Chapter 12: The Guardian of Humanity (3)
The girl remembered.
There was a time she had fallen into despair, certain that it was all over. With the meager magic power in her hands, she had believed she could do nothing. Yet even then, thinking of her younger sisters, she rose to her feet. She made a vow — innocent, trembling, but resolute — to keep fighting even if death awaited her. And it was then that she met the legend. That encounter was why she now stood where she did.
Step by step, her shoes echoed softly down the corridor.
With every stride, her heartbeat grew louder, until it felt as though it might burst from her chest. Even so, she walked with a calm, expressionless face, as if none of it mattered. The corridor was lavish — the kind of place only nobles would walk — and indeed, it was: the imperial palace, the heart of the Empire itself.
....
The girl had once been a noble.
But when the current emperor, the Bloody Emperor, rose to power, a revolution began. Useless nobles were stripped of their titles, while commoners of talent were raised to prominence — a revolution of pure meritocracy. In that wave of reform, her family lost their noble rank, and she became a commoner overnight. Yet she bore no resentment. She believed the emperor's actions were just.
The real problem was her parents. They had no sense of reality. Even after losing their titles, they continued living in delusion — clinging to their pride and wasting money as though they were still nobles.
The girl worked dangerous mercenary jobs, took on adventurer quests, and earned what she could, but it was like pouring water into a cracked jar.
If it had only been her and her parents, perhaps she could have walked away sooner — but she had little sisters. And because of them, she endured… until finally, she exploded.
In the end, she severed ties with her parents completely. When they accused her of being ungrateful — of forgetting who had raised her — she declared coldly that she had already repaid every debt.
All the money she had ever earned had gone toward their debts and daily expenses. She could count on one hand the times she'd spent money on herself — and even then, only for tools she needed for work.
Now she could raise her sisters without them. Her parents had long ceased to be of any help. She once sympathized with them — but now, she agreed with those who said such people should never have held noble titles in the first place.
"I've changed… a lot," she thought, glancing around.
At the edge of her vision, people whispered as she passed. Not because she was a former noble stripped of her title — though some may have looked at her that way — but out of something else entirely. Shock. Awe.
They weren't looking at her.
They were looking at her plate.
An Adamantite Plate.
Indeed — just days ago, the girl had been promoted to Adamantite-ranked adventurer. In itself, that was worthy of fame, even noise — but not astonishment.
Yet in her case, it was.
She was the first solo Adamantite adventurer.
And the youngest ever to achieve it.
Two titles of glory, both hers.
No wonder everyone stared.
Trying to appear unbothered, she walked on, clutching the white-gemmed rosario at her chest. Simply touching it calmed her. It had no magical effect — it was just comforting.
....
"Welcome," a voice said.
She lifted her gaze from the floor and saw a man. At once, she recalled the manners of her noble upbringing and began to bow, but he waved it off with a dismissive hand.
She straightened silently. Even as an Adamantite-ranked adventurer, a commoner like her had no right to enter the royal palace unannounced.
Yet she had permission — permission that no one could deny.
From the Bloody Emperor himself.
Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix, Emperor of the Baharuth Empire.
He was called the Bloody Emperor for the crimson crown said to be forged from the blood of his enemies — but ever since his coronation, the Empire had indeed flourished. His first act had been the great reform — the revolution of merit. And her family had been one of those cut down by that very revolution.
....
"I always thought I had an eye for talent," Jircniv said, studying her. "Perhaps I missed a few gems after all."
He watched her carefully. She met his gaze without wavering, and for once, he couldn't read her. Yet that made him smile. After endless days of dealing with fools who did nothing but cause him stress, this was a pleasant surprise — a rare spark of competence where he least expected it.
She looked more like a girl than a woman — short, straight hair cut neatly at her shoulders, her appearance more dignified than beautiful. The word refined came to mind. Perhaps it was the trace of her noble upbringing — an irony, since adventurers were rarely called "refined."
