CHAPTER 248: CLUE [5]

Nayomi, who remained silent, finally looked at him.

"Remember how my class was summoned in this world six hundred years ago?"

She asked, her voice much colder than normal.

"One of the three that the mimicker showed us...."

She drew in a deep breath.

"....He was my classmate."

Akamir tilted his head slightly, his mask catching the dim glow of the lantern.

For a moment, the room was quiet except for the faint creak of the chair beneath him.

"...Your classmate," he repeated, voice steady but laced with interest.

"Explain."

Nayomi’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t look at him right away.

Her gaze lingered on the floor, as if the shadows there might swallow her words before she spoke.

"Yes. My class... when we were brought here, not all of us stayed together. Some vanished after the summoning. Some chose different paths."

Her voice trembled, but it wasn’t fear—it was anger.

Akamir guessed the three whom he saw were the three pillars of the family.

He could more or less guess who was who but he wanted to hear from her as well.

"Who is he?" he asked, leaning forward.

"The one they called Seraphis... I knew him by another name. Aizen."

Akamir leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Aizen," he echoed slowly, tasting the name as if it might reveal something. "And what kind of man was he?"

Nayomi’s eyes hardened.

"A dreamer. Always talking about order, about making things better. He hated weakness—hated the idea that people without power slowed down those who had it. To him, strength wasn’t just a privilege, it was truth."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "I should have known he would twist those ideas into something worse."

Akamir rubbed his chin, silent for a moment.

Inside, his thoughts moved faster.

’A classmate of hers... someone who’s lived since that summoning... and now sits in the shadows with Popes and Dukes.’

That wasn’t just dangerous.

That was a thread tied deep into the root of the world.

Akamir’s gaze hardened. "Wait, is he one of those...."

He didn’t complete his words but Nayomi nodded her head.

Akamir was referring to those who betrayed her against her fight with goddess Morana.

"...Yes," Nayomi said flatly. "He was one of them who stood with that bitch."

She drew in a deep breath to calm her burning mind.

"And if he hasn’t died in six hundred years, then he’s far more dangerous than you can imagine."

The weight of her words dragged silence back into the room.

"So the strings don’t just belong to this continent," he murmured. "They’re being pulled by ghosts from another world."

He leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger against the wooden armrest. His masked face turned toward Nayomi.

"Then tell me," he said softly, "what do you think your old classmate is planning to erase?"

Nayomi’s eyes narrowed. "...Everything that doesn’t fit into his version of ’order.’ Including us."

Akamir stayed quiet at that, his thoughts curling inward.

He had expected enemies, yes. But not this.

Not shadows that stretched back six centuries, reaching from another world entirely.

’This is going to be a painfully long journey.’

Nayomi’s eyes stayed on him, her expression sharp, as if daring him to laugh or doubt her story.

He didn’t.

Instead, he finally asked, calm and flat, "How many of your classmates are still alive?"

Her lips parted, but no answer came right away. She looked away, her gaze drifting toward the lantern flame swaying on the table.

"...I don’t know," she admitted at last. Her voice was softer now, but it carried an edge of guilt.

"Some of us died early... too weak for this world. Others disappeared into kingdoms and empires, changing names, changing lives. I never tracked them all."

"But if Aizen is alive then others could be—."

"I know that much." Nayomi replied, a crazed smile forming on her lips. "In fact I am glad they are."

’...Right, she always wanted to take her revenge wasn’t she?’

He didn’t reply as his mind reeled. He wasn’t shaken, not outwardly, but his thoughts moved like knives.

If one summoning could scatter seeds like this... what kind of forest had grown in six centuries?

Not to mention they are already in charge of things he couldn’t reach.

Not yet at least.

"...This Aizen," Akamir said, finally breaking the silence. "If he once stood with Morana, then he already chose his side long ago. Whatever he’s planning—it won’t be small."

Nayomi’s jaw clenched.

"He always talked about building a perfect order. A world without flaws." She let out a sigh as her gaze turned colder. "But to him, flaws meant people—people who weren’t strong enough. He called them ’waste.’"

