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Chapter 106: The Living Should Carry the Hopes of the Departed
After the ceremony ended, and the grand celebration began, a segment the Dwarves enjoyed most of all, their boisterous presence making the festive atmosphere even more intense throughout the plaza.
Norn stepped down from the stone platform and approached the crowd, first clinking glasses with the highest-ranking dignitaries, the Dwarf King and Elf King, in formal acknowledgement of their support, then moving toward his old friends with genuine warmth.
"Long time no see, Master Duller."
"Indeed it has been." The Dwarf forging master couldn't help but sigh with deep emotion as he gazed upon the now silver-haired Norn.
In just thirty short years, the black-haired youth had transformed into the first King, making him realise just how brief human lifespans truly were compared to his own people.
"Your Majesty Norn, there are still several urgent documents requiring your attention tonight," Lisa interjected. She had long since become a renowned magic user and now served as one of his most trusted advisors.
Thirty years had transformed the young girl who was just beginning her magical journey into a formidable practitioner, her expertise now indispensable to the nation he had built from nothing.
"Alright, alright! I understand the responsibilities," Norn replied with good humor, though his eyes held the weariness that came with leadership.
After navigating through the crowd of well-wishers and dignitaries, Norn finally found a moment of privacy with Somo at the quieter edge of the viewing platform, away from the noise.
The two friends held their cups in comfortable silence, watching the celebration unfold below them.
"How time flies, Somo," Norn's voice carried the weight of years. "Thirty years feel like a dream. I often find myself dreaming of those early days, when we were all together..."
Somo held a cup that appeared to contain mead but was actually filled with fruit juice, a deception he maintained carefully. Although Kurtz had blessed him with the magic to grow a proper dwarf's beard, it hadn't solved his unfortunate inability to consume alcohol.
According to Kurtz, this seemed to be an innate condition that even magic couldn't overcome.
Somo didn't fully understand the limitation, but he had accepted it. If he couldn't drink, then he simply couldn't. However, in public settings like this, he still maintained the pretense of being able to partake in traditional dwarf revelry.
As long as no one tried to steal his cup, they would never discover his secret.
After taking what appeared to be a hearty gulp, he nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, thinking about it now, we were incredibly lucky to survive those days, especially back at the Dwarf Ruins. With the God Strike and facing actual goddess... I was certain we were all going to die there! Ha-Ha-ha"
The blame for the Dwarf Ruins' complete destruction had ultimately been placed on the Demon Clan, a convenient scapegoat that served everyone's interests.
Since the Demon Clan had demonstrated their ability to wield God Strike, the logical conclusion was that they had been responsible for the ancestral homeland's destruction.
As for the Skywing Clan? They were steadfast allies; how could they possibly commit such an atrocity?
Since none of the story's protagonists would reveal the uncomfortable truth, they had simply allowed the blame to fall upon the Demon Clan, protecting Olivia from any potential consequences.
Somo still vividly remembered the Dwarf King's thunderous rage upon learning of his ancestral land's destruction, three days and nights of uninterrupted cursing directed at the Demon Clan.
The fury had seemed genuine and all-consuming.
Thinking of Olivia, Somo's movements slowed, his expression growing sad. "Miss Olivia... guarding that cold, empty divine kingdom above... she won't ever come down again, will she?"
The remaining members of the Skywing Clan had already departed this world entirely, leaving Olivia as the last of her kind in this realm.
Moreover, she had sworn a binding oath never to set foot on the ground again, making the Skywing Clan effectively extinct as far as this world was concerned.
Perhaps in a few more millennia, this once powerful race would fade entirely into forgotten history.
"Unless Kurtz returns to persuade her otherwise, Miss Olivia will never touch earthly soil again," Norn said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.
Whether it was himself or Serie, who continued her solitary journey as a traveling mage, they had searched tirelessly for Kurtz for decades without finding even the slightest trace.
Norn had gradually prepared himself for the worst possible truth.
Kurtz, who had guided him onto the path of magic, who had sworn to bring magical knowledge to all humanity, the first Great Sage of their race, had likely died alongside the Goddess in that final confrontation.
If that were truly the case, then he would honor Kurtz's vision and complete what his friend had started.
The one thing that filled Norn with quiet pride was how well he had fulfilled that mission over the years.
He had visited virtually every human settlement across the continent, gathering scattered communities and gradually building the foundation of their first nation.
'Kurtz, I've done enough, haven't I?' Though he knew his vanished friend couldn't hear him, Norn still found himself silently asking the question.
Somo released a heavy sigh, his eyes reflecting deep loss and confusion. "Where exactly is Kurtz? There's been no word, no sign at all. Could it be that he really... along with the Gods..."
At this point, Somo couldn't bring himself to voice his darkest fear, terrified that speaking it aloud might make it true.
Norn remained silent, his fingers unconsciously worrying the rim of his wine glass as memories threatened to overwhelm him.
Kurtz's disappearance remained a massive mystery and source of regret for both him and every surviving member of their original group.
It was precisely because of Kurtz's vanishing, combined with Olivia learning the devastating truth about the relationship between the so-called true and false goddesses, that she had made her oath of eternal exile.
Norn looked up from his contemplation, gazing across the celebrating crowd with eyes that still hoped to spot a familiar figure among the revelers.
"Perhaps..." Norn's voice was barely above a whisper, as if speaking to Somo while simultaneously addressing his own doubts, "he is continuing his unfinished journey in a place we simply cannot reach."
"That's entirely possible," Somo agreed, though his tone suggested he was grasping for comfort rather than conviction.
Although Somo wanted to maintain the lighter mood, he felt compelled to bring up their other missing companion, the one whose fate was far more certain and infinitely more painful.
"Do you have any recent news about... that person?"
Norn wanted to claim ignorance, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to his oldest friend. He was painfully aware of his former companion's activities, and it was precisely because he knew the truth that it caused him such anguish.
Just as the vanished Kurtz still allowed them to maintain hope, the corruption of their other friend had become a source of immense heartache.
He should have recognized the signs earlier! The lingering poison of the false god had begun infecting not just his friend's body, but his very soul.
"He... he is..." Norn took a shuddering breath, forcing himself to speak the truth he least wanted to acknowledge. "He has become that Demon Lord Asmodeus of the Demon Clan."
The wine glass in Somo's hand slipped from nerveless fingers, shattering against the stone floor and drawing curious glances from nearby celebrants. But Somo himself was too stunned to notice the attention.
"Please, you must keep this secret," Norn pleaded urgently. "I hope our friend can be remembered honorably in history as a Sage, not as... not as what he's become."
Norn found himself unable to complete the thought, the words too painful to voice.
But Somo already understood the weight of what his friend was asking. "I understand completely! There is no longer your friend in this worldâonly the First Generation Demon Lord Asmodeus of the Demon Clan. The person we knew is gone."
"Let's not dwell on such dark matters tonight," Norn said, forcing brightness into his voice. "Come, let us toast to better times!"
"Isn't it somewhat peculiar for you to be toasting me with fruit juice?" Norn observed with wry humor.
Although he complained, Norn still raised his glass and clinked it firmly against Somo's, draining the bitter mead in one decisive gulp.
The harsh liquid burned as it slid down his throat. Norn couldn't understand why Dwarves found such beverages enjoyable, perhaps it was simply the temporary escape from reality they provided.
Only he dared not allow himself such luxury of escape. He had responsibilities, promises to keep, legacies to honour.
The living should carry the hopes of the departed forward, no matter how heavy the burden became.
[End of Chapter]