"Arche Eeb Rile Furt," Jircniv said.
The girl bowed her head. "Yes, Your Majesty."
For the first time in a long while, the Emperor felt truly pleased.
A new Adamantite-ranked adventurer — the youngest, and a soloist — had appeared in his Empire. Even as a ruler, even as a man hardened by power, he found it genuinely worth celebrating.
....
"Do you resent me?" he asked softly. "I could stomach a few harsh words today, if you have them."
"No, Your Majesty. I believe what you did was right. My parents were foolish — unfit to be nobles. I hold no resentment."
"I see…"
Jircniv studied her face. Emotionless — perfectly composed. She hid her feelings well. He almost thought she'd make a fine politician. Perhaps adventuring taught such control. Still, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
How foolish he had been back then — newly crowned, overwhelmed, cutting down countless families without realizing what potential he might be discarding.
If he'd only placed her under Fluder's tutelage, she might have grown even stronger by now — her strength becoming the Empire's strength, perhaps even his own shield. She was an adventurer, yes, but her brilliance still belonged to the Empire. It was a bittersweet thought.
...
"May I ask," Arche said in her calm, emotionless tone,
"why Your Majesty summoned me here?"
There was no coldness in it, only quiet restraint — and Jircniv recognized it at once. She wasn't suppressing hatred. She was simply hiding her feelings.
From what he'd read before meeting her, her parents had squandered their remaining wealth after losing their title — a perfect example of what happened to fools who couldn't adapt. Disgusted, Arche had cut ties entirely and now lived modestly with her little sisters in a rented inn.
The Emperor looked at her — and, for the first time in a while, felt something rare.
Respect.
"I merely wished to meet you after hearing of your achievements," said Jircniv, his voice calm yet curious. "The youngest Adamantite adventurer—and the first ever to reach that rank alone."
When Arche had still been a Copper adventurer, such ambition had been called foolish, reckless, even laughable. But once one reached the rank of Adamantite, those words became meaningless. Skill alone speaks for itself.
"I heard you don't have a proper place to stay," Jircniv continued. "That will be arranged. Don't refuse—it's a reward for your accomplishments. I value the capable."
It was, of course, an investment for the future.
Talents like hers had to be tied to the Empire's cause whenever possible. He could try to tempt her with money, but now that she was free of debt, gold might no longer move her. Truth be told, Jircniv had half given up already. This was a gesture of goodwill, nothing more.
"You needn't trouble yourself, Your Majesty," Arche replied evenly. "I have enough funds, and I've already found a place. I'll secure it myself."
"I see. Then let me ask—would you consider serving under me directly? You'd be compensated generously."
The girl lowered her gaze slightly. "It's difficult to answer so suddenly. But if it's a matter of protecting someone, I'll think on it favorably."
"Understood. I hear you've just returned from a mission. Rest for now. I'll summon you again later."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Arche stood, turned on her heel, and walked away without hesitation. Her steps echoed against the marble floor—thump, thump, thump—in rhythm with her pounding heart. It would be absurd to die simply from nerves, she thought wryly.
Though she bore no ill will toward Jircniv, a single misplaced word before the emperor could have grave consequences. The tension was only natural.
....
"It's been a long time."
"Kyaa—!" Arche almost screamed. Somehow, she managed to keep her face still, forcing herself to turn calmly toward the voice. The man before her looked old—terribly old—and yet his presence felt immense, transcending the limits of humankind.
Those who surpassed the boundaries of humanity were called heroes. Those who surpassed even heroes were known as aberrants. And this man—he was one of the aberrants. Among all the human magicians on the continent, there were said to be only four such beings. He had long since stepped into the realm beyond men, mastering and combining three schools of magic to create exclusive ritual sorceries that prolonged his life.
Fluder Paradyne.
When Arche had been a noble, she had studied under him. Facing him again now—after the emperor, after all this—made her heart ache with fatigue. Suppressing a sigh, she bowed politely.
