WETRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Editor: Reeters

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◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 210

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Black Spire (1)

They docked on the island's shore.

The Outland’s sea, which had been so tumultuous, was dead silent near the island, leaving only the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore to accompany them.

Najin stepped off the boat and looked around. The island was shrouded in a thick fog and hosted a black spire soaring high into the sky. Met by such silence that the sound of his own breath echoed, he looked up at the sky.

The tower seemed to soar into the clouds. Obscured by the fog, the top wasn’t visible, and it had no windows. A single entrance waited. Najin’s eyes narrowed at the firmly shut, jet-black iron door.

– If you're thinking of climbing the walls or trying to destroy the tower, you'd better give up.

Merlin, having read Najin's thoughts, sharply advised him.

– I tried it, but it didn't work.

‘Really?’

– Everything that witch makes is the same. It’s designed so that it can never be conquered by any method other than the obvious.

It was even impossible for Merlin? Najin blinked in surprise.

– Ahhh… Why do you think I stayed quiet when that Anton kid called the Witch of Camlann the ‘strongest mage’? I hate to admit it, but it's true that she's a higher grade than I.

The Baleful Star, the Witch of Camlann, the final enemy Najin would have to face. When she mentioned the witch, Merlin’s face contorted like she had chewed on a bug—it was also the face of someone desperately holding back a string of curses.

– The Black Spire, that tower? While it’s meant to imprison the witch, it was more often used for another purpose: it was bestowed upon a witch under her command.

‘What was the purpose?’

– Torture. That tower is a well-made torture device. Its master used to abduct humans and throw them in to test just how far a human could be broken and just how wretched a person could become. That was the kind of place this tower was.

‘If you say it was that kind of place…’

– Right. Past tense. I’m the one who tore the master of the Black Spire to shreds and killed her. She was a 9-star psycho named Malkuth, but we can talk about that crazy bitch later. The traces will still remain, though. I don’t really recommend it, but it’s not like you’d listen if I told you not to go. You’re going in, aren’t you?

‘Well, I made a promise.’

– Alright. Then brace yourself.

Merlin briefly explained the Black Spire. Listening to her explanation, Najin glanced to his side at Anton, whose eyes were wide as he stared at the tower.

“Oarsman.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Is that tower our destination? My intuition is screaming that she’s somewhere inside.”

“You must have good intuition.”

“And that means?”

“Yes, you’re correct.” Najin nodded and pointed to the tower. “The person you’re looking for is in that tower.”

“What is it?”

“They say it’s a prison for witches who have committed sins and a torture device for use on humans.”

“Then is she also being tortured?”

Najin relayed Merlin’s answer through his own mouth. “I don’t know. She’s inside, but I don’t know where Lapis might be. My guide says the torture would be over if she were at the top.

“Then she must not be being tortured. She always liked the highest places. With a tower like this before her, she would have certainly climbed to the very top.” Anton smiled. “To be honest, I wasn't expecting much from you. I followed you across the sea with the simple thought of it being a fine adventure story, but coming this far changed my mind a bit.” Anton placed a hand on his heart. “It’s real. My heart is pounding; I can feel that she’s near. Finally, finally…”

Excitement, longing, anticipation… His eyes mixed with all sorts of emotions, Anton looked back and forth between the tower and Najin before he clenched the staff in his hand a little tighter. “Thank you, my guide.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“You carried out the request splendidly. As promised, the story of La Mancha—”

“The request isn’t complete yet,” Najin cut in. “Did I ever mention that I used to be a collector?”

“This is the first I'm hearing of it. Why do you ask?”

“A collector's job is only finished when they catch whoever took the money and bring them before the client. From what I can see, this request doesn't seem to be finished yet.” Najin shrugged. “The witch who stole your heart and vanished for four hundred years—I still haven't brought her before you, have I? I’ll receive my payment after the request is complete.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll climb the tower with you. I’m personally curious as well about just what kind of person the witch you love is.”

‘And,’ he thought, ‘I want to know just how you’ll choose to end this story.’

Anton, who had stared wide-eyed in surprise, burst into a disbelieving laugh that soon became a roar. He clapped Najin on the shoulder. “Indeed, the voyage is not yet over. Oarsman, are you ready to row all the way to the top of that tower?”

“Are you telling me to row where there’s no water?”

“Don’t you already have an oar in your hand?” He pointed to the spear in Najin’s hand and then to the staff in his own. “An oar is ultimately a tool that allows you to move ahead by pushing against water. Although there’s no water here, don't we have to push against something to move forward?” He tapped the ground with his staff. In a way, he pushed ahead. “Let’s go, Oarsman.”

The two parted the thick iron door of the Black Spire.

“They say the Black Spire was a magic tower managed by a witch named “Malkuth” about a thousand years ago. She’s dead now, and only her Mystique remains in the tower.”