Her words dripped with bitterness. "I thought he was just an arrogant boy. I was wrong."

Akamir tapped the table lightly with a finger.

"Then the mimicker’s vision makes sense," he said. "For order. For purity. The lesser must be erased. That’s his voice, isn’t it?"

Nayomi’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, Akamir saw something rare in them—hesitation. Fear, even.

"...Yes," she whispered.

Akamir leaned back again, the mask hiding the faint curl of his lips.

"Good. Then we know whose web we’ve stepped into."

Nayomi kept on staring at him without any words.

Akamir also closed his eyes as he planned to take some rest right here.

"Are you not afraid?" Nayomi finally asked. "You are up against those who can obliterate you."

Akamir kept his eyes closed. "I know." he replied. "But that doesn’t mean I have to fear them."

He chuckled to himself. "Worst case, I will move to the spirit world with my loved ones."

Nayomi didn’t reply as she kept on looking at him.

There was an ease in her eyes as she listened to him.

---

The night passed in silence.

The first thing that Akamir did in the morning was to get the mimicker.

Akamir asked him to lead them to the ship.

The one they use to send the slaves to the other side of the world.

And just as Akamir had expected.....it was something else.

’....It really is fucking big.’

Akamir stood at the edge of the pier, his cloak brushing against the damp planks.

The mimicker shuffled ahead, its borrowed skin ill-fitting, the false old man pointing toward the vessel that loomed in the fog.

Sylari stopped dead in her tracks.

"By the stars..." she whispered.

Nayomi narrowed her eyes, silent but tense.

She had seen warships before, but this—this was something else entirely.

The ship was massive, its blackened hull reinforced with plates of metal that shimmered faintly with runes.

It wasn’t a vessel built to ride the seas. It was built to devour them.

Cannons jutted out from its sides, each carved with strange sigils that thrummed softly in the mist.

Chains as thick as trees draped from its rails, heavy with hooks.

And at the very top, a mast like a tower rose, its sails dyed crimson, marked with a symbol none of them recognized—a spiral of jagged lines that hurt the eyes if stared at too long.

Akamir tilted his head, taking in the sight without a word.

His mask caught the rising sun, hiding his expression.

"...So this is what they use to move their slaves," he muttered at last. "Not a ship. A fortress."

The mimicker bowed, its voice gravelly, worn. "Yes, my Lord. They call it The Maw. It swallows men whole, and none return once taken beyond the horizon."

Akamir nodded his head as he asked. "When was the last shipment."

"A month ago."

"When is the next?"

"Six months later."

Akamir turned to look at the mimicker. "Why so late?" he asked. "Are all of the shipments like this?"

"There are some problems on their side." he replied. "And from my memories, they are delaying the shipments to increase the prices."

Akamir stayed silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the monstrous vessel.

The ship breathed like a beast asleep, its chains rattling faintly as if restless.

"...Delaying shipments to raise prices," he repeated slowly. "So even slavery has an economy."

Nayomi scoffed, crossing her arms. "Of course it does. Greed doesn’t die—it only changes hands."

Akamir, however, leaned forward slightly, watching the runes carved into the hull. They weren’t decorative.

They pulsed faintly—like veins carrying blood.

"...Nayomi," he muttered. "It’s alive."

Nayomi frowned. "Alive?"

Akamir pointed toward the lowest part of the vessel where the waterline touched the hull.

The wood there... it shifted.

Slowly, almost too subtle to notice, as if the ship itself was breathing.

Akamir turned to look at the mimicker. "Am I right?"

Nayomi moved closer to look at the thing as her eyes narrowed as well. "It’s an Artifact."

The mimicker nodded his head.

"It eats men, swallows seas, and grows stronger," he said, voice low. "They aren’t just moving slaves. They’re feeding it."

Akamir nodded back as he moved closer.

He kept on walking until he could touch it.

[You are in the presence of a sealed Artifact.]

A message flickered in front of him.

[Would you like to use "memories"?]

[Yes/no]