Chapter 10

Ars.

One per soul.

A deep, unique brilliance.

But I, Shion, had made a pact long ago.

One secret, one Ars.

Seven secrets, thus seven Ars.

The name of the pact.

Septem Arcana.

* * *

The first flame unveiled the past.

My first secret, that of Shion Pollinglight.

‘He dreams a futile dream.’

I longed to reach the Imperial Throne.

I raged and toiled with grand ideals, only to meet death without achieving them.

Yet this futile dream, unsevered by death, still drove me to breathe in vain.

Even in this second life, I gazed upon the Imperial Throne.

A foolish, senseless dream.

Utterly futile.

All was futile.

Yet I couldn’t abandon it, making it all the more futile.

I still gazed, chasing that vain pursuit.

A futile dream, mere fantasy.

Powerless, utterly helpless.

But an Ars is a paradoxical thing.

The ultimate contradiction overturns reality.

A fantasy, nothing at all, becomes something.

Something capable of anything.

Grasping, releasing, stroking, kneading, clawing, touching, striking, groping, stirring, and even praying—the first Ars, ‘Fantasy Finger.’

* * *

“You can’t see it, can you?” I said.

I could see it.

Only I could see it.

The ‘Fantasy Fingers’ drifting about.

Called fingers, but akin to a single hand.

“This fantasy is mine alone,” I declared.

Hands that shouldn’t be visible.

Hands capable of nothing.

Yet I gazed at them.

I treated them as my own.

Such was my Ars.

Those hands, varied in shape, moved in their own ways.

They writhed as if screaming, gesturing as if begging to be unleashed, like a dance.

But they couldn’t defy my will.

The futile dream, futile gestures, futile struggles—all were mine.

“Eek—!” Valziart cried.

Mud-like tentacles surged toward me.

Hard as steel, fierce as a lion’s heart.

I moved to block them.

The writhing hands flew forward.

One blocked, another twisted.

Two formless gestures reduced the tentacles to mud in an instant. Valziart stomped in fury.

“All that bravado, and it’s pathetic,” I said, shaking my head.

I kept blocking her mud tentacles with ease.

Reluctantly, I counted the hands I’d summoned, visible only to me—nobody else could do it for me.

“Only this many? I ate well in the palace, gathered mana, but time was too short,” I muttered.

One, two, three… thirteen.

Only thirteen ‘Fantasy Fingers’ summoned.

Turning fantasy into reality required power.

That’s how an Ars worked.

Even for the relatively efficient ‘Fantasy Finger,’ fifteen days of gathered strength could only muster this much.

I shook my head.

“But don’t worry. It’s enough to crush you, weakened as you are,” I told her.

“Flapping your tongue, you wretched brat!” Valziart snarled, charging with effort.

I wielded my thirteen hands.

“Your true nature’s showing, Valziart. Or should I say your essence?” I teased.

“Kee—yaaah!” she screamed.

“Screaming won’t change a thing,” I said.

She was a noble of the shadow realm.

Normally, thirteen ‘Fantasy Fingers’ couldn’t touch her.

But sealed by Sen Sorti and starved for four hundred years, she was pitifully weak.

It was bound to be easy.

“Ugh, ughh—!” she groaned.

Torn apart, torn apart, torn apart.

Invisible hands ripped into her.

Black mud seeped from the tears.

She screamed, feeling her existence erode.

“This can’t be! I’m Valziart! Even after four hundred years locked away, I’m…” she cried.

“For all your talk, you’re too weak,” I said.

She fell apart, piece by piece.

With each moment, she faded.

Her body, her essence.

All by just thirteen ‘Fantasy Fingers.’

“This… this way… me…” she gasped.

She lamented, watching her vanishing form.

No recovery came.

She felt her existence dissolve, the inescapable dread of death.

Where strength faded, fear rose.

“…To a kid like you…!” she wailed.

The torn shadows didn’t return.

The first ones twitched, but the later ones lacked even that strength, drooping and dissolving. Valziart’s form crumbled.

All that remained of the girl was her head.

The head crawled, tiny tentacles sprouting from her neck.

I approached, seeing it clearly.

She couldn’t escape.

A pitiful sight.

“What a shame,” I said, smiling at the black tears streaming from her eyes.

“You’re mine, Valziart.”

* * *

Black mud seeped into me.

The girl’s form completely collapsed and vanished.

My consciousness deepened.

A sound leaked from an unknown inner realm.

‘Aha…’

A mere groan soon turned to laughter.

The girl’s cackling laughter.

Having lost her body, she laughed gleefully within my mind.

She had no choice but to.

‘…Aha, hahaha…!’ she laughed.

Valziart laughed wildly within my mind, utterly delighted.

‘I thought I was really done for,’ she said.

In the white expanse of my mental world, her black form appeared.

‘To let this Valziart’s essence into your mind!’ she exclaimed.

Black shadows writhed, filling my consciousness.

‘So fearless, so generous!’ she mocked.

She was a shadow noble.

Unbound by physical form.

Even with her body destroyed, she thrived in the mind, more vibrant than ever.

A bit more tearing, and she’d have been in real danger, but that was past.

She gleefully roamed my mind.

‘I owed you out there, so I’ll devour you from within, prince!’ she declared.

Her shadow tentacles reached out, ravaging my mind.

The fragments floating in the white expanse—memories, emotions, pieces of my soul—were snatched one by one.

