IRE 32

chapter 32

― Damn it.

Artir muttered to himself.

― Hey, kid, snap out of it.

“…….”

― Can’t you hear me telling you to snap out of it? Hey, rebel! Damn it… this is completely messed up.

“…….”

― You useless idiot… Eldmir Arhitea, snap out of it! Do you think your dead mother will come back just because you act like this!!

“…Shut up.”

― What?

“Shut up. Shut up, shut up! I said shut up!!”

― …Huh.

“Shut up… please, just shut up…”

― You really are a mess, you stupid brat.

Artir spat out the curse coldly.

As far as I could remember, this was the first time he had cursed so harshly.

He growled.

― Don’t act like a spoiled child just because you didn’t have a coming-of-age ceremony. Your mother was my contractor too. She was my soulmate, sharing her mind with me for over a hundred years, my other half. That being just died.

“…….”

― Snap out of it, Eldmir. My contractor is dead. Right before she died, she succeeded in partially transferring her mind to save mine, but she gave up saving her own life. That fool used the last of her strength to heal your body instead of prolonging her own life.

The recovery of my body.

She must have meant the sudden lifting of my paralysis.

Though I wasn’t fully healed yet and could only twitch slightly, thanks to Artir’s intervention, I could at least speak without difficulty.

In the end, I had to receive my mother’s sacrifice and devotion.

“Ah… ahhhh…….”

Just as I was about to scream in unbearable grief, Artir shouted sharply.

― Eldmir!!

He yelled and slapped my cheek.

The blow from his raccoon-like hand was fiercer than I expected.

― How many times do I have to tell you to snap out of it! Is this the time to wallow in sorrow and cry?! Once again, snap out of it!

Snap out of it.

Those words made me feel my dying senses start to return.

They were approaching.

The Dark Elves. The ones who killed my mother.

Irian.

They…

― Good. Your eyes have returned.

“…What should I do?”

When I asked, Artir replied in a calm voice, delivering a sudden verdict.

― I healed you, yes, but in truth, you’re going to die soon anyway.

“What?”

Before I could even be confused, Artir pointed at my heart with his short paw.

Looking down, I saw my heart, throbbing with energy corrupted by the shards of El Luir.

“…Hah.”

― Even if you don’t die physically, your soul will be corrupted and transformed into a Dark Elf. Congratulations. You can live, but only at the cost of becoming friends with the one who killed your mother.

“Is that a joke?”

I frowned at the terrible joke, and Artir snickered.

― Then contract with me.

“…What?”

I had to question my own ears to make sure I heard correctly.

The spirit—Artir—was now offering me a contract?

― Your mother’s last request was for me to save you.

Hearing that, my chest ached again.

But now wasn’t the time to indulge in grief, as Artir said.

I clenched my teeth and controlled my emotions, and Artir muttered again.

― Damn it, calling you out before you’re fully recovered to do this… I told you recovery isn’t my specialty.

“…How do we make the contract?”

― Simple.

Artir extended his paw toward me.

Then he declared,

― Take my hand.

“…And that’s it?”

― What else would you expect? A contract is just a confirmation of mutual consent. A formal contract requires more procedure, but even this informal way works.

Since I had no hesitation, I grasped his paw without delay. That’s when an astonishing change began.

“Krk…?!”

Though I groaned, Artir accepted the change calmly.

I could feel him accepting it.

I sensed his inner self.

The will that seemed to tell me to calm down, the despair at the death of his contractor, the acceptance of death itself.

“…Artir?”

My thoughts froze for a moment.

The sudden sharing of minds confused me, and the presence of his will, which shouldn’t have been felt, calmed my panic.

Looking up at him, hoping against hope, he clicked his tongue.

― As expected, even if the soul isn’t to my liking, it’s still yours. You adapted to the mental resonance with a spirit immediately. You may be the first, even among High Elves, to read the inner depths of a high-ranking spirit simultaneously with a contract.

“Damn… Artir! What is this!”

No matter what he said, I yelled.

“Why is it that you’re supposed to die! Why!”

― Calm down, Eldmir.

He called my name in a calm voice.

― Technically, you’re not dying. It’s just returning the ‘me’ identity to its original form.

“What does that even mean!”

― Simply put, it’s like this.

Artir wore a bitter expression.

― A spirit is a crystallization of nature with its own consciousness, a fragment of the world. Returning its free will and natural form is what happens when it loses its conscious self. It’s different from what you think.

“Damn it… different? That means you stop being yourself! Losing consciousness is no different from dying!”

― Even if you lose your self, I’ll be with you.

At that, I froze.

His will flowing through the shared mind began to overwhelm mine.

“Ugh…?! Artir, what the hell is this…!”

― Normally, mental intrusion like this is impossible under contract, but we haven’t made a formal one.

“What?! Artir, you…!”

― Remember this carefully, and next time you make a contract, examine everything in detail.

Artir chuckled gleefully.

Before I could accuse him, his will shocked me again.

“You…! Stop this at once! Who gave you the right…!”

― Who gave the right? Me.

He snorted.

“No. Even if I die, I won’t allow it. Never!”

