Chapter 14: From Then On and After
That day, John had a dream.
In the dream, he became a six year old. A slender youth held his hand, pulling him along to follow the robed adults across that long, long Temple corridor.
A small bird landed on the window sill at the end of the corridor, tilting its head at him curiously. John could not help halting in his steps.
Attentive, the youth holding his hand stopped as well. He half-knelt down, a warm hand on the top of his head.
“Don’t be scared,” the youth said, “Karlos, I’m here. Don’t be scared.”
“Where are we going?” The child asked softly in the dream.
“The Temple. You’ll be living in the Temple now, alright?”
“But I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you all.”
The youth left a gentle kiss on the child’s forehead. “The Temple is where you should be, sweetie. You have a natural affinity to light. Do you know what that is?”
The little Karlos shook his head. “I don’t know. But mommy said it’s a good thing.”
The youth chuckled quietly. The pair of eyes in the same shade of dark green as Karlos curved.
The Fraruitts brothers were ten years apart in age, but they looked like a pair of twins—it was exceedingly rare to have brothers who look so alike in spite of such large age difference.
When Karlos was five, their father had a premature death. His elder brother who had just reached fifteen years of age succeeded him. With young, thin shoulders, he shouldered the gigantic Fraruitt family. And when Karlos just turned six, he personally sent him to the Temple as the family head.
“You are our pride. You’ll become someone amazing in the future. Both mother and I will be very proud of you.”
The boy raised his head, slightly slumped. “But, what if I don’t become someone amazing?”
The mature young master laughed. He ruffled the child’s fragrant and soft hair. “Then, we would have no choice but to love you forever.”
These words were like a curse that instantly cut through all of his dreams.
His eyes flew open suddenly. The bedside lamp emitted a gentle glow that left a long, long shadow stretched out on his face, formed by his eyelashes and nose. John’s lips suddenly moved to call out someone soundlessly, “Chuck…”
When he left the Temple, he returned home once. But even so, it was only a faraway look at the Fraruitt manor. He did not even enter the manor before he started his solitary vagabond life. In all those years he had walked and stopped at, the only place other than the Temple that he dreamed of every midnight, that he remembered and missed, was the Fraruitt manor.
But he did not expect that that was an eternal parting.
He did not even have the chance to see his mother and brother. He did not even have the time to tell them that the war was over. He did not have the time to… personally ask Chuck. I really didn’t become someone amazing. I’ve even sullied this family name. Will you still love me forever, like what you promised?
Yet, over a thousand years had passed.
John covered his eyes with his hand. His elbow touched the opened History Prior to the Barrier book on the bedside table. It happened to be on the page on “Karlos Fraruitt”. On it was a half-naked “Mr. Bodybuilder”, with broad shoulders and pronounced, well-defined muscles. The rest of him donned a strange armor, and his hand held a shield shaped like a wok.
As though he was ready for battle at any time.
John turned his head to glance at that “portrait of Karlos”. He straight up did not know how to react, and ultimately smiled wryly.
That is not me… He thought silently. No matter the words written on it, or the portrait, those are not me.
That was only a fictional character fabricated by the descendants, holding the name “Karlos Fraruitt” which should have been tossed away long ago. Flat, fake… laughable.
The Fraruitt Manor was long gone, and the Temple had turned into a tourist spot with tourists wandering about too. All the people he remembered, be it the ones he loved or hated, had all but vanished into the dust of history. In this world… there was not a single soul who knew his real name.
Perhaps it was due to the late hours, or because of his physical exhaustion and weak body, he felt a loneliness he never had before. He had never so clearly understood that—here, he was truly the only one left.
That feeling was akin to a blunt knife grinding against his bones, easily granting him insomnia.
John… Karlos slowly curled up his body to lie on the side. Under the gentle light, his expressionless eyes landed on a non-existent spot in the darkness.
His ever present lively and vivacious face in the day—as though he could ramble and laugh about countless fun things—had turned into a pale emptiness that he had when passed out. Only eyes as deep as pool waters were left.
Compared to the majority of the population, he may not have lived a long life, but he had experienced much pain. Yet, he had always been willing to believe that these suffering would pass one day. As long as he bore with it longer and kept his eyes open, something good would happen, things would slowly take a turn for the better.
This was what his brother, Chuck, said to him everyday to get him to sleep when his father just passed away. Throughout those twenty years and over, Karlos had an unwavering belief in it. But now, it wavered.
He remembered the lively streets, the happy crowd, the heavy festive atmosphere, as well as all of the new, mesmerizing things. He knew these were all the “good things” that Chuck said, but when all the noise returned to quietness, when all of the color was swallowed by the darkness, he still had to keep his eyes open in the night, trapped in the memories that he could not return to.
