# Chapter 107
The project name was covered with black tape. Without realizing it, Arden began scratching at the edge of the tape. It must have been attached long ago as the adhesive was strong. His fingertips trembled as they gripped the sticky tape.
[Project — Artifi— Mag—]
Though some letters were torn away with the tape, making the text incomplete, it clearly wasn’t the word “eternity.” Was there another experiment? Arden opened the file. The first line provided enough information to infer the project’s name.
“Experiment to create artificial magicians. Artificially injecting magical power to induce awakening as a magician.”
The date was well over 100 years ago. Judging by the pristine condition of the papers, they appeared to be copies rather than originals. Arden quickly flipped through the documents. Failure. Failure. Failure. Nothing but continuous cases of failure.
Arden scanned the bookshelf again. Though he knew this wasn’t the time, his rationality had ceased functioning. He pulled out folders, quickly skimmed them, and tossed them to the floor repeatedly.
“The number of magicians has significantly decreased. Further experimentation will result in losses far exceeding any benefits.”
“Compared to neighboring countries, there’s a difference of more than double in numbers.”
“There’s no hope for magic. The need for alternatives has emerged. Today, in the first meeting, the suggestions were…”
“Engineering has begun to emerge as a critical issue.”
The dates gradually approached the present. The pile of books and documents around Arden grew larger. When he had emptied the third row completely, he discovered a thin notebook half-crumpled at the back of the bookshelf. It had been hidden between thicker stacks of documents.
Arden grabbed the notebook and opened it. It resembled a diary or personal memo.
“The Emperor, who didn’t even know what engineering was, has started showing interest. It seems that’s the best way to persuade an Emperor who only knows blood and war.”
Throughout the notebook were many drawings that appeared to be blueprints, though to Arden they seemed more like delusions. They were shoddy designs that glossed over unresolved issues with magic. Among these crude blueprints, a note in the margin caught Arden’s eye.
“Immortal life. A term that would tempt anyone. With a mechanical heart inserted in the chest, it’s not impossible.”
Arden threw the notebook as if his hand had been burned. His chest rose and fell irregularly. Rough breaths escaped between his lips.
It was clearly a design for an artificial heart.
The Emperor mentioned in the diary wasn’t the current one. This experiment hadn’t first been conducted in the current generation. That realization made Arden nauseated. He bent over, repeatedly dry heaving.
Arden’s hand braced against the desk. With his other hand, he roughly rubbed his eyes. He was too exhausted. Almost to the point of wanting to give up everything. The desire to no longer be involved in this affair crept up on him. He didn’t have the courage to fully face his shameful past.
I didn’t want this. I just wanted to live quietly. Like I was dead, somewhere where no one existed.
Arden’s fingertips scratched the surface of the desk.
‘You’re just the same, you murderer.’
‘Can you still call yourself human? Can you proudly say you’re a person with your own mouth?’
‘Save me. Please save me. Let me out of here.’
The memories became distinct sounds directed at Arden. The sobbing of those who remained on the night he finally released them, the crying of those who couldn’t walk out because their legs weren’t intact.
The chaotic memories resurfaced. Everything was vivid.
‘Why are you crying like that?’
And suddenly, he recalled the voice of an unfamiliar person. It was such an unfamiliar voice that he wasn’t sure if his memory was correct.
‘Because I know there’s really no one left now. Because I know I’ll be alone until I die.’
But the voice that followed was Arden’s own. Had I ever said such things? His confusion over fragments of an unremembered past lasted only a moment. Arden realized he was living a life completely opposite to his past worries.
“…Rite.”
It was the name he had given. A name chosen with the hope that he would never be a plaything of such a fate. Arden hadn’t given up on that hope yet.
His blurred vision returned to clarity. And into Arden’s clear sight came the last page of the haphazardly opened notebook.
“Finally, the child was born.”
The handwriting was different from the text written before. It was someone else’s diary. Arden picked up the notebook and brought it closer.
“Is ‘born’ really the right expression? The child, extracted from a cut in the Emperor’s ankle, was so unreal it was hard to believe even while seeing it with one’s own eyes.
