SYMDF 31

Chapter 31

 

But instead of shattering into glasslike fragments, the pendant burst into scattering drops of crimson blood.

Even Astatine, who had been told only that it was “a jewel Camillus cherished like life,” blinked in shock. This was not the reaction he expected.

“…Mana stone?”

Ion gasped as the liquid splattered and seeped into the ground—and then his own body went limp, collapsing backward.

[Warning! Warning!]
[Status effect “Overflowing Mana” has been dispelled.]
[The reinforced state of “Overflowing Mana” has been automatically canceled.]
[Due to sudden depletion of mana, the suppressed curse energy has violently resurged.]
[Recalculating probability of death…]

He choked, lungs seizing, his own breath echoing like thunder in his ears. His heart hammered as though it might rip through his ribs. Dizziness crushed him.

His vision flickered, fragments of light popping like shards.

His hearing dulled, as though caked in cotton.

His throat emitted only haggard coughs and wheezes.

Hands shook his body, rough, desperate—but to Ion it was distant, muffled, as if he drifted apart from the world.

THUD—

Even as he sank into nothingness, a shocking boom resounded, rattling the ground. Ion forced his eyelids up—boots struck the earth all around him. Armored feet pounded past. Through hazy light he saw only one clear image: Sir Ernst, shaking his shoulders, shouting words that never carried through to his ears.

A vast text seared his vision:

[Current probability of death is]

Probability…

[92%]

Meaning—an 8% chance of survival.

Real death stood before him.

His chest convulsed. His own lips parted, spittle trailing, his throat rasping weak groans.

Words scrolled coldly again across his vision:

[Due to critically low survival probability, the Player’s life-flashback is triggered.]
[You have fulfilled one condition to restore lost memory. (2/3)]
[Condition 1: Obtain information on Camillus Valderas Clodel from a third party (Complete).]
[Condition 2: Trigger the flashback when death probability exceeds 90% (Complete).]
[Remaining condition locked. Unable to view.]
[The Player reclaims a fragment of past memory.]

What use is memory, now that I’m dying…?

“Ion! Ion!”

Clear. His voice was so clear.

Even as Ion contorted, gasping, he forced his eyes toward that voice. Through blurring light, Camillus surged forward—like a vision.

But in front of him Camillus staggered—then fell. The air swelled with heat.

No…

No, Camillus!

A rapier punched straight through his right shoulder.

Dark blood splattered.

That image of crimson dripping onto stone was the last Ion saw before his consciousness finally collapsed into darkness.

[……Flashback replaying……]

Claiming a headache, Ion had slipped away from his father and leaned over the balcony of the second floor, gazing down at the ballroom.

Strings hummed. Couples moved gracefully. Nobles conversed, all wrapped in perfumes, politics, and pleasure. A royal banquet hosted in the Empress’s name was always dazzling.

As Craiger’s heir, Ion should have been mingling among them, another shining guest. Yet even watching exhausted him. He’d chosen solitude, cooling his head.

Until he spotted a familiar girl weaving frantically through the crowd.

She was the daughter of Baron Lissian, one of Craiger’s vassals—and also the maid to his sister Emily.

Ion’s eyes followed her until she climbed the stairs, gaze fixed on him. At his questioning tilt, she hurried up.

“Young master!”

Her face was pale, uneasy. Ion straightened at once.

“What is it?”
“Lady Emily is missing. I turned away only briefly, and then—she was gone. Forgive me!”

Ion frowned. Emily disappearing wasn’t so unusual—yet he couldn’t simply dismiss it. He descended, the girl close behind.

“How long has it been?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
“Not long, then.”

He glanced about, then slipped from the ballroom, recalling a conversation from the carriage on their way.

‘Brother, who lives there?’

Emily’s little finger had pointed through the window.

Ion had turned—and saw it. The tower.

The tallest structure in the Imperial Capital, rising directly beneath the colossal protective sigil—the Inner Barrier.

It rivaled even the Tower of Mages outside the city for gloom. Though unnamed, nobles whispered a title for it: the Tower of Wailing.

For countless Imperial secrets clung to it. Three empresses had thrown themselves from it—including the first wife of the current Emperor.

She had been Empress at his ascension fifteen years ago but bore no son. Within the first year of his reign, she ended her life from the Tower’s heights.

Speculation swirled, but the Palace declared nothing. Her suicide was shrouded in silence.

Others, too, had leapt—royals and commoners alike, drawn by the certainty of death its terrible height promised.

Since then, upon the Emperor’s command, the place had been declared forbidden. Still, in the carriage, Emily’s eyes had shone with curiosity.

Ion had stroked her pale hair, replying gently.

‘No one lives there now. It’s forbidden.’
‘Forbidden?’
‘Means no one can go. His Majesty said it’s too dangerous. Too high, too frightening. Promise me you’ll never go in.’
‘Mm. It’s so tall…’
‘Then don’t even think to enter.’

She had nodded, yet her eyes never left the looming tower outside. Watching her, Ion had laughed, half helpless, at her stubborn curiosity.