On the battlefield, he thought that if he survived, he could visit his brother and mother. If he had unfortunately died, he could still meet his father who loved to put him on his shoulders when he was young. There was nothing bad at all.
But he did not expect that all of a sudden, he could not see anyone at all.
Even the heart of the most unyielding man would crack under the daily yearning and loneliness—small but deep.
“Chuck…” After an unknown amount of time, he finally closed his eyes. He forced a smile. “I saw your grandson’s grandson’s grandson’s grandson…”
According to the rules, the hunter who caught the derot should be the one to personally submit the corpse and report to the Temple, and the one to make a record and safeguard it. But, John… Alright, Karlos caught a cold and a fever the next day. He listlessly leaned on the bed, somewhat weakly flipping through History Prior to the Barrier. With even his throat hoarse, he was sluggish and unwilling to talk.
As Evan’s advisor, Jel could only lead this headache-causing student and the Abyss Dhole’s corpse to the Temple to report. When he left, afraid that Karlos would be bored to death, he turned on the guest room’s television and taught him how to switch channels.
Evidently, television programs were far more enticing than History Prior to the Barrier. After five minutes, the book was casually tossed under the bed by the great ex-cleric. Wrapped in the blanket, he sat under the television, energized and fully attentive as he watched a boring drama about housewives competing with each other.
…He looked like he would neglect sleep and forget his meals. He did not even hear Jel and the others’ bid of goodbye and his order for him to take his medicine.
Jel was originally fretting about how to contact Archbishop Aldo at the Temple, but it came with surprise that in the instant they entered the Temple, the rotting smell of the devil-ranked derot connected them to the most central of the Temple through a mysterious spell.
Archbishop Aldo who mysteriously appeared and disappeared was actually living in his tomb. Everyday, Mr. Good would call for prepared delicacies and sufficient water to be brought to the exit that the four of them had left from that day. Within a short moment, it would be taken away. Then, the empty plate would be brought out, but the water remained untouched. There was only a note from Aldo himself that read there was sufficient water source inside, so he need not trouble himself.
Mr. Good even compared this note with Archbishop Aldo’s handwriting in the ancient records. It was a perfect match—this dispelled his last doubts.
Even now, no one could be sure how many secrets the Temple hid. Mr. Good was not an exception. Yet, as though it had a life, the Temple automatically acted as Aldo’s senses. He appeared capable of knowing everything that happened through a certain method… Except, he was utterly disinterested.
The golden-haired man held a rose in his hand. He constantly spaced out at the Barrier’s core every day. Other than this, he did not seem to have anything else to do. It appeared that other than breathing, there was no difference between him and the statue in the garden.
A purple glimmer shone in a spell circle next to the Barrier’s core. Only then, Aldo’s light grey eyes moved slightly like a living being.
“I understand,” he spoke quietly.
Like a sound sensor, the light on the spell circle disappeared. Aldo lowered his eyes, gaze resting on the flower that remained fresh for a thousand years. A delicate, meticulous and complex spell suddenly appeared on its petals. A trace of hurt finally flashed across the golden-haired man’s corpse-like expressionless face. “Do you truly… have no intention of ever coming back?”
With Evan and the Abyss Dhole’s corpse, Jel went straight to the Archbishop’s office, but he did not know where the old guy, Mr. Good, had run off to, leaving absolutely no traces. He sighed and told Evan, “Forget it. We’ll find Roy.”
The words just left his mouth, and Evan turned so terrified that his left hand moved along with his left leg and vice versa..
Jel rubbed his forehead, and laughed at his idiotic behavior. “Weren’t you pretty brave? Your internship isn’t even over, and you already dare to pursue a devil-ranked derot. Even in a thousand years, there was definitely no intern as brave as you—yet you’re afraid of Roy?”
Evan, “I… I… I… I-I…”
Jel asked with some interest, “Is Roy more scary than an Abyss Dhole?”
Evan continued, “I… I-I…”
Suddenly, he choked, gaze falling straight behind Jel.
Evan got a shock, eyes bulging, “My God! The s-statue!”
Jel instantly turned on his heel, his joking expression all but vanished. He bowed respectfully, “Your Grace.”
He turned his head to find Evan still with that silly face, and immediately threw him a glare. “Evan, don’t be disrespectful. This is His Grace, the Archbishop Leo Aldo.”
Unfortunately, Evan was like a piece of coffin board. He stared dumbly at Aldo without a reaction.
The good thing was that Aldo did not mind. He cast him a glance before his gaze landed on the Abyss Dhole. “You killed the Abyss Dhole?”
“Oh, no.” Although he was curious how he suddenly materialized outside the Archbishop’s office, Jel still immediately responded, “It’s not me. It’s Evan Gerado and…”
Chapter 14: From Then On and After
That day, John had a dream.
