Chapter 502 – From the Past (3)

"Hoo."

With only a breath or two, Verden pulled his concentration to the extreme, then flipped the hourglass resting on his left palm.

A plunging cascade of pitch-black sand.

This time, thanks to natural magic power being charged to the fullest, the available opening time had increased greatly, and so the black grains of sand fell far slower than when he had activated it back in Chillstead.

The lights of magic power that floated in the air gathered together, forming a deep blue octahedron.

He instantly flicked his right hand.

Having already handled the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] once before, he showed no clumsiness in operating the artifact of Black Hour now before his eyes.

'First, I'll check from the very bottom.'

Inside this hourglass lay countless research records, all mixed together. That was why he could not rush, but had to proceed step by step.

To randomly jab at positions here and there searching for Dahit's traces would only serve to complicate matters further.

'In any case, I'll have to organize it all eventually.'

More haste, less speed.

At least in this place, such restraint was the most efficient approach.

Whooom.

[1st Rank──1st Step]

Expanding from the base of the octahedron, Verden sharpened his sight.

The square shapes that formed the smallest units of the structure became clear, and soon a book, made of condensed magic power, appeared.

At once he flipped the first page, beginning the full process of examination and classification.

For a Mage, research is not merely the process of experiments and conclusions.

It is the crystallization of the researcher's own thought and ideology, of the subjective mind.

Even a meager note, two pages long, could become the basis of a thesis that stretched into the hundreds, the thousands—such was the breed of Mage.

And of course, among those obsessed with magical research, none were worse than those of Black Hour.

Before and after Dahit's usurpation, Black Hour had accumulated an ocean of knowledge from their musings on every imaginable subject.

To comb through such volume in its entirety was a grueling, dreadful labor, enough to make even the most ardent Mage go dizzy at the thought.

'It's not easy for me either….'

Even so, the idea of postponing it had never once crossed his mind.

Fwaaah.

Irregularly manipulating the [Hourglass of Perpetuity], he read through tomes where research records from different fields were all entangled.

Busy, his blue eyes darted across the pages.

He did not need to understand every detail now. The only thing that truly mattered was Dahit's trail. The rest he skimmed lightly, merely remembering their locations.

[1st Rank──2nd Step]

[1st Rank──3rd Step]

[1st Rank──31st Step]

[1st Rank──32nd Step]

[1st Rank──67th Step]

Before long, the daylight outside was swallowed by a creeping darkness filled with moonlight, then once again brightened with the autumn sun.

He had gone through the night.

Regardless, Verden had not taken a single step from where he stood, his clear eyes wholly immersed.

So it was after about one and a half days had passed.

Verden paused.

'This is… part of the records related to the creation of [Compass of Black Hour]?'

Every Mage possessed unique magic power. Of course, that uniqueness did not imply anything special like ancient bloodlines or rare traits.

Even if it looked similar on the surface, its magical structure was different. By nature, such power carried the tendency to return to its original master.

And the [Compass of Black Hour] was an artificial artifact for tracking, devised upon that very principle.

'The author… I see. So it was Dahit herself who designed it.'

Though the compass Verden possessed was incomplete and thus its range quite limited, even so, its usefulness was undeniable.

After all, it had served as the stepping stone for tracking Gluttony and the Glory of the Dead.

Sure enough, as Melard had said, Dahit Wethroel was more than a Transcendent—he was an authority in magical research surpassing even his peers.

'Not terribly important, and only a few pages, but still not bad. This is the first clear trace of Dahit I've found.'

It felt like finding a piece of the puzzle.

Verden carefully memorized the location of the [Compass of Black Hour]'s research notes, then moved on to another tome within the same rank.

It was repetitive work, but far from tedious.

The fields were so varied, and most of the research was stimulating enough to pique Verden's interest, at least a little.

"…Hm?"

And so, by chance, he stumbled upon another trace of Dahit. Counting even the time he spent in convalescence at Chillstead, this was the third.

Unlike the compass, this had nothing to do with magic directly.

It was more of a personal theory, akin to an essay of private views.

These were Dahit's private musings, recorded as though she had been speaking to herself.

'Nothing particularly surprising.'

Indeed.

───The self is always defined by the eyes of others. A being unremembered, unseen by anyone, has no meaning.

Dahit herself had declared as much when Verden confronted her in the Great Hall.

An obsession with memory.

That was the true madness held by the Transcendent, Dahit Wethroel.

'The next page… as expected, there's nothing more.'

Traces of Dahit's so-called Memory Theory were scattered here and there. It was vexing, but there was no helping it.

Verden continued his work.

The information he truly sought had not even cast a shadow yet.

Well, searching for it was no different from looking for a needle in the desert, so to expect meaningful results after only a few days would have been greed.

The second hand moved without pause.

Time flowed like water, consuming most of the magic power stored in the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] and leaving even Verden himself fatigued.

He had already devoted nearly four days to this task, and even the concentration of a Transcendent would begin to dull by now.

He drew his breath, then checked how much sand remained in the hourglass.

It would close soon.

Since there was nothing particularly urgent awaiting him, he forced his thoughts to quicken, raising his pace toward the end.

And then, it happened.

"…!"

One page within a tome of the [2nd Rank──13th Step].

The opening sentence was startlingly abrupt, as though a fragment from some research had been torn out and pasted in.

'Without doubt.'

This was a shard of the record written by Dahit, the one he had searched for so desperately, related to .