The Final Protectors

From Then On and After Part 2

And who?

Archbishop Aldo was uninterested in the rest, as if the question itself was simply asked out of casual politeness, and he could not care less about the answer. Without hearing the rest, he had already nodded his head. He interrupted Jel, glossing over it. “Do not worry about it.”

He did not care who had caught this rare, devilish savage derot that only existed in nightmares and horror stories. Regardless of whether they were an “Evan”, “Jack”, or “Tom”, it meant absolutely nothing to him.

Jel could only tactfully shut his mouth.

Aldo bent down to lift the Abyss Dhole’s corpse. It was a very clean kill. Other than the tint of blood smeared on the tail, the sole cause of death was at its throat. It was a one-shot kill which clearly instantly took the beast’s life without wounding other areas.

“It’s usable. Thank you.” Aldo finished his appraisal. A door suddenly opened from the corridor wall by the Archbishop’s office without warning. He lifted the Abyss Dhole’s corpse, and turned to leave.

“Ah, please wait a moment, your distinguished self!” Jel suddenly called him.

Aldo stopped in his tracks. “What else is the matter, young man?”

“Yes. It is regarding the issue of replenishing the Barrier’s dark energy,” Jel said, “Your words that day were very vague. I would like to ask if we should measure such energy through the number of derots? For example, could a few level 2 derots resist a Devil-ranked derot?”

Aldo paused. He turned to glance at this young man with a strange look, and was almost instantly certain of a fact—this child was the sharpest of the four who entered the underground palace that day.

“Certainly, rank categorization is merely human creation. Many derots are truthfully exceptionally powerful as well. However, after a comprehensive evaluation, their lack of ‘barriers’ due to certain reasons led them to be classified as level 2.” Aldo contemplated and said, “Even for lower-ranked derots, as long as they had numbers, they certainly could provide considerable energy. However, the energy’s purity, the duration it could last for, as well as other aspects are incomparable to the energy of a small number of powerful derots.”

Jel looked pensive.

Aldo’s gaze stopped on his face momentarily, and abruptly averted his gaze as if he thought of something abruptly. “Next time you catch a usable derot, simply place its body at the ‘exit’. I will know.”

In truth, Jel still had many questions. But seeing that he was about to leave, he considered how difficult it was to get hold of Archbishop Aldo’s whereabouts and the uncertainty of when their next meeting will be. So, Jel could only ask the most crucial questions. He loudly said, “Also, your distinguished self, do you know forbidden time magic?”

In that moment, Jel, who faced Aldo’s side profile, saw his face abruptly change. This statue-like man suddenly came alive, extremely complex emotions flashing past his seemingly inorganic eyes.

“What did you say?” After a long while, Aldo mumbled softly. “Forbidden time magic…”

“Yes.” It was rare to catch his attention. Jel immediately added swiftly, “When I obtained the ‘Golden Emblem’, I obtained the qualifications to read some banned books in the Temple. Among them was one titled “Ten Forbidden Spells”. It recorded the existence of forbidden time magic, and in reality, I believe that…”

The usually cold but polite Aldo cut him off without letting him finish.

“Forbidden time magic does not exist.” The golden-haired man spoke stiffly, gaze returning to the void yet again. Jel did not know if it was his imagination, but in that moment, he even felt that the Archbishop’s eyes were almost deathly still.

“You can’t be so sure. In truth, at my place…”

“Forbidden time magic does not exist.” Aldo interrupted him once again. “I’ve researched it for my whole life, and I could only… reach the conclusion that it is impossible—you are sharp and clever, with a bright future ahead of you. Young man, if I was you, I would put my energy into something more worthwhile.”

Upon finishing, he paid Jel no more attention, turning to step into the stone door without so much as another look.

Jel, “Please wait, your distinguished self! Your distinguished self!”

The stone door already closed in front of him, leaving not even a single creak. It was as if a secret tunnel had never been there before.

