assignment—tracking down a faction called “The Reversers,” who hunted gods to consume their hearts and flesh and grow stronger. Recently, traces of reversers had been found near Olkiedpan, so the sisters returned to the fortress.

As expected, while Gart had been away wandering the continent, the reversers had posed as mercenaries and hunted gods from within the fortress. Just before Gart returned, they seized a brief window of opportunity to kill a god—today’s incident.

Thanks to that, the reversers within the fortress were swiftly eradicated. But Gart didn’t seem particularly pleased upon hearing it. It was almost impressive how a man could look so threatening even while lifting the corners of his mouth in a smile. As Three Thousandth’s explanation neared its end, Gart’s brow twitched at the part about the god asking them to burn the child.

Surrounded by the thick night air, the man moved. His subordinates quickly parted to make way. Mariax also ducked behind another person. She thought she felt a cold gaze sweep past, but when she looked up, Gart’s eyes were fixed far ahead—on the white corpse of the god.

He stood before the body of the young god who hadn’t fully matured. Unlike the others, who looked disturbed, his face remained calm. It didn’t feel like he was repressing emotion—more like he wasn’t feeling anything at all.

“To Thul’mor.”

A white breath escaped Gart’s lips. Mariax knew the meaning of those softly spoken words. To the embrace of gods.

The wind stirred. His black hair swayed and blended into the dark night sky. A warm breeze tickled Mariax’s cheek. On a land always frozen, such a breeze was miraculous. Mariax followed the current with her eyes. The wind’s destination was Gart.

A wondrous sight unfolded. Light began to seep into the man’s face, his dark eyes kindling with it. A warm white glow enveloped the frozen corpse. Mariax let out a soft breath. It wasn’t just white light—it was white flame.

The white flame surrounding the god’s body whirled upward, swelling like a tornado and soaring into the sky. The dim night lit up brightly. Hair and hems flapped in the radiant whirlwind.

“This is Olkiedpan’s funeral rite.” Mariax heard Three Thousandth speak beside her. “We say ‘returning to the gods’ embrace’ when one dissolves into earth, water, fire, and wind. But Olkiedpan is the only place where that’s impossible. It freezes everything—living or dead. Even corpses from a hundred years ago are found perfectly preserved.”

To Thul’mor. To the gods’ embrace. Mariax reflected on those words again.

“Anir’s flame has the power to destroy form and return it to the gods’ embrace.”

Much later, Gart brought his two hands together slowly. The white firestorm also began to shrink. His palms inched closer… closer… until finally, they touched. At that same moment, the flames vanished. It might’ve just been a gesture to quell the fire, but to Mariax, it looked like he was praying.

Nothing remained. No remains, no ashes. Just bare earth, once covered by snow. Not even a single scorch mark. A fire strong enough to consume a corpse without trace hadn’t harmed anything else.

Then came the howl of a blizzard. Or at least, the sound of one. Mariax looked around. It was the voice of a god, though none could be seen. The dark night suddenly lit up—this time, not by Gart’s flames, but by tiny particles of light floating through the air.

She instinctively reached out, wanting to touch it. But the specks of light couldn’t be held or felt. Only a familiar, cold energy brushed her fingers.

Mariax realized this light was the young god’s power. A final glow from the child’s soul, resonating with its parent’s voice. Not just where the body had been, but the entire space was filled with it. Like a quiet snowstorm, the glittering dust floated weightlessly without any wind.

After a while, the light that had brightened the night began to fade. But it wasn’t disappearing—it was blending into the cold air and moonlight. To the gods’ embrace. At last, Mariax understood why the god had asked them to burn the child.

The god had sent its voice with the wind. There was no anguish of eternal loss—only the glimmer of a brief encounter. The emotion pressed deep into her chest, but Mariax still found it hard to grasp completely. After all, death was just another tragic farewell.

One by one, flickers of the young soul returned to the gods’ embrace. A halo of light floated before her eyes. Mariax blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, the light had vanished.

Only the dark man remained beyond it.