Turning Chapter 1053

“I couldn’t fully grasp the meaning even after reading it... but I’m sure you can. Read it. I think it might contain clues to the information we’ve been searching for.”

Inon lowered his gaze to the wooden fragment in his hand. Yuder stood and gently pulled him.

“And if possible, read it here.”

“What now?”

“Just... I feel like this is the right place.”

Inon narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Yuder’s expression as if attempting to decipher his intentions, then let out a long sigh. No further questions or complaints followed. Yuder only stepped back once he confirmed that Inon had sat down slowly and gripped the wooden piece tightly. Inon closed his eyes in concentration—likely part of the preparation needed to access Luma’s records.

What I read probably wasn’t the full letter inscribed on that piece... but still...

Even with just that fragment of insight, there were already deductions he could make.

Yuder recalled the period just before Inon from his previous life had vanished.

That was when the West and South had plunged into chaos, and calamities had begun to erupt sporadically across the Empire. The entire Cavalry had to disperse daily to address crises, but all they could truly accomplish was patching a dam that had already burst. No one could predict where the next disaster would strike, nor its nature. Only after disaster struck would they rush in, recover the casualties, and shield with their bare bodies so the survivors could flee—that was the extent of their capability back then.

It was around that time that Yuder began pursuing the abnormal rifts, which he considered the most credible evidence. Investigating them had proven exceedingly difficult, yet it felt imperative to take action. Emperor Kachian, anxious over the escalating instability, desired Yudrain’s presence, but Yuder’s refusal caused the atmosphere to grow increasingly tense.

Kachian became more irritable by the day, his suspicion deepening. Opportunistic nobles exploited the turmoil. Public sentiment soured with rising hardship. Charlatans exploited the chaos to propagate delusions and falsehoods. And the relentless onslaught of crises never ceased.

Amidst it all, attempting to gather information and operate independently was incredibly challenging. Thus, Yuder turned to Inon numerous times. Regardless of how dubious or suspicious Inon’s identity might have been, the information he provided had never proven false. Compared to information guilds solely concerned with extorting coin, it was far more dependable to rely on the offhand remarks Inon offered. This was why Yuder continued to risk peril to visit his pharmacy under strict vigilance.

Of course, even back then, Inon had not been particularly cooperative.

“Rumors about people witnessing abnormal rifts? News about mages from the Pearl Tower? What on earth are you talking about? I’ve exclusively resided in the Capital—how would I possibly know that? Don’t presume I am privy to every occurrence on the entire continent? Last time you entered here with a busted knee—did you sustain a head injury too?”

That was his typical demeanor—treating Yuder as if he were insane. But despite his taunts, he would invariably produce some useful tidbit from an unknown source. Though the quality was lower than what Inon provided directly, for someone like Yuder operating alone, even that was valuable.

Perhaps it was through that process that Inon began to perceive the rapid shifts in the continent’s political climate. One day, while observing Yuder during a visit, he suddenly remarked:

“You consistently arrive alone. Injured. How many times has this occurred now? Do you lack anyone to assist you?”

“What concern is it of yours?”

“Listen to that insolent tone. I merely suggest—what I furnish you likely holds little genuine help, and you expend your life recklessly for mere scraps. Why not enlist assistance? Or at the very least, confide in someone.”

“I am perfectly capable. It is better than nothing.”

“You possess a death wish, do you not?”

“...”

“You know, when I observe you, I sometimes ponder if my intervention came too late. Had I taken an interest in the external world sooner... perhaps outcomes might have differed. Lately, I find myself overthinking.”

He uttered this, then fell silent and sighed.

“Never mind it. There is no point in discussion. You will not comprehend my meaning regardless. You are the type who would prefer to perish rather than seek aid. It is exasperating. I shall investigate myself.”

“Investigate what?”

“I mean, I will venture out and search myself!”

Yuder did not afford that statement significant consideration. The subsequent day, he was occupied with eliminating a group orchestrating sedition, followed by addressing a natural disaster that had impacted the same region.

Months later, upon his return to Inon’s pharmacy, Yuder found it to be the sole establishment in District 7 untainted by the stench of blood—yet, its door was secured with a lock. Whispers circulated among the locals: the pharmacist had suddenly announced an extended absence and then disappeared without a trace. His destination and companions remained unknown, and more unsettlingly, his face and name were rapidly fading from their memories /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/. However, Yuder found it difficult to fault their forgetfulness.

