Chapter 242: From Now On, I Am a Shoreguard
Outside the Imperial Capital, a massive floating airship swept across the sky, casting a gigantic shadow over the dim yellow clouds.
Ingrid left the pilot’s seat, where she had been steering the rudder, letting the floating airship glide along its previous course, carried forward by inertia into the mountain ranges.
She herself came to the hatchway at the suspended ladder, and knelt on both knees.
Then, she carefully lifted the boy whose body was drenched in blood.
His body had already grown completely cold. His limbs and torso were pale and stiff, blood seeping from the countless wounds across his body, staining his clothes a deep red as the high-altitude winds stripped away the warmth.
Clearly, in that battle earlier, Rast had not been injured. Yet now his body was broken and torn apart like a rag doll ripped to pieces.
His bent fingers, which had barely managed to clutch onto the ladder, did not relax even after Ingrid carried him up and placed him on a seat within the airship. They remained locked in rigid stiffness… a reflex born from the violent trauma to the soul circuit that controlled the body.
It was a sign of both spirit and flesh extinguishing together.
It was also the price Rast had to pay after unleashing his Nightblade, the Higher Sequence, and his very body and soul together into “Fantasia Collapse.”
At this moment, his body and soul were like the ruins left behind after a tower had crumbled, or a wilderness consumed by wildfires.
All that had once flourished was now gone with the collapse of Fantasia.
The grasslands had been burned into wasteland, and upon that ruined land, only pale ash remained.
And yet, even as his body grew ever colder, the boy’s gaze remained vivid.
He simply sat quietly on the seat beside the pilot’s chair, watching the distant Imperial Capital in silence with Ingrid.
Ingrid knew well: Rast could still maintain self-awareness only because of the lingering afterglow of the Fantasia Collapse… like the embers still carrying warmth in a field scorched by flames.
But in the end, those embers were but dregs, the last sparks at the edge of extinction that no wind was needed to snuff out.
Soon, the final warmth upon those ashes would be stolen away by the cold wind, and be extinguished completely.
Then, with both body and spirit reduced to nothing but ash, Rast would fall into an endless sleep, becoming a living corpse who knew neither life nor death… perhaps never to awaken again.
This moment was all the time Rast had left.
“An absolutely magnificent battle.”
Yet Ingrid still spoke those words of praise. She knew that flattery was meaningless to Rast, but her admiration was from the depths of her heart.
With a rank not even Legendary, he had slain a Quasi-Angel. Across the entire history of humanity, from the Age of Gods until now, this was an unprecedented feat.
Never before had Ingrid been so grateful that, back upon that broken Reef Shore, she had not chosen to end everything… but instead had sworn allegiance to Rast, so that she would not miss the chance to witness such a grand sight.
The boy did not answer. He only continued to gaze silently into the distance.
By now, the massive floating airship had already flown beyond the outskirts of the Imperial Capital, drifting over the desolate mountains.
Below, the Imperial Capital had grown small, like a miniature model city in a toy shop.
Far away, in another direction, the golden plains stretched out, and one could faintly glimpse the spire of the library chapel at Starfall University.
“Please take me back to Starfall University. I want to look upon the academy one last time.”
The boy spoke softly: “After all, if luck isn’t on my side, I may never get the chance again.”
His voice carried a note of plea, low and weary like any ordinary boy, but his expression remained solemn. He gazed into the distance like a king of ancient Babylon, surveying his royal city from atop the high tower.
Ingrid suddenly felt a moment of daze. Rast’s appearance now resembled the persona he had worn at Starfall University—gentle, restrained, approachable.
But that had only ever been a façade.
The true Rast was a monster—one who could calmly seal himself into a coffin and sink to the ocean floor for months of torment… a real, bona fide demon.
He could present himself to different people in the most fitting, proper, and comforting way, like a spring breeze… but in the end, that too was only disguise. That was the Mask of Personality he chose to wear in any situation that best served his interests.
Beneath the approachable exterior of the boy lay only a void—an empty husk, a vengeful spirit sustained solely by obsession.
This had always been Ingrid’s understanding of the master she had sworn to serve.
And yet now, she found herself uncertain.
For the boy beside her wore no Mask of Personality at all, and what he revealed lay somewhere between both sides of himself—possessing both the majesty of Sataniel’s phantom just moments ago, and the gentleness of a boy.
In the end, Ingrid said nothing.
She simply obeyed in silence, turning the rudder. The great floating airship shifted direction in midair, heading toward that city in the twilight.
The glow of sunset slowly faded, and the sun fully sank beneath the horizon.
Boundless darkness swept over the clouds, engulfing the airship gliding among them.
“Please say farewell for me to Dean Silver, Professor Barbalossa, Dean Agatha, Akxia, Ishta, and the others… It will be a long time before I see them again.”
“This time, I may sleep for a very, very long time.”
Rast’s voice trailed into silence.
In the distance, above the Imperial Capital, the dim sky suddenly blazed with brilliance.
It was the radiance of the Holy Sword, that had once pierced a darkness deeper than night itself.
A fierce and pure starlight broke through the heavens, guiding their way like a beacon.
That ruined yet brightly illuminated city now shone like tens of thousands of lanterns released into the midnight sky, and in the boy’s eyes, it became a golden sea of stars.
This was Shiltina’s answer—not only a proclamation to the world, but also an answer given solely to the boy who mattered most in her heart.
Beside him, the heavy clouds had vanished without notice, leaving only a sky of glittering stars.
As if echoing that starry night above, a ripple stirred deep within Rast’s soul.
It was a seed blessed by Grey, carrying the Fool’s Library, his Higher Sequence, his Legendary Path, and the spark of all his fate.
Rast’s soul at this moment was indeed a wasteland, burned empty by fire.
But just as wildfire could never truly consume the weeds, the Tower card’s symbol was destruction—and the “rebirth” that followed it.
In the end, people would always rebuild a new tower upon the ruins struck down by lightning.
And upon that barren land, spring would once again grow.
Rast silently gazed at the pure starlight.
After a long while, he softly spoke:
“From now on, I am a Shoreguard.”
………………