Chapter 128: Reunion with Pandora

Amy Ulysses was wandering.

Strictly speaking, “wandering” was not quite the right word, but the young Glorybearer would never admit that he had lost his way in this shoddy illusion.

As far as he could tell, this world—if it could be called a world at all—was composed of an uncountable series of bubbles. Each bubble was an independent little world, and each occupied a different point along the axis of time. Some might lie only two or three years in the past, while others reached all the way back to the beginning of the Age of the Ancient Kings. In short, they were a series of miniature worlds arranged in no discernible order, their meaning impossible to grasp.

Yet no matter which world he entered, he could find no way out.

It was not that he had never considered breaking the seal of the short sword Darkblood right there and then, allowing the sword of light and flame that had once cleaved through darkness and chaos to return to the mortal world. Unfortunately… whether its strength had been exhausted in his earlier confrontation with that terrifying existence sleeping at the bottom of Hemtika’s Endless Abyss, or for some other reason, it remained like a Sleeping Beauty lost in an endless slumber. No matter what he did, he could not awaken its true form.

So he could only give up.

But what other options did he have?

Break out through brute force? Well… although the Omen of Death granted him the infinite possibility of forcibly reducing any battle, no matter how powerful the enemy, to an even fifty-fifty contest, destructive power had always been his weakness. Without igniting the Primordial Flame or awakening Darkblood, the greatest destruction he could inflict amounted to splitting a piece of steel or a boulder in two with a single stroke of his sword. To expect him to break through the illusion by force was nothing but a foolish daydream.

Then there was only one path left: delve deeper into the nature of this world.

He had no idea whether uncovering the essence of this time-capsule-like world would help him escape, but until he found a truly viable method, it was indeed the only course that seemed workable.

Of course, it merely seemed so.

In reality, even after visiting dozens of bubble worlds situated at different points in time, he still knew nothing about why these worlds had formed or what purpose they served, much less how to pierce through their bewildering phenomena and reach the truth beneath.

Fortunately, it was not as though he had gained nothing.

Though perhaps “gained” was not quite the right word.

The young Glorybearer stopped behind a great tree at the edge of the park. Carefully concealing himself within the neatly trimmed grove, he peered through the gaps between the leaves at the little girl swinging in the otherwise empty park.

Pandora.

That was her name.

Somewhere in the depths of his memory, it seemed connected to myths and legends left behind by the Ancients, tales whose origins could no longer be traced. She had been the perfect human created by the gods, and possessed a magic box that brought calamity upon mankind. Amy did not believe it was merely coincidence that she shared a name with the woman who had brought disaster in the myths, but he still had no idea what significance lay behind it.

All he knew was this:

This terrifying existence, appearing in the mortal world as a little girl, possessed enough power to rival an entire city by herself.

She was strong—very, very strong. She was the most powerful human being he had ever seen, without exception. The only ones who seemed capable of surpassing her were himself, when he had ignited the Primordial Flame and awakened the sword that cleaved through darkness, and that indescribable creature of chaotic evil sleeping within the Endless Abyss beneath Hemtika.

With the Primordial Flame nearly extinguished and the sword that cleaved through darkness unusable, even a hundred versions of himself would probably amount to nothing more than food placed before her. They would be utterly incapable of hindering her in the slightest.

Naturally, she was an enemy he should never have encountered.

But Amy did not choose to retreat, for the reason was not complicated: at that moment, he had nowhere else to go.

Perhaps this place was a land of death, an inescapable dead end for him. But for Pandora, it was certainly nothing of the kind. She was a terrifying existence who had defeated the High Priest of the Temple—a man capable of wielding multiple abilities and borrowing the power of the Flame to a certain degree—and had extinguished the Flame of Hemtika, which had been almost deified in the hearts of the Glorybearers. Her strength was extraordinary. Even now, Amy could still remember the sight of darkness parting before her as though welcoming its sovereign.

If anyone could do it, perhaps she could force her way out of this world.

And all he had to do was take a negligible risk: follow her. Follow behind her.

Then wait for her to open the door leading back to reality.

Still, the little girl named Pandora seemed strangely unconcerned with whether she could return to the real world. She merely swung back and forth, humming some bright, lively little tune. From time to time, she would stop and stare blankly at the full moon hanging in the heavens.

She seemed incapable of ever growing tired or bored, and remained on the swing for the entire night.

A smile never left her face.

A smile of innocent purity.

Only when the white sun rose in the east, resembling a crude child’s doodle scrawled across the sky, did she finally leap reluctantly from the swing. Even then, she looked back three times with every step as she left the park.

Amy, who had waited through the entire night, naturally had no intention of letting the opportunity slip through his fingers.

So he quietly followed behind her.