"It's been a while, Master Fluder."
"You've grown splendidly," Fluder said, his old voice calm but sharp. "I can only see up to third-tier spells, but you've refined their efficiency and application quite a bit, haven't you?"
Fluder possessed a rare talent—the ability to discern another's magical tier at a glance. Coincidentally, Arche shared that same talent. When he had taught her years ago, she had already mastered the second tier and was approaching the third.
Upon hearing she'd returned as an Adamantite adventurer, he'd wondered if she had reached the fourth. Seeing now that she hadn't, he was a little disappointed—but he couldn't help but admire her progress.
He remembered her as a gentle, bright-eyed student. Now she seemed expressionless—almost doll-like.
"Will you refuse the emperor's offer?" he asked.
"It's too grand a position for a mere commoner like me," she replied.
"You are an Adamantite adventurer," Fluder said firmly. "That's qualification enough."
"I dislike being bound by too many restrictions. I hope you'll understand, Master Fluder."
"Hmm…" Fluder mused. "So you no longer call me Master, then."
"It would be discourteous, since that is no longer our relationship."
Arche glanced up at the sky, realizing how much time she had spent here. She bowed once more. "Then, I'll take my leave."
As she walked down the palace steps, her fingers brushed the white-gemmed rosario at her chest. She looked up toward the fading light of the sky and whispered softly—words not meant for anyone to hear.
"Someday, I'll return. Will you wait for me until then?"
It was the same blue sky as back then — high and vast, with not a single cloud in sight.
As she gazed upward, Arche wondered quietly to herself: Is he looking at this same sky right now?
And in a voice so small that no one could possibly hear, she whispered his name.
"Lord Kaiser…"
Even now, she waited for the day they would meet again.
....
"Useless," Jircniv muttered the moment Arche left the room.
He leaned back, taking a sip of wine, his expression tinged with regret. If only he'd discovered her sooner, perhaps he could have drawn her to his side.
The knight beside him tilted his head. "Do you think so, Your Majesty? I believe there's still a chance."
"She won't come," Jircniv said flatly. "And even if she did, I couldn't use her."
The knight frowned. "She seemed like a capable talent to me."
"Oh, she is," Jircniv replied, shifting in his seat. "That's not the problem."
He sighed, eyes narrowing in thought.
"She has talent, that much is certain. Did you see her? She stood before me — the man who stripped her of her noble title — and not once did she show resentment. Not in her tone, her voice, or even her eyes. Maybe she truly feels no hatred, but the control she has over herself… remarkable. As a magic caster of Adamantite rank, her skill is already proven. And beyond that, she's articulate — too articulate, perhaps. To think I once let such talent slip away… I could almost strike my past self."
He let out another breath.
If only he'd paid more attention back then — if only he'd noticed that she was Fluder's disciple, and what promise she held. Things might have turned out differently.
"She's too upright," Jircniv continued, almost to himself. "There were other small concerns, but that one overshadows them all. She's an idealist. I only spoke with her for a short while, but I'm certain of it. She's the kind of person who would risk her life to save a few — someone who cannot stomach cruelty beyond necessity. She could kill cleanly, perhaps… but never torture, never extract information through pain."
Such a person could never serve long beneath the Bloody Emperor, who had built his reign through ruthless pragmatism.
And her eyes — those eyes had said it clearly.
"Did you call me here just for this nonsense?"
That was the look she'd given him before leaving, her pace on departure several times swifter than when she had entered.
Jircniv recalled her expression when she had spoken of protecting someone.
That conviction — unwavering, immovable — had burned behind her calm face.
Perhaps she had learned it from someone.
It was hard to imagine someone reaching such strength alone.
Maybe there was another teacher beyond Fluder.
Someone whose ideals she'd inherited.
Jircniv sighed deeply.
"She'll have to be content helping the Empire as an adventurer — not in war, but in other battles."
It was a lament spoken not in frustration, but in quiet admiration — and a trace of regret for the one that got away.
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