Chapter 12

“You called this tea?”

It was unusual. Three Thousandth immediately realized that this must be why Gart had come to his room so early in the morning. Three Thousandth placed a hand on Gart’s forehead and wrist, checking his temperature and pulse. His temperature was lower than usual, and his pulse was close to normal. In truth, just looking at his unusually smooth face would’ve been enough to tell.

“How is the pain?”

“Almost gone.”

“‘Almost’ meaning?”

“About the same as in the early stages of manifestation.” Seeing a faint hint of relief spread across Three Thousandth’s face, Gart smiled meaningfully. “You were that worried? I’m touched.”

Three Thousandth scrunched his brow and nose in irritation. He never let anyone be happy without ruining it somehow. That insufferable… Pushing aside both the relief and the annoyance, he began to think. To his knowledge, there had been a few times before when Gart’s curse had eased significantly like this.

“This would be the fourth time, wouldn’t it?”

“Seems like it.”

The first time was when he faced the Mother Tree, the divine tree. The second was when he met the god of the wide plains of Chura. The third, when he encountered the sea god of Rhanna Island. And now, this moment.

A colossal tree, a giant land tortoise, and a massive jellyfish—these all had one clear trait in common: they were ancient gods born during the era when the two primordial gods died and the world and life were created. Ever since then, they had each guarded their domains for millennia.

Each time Gart encountered one of these ancient gods, the power of his curse was subdued. Though it never lasted more than half a year, it gave him brief moments of reprieve from the long years of torment.

Of course, not all ancient gods had this effect on his curse. But Three Thousandth believed that a way to break the curse might lie in that primal power. That’s why he wanted to study Heimdrix, where the breath of the ancients still lingered.

“Whom did you meet last night?”

“You’re quick.”

“If I couldn’t pick up on this, I’d be out of a job.”

Gart gave a brief explanation of the events from the previous night. With each sentence, Three Thousandth’s brow furrowed deeper.

“Climbed through the window? Madness…”

Must have a death wish…

“You’re telling me she held a dagger to your throat? Completely insane…”

Three Thousandth carefully memorized the details Gart gave about this so-called “god.” She was far too weak to be believed as a god of Heimdrix. It seemed she had snuck in to rescue the northern spirits from the basement. The moment he came into contact with her, the curse subsided. By morning, the pain returned, but after contact again, his condition improved.

Three Thousandth rested his hand on his forehead and remained lost in thought for a few minutes. His deeply furrowed brow betrayed the complexity of his thoughts. Even after decades of studying gods and Heimdrix, he had no clear grasp of this.

“Who—or what—is this god?”

“Mariax.”

“…You didn’t ask just to find out her name, did you? You’ve got talent. How long has it been since you met her, and you already got her name?”

“Beats me.”

Gart lowered his gaze and curled the corners of his lips. He looked as though he was reminiscing.

“Has it been over ten years since Rhanna Island…?”

He stared deeply into the teacup, as if a giant jellyfish lay floating inside.

“This might be the last chance, Three Thousandth.”

Among the ruins discovered across the world, some contained depictions of the Ancient Divine Era: gods striding over mountaintops, twin-headed gods who saw both past and future, walking trees, boulders that predicted the weather, sentient shadows, giant birds asleep in the clouds. They swept away impurities with the wind, created lesser gods by shedding their scales, split the land and sea. And yet, in the modern era, most of them had disappeared.

Outside of Heimdrix, only a handful of these ancient gods still remained—no more than could be counted on two hands. Some scholars even claimed that the Divine Age had already ended.

It was this reality that had led Gart to resolve to reclaim Olkiedpan. After meeting the ancient god of the trench near Rhanna Island, the Tide of Deepwaters, both Gart and Three Thousandth had begun to suspect that the origin of the curse was tied to the ancient gods. But ancient gods were no longer to be found on the continent. And so, they came to Olkiedpan, which neighbored Heimdrix, a land said to hold divine souls and sacred relics of old. They hoped this would be the end of their search.

And then, whether by coincidence or fate, the curse once again subsided. Heimdrix was a land untouched by human feet. It was unclear what other mysteries or powers of the past might lie beyond it, or whether another opportunity would arise—but they had to consider that this unexpected god who came flying in through the window might be their final chance.