“Malkuth? I've never heard of that witch.”

“Today was the first time I heard of her as well. Anyway, it seems the witch served as both a warden monitoring the witches trapped in the Black Spire and a torturer for them.” Najin continued as he walked into the ground floor of the tower, a cool air hanging around them, “They say she used memories as a form of torture.”

“Memories?”

“Yes. Using the target's memories to create a kind of illusion? The same principle as the Stars' Graveyard? Huh? What do you mean by that?”

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m speaking with my inner guide. Just a moment.”

“When this request is over, I’ll introduce you to a therapist.”

Leaving Anton, who gave him a sympathetic gaze, behind, Najin listened to Merlin's explanation and nodded. “The torture spell shows you an illusion based on your memories, and they say one is placed on each floor. If you can’t break through, you’ll be trapped in the dream forever.” Merlin had said that Malkuth was a witch who possessed a Mystique called ‘Reminiscence’ and that she used the Mystique to torture humans. “They say it starts the moment we cross that line.”

They reached the place where the trial would truly begin. Najin pointed to the first floor of the tower and steadied his breath. “Are you ready?”

“Of course. If you happen to get knocked out, I’ll grab you by the scruff of your neck and carry you upstairs. I’ll even slap you awake if I have to.”

“You seem very confident.”

“That's because the reality that awaits me is far too captivating for me to be defeated by some illusions.” Giving a confident smile, Anton walked ahead.

Najin followed him onto the first floor. The moment they crossed the line, Najin's vision went black, as if a single candle lit in a dark room had been snuffed out. It wasn't just his vision that went dark—his consciousness abruptly cut off.

Like falling into a deep sleep, he closed his eyes and felt as if he were sinking into a fathomless depth. Something pulled him up from the endless sinking: a hand with sharply raised fingernails that signified the Mystique that remained in the tower, though its master was lost.

A touch could pull memories from the soul. The moment the fingers, reaching out to trace Najin's memories, came into contact, the sharp fingernails broke, the finger’s skin and muscle tore, and even its bones were crushed.

Najin felt that something was wrong.

As if it had grasped something far too heavy to be pulled out with its own hand, the finger thrashed, yet it still managed to extract something.

What was pulled out was not Najin's but the memory of someone residing within him.

– Ah. I didn't expect this.

Following Merlin's bewildered voice, a pure white light flashed in Najin's vision. Blinded by the white flash, he blinked his eyes over and over to recover his sight. After he blinked for some time, a voice reached his ears.

“Did I… Did I look like a pushover to you?” A cold voice, devoid of emotion, echoed out.

Frowning, Najin looked towards the sound to see frozen ground. The next thing that came into view was a pile of corpses, stacked like a mountain. What he saw after that was…

“I should start by gouging out those eyes.” A certain girl held a witch's hair and lifted her above the frozen ground. Her hair resembled a lake; her eyes, too, resembled the same.

The Wizard of the Lake, Merlin, the person Najin knew so well, was gouging out a witch's eyeball with her bare hands.

What was happening? Wasn't it supposed to be created based on his memories? Najin urgently tried to speak to his inner self and called out to Merlin, who had previously always listened. ‘Merlin. Merlin?’ There was no answer. Just like when he entered the dream of the Star of Detachment, he couldn't feel Merlin within him.

“You know…” the woman continued.

The Merlin who was always with him was not there; the only one present was the Merlin of the past, and he simply couldn’t feel that the woman standing on the frozen ground was the same Merlin he knew.

“I hate you all. I hate demons. I hate dragons. I hate witches. Looking at you makes me unbearably sick. Why are you alive? What on earth are you thinking, living like this?” Her voice was so cold that it felt like it would freeze him.

The strange Merlin gave the witch a blank look while gouging the woman’s eyes out with her fingers. The witch couldn't even scream because her mouth was frozen shut.

Convulsing repeatedly, her nails torn out and bleeding, the witch scratched at the ground. Unable to even scream, she trembled, but Merlin looked down at her with the same indifferent gaze and slowly pulled out the woman’s eye without using any magic, inefficiently and very slowly.

Only after pulling out one of the witch's eyeballs did Merlin finally smile and push her face close to the witch's remaining eye. “I wonder if your mother, the Witch of Camlann, is watching. I really hope she is. Please, please, please. I hope she's trapped in there, unable to do anything, and screams as she watches her own kind being slaughtered.” Merlin burst into laughter. “Just like how everything was taken from me.” Merlin grasped the witch’s face and pushed her thumb into the witch's remaining eye. “I want you, all witches, and the Witch of Camlann to suffer. Forever.”

The witch's body, after a great convulsion, went limp. Dripping blood, Merlin turned her head. Her deep-blue eyes locked onto Najin. “Who are you?”

Twelve stars shone in the sky.

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