"Is this truly the so-called sanctuary?"
In the depths of a remote mountain in West Asia, within a mist-shrouded gorge where even the arid air seemed to breathe haze, two human figures wavered forward like heat mirages.
"This isn't… really some sort of hell on earth, is it?"
Elterlüchi could not help voicing the thought to Avia. To her eyes, this place differed little from the netherworld itself. Everywhere reeked of death. Compared to the blood-soaked battlefield, this gorge was nothing less than a land where the Age of Gods still lingered—a domain of pure death.
"In this gorge, life and death blur together. You could say that right now, we are both dying and yet still living."
"…I'm curious. How is it you know so much? It's as if you've been here before."
"I only heard it from others."
By all reason, Avia and Elterlüchi were still alive. Yet as they walked on the boundary between the living world and the underworld, their beings carried the mingled aura of both realms, and they pressed steadily forward.
The path to the sanctuary was a convergence of all ways. Whichever road one took, upon looking back at the end, one would find it had always been the same.
It was the manifested image of a universal truth: all living beings must pass through this valley of perils to reach their destined end.
Before long, the two arrived at the sanctuary's gate.
"…What… is this?"
At that instant, the princess froze instinctively. She nearly exhausted her will just to stop her body from trembling. The phenomenon before her eyes was far beyond the scope of imagination.
It was not smoke, nor mist, nor any rising vapor. Rather, as though all light had been drawn into a single point, darkness seeped outward around her.
Her vision was stolen away. Even the sensation of the wind brushing against her skin vanished.
Sound was swallowed whole; the movement of air stilled. Even the rhythm of her breath fell silent.
It was as if she were trapped in a shadow without thickness, her existence severed from the world.
Then—manifesting as though to symbolize the very concept of death—a skull mask appeared, alongside a greatsword wreathed in ghostly blue fire.
The mask merely hung suspended, yet a voice resounded from every direction at once. It bore neither arrogance nor desire, but rang out as part of the world itself.
"Thou heretic. Thou should not have come."
There was no doubt—the sound that entered Elterlüchi's ears was human speech.
"Thou heretic. Thou should not have climbed this mountain."
The words were soft, almost whisper-fine, yet they sank into her very soul. They felt at once like stern condemnation and gentle embrace—an incomprehensible paradox.
Elterlüchi could not speak. More truly, she could not even fathom how to respond.
The voice continued:
"What thou hast wrought is like building towers from corpses—sowing death, withering the green fields, bringing life to its end."
Now the sound came from a single direction. Raising her eyes, the black-haired girl saw shadow gather around the skull mask, forming the figure of a towering man who gripped the greatsword.
In the centuries to come, the Assassins of Hassan would all know this distant guiding star, this unseeable standard, this inescapable executioner—the Founder, embodiment of their concept.
Whenever one's blade dulled with age or one's art corroded with corruption, whenever one drowned in desire and forsook principle, whenever righteousness decayed into selfishness—the Faceless Elder would descend with the Sword of Ending, carrying them into eternal darkness. For just as the Last Day comes to all, so too is there no world where faithless men may survive.
"I deny thee, heretic. Yet… since the mountain and the gorge permitted thee entry, then…"
No longer with a kindly tone, the figure spoke in a flat voice—and stepped forth fully before the princess.
It was a man's body, yet entirely cloaked in shadow—a death-incarnation that seemed to embrace the whole underworld.
"Then yield thy head, heretic."
This being had transcended individuality, embodying nature and phenomenon itself. Having watched over the tolling of the evening bell across countless ages, its aura of death filled the gorge—and the bell began to ring.
Elterlüchi still gave no answer. But suddenly blood surged to her crown—not from anger, but from a fear beyond words.
The standoff, thin as ice beneath her feet, stretched like eternity—though in truth it lasted but a moment. As the Elder raised his blade to strike—
—someone appeared before him.
"Old one. To save life, or to return it to its origin—these alike are but light and shadow. War or slaughter, no matter where they are found, nothing is changed. That is all."
In that instant, the skull-masked figure advancing upon her was blocked—by Avia.
"Whether one be heretic or believer, only that spirit which cannot be shaken by anything is truly necessary."
Though facing such a dreadful being, his blue eyes held no ripple, frozen still.
Amid the darkness, a clear light of azure arose—like a star, effortless and radiant, illuminating the gorge and restoring its spectral blue.
"…What?"
For the first time, the Faceless Elder sounded surprised.
Indeed, at first his sight had held only Elterlüchi. Not until Avia spoke did he perceive another was present.
And Avia was no wandering shade between life and death, nor a kindred of the Elder's own nature. He was, without doubt, a living man of this very moment.
Yet paradoxically, the Elder felt he both belonged here and did not; his aura was baffling beyond measure.
Hearing the Elder's voice waver with confusion, the black-haired princess suddenly felt the mortal peril pressing upon her vanish.
The suffocating death, the curse that bound her in the gorge—lifted away.
"…I bear no name. But thou mayst call me the Elder of the Mountain. May I ask—who art thou?"
The Elder spoke uncertainly, yet compelled to say something.
"Avia."
"That name… I see. Then it is my failing—that when thou first set foot here, I did not sense thy presence. But… hast thou already chosen?"
The Elder murmured as if waking from a long dream, dazed.
"I understand. Since thou hast chosen, thou hast the right to enact Heaven's judgment. I shall not, and must not, hinder thee."
It was as though he declared: whether in the endless gorge or the sacred realm, choices once made are sanctioned by the world.
"Thou needst cast nothing aside for this tide. Neither linger forever between light and shadow. Go on, Light of Salvation."