A suspicion had begun to form in Yuder’s mind: that Inon was, in fact, a spy from a foreign land, and that he had shrewdly exploited the prevailing chaos as a chance for his escape. Forcing the door open, Yuder stepped inside to discover the space utterly devoid of any belongings. As he conducted his search, a peculiar sensation stirring within him, his gaze fell upon the familiar spot where Inon customarily folded medicinal papers. There, nestled amongst the remnants of Inon's presence, lay a small, folded paper packet.

Within this packet was a letter—a personal account detailing Inon’s true identity.

Initially, Yuder struggled to accept the contents. Who could possibly believe such a tale? A guardian bound by a pact with Luma? Such a being was beyond comprehension. He hadn’t the slightest notion of what this revelation implied or how he was expected to process this extraordinary information.

Yet, no matter how vehemently he attempted to dismiss it, one irrefutable fact remained.

From the very instant he laid eyes on the letter, the obscuring mist that had veiled the memory of ‘Inon’ and his name began to dissipate. It returned to him with startling clarity, a recovery so natural that Yuder hadn’t even registered its absence until it was fully restored.

Inon never reappeared. The widespread calamities advanced relentlessly, reaching the very outskirts of the Capital, yet, by some strange turn of events, they failed to breach the Seventh Wall. The Capital transformed into the ultimate bastion, the final beacon of hope for all humanity. Emperor Kachian proclaimed his profound gratitude as the Sage Diemon declared that the Emperor's divine right was being validated by the indomitable power of the Seventh Wall. Consequently, property values within the Capital surged astronomically. The impoverished denizens who had resided within the Seventh Wall’s protective embrace were forcibly displaced, making way for the influx of nobles fleeing from the war-torn provinces.

Even at the moment Yuder was apprehended and subsequently executed, the Capital remained unyielding. While confined within the prison's unforgiving walls, Yuder’s thoughts occasionally drifted to the enigmatic pharmacist who had vanished. Where had he gone? What quest had driven him away?

If Inon was indeed not human, and if his existence was somehow intertwined with the legendary Grand Mage from a millennium past—perhaps by now, he had unearthed a crucial clue regarding the genesis of these unfolding catastrophes. Had they cultivated a more profound and collaborative bond, perhaps the outcome might have been drastically different. Inon himself had once stated his intention to aid Yuder should their paths cross again.

Despite the irreversible descent into ruin, Yuder entertained the thought that perhaps such a reunion might not have been entirely unwelcome. He acknowledged the futility of such musings, particularly given his inherent lack of complete trust in Inon from the outset.

Regret, a universally acknowledged folly, inevitably arrives too late. Although Yuder could now surmise the direction of Inon's departure, this very understanding ignited a new, piercing sorrow—an agony that lodged itself in his chest with an intensity he had never before experienced. From the moment he had deciphered Luma’s letter, penned for Inon, this profound regret had festered, now constricting him with an almost unbearable anguish.

“If your desire to protect this land remains, then you must relinquish your physical form.”

He desperately hoped for a misinterpretation of the letter's cryptic message. However, the more he pondered its implications, the more the stark reality solidified.

There existed no alternative explanation for Inon's failure to resurface following his disappearance in the previous timeline.

The Inon of the present had once casually remarked that his prior iteration had likely perished. He had existed for such an extended duration that he had occasionally undergone involuntary absorption and regeneration—but had he ever initiated such a process intentionally?

To Yuder’s knowledge... the answer was almost certainly no.

What then, was the distinction between voluntarily surrendering one's physical form and remaining tethered to it? If the Inon of the past had indeed chosen such a path, what had become of him? Had he been by Yuder's side all this time, entirely unrecognized?

“Yuder.”

A soft, low voice resonated beside him. Before Yuder could utter a response, a man's hand extended, clasping his own. It was only then that Yuder became aware of the white-knuckled tension in his grip. His hand trembled so violently, it was evident he’d been clenching his fists with extreme force.

“You’ll injure your hand if you continue to grip it so tightly.”

“...I hadn’t realized.”

“I wish to inquire about the contents of your reading, but perhaps it would be best to wait until the pharmacist has concluded his task. That would be more prudent.”

“...”

“However, even without knowing the specifics, I can ascertain one certainty. Regardless of its nature... the pharmacist would undoubtedly express his displeasure upon witnessing you in this state.”

Before Yuder could even process the implication of these words—

“You are quite correct,” Inon’s resonant voice boomed, cutting through the air.