‘What secrets make your mind stink? It’s mouthwatering!’ she said, rummaging.

‘Hmm. Let’s see. What have you been through…?’ she mused.

Memories surfaced. Zionis’s memories: the palace’s neglect, Nebulo’s mockery, a child’s wary heart.

‘A harsh life. Rare for a prince to be so mistreated,’ she noted.

She didn’t stop, diving deeper.

Memories surged: mountain dirt, the taste of insects, the smell of blood, a girl watching the sea with me, a silver-haired mage.

‘…?’ she faltered.

‘What are these memories?’ she wondered, bewildered.

She tried to stop but couldn’t.

In a memory, the silver-haired mage smiled at her.

A mere memory, yet it looked straight at her, then vanished.

‘…How? How can a human’s memories be like this?’ she thought.

My memories overwhelmed her, crashing like waves.

‘No, no, no…!!!’ she screamed.

A cry, a roar, a shout from the depths, amidst the lies.

Return to me, my things.

Please return, all my time.

Yet you don’t return.

Oh, battlefields.

Oh, unforgettable comrades.

The times passed, the things lost, the longing to reclaim what can’t be reclaimed, the aching sadness I’ve come to know, a woman’s voice telling me to turn back, the Imperial Throne I must one day reach…

All these…

‘…These are things that haven’t happened! Things from a future that shouldn’t be here,

why…!?’ she gasped.

Her face hardened.

‘Even your name was a lie! Shion Pollinglight? Using Pollinglight’s name? Who is this man…?’ she thought.

Memories poured forth.

‘This is… it’s as if…’ she faltered.

Black emotions overwhelmed her shadows.

She screamed.

It was impossible.

My mind was filled with things that shouldn’t be.

‘…As if you defied time!’ she realized.

“You saw,” I said softly.

“You saw my secret,” I added.

“Ah…!” she gasped, leaping back in shock.

There I stood, the blonde prince.

She lashed out with tentacles.

This was the mental realm; no mere human could oppose a shadow realm noble.

It had to be so.

“Secret-keeping prince! What are you? What are you!” she shrieked.

“You tangled time? You… monster!” she accused.

“Don’t want to hear that from you,” I said calmly.

I faced her black tentacles unflinching.

Hands appeared—hazy forms, ‘Fantasy Fingers.’

This time, she saw them too.

They crushed her tentacles.

Black mud splattered and she screamed.

“How do these hands reach into the mind!” she demanded.

“I said it’s a fantasy. You could say this is their true domain. Like you,” I explained.

Thirteen ‘Fantasy Fingers’ crushed her tentacles and pinned the black girl.

A shadow realm noble, yet she couldn’t resist. In the mental world, against a mere human.

“By the way, Valziart, thanks for following me into my mind. Now I can seal just your consciousness,” I said.

“Have you even read that?” she asked.

“That you’d try to devour me from within if I took you whole? Too obvious,” I said, smirking.

“Your power’s tempting, but I can’t let you chatter in my head,” I added.

“……”

“Sen Sorti said so too. Even the tastiest food needs its poison removed,” I said.

“…Sen, Sorti?” she squeaked, her voice rising sharply.

Even as her body crumbled, unseen fury surged.

“…You, you, you! You’ve met Sen Sorti!?” she demanded.

“Of course. That guy’s still alive and kicking,” I said with a bright laugh.

“He’s the one who told me you were here. Explained it quite kindly,” I added.

“Ugh, aaah—!” she roared.

Her face twisted instantly, grotesque and monstrous.

A voice, mangled like black shadows, erupted threateningly.

“Seeen, Sortiii—!!!” she screamed.

“That wretched human, that damned last mage! Even after four hundred years, you drag me down—!!!” she cursed.

Her fury turned to me.

“You, what are you, kid! How do you know Sen Sorti? How have you lived things yet to come?” she demanded.

“That’s…” I said, stepping closer.

Something descended from above, a searing heat.

Her body melted further.

Seven flames descended.

“…A secret, Valziart,” I whispered, bearing the seven flames.

“A secret too deep for the likes of you.”

“Ughhh…!” she groaned.

She began to cackle.

She had no choice but to laugh.

“Devilish kid! With an angelic face…! The empire’s luck has run out… to have someone like you in its bloodline!” she said.

Defeated by force and trickery, she felt oddly relieved to be so exposed.

“This is interesting. Yes, at this point, it’s fun!” she said.

Hahaha.

Her laughter tinged with madness.

The shadow realm monster cackled, her face melting stickily.

“Have it your way. I’ll sleep, so go ahead, use my body as you please. Rampage to your heart’s content!” she declared.

She melted away.

As writhing black mud, as sleek shadow, as a lovely girl.

She surrendered all her power to me, leaving only madness.

“Let it be worthy of this Valziart’s name!”

Aha, hahahaha—!

* * *

Her laughter still echoed in my ears.

No, it truly lingered in my mind.

But I pressed it down firmly.

It quieted.

“Sleep quietly, monster,” I said.

I raised my hand.

Black metal coated it.

Not just my hand—any part of my body could summon black armor at will.

Sometimes hard, sometimes sharp.

All as I wished. I clenched my fist—*crunch*. A chillingly dull sound rang out.

A stone door stood in my way.

I struck it lightly.

A boom echoed, and the stone crumbled.

The shadow armor bore no damage.

“I’ll make good use of your power,” I said.

My blue eyes sank deeply.

“For my secrets.”

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