The girl seemed to have no destination in mind. One moment she would be drawn toward the chirping of cicadas in a tree; the next she would run after a butterfly along the road. She drifted aimlessly through the clumsy illusion woven from nothing but black and white, like a child from the mountains entering the world of men for the first time, filled with an unusually intense curiosity toward everything around her.

What troubled him slightly was that her curiosity never diminished with familiarity.

Along the way, she chased butterflies at least thirteen times, ran over to investigate the sound of cicadas at least seven times, and showed a keen interest in candy no fewer than thirty-one times. Each time, she carefully tore open the wrapper as though she were a cat dipping its paws into water for the first time, then touched the candy lightly with the tip of her tender pink tongue. Simple, unmistakable happiness blossomed across her face.

Perhaps there was something wrong with her memory?

The young man could not be certain. Aside from a few scattered remarks from Mia and Edgar, he knew almost nothing about Pandora.

Which meant that further observation and understanding were necessary.

The young Glorybearer intended to approach this little girl, who held a special position even among the Dark Nobles. It was not that he had forgotten the pain of being cut in half, nor the hatred born from Edgar’s death and the extinguishing of Hemtika’s Flame. He simply believed that an attempt had to be made.

He was no longer a child whose heart could be ruled by hatred. After accepting the High Priest’s authority from Edgar and inheriting Hemtika’s First Flame, he seemed to have grown up and understood responsibility in a single night.

As the High Priest of Hemtika, it was his duty to rekindle the Flame. He could not remain standing in place within this hollow dream, much less lose his way in this bizarre world of bubbles.

He had to move forward.

Even if it meant joining hands with his enemy.

Narrowing his eyes, the young man made his decision. He neither hid nor evaded. Instead, he walked straight to her and raised a hand to bar her path.

“Pandora.”

He spoke her name, his dark eyes cold and clear.

To his surprise, the little girl who had once said with her own lips that she would make him hers merely tilted her adorable head. She blinked her limpid eyes and said nothing.

She only looked at him as though he were a stranger who had suddenly trespassed into her world.

There was curiosity in her gaze, and shyness, and perhaps even… fear?

There had to be a limit, even to a joke.

Amy had vaguely suspected that something was different about her personality, but when this little girl—who seemed to occupy the central position among the Dark Nobles, who had killed Edgar, extinguished Hemtika’s Flame, and crushed everything in her path with an almost invincible perfection—revealed such innocent expressions, expressions that should never have appeared on her face, he wavered.

Was this girl truly the same person as the Dark Noble he had seen before?

Could she be Pandora as she existed in this fragment of history, before she became one of the Dark Nobles?

Carrying his doubts and confusion, he drew a deep breath and asked, “Are you Pandora?”

The name seemed to possess some strange magic. For no discernible reason, the young girl began to trust the boy before her, who was only a few years older than she was. After a brief silence, she nodded emphatically.

“You don’t remember me?”

Although he had received an affirmative answer, Amy’s doubts did not lessen. He continued to study her cautiously, carefully interpreting every movement of her body and every subtle change in her expression, attempting to derive the truth from details that appeared insignificant.

“Big brother I’ve never seen before.”

Her clear, pleasant voice was as lovely as the sound of silver bells.

So this was Pandora from a fragment of history. Otherwise, she would certainly have recognized him. Although his body had become four or five years younger, his appearance had not changed so drastically over that span of time. He had made no attempt to conceal his identity, and even if he had, it would never have deceived anyone.

So… she was no longer useful to him?

The young Glorybearer considered the thought.

Perhaps the past of one of the Dark Nobles was worth investigating, but regrettably, he had neither the time nor the inclination for it now.

It was time to leave.

Without the slightest hesitation, the young man turned and began to walk away.

Then his coat was seized.

Seized by a figure from history who should not have been capable of touching him.

The young Glorybearer narrowed his eyes and instinctively looked back. For a fleeting instant, killing intent surged within him, but he suppressed it almost immediately.

There was no need.

There was no need to make an innocent little girl bear such a sin.

Even if she was Pandora all the same.

“Is something wrong?” Although he knew perfectly well what the answer was, he could not—and saw no reason to—restrain his loathing for her. His voice was therefore colder than expected.

“I’m lost.”

Perhaps frightened by him, Pandora instinctively shrank back, but she continued to watch him with those limpid eyes and spoke timidly.

“Big brother, could you help me find someone?”

Incredibly, Amy’s heart softened.

This child… perhaps she had lost her father and mother and could not find them…

For some reason, he thought of his own little sister.

Then, with complicated emotions, the young man sighed softly.

“Who are you looking for?”

The little girl named Pandora spoke a name.

The instant he heard it, Amy’s pupils contracted slightly, and his heart seemed to miss a beat.

“Amy Ulysses.”

Holding his hand and gazing at him with a pitiful expression, the girl spoke the name that should never have passed her lips.