I'm not afraid of death, just of not dying.
"So this ti, will you incur another debt of love, like you did before... like Miss Silvia, the White Tower Master?"
"I shouldn't... probably not."
Shiyar recalled the information from within Escarnia. At least up until now, there had been no occurrence of a situation like that of the Gray-Silver Witch.
Listening to Shiyar's reply, Enola nodded in satisfaction. With the tacit understanding between them, she naturally could tell Shiyar wasn't lying.
Enola stretched out her pale hand, and a miniature, silver-colored lance quietly appeared above it.
"Actually, about two weeks ago, when you entered that place again, I sensed a slight disturbance in Rhongomyniad."
"Its revival seed to have accelerated once more... It's just that at the ti I didn't know the specifics. I had to imrse myself entirely in ditation to assimilate the feedback from Rhongomyniad's unsealing."
She tilted her head slightly and then spoke. Her cool voice had beco a bit more cheerful.
"However, after I completely mastered the advanced form of Rhongomyniad, I discovered that I seem to have a way to exercise so control over it in that anomalous space-ti you're heading to."
Joy flashed in the golden-haired girl's azure eyes.
When Enola first learned of the peril Shiyar faced and found herself unable to help him, she felt deeply distressed. And when she personally saw the dark-haired boy—upon whom she so depended—pass out in the bathroom, that distress turned to panic.
The panic of being abandoned by the entire world.
Even though she had made a vow in that blizzard to beco soone useful to Shiyar.
Even though she prided herself on being Shiyar's sharpest sword.
Yet, when Shiyar was in danger in another world, all she could do was wait helplessly at ho, safe but powerless.
That feeling of powerlessness haunted Enola every mont, almost becoming a terrifying nightmare that plagued her sleep.
Enola had thought more than once: if Shiyar couldn't make it back from the other world... what would she do?
But she never let this concern show, because Enola knew it was a decision Shiyar had made after deep consideration.
Given that, all she could do was unconditionally support Shiyar's choice. Weak tears and worries were aningless; they would only distract Shiyar and beco a burden.
And Shiyar was not the type of man who needed a woman to weep tragically for him, like a damsel in a sentintal drama.
So, during these days, Enola had just silently shut herself in the ditation room, training like a woman possessed.
And as if in resonance, the girl's heartfelt longing eventually received a response from the Sacred Spear.
...
"Really?"
Upon hearing Enola's description, Shiyar was also startled. However, he soon beca contemplative.
The Sacred Spear Enola wielded did indeed have a glorious reputation in the annals of Escarnia, from the ti before the Fresta Empire's establishnt.
Does the spear possess the Rank to interfere with space-ti now?
Indeed, in terms of mystique, that spear has even surpassed the eighth rank, which is the Throne realm boundary.
Shiyar couldn't help but beco lost in thought.
The last ti they were in the Spirit Realm, lding together, Silvia had not only beco intimate with him but had also shared much of her mystical knowledge and secrets. His own rank was insufficient. The Legendary realm, and the transcendent realms above it, were always shrouded in mystery to him, understood only through hearsay and incomplete knowledge. But with the unreserved explanations from a Throne Level Beastmaster, many secrets were no longer mysterious.
For example... Silvia had told him.
To beco a Legend, there are two necessary conditions—
First, one's spiritual power must be sublimated into a complete spiritual ocean.
And the other condition... is to "feel the flow of ti," or rather, to truly sense the existence of the river of ti.
And to transition from the seventh to the eighth circle, from Legendary to Throne... to cross the Throne realm boundary, there is one major threshold—
To leave one's mark in the river of ti, in history.
Silvia's own accumulation had, in fact, already reached the limit of the Legendary, but her breakthrough to the Throne Level only occurred after she had slept for over three hundred years. Because only by then was her deed as the White Tower's Architect ancient enough to sublimate into a historical imprint, leaving her mark in the river of ti.
Or, in other words—
Every Throne is living history, having already truly touched the domain of the laws of ti.
Of course, according to Silvia, her own historical imprint in the river of ti was only five hundred years deep. Thus, her control over the laws of ti was still quite unrefined; most of the ti, she could only observe, not interact.
But from this speculation...
Could it be that the so-called True Gods above the eighth circle and Demigod levels... possess the ability to trace back the past and foresee the future?
Leaving one's imprint in history... Does that an every powerhouse who reached the Throne Level was actually an old crone who's lived for who knows how many years?
Shiyar hurriedly kept this disrespectful guess to himself. He felt that if he said it out loud, he would offend countless old crones.
But if you put it that way... I've also left my imprint in history, right? I already have the title 'The One Forgotten by Ti'.
That ans, when it's ti for to break through to the Throne Level, there shouldn't be any bottleneck.
And if Ennie could control the Sacred Spear and leave a trace in the Echo of History, wouldn't that also count as her writing a piece of history?
Shiyar felt sowhat stirred.
Nurturing Ennie to the Throne Level himself?
It was like the thrill of playing a 'raising simulation' ga with a beautiful girl.
He shook his head, temporarily casting these thoughts aside. After pondering for a mont, Shiyar looked at the blonde girl before him again.
"Shall we... give it a try?"
Having spent seven days in Lokiya, Shiyar had already made his preparations. He had originally planned to wait until Su Lun left and then enter the Echo of History after returning to the Empire Capital. But why not seize the day? There was no harm in doing it now.
"Oh."
The blonde girl nodded.
She didn't care about things like historical imprints or Throne Level potential... The only thing Enola feared was becoming unnecessary to Shiyar.
And now that she could finally be of help to Shiyar, that was already enough for her.
...
With a slight shift in Shiyar's thoughts, he once again activated the Echo of History.
Unlike before, when he would lock himself in the washroom, this ti Shiyar lay on the bed, entering the Echo of History with his head resting on the girl's thigh.
This was the advantage of having raised a wife since childhood.
As Shiyar's consciousness entered the Echo of History, everything in the real world around him—the flowing night, the flickering candlelight—froze. The only exception was the soft double bed in the center of the hotel suite. Around the Sacred Spear, a faint mystique pulsed, allowing ti on that bed to maintain its normal flow.
"Go, Rhongomyniad."
"In that span of ti and space, Shiyar is your master, and his commands are my commands."
"Even if you must shatter, protect him at all costs."
Enola said softly, looking at the diminutive Sacred Spear.
The next mont, the pure silver lance radiated a dazzling and brilliant light. Ti surged. The ancient Sacred Relic tore through the river of ti, ascending against its current, and soon vanished from the present world.
The blonde girl simply watched all this in silence.
After a long while, she brushed a few stray strands of pale gold hair from her forehead and looked down at the black-haired boy beneath her, who seed to have fallen into a deep sleep. A blush tinged Enola's fair cheeks. She gazed at Shiyar's sleeping face for a long while, then suddenly bent down and gently pressed a kiss to his lips.
"You must co back."
The girl's whisper was very soft, almost drowned out by the howling evening wind, yet it carried an indescribable determination.
"If you don't co back..."
"You know what I'll do."
...
「Escarnia.」
Shiyar stood atop the city wall, feeling the corrupting breath unique to Abyssal creatures drifting up from the wasteland, his Robe of Daybreak fluttering in the wind.
"Well then, let's begin."
"The final dance of 'Black Knight Cain'—"
...
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