“Why didn’t you hear me out? You might even know each other.” Jel scratched his nose and shrugged. He patted the dumbfounded Evan. “Hey, wake up, mate. We’re going back.”

Evan followed behind Jel stupefied. By now, his initial awkward coordination of his limbs had turned into a near paralysis on just one side of his body.

Jel did not know it was just him, but he felt that the phrase “forbidden time magic” angered this mysterious “deceased Archbishop”. Was there… a taboo in these words?

The Abyss Dhole’s corpse was right at Aldo’s feet, its ferocious teeth and the bloody gaping hole on its neck in full display.

“Forbidden time magic…” He suddenly chuckled lowly, a hand covering his face, back on the icy wall as he slowly slid down. His laughter reverberated throughout the Temple’s underground palace.

It had already been over a thousand years, you imbecile, he thought. Other than you, a being neither human nor ghost who shoved half of your body into the Barrier, who else could survive a thousand years?

Even his bones would have decayed into splittereens by now!

The man suddenly roared, fiercely flinging away the rose in his hand that he had held in his hand with care.

He had watched with his own eyes as the black staff penetrated Karlos’ body, and watched as Parola was dragged into the forbidden magic.

It went according to their plan. All of the devil’s abilities were completely and instantaneously sucked into the already prepared magic circle, forming the initial outer shell of the Barrier.

But, why did he have to stand in the forbidden magic circle? Why did he not back away?

Could it be that you would rather die than to see me once more?

When the dust settled, only a corpse Parola sucked dry was left on the ground. But that person had vanished too.

Aldo searched high and low for him as though he went insane—the Fraruitt manor, Adoratt, the whole State of Salla, throughout the land, all the places Karlos had made an appearance in all the legends, every place possible… Yet, he had evaporated from the human world.

It was as if that person had never appeared in his life before.

That flower used to be something Karlos had poured his feelings in. Every emotion had its unique power. However, a very, very long time ago, he had not valued it. It was only when he began to regret that he discovered that this flower was the only thing that remained.

He drew a spell on it in mediation, commanding it to bloom eternally until its past owner stepped foot in the Temple again. Only then could it wither and return into the soil.

After Karlos’ disappearance, Aldo began to study forbidden time magic. He held the tiniest hope, yearning to return to his carefree and worryfree adolescence—if his self-esteem had not been that low then; if he had not acted like a hedgehog with irritable spikes raised then; if he believed… what he said when he was young; if he could have another chance to redo it; if… Could they have had a good ending?

A chain of ancient incantation left his lips. The entire underground palace was instantly filled with a fog. Aldo knocked the floor gently with a finger. “Materialize.”

If someone was here, they would realize that this incantation was similar to the one Mr. Good used to materialize Kelson’s embleme. But naturally, this one was much more complex.

The mist was different from the thick, sticky one when an Abyss Dhole made an appearance. Light and gentle, when immersed in them, it was as if you had entered a dream.

In the depths of the mist, the sound of a wind chime came abruptly.

Outside the mist, Aldo suddenly held his breath—like a billion times before, his eyes bored into the stage performance with an almost devout madness.

From the mist came a young boy’s bright voice, “Faster, Leo, follow me!”

Faintly, two figures appeared, both with the slimness unique to teenagers. The boy in front was about fourteen or fifteen; he was a beautiful child who seemed like he had been blessed by an angel. Aldo’s eyes stared unblinkingly at his face. Even after a thousand years, his face remained clear in his mind as if it was yesterday.

Yes. This was the person he had yearned for for the rest of his life.

Behind him was a long-robed youth, a few books in his hand, as he spoke with some irritation, “Who permitted you to refer to me as Leo—where are you dragging me to?”

That imbecile was himself.

The youth version of Karlos did not look angry. His steps paused for a moment, and he grabbed his collar to mount a quick kiss on his lips. Like a little scoundrel, he spoke, highly pleased, “Of course I can call you that, Leo babe.”

