The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon-Chapter 287: Unearth (7)

A small doubt tugged at me.

Why a library?

Of course, a library was part of the inner keep. It wouldn't have been strange if the passage had opened into a lord's office, a drill yard, or an armory. Castle designs varied, and as long as the secret path reached the inner keep, its purpose was fulfilled. Even so... something gnawed at me.

"..."

"Yeah. It's a library. What's strange about that?"

"Should it be strange?"

"If you think it's strange, then it is. Trust your judgment. You've died and lived through this more than ten times."

Isaac's tone wasn't mocking. He genuinely wanted me to judge whether this was unusual.

I looked around. Erast's Library was the place where Rubia said she spent most of her time, buried in books. I'd heard much about it, but this was my first time inside. The rows of shelves were vast enough for hide-and-seek. A great hourglass measured out a full day's cycle, sand trickling slowly. Someone had turned it within the past day.

A trace of warmth lingered in the air. From ceiling to floor, there was hardly any dust. The place was well cared for. Thousands of volumes lined the shelves and more beyond that.

I recalled that Rubia had discovered a manuscript on necromancy, tucked inside a thick book titled On the Hair Color of Sovereigns from Seiron I to the Present Emperor. The accumulation of small changes hadn't altered that, but this library had housed something even more important.

A certain book's title rose to my lips. "The Grand Mage Trapped in the Cracks of Time..."

"Hm?"

"Do you know it?"

Isaac shook his head.

"It told of a mage caught in a dragon's time trap," I explained.

I recalled when Rubia had first mentioned it to me. At the time, I dismissed it as fantasy. After all, there were no dragons. But now I knew of the Lindbrum. I knew that Gith-Za-Rai had whispered the name in code, the mightiest of the ancient dragonkind. Suddenly, the book's weight felt different.

"Written as an essay, you said?" Isaac asked.

"Yes. From start to finish, it was a direct account of his experiences," I answered.

"But there haven't been dragons in four hundred years. You'd have to go back a thousand."

"Then..."

The conclusion was simple.

"Kevin Ashton may have written it a thousand years ago. Interesting, isn't it?" Isaac continued, "I've read another of his books that criticized customs less than a hundred years old."

There was no need to go back that far. Even a year from now, Kevin Ashton's name would appear again on a published scandal sheet in the capital. I had seen it myself: a yellow paper naming the marquis' illegitimate child.

It didn't have just the same name. Both books raised my Wisdom when I read them, and they were by the real Kevin Ashton. Two works pulled at me from opposite ends, stretching a thousand years of time like a taut rope.

"If he's the kind of mage I imagine, a thousand years is survivable. What matters more is what he really is."

"He could endure a thousand years?"

Isaac nodded matter-of-factly. "Even I could. Stockpile spare vessels. Enchant each one so that if a heart fails or a brain rots, my soul transfers automatically. A backup body for every collapse."

Another of Ashton's writings came to mind: Why search for a doll with its head cut off, only to force mine atop it? It's simpler to craft a flawless vessel and then pour the soul into it. Thus, we shall obtain pure bodies.

Man-shaped dolls. Perhaps it was the same method.

"That's... possible?"

"It requires dissecting the soul's structure. Only I could manage it. With my power sealed, even that's out of reach now." Isaac added offhandedly, "I've already burned through ten bodies."

"..."

"What? Are you awed by me? Respect blossoming for the depth of my research?"

I almost nodded, but another question pressed first. "You switched bodies ten times? Because of battles?"

"No, never. The original body always remained intact."

"Then why..."

"Idiot. There's a kind of pleasure in breaking your body over and over."

I cursed myself for asking.

Better to change the subject quickly.

"I'm going to look for Rubia."

Books aside, this was the library of a rural lord. Yet, here were Ashton's writings on repeating time... and the necromancy text that had drawn Rubia to my grave. The sickly daughter had lived among these shelves.

Could it all be a coincidence?

"What will you say when you see her?"

"Nothing... just confirmation."

"You came all this way and won't even greet her? At least offer a hello."

"But ghosts may be watching within the keep..."

"Pointless worry. Stay here."

The crow's eyes roved the room.

"See the hourglass? See the dustless corners? She comes here at least once a day. The girl likes books, doesn't she?"

I nodded.

Isaac smirked. "A reader's nerves are bound to their library. She couldn't leave it untended. I'll keep the ghosts away."

Isaac spread his wings wide, circling the air. After several minutes, his flight traced a slow, graceful melody.

"What did you just do?"

"Laid a ward. Anything touched by the Serpent's power subconsciously will find this place repulsive."

"Such wards exist?"

"Temporary. If my seal were broken, I could petrify them with a glance and turn them to dust. For now, this will suffice."

So if I wait here, Rubia might really appear...

Creak.

The door clicked open.

"Lucky. That was fast. Perfect timing. But she isn't alone."

Tap. Tap.

The sight that entered felt like light after dusk, and the rest of the world faded. I saw Rubia and a familiar figure standing behind her. That person was two heads taller than Rubia.

"Christina..."

"Ah, the one you told me about."

Christina was the knight I had entrusted with both her awakened gift and the silver ingots. She seemed to be fulfilling her duty as Rubia's guard with utmost seriousness. Christina's sharp eyes swept across every corner of the library.

"Heh. Thoroughly professional."

Of course, expecting her to pierce through my concealment would've been asking too much.