In the dream, he became a six year old. A slender youth held his hand, pulling him along to follow the robed adults across that long, long Temple corridor.
A small bird landed on the window sill at the end of the corridor, tilting its head at him curiously. John could not help halting in his steps.
Attentive, the youth holding his hand stopped as well. He half-knelt down, a warm hand on the top of his head.
“Don’t be scared,” the youth said, “Karlos, I’m here. Don’t be scared.”
“Where are we going?” The child asked softly in the dream.
“The Temple. You’ll be living in the Temple now, alright?”
“But I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you all.”
The youth left a gentle kiss on the child’s forehead. “The Temple is where you should be, sweetie. You have a natural affinity to light. Do you know what that is?”
The little Karlos shook his head. “I don’t know. But mommy said it’s a good thing.”
The youth chuckled quietly. The pair of eyes in the same shade of dark green as Karlos curved.
The Fraruitts brothers were ten years apart in age, but they looked like a pair of twins—it was exceedingly rare to have brothers who look so alike in spite of such large age difference.
When Karlos was five, their father had a premature death. His elder brother who had just reached fifteen years of age succeeded him. With young, thin shoulders, he shouldered the gigantic Fraruitt family. And when Karlos just turned six, he personally sent him to the Temple as the family head.
“You are our pride. You’ll become someone amazing in the future. Both mother and I will be very proud of you.”
The boy raised his head, slightly slumped. “But, what if I don’t become someone amazing?”
The mature young master laughed. He ruffled the child’s fragrant and soft hair. “Then, we would have no choice but to love you forever.”
These words were like a curse that instantly cut through all of his dreams.
His eyes flew open suddenly. The bedside lamp emitted a gentle glow that left a long, long shadow stretched out on his face, formed by his eyelashes and nose. John’s lips suddenly moved to call out someone soundlessly, “Chuck…”
When he left the Temple, he returned home once. But even so, it was only a faraway look at the Fraruitt manor. He did not even enter the manor before he started his solitary vagabond life. In all those years he had walked and stopped at, the only place other than the Temple that he dreamed of every midnight, that he remembered and missed, was the Fraruitt manor.
But he did not expect that that was an eternal parting.
He did not even have the chance to see his mother and brother. He did not even have the time to tell them that the war was over. He did not have the time to… personally ask Chuck. I really didn’t become someone amazing. I’ve even sullied this family name. Will you still love me forever, like what you promised?
Yet, over a thousand years had passed.
John covered his eyes with his hand. His elbow touched the opened History Prior to the Barrier book on the bedside table. It happened to be on the page on “Karlos Fraruitt”. On it was a half-naked “Mr. Bodybuilder”, with broad shoulders and pronounced, well-defined muscles. The rest of him donned a strange armor, and his hand held a shield shaped like a wok.
As though he was ready for battle at any time.
John turned his head to glance at that “portrait of Karlos”. He straight up did not know how to react, and ultimately smiled wryly.
That is not me… He thought silently. No matter the words written on it, or the portrait, those are not me.
That was only a fictional character fabricated by the descendants, holding the name “Karlos Fraruitt” which should have been tossed away long ago. Flat, fake… laughable.
The Fraruitt Manor was long gone, and the Temple had turned into a tourist spot with tourists wandering about too. All the people he remembered, be it the ones he loved or hated, had all but vanished into the dust of history. In this world… there was not a single soul who knew his real name.
Perhaps it was due to the late hours, or because of his physical exhaustion and weak body, he felt a loneliness he never had before. He had never so clearly understood that—here, he was truly the only one left.
That feeling was akin to a blunt knife grinding against his bones, easily granting him insomnia.
John… Karlos slowly curled up his body to lie on the side. Under the gentle light, his expressionless eyes landed on a non-existent spot in the darkness.
His ever present lively and vivacious face in the day—as though he could ramble and laugh about countless fun things—had turned into a pale emptiness that he had when passed out. Only eyes as deep as pool waters were left.
Compared to the majority of the population, he may not have lived a long life, but he had experienced much pain. Yet, he had always been willing to believe that these suffering would pass one day. As long as he bore with it longer and kept his eyes open, something good would happen, things would slowly take a turn for the better.
This was what his brother, Chuck, said to him everyday to get him to sleep when his father just passed away. Throughout those twenty years and over, Karlos had an unwavering belief in it. But now, it wavered.
He remembered the lively streets, the happy crowd, the heavy festive atmosphere, as well as all of the new, mesmerizing things. He knew these were all the “good things” that Chuck said, but when all the noise returned to quietness, when all of the color was swallowed by the darkness, he still had to keep his eyes open in the night, trapped in the memories that he could not return to.
