# Chapter 109
Arden would have solved this easily. Rite sighed and leaned against a large Knight piece. He couldn’t tell if his spinning head was an aftereffect of his horn being cut off or from overthinking.
Though he had circled the chessboard many times, determined to solve it alone, the solution remained elusive. If he made a mistake and moved to the wrong square, the trap mercilessly reset the board.
He’d rather fight mechanical soldiers than solve such puzzles. Even if he passed this trap, he had no idea how long the next one would take. At this rate, it could take days. Rite closed his eyes, feeling drained.
Can I even solve this?
Weak thoughts began to surface. Not knowing where the Emperor was, he couldn’t guarantee he would find him like this, or even escape safely after everything was over.
And Arden? Was Arden safe? Just thinking about it doubled the heaviness filling his chest. He hadn’t heard any news since Arden was taken.
I shouldn’t have let him go like that. I should have found another way somehow. Due to his own incompetence, Arden was the only one suffering. Knowing that, I should have at least spoken more kindly.
“…Cooperation.”
At the end of his endless regret, Rite recalled Arden’s final words before they parted. Arden knew Rite too well. Even then. Hadn’t he spoken as if anticipating Rite would blame himself?
When he opened his eyes, he saw the pitch-black window outside. A sudden thought came to mind. Rite got up and approached the window. Opening it, a cool breeze brushed against his cheek. Rite stuck his head out and examined the surroundings.
Arden and Rite were bound to be different. So their methods had to be different too.
* * *
Rite clung to the wall and looked down. The ceiling was higher than in ordinary buildings, making the ground seem distant, though he couldn’t see clearly in the darkness. The blade of the sword tied to his waist gleamed in the darkness.
This is actually better. Without hesitation, Rite’s right hand struck the castle wall repeatedly. One indentation for his left hand, and another right beside it. He inserted his right hand into the hollow depression and flexed his forearm muscles. He stretched his other hand to insert it into the adjacent hole and pulled himself up. Placing his feet in the crevices where his hands had just been, he looked up. Not much remained to reach the third-floor window.
Originally, he hadn’t planned to climb to the third floor. He had only intended to enter through a neighboring window, but once he was hanging on the wall, it seemed doable. Having wasted much time in the knight’s room, he was eager to make up for it here. So Rite headed upward.
If I’m going to have horns, I wish I had wings too, then I could have flown. The moment he had that wishful thought, his shoulder blades ached. As if something was about to tear through his skin.
“Ah… I really hate this.”
His voice was filled with disgust. In moments like these, Rite felt in his very skin that he wasn’t human. He deliberately cut off that train of thought and focused only on the wall before him. His overworked arms trembled. Gritting his teeth, he struck the wall. Fragments of broken brick brushed his cheek and fell. His massive body climbed the wall relentlessly.
Finally, his hand reached the balcony railing. Gripping the bottom of the railing with both hands, he pulled up his legs. His stretched legs hooked over the railing. Putting strength into his lower back, he raised his upper body and steadily clung to the balcony.
“Haa… ha……”
Catching his breath, he checked beyond the balcony. He could glimpse the interior through the gap in the curtains. Rite jumped over the railing and crossed to the other side.
While massaging his forearm, he pushed the balcony door, but it wouldn’t open. Looking around, he noticed a small magical device inside. It appeared to be an ordinary decoration, but Rite could see the magic flowing from it.
Magic was ultimately just another form of power. If subjected to physical pressure stronger than the infused magical power, it would break. Rite took a deep breath and shook his right wrist. The scales that had grown there wriggled and spread to his fingertips. With a clenched fist, he struck the window.
The magical device flashed. Unable to withstand the collision of two forces, the entire glass window shattered and scattered. Rite brushed off glass fragments from his head as he stepped inside.
When he pulled back the curtains, an empty hall appeared. The ceiling was adorned with an elaborate ceiling painting and decorative stuccos around it. The floor tiles also formed a complete picture when assembled together.
Several doors with identical patterns and colors surrounded the circular hall, waiting for Rite. He could try each one, but based on his experiences so far, there was a high probability of traps. If possible, he needed to find the correct path in one attempt.
“There must be some meaning to this.”
Rite looked up at the ceiling again. If there were any hints here, they would be in the painting on the ceiling and the picture on the floor.
Though he had never seen the ceiling painting before, Rite could recognize what it depicted. Artalis, revealed between clouds, and the angel stuccos surrounding her protectively were dynamic, as if taxidermied while still alive.
The one kneeling before her resembled Duz. It was a painting of Artalis responding to Duz’s prayer—Duz, who had not been born with all the required qualifications to be a king.
This time, Rite’s gaze swept the floor. As if attempting to transfer the night sky to the floor, a full moon and various stars were depicted.
