Chapter 37 : The Sun Was Setting

I stared at the old mage before me.

He wore a heavy, voluminous black robe that hid his build, its hood pulled so low that his face was concealed in shadow. Only the faint lines of a wrinkled mouth could be seen beneath it.

In one hand, he carried a large wooden staff. It was no ordinary staff—the gemstone mounted at its head shifted colors every second, shimmering ominously.

“……”

From his voice, and from that glimpse of his mouth, it was clear he was an old man.

Which meant one thing—Shushruta had been right. The flute-player wasn’t some disciple. It was him.

To be honest, a small knot of tension tightened inside me.

Mages were rare enough, but a skilled mage? That was something you might never see in a lifetime.

Magic, I had heard, was the harshest field when it came to talent.

A swordsman without talent could still swing his blade a thousand times. But a mage without talent? He couldn’t even hold a staff.

I, by fortune, had crossed paths with a few great mages in my life.

And because of that, I knew… at least a little about how to deal with them.

I fixed the old man with a cold stare.

This was no mere hermit. This was a criminal guilty of abducting hundreds of children. My words naturally came out sharp.

“Greetings, flute-blowing mage. Can you even see me?”

I waved my hand mockingly. The old man chuckled, his laugh dry and rasping. He sounded aged beyond measure.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Old man. Where are the children?”

“They’re well.”

“Alive?”

“For now.”

“Tell me where. Before I beat your skull in with that flute.”

The old man chuckled again, then asked,

“And you—what are you supposed to be? Why is a devil pretending to play saint?”

“How should I know? Maybe I looked holy for once.”

That earned another crooked laugh.

“What a funny creature you are.”

Shrring—

I drew my sword and leveled it at him.

“I’ll ask one last time. Where are the children?”

The mage grinned, then slammed his staff against the ground with a heavy thud.

“Below.”

“…Below?”

“They’re sound asleep beneath us. No need for concern.”

“You bastard. How the hell am I not supposed to worry? You dragged them off to be at the mercy of a lunatic.”

I spat the words at him, though inside, I sighed.

Beneath the ground… I hadn’t even considered that.

First priority—confirm the children’s location.

[He doesn’t seem to be lying.]

The Heavenly Demon’s words rang true.

The old man’s mocking smile hadn’t wavered. It wasn’t the face of a liar—it was the face of someone who believed he had already won. Confidence and leisure bled through him, curling into that smirk.

Whatever he had prepared, it was thorough.

I looked him dead in the eye and asked,

“You perverted psycho. Why take the children?”

“You think I’ll tell you?”

“Didn’t really care. Just wanted to call you what you are—some twisted old creep.”

“……”

I had learned what I needed. The children’s location.

Now, only one thing remained. To uproot this weed completely.

I tightened my grip on my blade, my gaze never leaving the flute-playing mage.

Who was baiting who would soon be decided.

“……”

“……”

We locked eyes in silence.

Me with my sword. Him with his staff.

Both of us waiting, calculating, searching for the right moment to strike.

At that very moment, the sun dipped lower, bleeding its glow across the forest.

The light caught the edge of my face, bright enough to sting.

I gestured toward the horizon with my chin.

“Old man. Take off that damn hood for once and look at the sky.”

The sunset painted the west in glorious fire, orange clouds piled along the horizon like blazing embers.

Yet this shadowy mage gave it no glance, standing firm, hood pulled low, staff planted in the earth.

I frowned and scolded him.

“What a stubborn fool. Why won’t you look? It’s the last sunset you’ll ever see. You’ll regret not watching it on your way to the afterlife.”

From the hood came a cold, rasping reply.

“A sunset? I’ve seen it thousands of times. I’ll see it thousands more. It’s nothing but a tiresome sight. Why should I waste my eyes on it?”

“What kind of idiotic talk is that? I’ve seen it thousands of times too, but it feels new every time.”

I pointed toward the sky, burning red.

“How could that ever be boring? What a pitiful, joyless life you’ve led.”

A chill voice floated from the darkness under his hood.

“A worthless sunset. I’ve no wish to see it.”

My face hardened as I studied him.

“Old man. What’s your name?”

He chuckled and answered.

“Coulsea.”

“…Coulsea, is it.”

So it was true. This was the flute-player.

Still, I let none of that show, and scoffed.

“Doesn’t suit you. Nothing cool about you at all.”

“If that’s how it sounds, so be it.”

He accepted it with surprising ease. In that sense, maybe the name fit after all.

Then he asked,

“And you?”

“Ashuban.”

“Sounds like a curse. Ah—Shuban. Like that.”

I shot him a stony glare.

“Not funny.”

He snickered at my reaction.

I casually picked up a few pebbles, rolling them in my palm as I asked,

“Tell me, old man. Why do you hate the sunset so much? Why call it worthless? What did the sunset ever do to you?”

“Secret,” he said flatly.

“……”

I clicked the stones together, eyes fixed on him, ready to hurl them infused with starlight if he so much as twitched an incantation.

“The great mage I know never once called a sunset worthless.”

“Oh? And what did he say?”

“He said it was magnificent. Just like me.”

