Chapter 61: 11.3

11.3

The pull of gravity on John’s body was one thing, but the absolute darkness that he was plunging downwards in bothered him more.

It was not to say he feared the dark, but he had been plummeting for a long while, his sense of touch, smell, sight, hearing, taste... All of it was rendered useless as his body plunged downwards, none of them could help him pinpoint where he was, he deep he was in the hatch he fell into.

This is bad…

John could not tell how long he had been falling for, nor did he care how fast he was travelling downwards, none of those mattered to him, all he cared was when will his body hit the ground.

I need to time my fall and [Heal].

Just like back then with the Elder Dragon from Reperane Woods, he had to time his fall and [Heal] right, one single delay could mean the termination of his mortal life.

It was not that he really needed to be alive... There was nothing for him to live for.

 

But, he did make a promise in the past.

 

Whether he remembered who Kahnira was or why he promised her such a thing was irrelevant, he has still yet to figure out what those resurfacing memories are, what they meant, who he was before he entered A’vetheas...

 

And there was Harvests’ murderer, whose identity he vowed to uncover.

 

As much as he hated himself, as much he wanted to cease to be for all the failures he achieved in his pathetic life, if he just ended it all, everything will forever remain as it was. No one would tell him what his resurfacing memories meant, no one would be there to listen to Fester Aquilla the hero should he capture the vampire who murdered the Harvest.

 

It was a truly sad reason for him to prolong his life… But what choice did he have? Even when his world had collapsed in on him, he still had the responsibility of honoring those who are now deceased.

John snapped out of his daze when a whirling noise buzzed around him, his eyes shot wide open as he repeated [Heal] under his breath, hoping that his body would survive the impact.

Any second now…

Then, the noise disappeared. He curled his body, bringing his arms in front of his face, tensing each fiber of his muscles as he expected to crash from the tremendous speed he was plummeting at.

Then, a soft warm wind blew from below, coating all of him as his speed reduced, his curled body slowly came into contact to the ground as though he was a feather, allowing his body to tilt upright as his feet gently touched the ground.

“Landing magic…?”

He tried to look around him, but the surroundings were so dark that he might as well close his eyes and listened to the winds to know where he was.

“The academy is something, how does a place like this exist? I fell like what… five whole minutes?”

 

…

 

…

 

An eerie silence greeted John despite him speaking out loud. Being dropped from where the cursed stairs were, he had thought that he was routed by the floating eyeball to another dangerous place like earlier, but he was dead wrong.

There is only darkness.

“…”

No way out, nowhere to go, just him in this isolated place for who knows how long. In this place devoid of light, smell and sounds, he was imprisoned.

 

His thoughts almost wandered back to the Harvests. Admittedly, he wanted nothing more than to drown in sorrow, to bemoan how unfair his life was, to simply let the pain wash over him. But under his current circumstances, he could not allow himself to wallow in pity, it was unproductive, meaningless, and possibly dangerous.

 

Just as soldiers who fought on the battlefield suppressed their pain when their comrades were slaughtered in front of them, he too, would have to endure it until he knows where he is and what is going on.

 

Still in the exact place where he fell onto, John lifted a hand in front of him and stared at it—despite not being able to see it with his very eyes.

Might as well try it now…

“[Fireball].”

Nothing happened, he gave a sigh as he clenched his fists. He was hoping that in this dire situation, he would finally be able to do what Evie taught him.

Apparently he is still incompetent as ever.

 

Squish.

 

The sound of something gooey slapped on the floor.

“W-who’s there?” a ghastly voice replied to John’s magic chant from earlier.

“!!!”

The same squishing noise echoed once more, it sounded that it was not getting any closer to John and that the person was genuinely asking. “Is there a-anyone… A-anyone at all…”

John hesitated to make a sound. He kept his breath low and waited for something to happen.

 

…

 

…

 

The slapping noise stopped, following that was the ghastly voice in a very soft tone, “I don’t want this… Let me out…”

 

John knew he shouldn’t. He knew he might end up in danger once more, he knew the possibility of him surviving another black magic like the death fog was impossible. And that perhaps that voice that spoke in reply to [Fireball] was only a ploy to get him, for all he know, the owner of the ghastly voice could see in the dark and was using his lack of vision to pull at his heartstrings.

 

However…

He understood the pain behind such a fragile voice, that emotion of being broken, hopeless and with nothing. For someone like that to be imprisoned in this place where no one knows about, to be forgotten and to rot by themselves.

It was cruel.

 

And such was his fate, if he did nothing.

 

His heart thumped, hands trembled by John’s side as the thought of ending up in a situation where he was beyond help. Like all his life, he had been alone, no one could help him unless he was willing to save himself, he was all he had, and if he wanted to get out of this place, he had better do it himself.

Magic surged thorough his veins, for a brief moment, his mind’s eye was clear, all the blame and suffering that he had for himself was relieved for that instant, he could perfectly see what he intended to do.

 

“[Illuminate].” 

 

The words left John’s mouth, though there was never such a magic spell recorded in history, the words flowed out of him as if he assigned his own magic into it.

 

Light.

 

Soft white light spread throughout the entirety of the place, making its presence known to each and every surface there was in this forsaken place that John found himself in. John who felt a huge chuck of his mana left his body was left panting for air as the light magic he cast continued to illuminate as far as the place stretched.

“Ha...hah…hah… I-I d-did it, I…” exhaustion kicked in and his legs gave away, causing him to fall to his bottom. “Hah… I-it’s sad that only now I can d-do it, but, ahahaha…” he slammed a hand at his face as he shook his head forlornly.