The baby, smaller than a palm, was more like a lump of blood than a baby. We talked all night about how to handle the baby, but couldn’t reach a conclusion. The Emperor was furious, demanding it be killed immediately, but no one stepped forward willingly.”
Arden read that passage over and over. It was a story hard to believe, just as written in the diary. Arden turned the page with unresolved questions, but that was the final page.
“…”
Hoping to find more, he turned to the front pages and found the diary continued there. This diary was written in reverse.
“The palm-sized lump of blood grew at an incredibly rapid rate. It grew noticeably day by day, even within hours. Now it has started to resemble a human baby. Seeing that made it even more disgusting.
No knight, no engineer could kill the child given by God. The Emperor stepped forward to kill it himself, but the Empress stopped him.
‘You’ve come this far by offending the divine, don’t you understand yet?’
The Empress’s words won’t leave my mind.
What was this unbreakable deal that the Emperor supposedly made? If only that could be nullified.”
He turned the page again. There was just one line written:
“We decided to abandon the baby in the Winter Forest.”
There was nothing written after that. As he continued flipping through the empty notebook, he found the original owner’s diary entries. Arden closed the notebook.
Rite wasn’t a child born to the Emperor and Empress. He was born from the Emperor’s most vulnerable part. Was such a thing possible? Could there have been a mistake? His contemplation didn’t last long. Something sharp pressed against his back. His body instinctively froze.
“…Quietly. Let’s go quietly.”
It was Daniel. Arden tightly closed his eyes and opened them again. Of all times, when he was alone. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he realized—Daniel had been waiting for him to be alone. Arden debated whether to scream or not.
“You must take responsibility for raising that monster child.”
Something trickled from where the blade touched. Whether from tension or because the wound was shallow, Arden felt no pain, but he could only silently nod.
* * *
Rite had one good thing and one bad thing happen. The bad thing was that all the secret passages Eden had shown him had disappeared. There had been differences from the map Eden had drawn from the beginning. It was impossible to find the exact same locations, and even when he managed to find similar spots, there wasn’t even a small hole to be found.
When we meet again, I’ll definitely confront him about it. And after receiving an apology… this time I should apologize too. Rite made this promise to himself.
The good thing was that at some point, the number of traps had decreased. There were clearly traces, but whatever had passed through ahead had destroyed them all, leaving only debris.
Could it be Arden?
Unable to find an answer to this question, Rite struck a soldier’s head with the handle of his sword. These mechanical masses had no weaknesses. Even with one arm cut off, they moved perfectly fine, and when kicked in the solar plexus, they got up without even a cough. Instead, they would break if given enough impact anywhere.
Rite lifted the slowed soldier over the staircase railing and threw him down. One more piece of scrap metal was added to the pile of junk accumulated on the stairs below. The bright red bloodstains that began in front of the metal heap ran up the stairs all the way to Rite’s feet. Rite was the only being that could bleed here.
Frowning at his painfully throbbing left arm, Rite clenched and unclenched his hand. The tingling sensation simply wouldn’t go away. Without proper technique, swinging and wielding heavy objects had quickly drained his stamina. It would have been easier to catch monsters in the forest with his bare hands.
“You’re really something else.”
“…”
“Give it a rest already.”
Three steps above, Rite clicked his tongue at a soldier whose head was bent at a ninety-degree angle while still clutching a sword. Unlike Neon or Pini, these mechanical soldiers had no self-awareness. They knew nothing except attacking whatever was in front of them. They were truly incomprehensible creatures. They were still immune to magic, sometimes stopped functioning from small impacts, and sometimes kept charging in bizarre forms until the end.
The soldier, completely unable to understand Rite’s words, jumped down to where Rite was. Rite lowered his body to avoid the sword, but felt a strong impact on his head. Instead of screaming, the scales on his right arm wriggled, making subtle sounds as if they were alive.
When he touched the painful area, he felt something hard and blunt. It was a horn. A horn that had appeared without his knowledge had been broken by the sword, leaving only the base. While he was staggering, unable to maintain balance, the blade approached once again.