Aldo saw his young self turn into a suffocated red, and could not help chuckling softly. Back then, he was likely… slightly indignant, at a loss as to what to do. The taste that came from the other’s fresh and soft lips was a faint but deep mark, unremovable no matter how hard he wiped.

Little Karlos pulled Little Aldo’s hand stubbornly. After being shaken off by the latter again and again, he then brazenly glued himself to him, making them weave through the Temple’s underground palace in an awkward manner. There was a secret tunnel to instantly leave the Temple—even a thousand years ago, the underground palace was a restricted area for the students. But to someone like Karlos, bans and such would essentially be interpreted as invitations.

He expertly avoided the spells while pulling Little Aldo into the hidden tunnel and secretly left the Temple. Making their way past those castles and the vast farmlands, they came to a mountain slope.

“Here, sit here and wait.” Little Karlos pulled Little Aldo to sit down on a giant rock. He took about ten steps and stood on the slope covered by withered grass. Winter sea breeze ruffled the youth’s light brown hair. His facial features held no gloominess. Although he acted like a rich, spoiled kid sometimes, and was a tad too lively—always doing things that frustrated others deeply—it did not prevent others’ mood from growing lighter upon seeing him.

The youth’s voice drifted in the wind as he recited a spell that could not be found in any of the spell or incantation books. It was done so quickly and effortlessly, such that tears would have streamed down the eyes of the bystanders a thousand years later.

Then, gentle rays of light shone on the ground. The spell circle that had been secretly drawn there was activated. Grass and plants suddenly sprouted from the soil, going against the rules of the seasons. Emerald green vines tangled around the leaf-scattered trees. The scent of lilies and roses filled the air as hyacinths tangled around the youth’s outstretched arms.

Never had there been someone who could make flowers sprout all over a withered, dead mountain in winter… Since ancient times, only one Karlos Fraruitt could do so.

“How… did you do that?” Little Aldo asked in disbelief.

“The magic circle is a wound recovery spell, drawn using purification water. The key is to use it with an incantation.” The young Little Karlos still did not know what humbleness was, boasting, “I created the incantation myself. I rummaged through all of the spell books in the Temple just for it. It has to raise the hillside’s temperature in an instant, and be isolated from the sea breeze. I even added a part of the “memory materialization” spell in the emblem to mess up the plants’ time perception… As for the seeds, hehe. I sowed them yesterday. Do you like it?”

The youth sitting on the rock raised his head, gazing at his big-grinned companion.

Karlos plucked a blooming rose from a branch, bending down to place it at Little Aldo’s collar, his own cheeks tinting with rare nervousness and shyness. Only then did he look like a teenager having his first love.

“I created the incantation for you. I plan to call it ‘Return of Life’,” Little Karlos softly spoke while crouched over a sea of flowers. Then, he attempted to inch closer to the other. While he had not received any rejection, he slowly closed his eyes and gently kissed Little Aldo. “Happy birthday… And, Mr. Leo Aldo, will you accept my pursuit of you?”

The teenager’s slim and delicate body seemed right in front of him. Seated at the corner of the room, Aldo could not help lift his arms to embrace him, but his arms still went through him—this was not real. It was just a memory that he refused to part with.

The mist suddenly dissipated. The youth’s figure and the flowers blooming in winter faded and vanished.

Aldo’s empty hands held their spots in the icy cold air for a long moment, before they fell back to his side, futile. He gazed at the not-so-distant rose emitting a brightness as if it was shining. His reddening eyes were like a trapped, despairing beast. But being someone who had been dried up for a thousand years, he could no longer shed any tears.

“I didn’t have the chance to…”

I didn’t have the chance to tell you personally: I love you. Please forgive me.

Yet, in the end, Aldo still stood up, carefully cradling the flower on the ground and softly wiping away the dust on it. This was what remained of his little hope. Even if he knew it was hopeless—it was simply for the sake of the faint illusion it evoked when he laid his eyes on it after waking up in the coffin everyday.

“Karl…”