“Clay.”

“……”

“Clay!”

At Naiad’s piercing shout, Clay came to a halt. But that was all. He simply stood still. Unable to bear just watching him like that, she flew toward him.

“What are you doing?!”

“…What do you mean?”

“You’ve been walking! For a whole hour!”

It was clear he wasn’t heading toward any destination.

“Snap out of it!”

It spoke volumes that Naiad, who had been devastated by Yelena’s death, was the one to step forward like this.

“You said you didn’t care! You wouldn’t even let me step in!”

Naiad shouted, her voice filled with frustration.

“What’s the point of acting like you’re composed when you’re not!”

“……”

Clay lowered his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m not composed.”

He had always been someone of deep emotion. It was Clay who had brought together party members who had closed themselves off in their own ways.

But that nature, twisted by the execution, had led him here. He had no intention of undoing that decision. Still, there were things even he couldn’t help.

Pain.

That, at least, couldn’t be erased.

“I need time to process the pain.”

“Damn it! Then what about me!”

Naiad clenched her small fists and swung them through the air.

“Am I supposed to just endure it alone too? You’re the one who’s supposed to help me through this! I’m hurting too!”

She had to make a choice—of who mattered more. Of course, Clay had come first. She respected the path he took. No, she had even chosen to walk it with him.

That’s why she had forced herself to look away from Yelena, their former comrade. She hadn’t even seen the scene where they abandoned Clay. She had only judged based on what Clay had told her.

“It really hurts…”

Suddenly—

Clay pulled Naiad into an embrace.

“I’m sorry, Naiad.”

His voice was heavy.

“I made you suffer the pain I should have borne alone.”

“……”

“I’m not that great of a person.”

Perhaps if he truly had been, she could have forgiven him.

But all people had limits. If he hadn’t been buried beneath the pain, if he hadn’t been broken by that execution, Clay might have still acted within those limits. He might have made another superhuman decision—as a ‘Hero.’

“Fear and loneliness. They need to understand those.”

Only when faced with the moment of death, utterly alone with nowhere to turn, could they truly understand what Clay had gone through.

“So this is the best I can do.”

Clay wasn’t merely trying to punish them.

He was trying to teach them all the emotions he’d felt in that moment. And though that process could only end in death, for those who accepted it, he could still show the smallest bit of mercy.

Memory.

At least one day from the past, when they had cared for each other—he would keep that in his heart.

“I hope you’ll accept this as the best I can offer.”

At those words, Naiad couldn’t say anything in return. Clay had no interest in healing himself.

He simply sought to be understood. By all those who had sent him to the execution platform.

By any means necessary.

Because understanding couldn’t be won through persuasion alone, Clay had chosen to endure the pain. Whatever that pain may be—paradoxically, that was the only way he could live with the version of himself that was no longer ‘good.’

“I…”

Naiad slowly opened her mouth.

“I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. Not anymore.”

Even so—

“But I’ve decided to accept all of you. Long before you became the Demon King.”

Clay had once risked his life for Naiad. When the previous Demon King had torn through the dimensional wall and tried to consume the Spirit Realm into the Demon Realm, it was Clay who stayed by her side as she worked to restore the wall.

If she failed, the backlash from the dimension itself would crush her. Even the elder spirits had fled, unable to give their lives. Only Clay, a human with conviction, remained with her.

—I felt like I could go to the end with you.

He had smiled at her and said that.

Naiad had never forgotten that smile.

And she never would.

“You were too great. That’s why you ended up like this.”

Naiad gripped Clay’s collar.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t catch you when you fell.”

“…You weren’t even there.”

Clay finally spoke, his face showing a little less pain.

“Thank you.”

He couldn’t say, Next time, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt. Naiad didn’t demand a promise like that either.

That alone was enough.

“Looks like it might rain.”

Turning his gaze from the pair, Syltanaro muttered absently as he looked up at the darkening sky.

♧

“She’s dead, huh?”

At the spot where Yelena’s corpse had been laid.

A blue-haired mage had arrived.

“Struck by lightning several times, was it?”

Yuru, the mage, murmured as she examined Yelena’s body.

“She seemed to be having a long chat with Clay, but I didn’t catch much of it. Too bad.”

She pressed her finger to her lips with a disappointed look.

“Well, we were party members once. I suppose I should show some respect?”

She stomped lightly on the ground with her small foot.

At that, small golems rose from the earth.

“Lift her.”

The golems grabbed Yelena and began to lift her. But they couldn’t balance properly. Yelena’s still-warm body swayed loosely in their grip.

“Hold her properly. She’d probably scold us even after death.”

Humming to herself as she moved with the golems, Yuru suddenly flinched.

“Oh, wait a sec.”

She suddenly grinned, as if struck by a good idea.

“Before we bury her…”

Her eyes glowed a deeper blue as she grabbed Yelena’s wrist.

“What I can use—I should take with me, right?”

Elf attributes.

The right to enter places only elves could access, or to touch things only elves could handle.

Using magic capable of extracting racial traits—reserved for Origins—Yuru had acquired that power.

“It was only possible because she was dead.”

Had Yelena still been alive, she would’ve resisted, making it impossible. Had more time passed after death, all the power she possessed would have dispersed. Even that was fortunate.