"Today's guard duty ends here!" Rubia exclaimed.

"My lady, that is unacceptable."

"Come on, you should rest too. Take a nap, and eat the strawberries I saved for you."

Christina pressed her lips together, trying to look stern. "That would be... difficult."

Rubia mimicked her, giggling. "Diff-i-cult."

Christina's face flushed faintly with embarrassment. "I will stand outside the door. Take your time."

Christina posted herself solemnly at the entrance, blocking it off. Rubia closed the door and stepped into the library.

Just the little things like hearing her voice and seeing her laugh hit me harder than I expected. Watching her get along so well with Christina left me oddly proud, as though I'd done something right for once.

Click.

Rubia flipped the hourglass. "An hour and a half, that's all."

She set it down beside her so she wouldn't lose herself too long in her books. The sight was... endearing.

"Hmph. If you like her so much, get out there and talk to her already."

When I remembered her suffering within these same walls, I froze. "Not yet..."

"Not yet? Idiot."

Isaac jabbed at a shelf with his beak.

"What are you..."

Thud! Crash!

Several thick tomes tumbled to the floor. Fortunately, they hadn't fallen near Rubia, but there was no way she wouldn't notice. She lifted her head from her reading.

"Who's... there?"

"She's calling you, bonehead."

"She can't be."

Books had simply fallen. It could have been a draft or an accident, nothing more. That was the natural assumption. Yet Rubia stared fixedly at the scattered volumes.

"Is it... you?"

She set her book aside and strode toward me. I was still wrapped in concealment, but Rubia moved as though she saw me clearly.

Standing before the fallen books, she confidently said into the empty air, "It's you, isn't it? The one who sent Christina to me. The one who entrusted me with silver ingots. The one bound to me by fate from the past..."

Her words were so sudden that I lost my footing in thought.

"See? She's right. Sixth sense, or is it memory? Hurry up and show yourself. Gonna stand up a girl with that chest?"

I ignored Isaac's nonsense.

Rubia reached into the air. "You are here... aren't you?"

I shifted aside, barely avoiding the brush of her hand. A small frown creased her lips, but her determination didn't waver.

"I know you're somewhere close. The things that happened in Yublam, those were all you, weren't they? You've always saved me... always..."

I couldn't let her keep speaking to the void. Even the faintest stir of awareness from the wraiths could be dangerous. Their focus might not be on her and on Erast itself, but I still needed to end this.

I let the concealment fall. "Rubia."

Rubia's lips parted in shock. "Oh!"

Slowly, warmth flooded her face, like spring breaking through frost. "It is you! Mr. Skeleton! This isn't a dream, is it?"

She rushed forward, heedless, rose up on her toes, and tugged the helmet from my head. The bare skull beneath was exposed without resistance.

Startled, I dropped the book I had just gathered.

"I remember walking together through the snow and exploring the desert. I remember the dress you secretly prepared so I could join the tea party."

"..."

So she remembered it all. From her words, someone would think they had been nothing but bright adventures. Yet every one of them had ended the same way with painful, unbearable partings. She must recall those too, faintly.

Isaac sighed and revealed himself. "Hah... enviable. For her memories to carry across lives like that, that's true immortality. Compared to that, my constructs and resurrections, are nothing but child's play. Tch..."

"Oh! The crow! I remember you, too!"

"Tell her I've never seen her before in my life. I'll be... sightseeing around Erast," Isaac muttered sourly and slipped out through the window.

I croaked, "I..."

Rubia's gaze pinned me, eyes shining. I couldn't withstand it. I told her everything, just as I had with Rena and Isaac, without any embellishment or omitting anything. She tilted her head, eyes lighting and widening in surprise, sometimes smiling, sometimes close to tears. When the tears threatened to spill, she turned her face away, then back again, listening still.

I spoke slowly, easing each revelation so it wouldn't crush her. By the time I finished, much time had passed.

Rubia stared at me, dazed. "That's how it is..."

"I never saved you."

The words tore themselves from me. Her wide eyes fixed on me, as if engraving me into her sight.

Her head tilted, genuine curiosity in her voice. "Why... would you think that?"

"Because..."

Rubia cut me off. "I was fated to be found as a corpse, lying in my graveyard. However, I died, and it doesn't change the truth. You saved me, again and again. And this life, in this tiny city, I would have spent it reading until I died. Instead... I've lived what I never could have dreamed of."

I faltered.

"You never once gave up. You always tried to save me. For that, I am truly grateful."

Her voice wavered, but it wasn't weary or sad. It brimmed with quiet strength. A pang of guilt struck me. The truth was, I hadn't saved her. I had only sought to twist her past, to use her fate to my advantage. But she, she believed.

"Because of those memories of someone trying to save me, I endured. I bore my father's death, and I fought for the struggle for power. Even my illness healed faster."

I was speechless. The scenario had not been cleared, and yet Erast's fate had shifted. Perhaps because Rubia's faint memories, those dreamlike fragments, remained. It was her own achievement, not mine. Her gratitude was undeserved.

"..."

This time, I would do it properly. I would succeed. At the very least, I would fix Rubia's past before the cycle ended: Biblio, Leandro, the Relic of Light, the Merchants' Guild, the southern cities, the Empire, and the Confederation. With T&T's aid, and even Isaac's, things would change. I swore it.

I sat down with Rubia, and we planned in earnest for the days ahead.