On the battlefield, he thought that if he survived, he could visit his brother and mother. If he had unfortunately died, he could still meet his father who loved to put him on his shoulders when he was young. There was nothing bad at all.
But he did not expect that all of a sudden, he could not see anyone at all.
Even the heart of the most unyielding man would crack under the daily yearning and loneliness—small but deep.
“Chuck…” After an unknown amount of time, he finally closed his eyes. He forced a smile. “I saw your grandson’s grandson’s grandson’s grandson…”
According to the rules, the hunter who caught the derot should be the one to personally submit the corpse and report to the Temple, and the one to make a record and safeguard it. But, John… Alright, Karlos caught a cold and a fever the next day. He listlessly leaned on the bed, somewhat weakly flipping through History Prior to the Barrier. With even his throat hoarse, he was sluggish and unwilling to talk.
As Evan’s advisor, Jel could only lead this headache-causing student and the Abyss Dhole’s corpse to the Temple to report. When he left, afraid that Karlos would be bored to death, he turned on the guest room’s television and taught him how to switch channels.
Evidently, television programs were far more enticing than History Prior to the Barrier. After five minutes, the book was casually tossed under the bed by the great ex-cleric. Wrapped in the blanket, he sat under the television, energized and fully attentive as he watched a boring drama about housewives competing with each other.
…He looked like he would neglect sleep and forget his meals. He did not even hear Jel and the others’ bid of goodbye and his order for him to take his medicine.
Jel was originally fretting about how to contact Archbishop Aldo at the Temple, but it came with surprise that in the instant they entered the Temple, the rotting smell of the devil-ranked derot connected them to the most central of the Temple through a mysterious spell.
Archbishop Aldo who mysteriously appeared and disappeared was actually living in his tomb. Everyday, Mr. Good would call for prepared delicacies and sufficient water to be brought to the exit that the four of them had left from that day. Within a short moment, it would be taken away. Then, the empty plate would be brought out, but the water remained untouched. There was only a note from Aldo himself that read there was sufficient water source inside, so he need not trouble himself.
Mr. Good even compared this note with Archbishop Aldo’s handwriting in the ancient records. It was a perfect match—this dispelled his last doubts.
Even now, no one could be sure how many secrets the Temple hid. Mr. Good was not an exception. Yet, as though it had a life, the Temple automatically acted as Aldo’s senses. He appeared capable of knowing everything that happened through a certain method… Except, he was utterly disinterested.
The golden-haired man held a rose in his hand. He constantly spaced out at the Barrier’s core every day. Other than this, he did not seem to have anything else to do. It appeared that other than breathing, there was no difference between him and the statue in the garden.
A purple glimmer shone in a spell circle next to the Barrier’s core. Only then, Aldo’s light grey eyes moved slightly like a living being.
“I understand,” he spoke quietly.
Like a sound sensor, the light on the spell circle disappeared. Aldo lowered his eyes, gaze resting on the flower that remained fresh for a thousand years. A delicate, meticulous and complex spell suddenly appeared on its petals. A trace of hurt finally flashed across the golden-haired man’s corpse-like expressionless face. “Do you truly… have no intention of ever coming back?”
With Evan and the Abyss Dhole’s corpse, Jel went straight to the Archbishop’s office, but he did not know where the old guy, Mr. Good, had run off to, leaving absolutely no traces. He sighed and told Evan, “Forget it. We’ll find Roy.”
The words just left his mouth, and Evan turned so terrified that his left hand moved along with his left leg and vice versa..
Jel rubbed his forehead, and laughed at his idiotic behavior. “Weren’t you pretty brave? Your internship isn’t even over, and you already dare to pursue a devil-ranked derot. Even in a thousand years, there was definitely no intern as brave as you—yet you’re afraid of Roy?”
Evan, “I… I… I… I-I…”
Jel asked with some interest, “Is Roy more scary than an Abyss Dhole?”
Evan continued, “I… I-I…”
Suddenly, he choked, gaze falling straight behind Jel.
Evan got a shock, eyes bulging, “My God! The s-statue!”
Jel instantly turned on his heel, his joking expression all but vanished. He bowed respectfully, “Your Grace.”
He turned his head to find Evan still with that silly face, and immediately threw him a glare. “Evan, don’t be disrespectful. This is His Grace, the Archbishop Leo Aldo.”
Unfortunately, Evan was like a piece of coffin board. He stared dumbly at Aldo without a reaction.
The good thing was that Aldo did not mind. He cast him a glance before his gaze landed on the Abyss Dhole. “You killed the Abyss Dhole?”
“Oh, no.” Although he was curious how he suddenly materialized outside the Archbishop’s office, Jel still immediately responded, “It’s not me. It’s Evan Gerado and…”