“Seems like she cares enough to come looking for them herself. Try persuading her with a little pressure—have the spirits help.”

Three Thousandth nodded.

“But where is this Mariax now?”

“In my room.”

“Without any supervision?”

“I knocked her out before I came. She won’t wake up for half a day.”

“…”

“I was careful. It’s not my fault she’s even weaker than I expected.”

What a truly rotten man. Shaking his head, Three Thousandth began digging through the records he’d compiled on the curse. As he mentally listed what he needed to find out from Mariax, he glanced back at Gart, who was stretching after finishing his now-cold tea. He didn’t look especially pleased, nor especially agitated. Just… normal. Peaceful. It felt like a glimpse into the life he might have if the curse were ever lifted.

Three Thousandth’s hand, which had been reaching for a certain book, paused in midair. That book had been the result of painstaking efforts to figure out how to kill Gart. But if the curse could truly be broken—then maybe there was no longer any reason for him to die. As if noticing the momentary hesitation on his face, Gart spoke casually.

“If Mariax can show me a way to live, then maybe she can show me how to die too.”

Three Thousandth exhaled deeply, then pulled the thick, heavy book into his arms.

***

The back of her neck ached. It had been a long time since Mariax had experienced such physical pain. She groaned repeatedly from the unfamiliar discomfort. But she knew what to do in times like this. Curl up and wait. Eventually, with time, pain always faded. Mariax slowly wriggled her body into a tight ball.

“At this point, I almost feel a little guilty…”

Her hazy, fog-clouded mind cleared in an instant. Mariax’s eyes snapped open. A soft bed with not a single sunken spot, a warm blanket adorned with luxurious embroidery. A stark room with not even a single painting on the wall. She realized this wasn’t her temple and immediately sat upright.

“Hello, Mariax.”

Leaning against the headboard, legs crossed, Gart greeted her in a relaxed tone.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

Evening…? Mariax turned her gaze toward the window. Outside, darkness had completely fallen. Her last memory was of the majestic, snowy mountains just as the sun had begun to rise. She had closed her eyes—only to open them again to find morning had turned to night.

With effort, Mariax turned her gaze back to Gart. He had a book resting on his knees. Calm eyes framed by sharp features, lips curved into a subtle, ambiguous smile. A face difficult to read. He had worn a similar expression the day before—even with a dagger embedded in his heart…

Just then, someone knocked on the door.

“This is Three Thousandth. I’m coming in.”

A slender man with light, moss-brown hair entered the room. Surprisingly, he wasn’t an ordinary human either. He couldn’t compare to Gart, of course, but he still possessed a fair amount of potent, clear divine power. Under the blanket, Mariax clenched her fists tightly. Facing one hero was already enough to make escape uncertain, and now another formidable presence had been added.

Her eyes met Three Thousandth’s. He froze with his hand still on the doorknob. The way he stared—without even blinking—felt a little too intense. Quickly recovering, Three Thousandth gave a polite cough to ease the tension. “Ah, apologies. It’s my first time seeing a living god of Heimdrix up close…”

Mariax immediately caught the key point in that statement. Your first time seeing a living god of Heimdrix? Then that means there were dead ones before…

“Shall we get to the point?”

Before Mariax could finish her thought, Three Thousandth dragged a chair close to the bed and sat across from her.

“Greetings, Lady Mariax.”

Three Thousandth offered a respectful bow. Hearing her name spoken so fluently by a stranger made Mariax feel quite disoriented. Still, since he had greeted her, she figured she should return it.

“…Right.”

Three Thousandth furrowed his brows slightly as he smiled. It was an odd expression. “I am the three-thousandth forest spirit born from the union of the Ulterra forest spirits and humankind, and the High Cleric of Thul’mor, Aeoro’es Iera Aera Ilioë Molhon.”

Mariax simply stared at him in silence.

“You may just call me Three Thousandth.”

Mariax nodded.

“I apologize for hosting such an esteemed figure in a humble place like this. How are you feeling?”

The grip Mariax had on the blanket loosened just slightly. In her eyes, the half-spirit human didn’t seem quite as savage as the hero beside him flipping through his book.