“Just think of it as being for Clay.”

Yuru addressed Yelena’s silent corpse.

“Clay grows stronger the more trials he endures. You probably became a good trial for him, too.”

The dead gave no response.

The golems dug into the earth and buried Yelena. Yuru picked up a twig and stuck it at the head of the grave in place of a tombstone.

“It’s not a World Tree branch, but let’s call it a substitute.”

Yuru looked down at Yelena’s resting place.

“So, how was Lutan? He’s still too much for Clay to handle, isn’t he?”

She tilted her head slightly.

“He spent nearly a whole month just adjusting to the Ring of Luanac I gave him.”

Clay, after returning from a place presumed to be a labyrinth, had poured all his time into dissecting the Ring of Luanac.

He’d tried to control his power using only the ring, without the demon sword Syltanaro. He seemed to have tested every method he could.

“And despite me spying on him like that, no one noticed. Yeah… no way he’s ready to take on Lutan like this.”

Yuru murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Looks like he’s going to need a lot more of my help~”

She spun in place on a whim—then suddenly froze.

“?”

Yuru felt an unsettling shift in the air.

“What was that?”

A presence.

“No way…”

The moment she pointed her finger, one of the golems bolted forward.

“Catch it.”

At her command, the golem leapt onto a boulder and stretched its arm.

Whoosh.

But it only sliced through air.

With nothing caught, the golem crashed to the ground and rolled.

“……”

Yuru’s eyes gleamed sharply.

“Show yourself.”

Crack!

Her hand twisted in the air, and her magic surged, squeezing the surroundings in a tight grip.

“?!”

But again, she caught nothing.

‘I definitely felt it.’

It wasn’t her imagination. Yuru crouched down and pressed her hand to the ground.

“I just buried her, and this crap already…”

Boom.

The ground trembled violently. All around—except for Yelena’s grave—the terrain split and buckled, rising and falling.

“Come out.”

BOOM!

The twisted earth erupted in dust and tremors, enough to throw anyone off balance.

“I said come out.”

Her voice had lost all patience by now.

“I’ve already been watching.”

In an instant, someone appeared in Yuru’s vision.

No—something. Not quite a someone.

It was a crow.

A bird, like those often found near corpses, made entirely of black ink. Its glossy body shifted slightly, and atop its head, absurdly, floated a halo.

A halo. The luminous ring said to belong only to the truly sacred. That halo resting above a crow was enough to draw a sigh from Yuru.

“Hah.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“What are you supposed to be?”

The crow was perched atop the twig marking Yelena’s grave—the one Yuru hadn’t destroyed.

“I am a crow. Omnivorous. I eat corpses too.”

“I’m not joking.”

If it had any ties to divine power, it could be connected to Lutan. Yuru narrowed her eyes at it.

“I need to identify what you are first.”

Yuru trapped the crow in a cube-shaped magic circle.

“Specimen.”

As the verification process began, the crow flapped its wings.

“Caaaaw!”

A cry that resembled a scream—but its expression remained calm.

[Result: Crow]

Yuru looked at the result in front of her, unable to hide her confusion.

“You’re kidding me.”

She scoffed, tilting her head.

“Just… a crow?”

“Are we done? If we’re done, I’d like to eat. Otherwise, I’ll disappear.”

The crow fluttered down from the twig and landed on Yelena’s grave. Then it took a deep breath.

“Ah.”

Its halo began spinning rapidly, glowing brightly.

“Pitiful thing.”

At the same time, tears welled in the crow’s eyes.

“That man named Clay was the one who affirmed your ‘existence.’ And yet, you failed to realize it at the crucial moment—and ended up here.”

“!”

Yuru gasped and opened her mouth.

“You—when you say eat…!”

“The Echoes of Existence.”

The crow answered in a low voice.

“All things possess power to exist. I once stood above them all. But now, I live as a crow—feeding only on remnants, harming no one, merely surviving.”

Only then did Yuru realize what it was.

“Omni…!”

Omnipresent.

Present in all places.

That was Omni of the All-Presence.

Also known as Total Being.

One of the Six Ancient Gods. In the past, when he held his full power, he was believed to exist everywhere—a divine Watcher.

The sole medium capable of accessing the ‘main body’ of the Akashic Records—the archive said to record all the world’s history.

And yet, here he was—not sealed or erased, but maintaining his existence in this form.

“How fascinating.”

The crow—Omni—flapped his wings.

“In the one who stands at your ‘center.’”

“What?”

“Don’t be so confident. He bears too great a fate to simply dance in the palm of your hand.”

“What are you talking about?!”

Whoosh!

Omni ignored her and took flight.

“Ahh, if I stay near him, I can feast on such rich echoes! If I can gather enough strength, I wouldn’t mind being his pet this time!”

“Wait.”

Before he could disappear into the distant sky, Yuru suddenly rose beside him.

“Let your guard down, didn’t you?”

“Caw?!”

She immediately grabbed Omni’s halo and yanked it down.

“You’re going to tell me one thing before you go.”

“Huh?”

Sweat formed on Omni’s beak as he met Yuru’s eyes—eyes gripped by madness.

“How do you access the main body of the Akashic Records?”

(End of Chapter)

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