― Hey, rebel, should the last image of my contractor be that of a spoiled brat?

Artir muttered as if everything had been decided.

Though his voice was calm, through the mental resonance, I could feel every emotion he felt.

“…….”

― You read everything shamelessly. Hah, this is why I didn’t want to contract with you.

Artir laughed.

I could faintly feel his desire to laugh to the fullest, as it was his last time.

I swallowed my own despair and focused on his words.

― Eldmir.

Artir still had a faint smile.

― They’re approaching. Time is short, so I’ll speak briefly.

“…Alright.”

Artir was right.

I couldn’t leave a spoiled image as his last memory.

I swallowed my resignation, anger, and regret, and concentrated on his words.

― From now on, I’ll make all my spirit energy into a core. In other words, I’ll become a Spirit Stone.

A Spirit Stone is a substance that occasionally forms naturally in areas rich in spiritual energy. Its power resembles that of a spirit, hence the name.

Using this power allows temporary spirit-like abilities.

“Is that possible?”

― Nature and Spirit Stones are both born from nature. The only difference is whether it has consciousness. Fundamentally the same, so it’s possible. Though, of course, there’s no precedent.

Not a guarantee, then.

Sensing my anxiety, Artir reassured me through the mental link.

― Don’t worry. The important thing now isn’t success or failure. If we don’t do this, you die anyway.

No choice, then.

Though I couldn’t fully accept it, I nodded.

“Why become a Spirit Stone…?”

― I’ll explain. I’m becoming a Spirit Stone to replace your heart.

Before I could question him, his will engulfed me.

Time was short.

― Your heart is useless right now. Corrupted by a vile medium, it’s about to consume you. How long do you intend to keep it in your body? If it’s corrupted, replace it. Right?

If it were that simple, nobody would die of heart disease.

― Stop thinking nonsense. I’ll be your core. Congratulations, Eldmir. You’ll be the first to truly unite with a spirit.

I never wished for such a thing…

Artir read my thoughts and smiled bitterly.

― I don’t know how this will affect you. Even with your monstrous talent, can you withstand three hundred years of spirit energy flooding at once? It might affect your personality. Your body will partly become spirit, and your thinking may shift accordingly. Honestly… I don’t know.

After saying that, his expression hardened.

― Sadly, there’s no time left.

Suddenly, flames ignited between my chest, created by Artir.

No pain, but I felt my life force draining in real time. He was burning my heart.

Blood surged in my throat, and my vision blurred as if I might pass out.

Through his will, I faintly heard Artir.

― Eldmir, this is my last request.

Reading it, I nodded frantically through tears.

Yes. I’ll fulfill it.

Feeling my determination, Artir felt relieved.

He understood I understood him.

He spoke finally.

― Live well. Be happy, if you can.

He began to melt into my heart.

“Big trouble.”

Irian spoke in a stiff voice.

Esyllia had taken Eldmir and disappeared.

It was still unclear where she had summoned such power, despite seemingly near death.

Even with spirit magic, it could only prolong a dying life temporarily.

She shouldn’t have had the strength to wield spirit magic or escape with Eldmir.

“What the hell are you doing?! Still haven’t found a trace?!”

Irian shouted impatiently.

“Um… the flames he created even burned away all traces…”

“Is that what so-called Dark Elf trackers have to say?”

Irian nervously urged the Dark Elves.

Even he couldn’t deny that the remaining traces were gone.

“Though this situation isn’t ideal, aren’t you being too anxious?”

A High Elf, having finished first aid, spoke to Irian.

“They’re dying anyway. Sure, they pushed us to this situation, but it only bought them a little time.”

“They are not opponents to underestimate.”

“…Right. I got into this mess by underestimating them. You’re right.”

The High Elf agreed.

Surprised, Irian raised an eyebrow.

“What are you staring at?”

“…Nothing.”

“Hmph. A royal should heed advice to avoid repeating past mistakes, no matter how distasteful. I will not repeat the same mistakes.”

Irian thought of the twenty-three repeated mistakes she had made. He could probably recall even more unseen ones.

While lost in such thoughts, a shout came from the trackers.

“Found a trace!”

“Good. Quickly pursue…”

At that moment:

“…What is this energy?”

Everyone tensed.

A strange surge of energy glared at them.

It resembled a spirit, but was alien.

Spirit energy is calm, natural, pure; this was not.

They were tense not because of alienness, but because of its immense strength and murderous intent.

It felt suffocatingly dense, as if their bodies were being thrown into a beast’s maw.

“What is this energy? And this strength… it’s like the top-level spirit energy of High Elves… But crucially, this energy…”

The murderous intent was thick and sticky, unlike a normal spirit.

It was filthy, terrifying, and dreadful.

Irian broke into cold sweat.

Eldmir came to mind.

He made the most sense as the source, but Irian desperately denied it.

Impossible.

Eldmir had already received El Luir’s fragment in his heart.

From that moment, his life as an elf was over. Only corruption remained. Nothing could stop it.

Esyllia was an exception.

Though her final display of power was incomprehensible, it was all she had. She had likely exhausted her life force.

Then… who is the source of this energy?