Artalis was the only deity of a country with a long history, so there were many stories about her. She usually appeared as one who helped and advised heroes seeking justice. Like in the puppet show he had seen as a child.
‘During the day, the sun will guide you, and at night, the stars.’
Always saying such things to heroes who had lost their way.
“So many stars.”
Rite murmured, looking at the floor. Looking back at the ceiling painting, the sun was not depicted. Rite walked along the edge of the hall, gazing at the ceiling painting. He wondered if it would appear different from another angle, but there didn’t seem to be any hidden elements.
“Maybe it’s because I’m not a hero.”
Rite continued walking, looking at Artalis. He resented Artalis, who was described as pure and noble but now offered no help.
“The only help she gave was organizing my magic.”
Even that hadn’t been much help. Magic didn’t work on any of the traps and puzzles in the castle. No matter how much magical power he poured out, it felt like it dispersed and disappeared into the air.
The only cause Rite could think of was himself. His magical power had weakened since entering the castle.
Rite stopped walking. Thanks to the rounded ceiling, Artalis’s face was visible straight ahead from here.
“What an irresponsible god.”
Muttering, he lowered his gaze. He had given up on finding answers from the ceiling and intended to examine the floor instead… but Rite’s head turned upward again.
After checking the Artalis painted on the ceiling and the floor several times alternately, he slowly approached it.
Right below Artalis, who symbolized the sun, vertically down on the floor tile, a single star was completely contained within one tile. Other stars were drawn across two tiles, some even across four, but this one alone was perfectly drawn on a single tile. And right in front of that star…
“During the day, the sun… at night, the stars will guide you…”
He looked at Artalis painted on the ceiling, the star on the floor, and the door placed in front of the star. Rite untied the sword from his waist and immediately opened the door. He showed no hesitation.
“…Purple eyes.”
“…”
“You really have purple eyes.”
Opening the door revealed a short corridor. At the end of the corridor was a door and a woman. She wore an enormous dress and cloak that didn’t match her small frame. The most incongruous thing was the sword in her hand. Her arms trembled pitifully, seemingly unable to bear its weight.
“You’re so different from my memory…”
The woman looked like she might faint at any moment. Breathing heavily like someone who had been strangled and then released, she tightly gripped the sword that she could barely hold.
What kind of trap is this? Rite stared at the woman. Her attire suggested her status, but she lacked the dignity of an Empress. Her cowering demeanor didn’t seem to be a recent development. The woman reminded Rite of a small animal that was constantly vigilant and curled up in fear.
“Should I have killed you back then?”
“…”
“If I hadn’t stopped him then, would this not have happened?”
I’ve thought about it every day. Every single day. The Empress muttered as if whispering. When Rite, who had been standing still, took one step forward, the Empress’s shoulders tensed.
“This must be fate too.”
“There’s no such thing as fate.”
Rite, who had been listening silently, spoke. The Empress’s breathing grew louder. Her blue eyes wavered erratically but steadily met Rite’s gaze.
The Empress released the sword she had been desperately clutching. With a loud clatter, the sword fell to the floor. She stepped aside and, with her now free hand, pointed to the door.
“Go in. I have no right to stop you.”
“…”
“How could I, who has stood by his side all this time unable to do anything, now stop anyone?”
Rite walked toward the door without responding. He didn’t give the Empress even a glance. His forward stride stopped, and his hand touched the door. The Empress, who had been staring at the door through which Rite had entered, spoke.
“Knights are waiting beyond this door.”
“…”
“Too many for you to face alone.”
Rite removed his hand from the door. As he raised his right arm, he suddenly recalled something. Rite’s current appearance was far from normal. His blood-covered left arm seemed trivial compared to his inhuman appearance. The broken horn, the repulsive right arm, and possibly even vertically slit pupils that he couldn’t confirm. Yet the Empress had mentioned his purple eyes.
Weren’t my eyes yellow now?
Rite’s head turned slightly to the side, but he didn’t look back. He brought his right arm to his mouth. The tearing sound of his tough skin was different. He put the hard scale fragments in his mouth and chewed them sluggishly. Forcibly chewing the scales that neither chewed properly nor easily went down his throat, he swallowed hard with a big gulp. When he stuck out his tongue to moisten his lips, bright red blood stained his mouth. His tongue stung where it had brushed against scale fragments.
Rite opened the door. The Empress no longer tried to stop him. As the door closed behind him, Rite faced a formation of knights standing in the reception room. Rite tried to estimate their number. Even at a glance, there were well over fifty. As he looked around at those wearing black uniforms, a large door opened behind the knights.
“…”
“Are those horns detachable? I didn’t see them before.”
Daniel approached with large strides, drawing his sword from its scabbard. In response, the spearmen standing in the front row lowered their bodies and aimed their spears, revealing the gun barrels that had been hidden behind them.