“Is that so? You must be young, then. Everyone feels differently.”

“And that same great mage also said that any gloomy old man leaning on a staff, who thinks sunsets are worthless, is nothing but hopeless trash.”

“……”

Of course, that part was a lie. He hadn’t said that.

But sometimes, you have to borrow a great man’s authority to land an insult. It had its own satisfaction.

Still, one thing was true: the mage I knew never dismissed sunsets.

On the contrary—he said this:

That nature itself is wonder. Astonishment. Mystery beyond comprehension.

She said that nature was great, and that we ought to sing its praises in reverence.

When I questioned how something I couldn’t even understand could be considered “great,” she smacked me on the head.

…If only she loved humanity half as much as she adored nature.

In any case, she insisted that a true mage must love nature.

All magic, she said, was like a flower blooming through the medium of nature’s mana. She regarded magic as a gift from the great world itself. And so, her magic carried warmth.

So much warmth it could burn you alive.

But the old mage before me spoke the complete opposite.

His magic, I thought, must be just as grim, cold, and suffocating as his words.

I addressed him evenly.

“Old man. May I ask you something?”

“No. And why do you ask my name if you won’t call me by it?”

“Because I feel like it. Just as I feel like asking questions.”

I threw my words at him bluntly, like a fisherman dangling bait, the dagger being the lure that had drawn him from his den.

“Why is an old codger who’s no swordsman coveting the Legacy of Ophosis?”

The twisted mage smirked.

“What business is that of yours?”

A fair point. I nodded.

“True enough.”

Most mages I knew prided themselves on knowledge, loved to lecture, to explain. This one did not.

In every way, he strayed from the mold of what a mage was supposed to be.

Suddenly, he asked,

“Do you know?”

I shot back quickly, “I do.”

But he ignored my quip and pressed on.

“The sun is most dazzling just before it sets. And when it sinks, night follows. Black night, inescapable. It is the law of nature, one that no one can defy. But… I am the mage who bends law itself.”

His words were riddles, yet I could guess his meaning.

In short, he hated sunsets because he hated the night.

To him, the sunset was a reminder of the darkness to come.

Hearing this, I noticed how his deep hood seemed like a man hiding from something.

Stealing children, seeking Ophosis’s dagger—it was all just desperate scrambling to flee death.

I gazed at him in silence, then said,

“An old man who can’t even enjoy life—what are you so greedy for? Nothing but empty desire.”

The old man bared his teeth in a grin.

“If my desires weren’t hollow, I wouldn’t be after Ophosis’s Legacy, would I? Isn’t that obvious?”

“A perfect answer.”

The sun was sinking.

The west burned, clouds blazing like waves of fire.

The mage who fled from death said,

“Then let’s play gloriously, until the night arrives. Demon.”

At that moment, the jewel on his staff flared.

And at the same instant, I hurled the pebble I had been rolling in my palm.

The pebble, imbued with starlight, streaked forward like a bolt.

In that fleeting moment, I named it Meteor Shot.

But I didn’t get to see if it pierced the mad mage.

Because the air around him suddenly burst open, spewing volleys of magic arrows straight at me.

I kicked the ground with Floating Step, darting sideways.

Whsshh! Whsshh! Whsshh!

The arrows slammed into where I had been, splitting trees apart.

At the same time, a metallic ting! rang out from the mage’s side.

My Meteor Shot had been deflected.

The sound was sharp—it meant the strike was strong, but the shield was stronger.

I leapt high, spinning in the air, and loosed another Meteor Shot.

And then I saw what had blocked it.

Clang!

A bluish, translucent film shimmered for an instant, deflecting the stone, before fading back to invisibility.

It only appeared when struck.

And it was tough. Very tough.

Meanwhile, arrows chased me even into the air.

I watched the endless rain of conjured arrows—like a bridge of light between myself and the mage.

For a moment, the thought struck me—could I run across them, like a red carpet laid out?

Well… a blue carpet, in this case.

I tried it, stepping onto the end of that blue carpet midair.

But it didn’t work.

The arrow shattered beneath my foot, and I dropped sharply.

“Tch.”

I hadn’t reached that level yet.

Forced back, I slashed through the storm of arrows, deflecting them one after another. A biting chill clung to each strike.

Ice arrows.

And I noticed—every time another was conjured, the jewel on his staff glowed blue.

I hurled my last charged Meteor Shot directly at that jewel.

Clang!

A defensive shimmer flashed, deflecting it once again.

So both the mage and his staff were shielded by invisible blue barriers. Both equally strong—strong enough to shrug off my Meteor Shots.

I needed more data on the barrier’s limits.

For instance: could it withstand starlight condensed on the edge of my blade?

Dodging the ceaseless barrage, I lowered my stance, pouring qi into my feet. Then I sprinted.

Whsssh!

The icy breath of arrows grazed my shoulder as I plunged through the storm.

Channeling my energy, I gathered starlight at my sword’s tip until it gleamed brilliantly.

Then, in a flash, I drove it straight at the mad mage.

BOOOOM!

Craaaack—CRASH!

(End of Chapter)

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