Turning Chapter 1164

Kishiar’s attempts to kiss him continued, with him saying, “You’ve made my entire day brighter, so I intend to return the favor,” and Yuder found himself struggling to focus on his book.

After his rut, it seemed another layer of his reservations had been shed.

Yuder, of course, did not dislike this change. He was just concerned that he might become so completely captivated that he’d transform into a foolish person, incapable of accomplishing what needed to be done.

Yuder reopened the journal he had been perusing earlier.

The Founding Emperor's choice… Right. I must grasp that aspect clearly as well.

In a passage previously read, Oblik van Ta-in had recorded the Founding Emperor’s words:

“—However, I fell short of the expectations you placed upon me. Someday, this fragile peace will shatter, and the repercussions of my decision will resurface. But this time, I wish to place my hope in you. Would you grant me this request? To uncover all that I could not. To reclaim the choice that was rightfully yours.”

When remembering only the latter part, it was mentioned that “it originally belonged to Archmage Luma,” which strongly suggested a theme of turning back time.

This makes sense… If Luma possessed the ability to send another individual to the past, he likely could have employed it upon himself. Indeed, that might have been the simpler route.

Yet, only one person returned to the past. How profound must the Founding Emperor’s guilt have been, returning alone?

Still… the central portion remains elusive to a complete understanding through that lens alone.

“Someday this fragile peace will shatter, and the repercussions of that choice will resurface.”

Interpreting this within the broader context of the text made it somewhat nonsensical. What specific decision had he made? What was he preparing for when he made that final plea to a friend? Even Oblik van Ta-in confessed in his writings that he could not decipher that particular part near the conclusion.

Yuder made a rough estimate of his stopping point and placed his hand upon the page. Imminently, the subsequent sentence began to form within his mind.

“—My companion was convinced that even his survival would eventually fade. Was he suggesting things would have been different had I returned? Was that the source of the profound, inexplicable faith he had long held in me?”

The absolute certainty that everything he had achieved would ultimately disintegrate.

Why did he harbor such a belief? Yuder Aile had also been brought back to the past, yet such a thought had never once crossed his mind.

Was the burden of guilt simply too immense to bear?

Yuder gazed at the passage, then slowly proceeded to read further down.

“I wished to convey his error. Even if it hadn't been me, no one else could have accomplished what he did. The effort, the agonizing perseverance, and the solitary secret he guarded until his dying breath held meaning because they were uniquely his.”

“Everyone still requires you.”

“Yes. Even I do.”

“But he had already embarked on his journey to eternal rest.”

From the conclusion of that sentence, tinged with a serene yet profound sorrow, it appeared Luma had paused. Beneath the ink blot, formed from an extended pause with the pen, a new sentence softly resonated in Yuder’s consciousness, carrying the human voice of the esteemed archmage.

“I pondered—indeed. If I succeeded once, could I not succeed again? If it was a spell I cast in my past, why should I be incapable of performing it now?”

“From that moment, I dedicated myself to pursuing the version of myself I had yet to discover. I sought a method to reverse time, scrutinizing anything that bore even the slightest resemblance. Even those matters we swore to leave buried in the past—I revisited them all.”

“The crucial clue emerged unexpectedly. While attempting to devise a means to preserve my friend’s legacy, I encountered a spirit. Upon learning of my endeavor, it spoke these words.”

“—A mortal who claims to have journeyed back from the past. I have encountered such an individual before.”

What?

The very instant Yuder conceived this thought, Luma articulated the identical sentiment within the written text.

“When I inquired about its meaning, the spirit immediately fell silent. Such cunning behavior from long-lived entities! Others treat interactions with these ancient sprites as a monumental achievement, but I cannot concur. Surely the spirit-summoners of old must have vanished, weary of such slyness. Ultimately, I only persuaded it to speak again after pledging to fulfill a favor for it.”

“...Spirit-summoner?”

“Hmm?”

Kishiar turned his head as if he had registered Yuder’s murmured utterance.

“Ah, it’s nothing. A line within the archmage’s writings mentioned the past disappearance of spirit-summoners, and I voiced my uncertainty about my reading.”

“Hm… Well, tales of humans favored by fairies and spirits are abundant enough that their existence is still acknowledged today. Thus, it’s not improbable that such individuals held a specific title during that era.”

“That reasoning holds true.”

It did prompt the question—were there genuinely so many individuals favored by transcendent beings that they could be categorized and known by a professional title? However, Kishiar’s explanation seemed sufficiently plausible.

Regardless, the powerful spirit who had toyed with and pressured the archmage stated:

“—There was once a place among your human nations, established by someone who spoke in a similar fashion. I do not know its location, but if you search diligently, you may discover your answer.”

“The uncertainty of its whereabouts necessitated more time. During this period of time procurement, I completed the fairy’s request. Fortunately, it was not an insurmountable task. In fact, it slightly aligned with my ongoing endeavors. Yes. That was the very day I returned to this place, cradling a small golden apple.”

At this point, Yuder felt a surge of certainty regarding the subject of the narrative.

A diminutive golden apple.

That spirit and the archmage.

It was none other than Inon.

He had previously heard Inon mention the spirit of the apple tree that served as the foundation of his very soul. However, encountering this account through Luma’s writings imbued it with an entirely distinct resonance.

Thus, the spirit whom Luma had so vehemently cursed was, in essence, Inon’s progenitor.

Could Archmage Luma have ever foreseen that this narrative would, in subsequent eras, be reinterpreted into a grand, romantic epic?

Unlike Oblik van Ta-in’s contemplations regarding the Founding Emperor’s decree, this revelation stirred a profoundly different emotional response.

I do wonder what expression Inon would wear if he were to read this particular passage...

Merely picturing his face, still in that place where he had resided with Luma, engrossed in laborious record-keeping, elicited a soft chuckle from Yuder. Perhaps it was the vivid imagery of Inon’s brow furrowing in a silent, wordless annoyance that prompted his amusement. Yuder resolved that upon concluding his reading of this tome, his immediate action would be to pen a letter to Inon, sharing his discoveries without delay.