He hated himself for finding the will to do so until the Harvests were massacred, after he mistook Ephinelyth for an enemy and cut all ties with her, after he was forever exiled from A’vetheas, after Raina no longer loved him, after Kahnira was no more than a name to him.

I-I am the worse kind of person… W-why can’t I do anything for them when they are still by my side. Only now, only now...I truly try...

His breathing was weak, from both the exhaustion and self-loathing.

He finally understood why he failed to cast [Fireball] when Evie taught him, he understood why after, years and years of attempts in A’vetheas to learn new magic all ended in failure, he understood why all the countless aptitude tests the Elven court mages did for him indicated he had zero affinity to other magic.

 

Sure, he had reasoned himself, rationalized each and every part of his conscious mind that he wanted to make himself more competent, to prolong his own life by learning magic for the sake of the Elven Princess. He had pushed and even strained his very own psyche while Evie guided him to use [Fireball].

However, the truth is, he himself never desired such a thing in life.

All John Sarvod wanted was to have people who truly saw him as he was, for people who he cared for loved him for the person who was behind his [Heal] magic, the flawed being that was him, John. That they would disregard his shortcomings and accept him.

“Funny how the Harvests are everything I ever wanted… I was too blind to see it until they are gone…” John mourned to himself softly, his eyes wet as he looked to the vast space above him.

 

 

“T-there’s someone here… The prophecy has c-come true! We are b-blessed, blessed!”

A voice of awe could be heard as John berated himself for being useless, for not having the conviction to bring himself to do something as his world crashed before him.

When he raised his head to inspect what was the cause for the ghastly voices, he was greeted by five, ten, no—hundreds of people whose bodies were tattered, fading, and translucent.

Ghosts? Spirits? The thoughts came to John but was quickly dismissed when he saw that the ethereal people that stood around him lacked the seven colors of the visible spectrum. Forget how their bodies looked as though they would disperse should a strong wind came by, these ethereal people only had different shades of black and white for their flesh and clothing.

It was though the greyscale illustrations of the various books he read came to life and talked to him.

The only difference was that these people are talking moving, beings, each of them blinked, twitched, walked as though they were actual people. He quickly stood up, raised his hands in front of him in preparation of any sudden moves that these ethereal people might make, but all of a sudden, one of the ethereal people knelt before him and declared.

 

“All hail, the chosen one, bringer of light, Liberator of Souls!”

 

It was the same ghastly voice that replied him when darkness still resided in this place, had it not for the bizarre circumstances he found himself in, John would have thought the world had gone insane.

Or maybe I am hallucinating all of this…?

The other ethereal people proceeded to follow the first man’s actions and began prostrating in his direction, bowing and praising as though he was their long-lost god.

 

Seeing their reaction towards him disgusted him for some reason. He was someone who failed to save his family, someone who failed at everything in his life, now he was revered as their savior?

His twitched in irritation. Even if he was imagining all of this, it was blasphemous.

 

“Give me a fucking break…”

He cursed at the ethereal people. Though they seemed to be harmless souls or ghosts of some kind, John however was in a terrible mood for random beings to put all their hopes in him.

Especially after I have ruined the lives of people I cared about…

“I can’t even use [Fireball], the simplest of all spells!!! I can’t be there for my family when they most needed me! I can’t do a damn thing when everyone needs me to, and here you brainless morons are praising me for casting a stupid fucking spell out of my own selfish desires!? What is wrong with you people!? Huh!? Is it that funny to put all your hopes on someone you’ve never met!?”

The ethereal people simply looked at each other without saying a word, their expression blank, still prostrated before him.

When his anger subsided, he weakly spoke, “Say something…You want my help so bad, tell me what the hell am I supposed to do?”

 

“…”

 

“Because I know damn well that I am not your savior, I am not anyone worth of praise, I am not someone who lives up to expectations, everything I touch, everyone I know… I ruin them…”

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

“If I may….” the person who first knelt at him stood to his feet, “It was foretold that the person who could successfully use magic in this place would be the one to save us lost souls from this eternity of suffering. Thus, you sir, are the first among us all to have achieve that.”

The man who spoke to John had a crinkle smile, clothes tattered from an attack by some beast with great claws, by his ankles and wrists were cuffs that were just as ethereal as he was, though his face was free from scars his arms and legs indicated otherwise.

“Who decided that?”

The ethereal man bowed his head at John, “It may have been years, decades, even centuries… I am no longer sure how long ago this information first surfaced in this place. But we lost souls have been trapped here for as long as we can remember, with no memories of our previous lives, we could only watch as each of our own disappear into nothing as time goes by. To be sealed here means eternal torture, it is only when the energy of our souls run out that we are free from this fate.”

“…”

John took a glance at the other ethereal people that gathered a good distance away from him, their gazes weary. It was understandable given that he just snapped at them for doing something stupid earlier.

“Though souls are said to be eternal in existence, but we lost souls have naught for memories, have naught for knowledge of the lives we lived, the people we loved. Being imprisoned in this place, our sense of self fades as time goes on, until there would be nothing left. If you freeing us from this place means sacrificing some of us, we lost souls are prepared to make that sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice…” John unintentionally muttered the word. “I a-am not doing anything like that. You still haven’t told me who said that I am your ‘chosen one’.”

“A great fire told us. There was this blazing fire that appeared one day, along with it was an angelic voice, foretelling us the day when our savior would come and liberate us from this dark, damp place.”

You are reading story Consignor (Serious Fantasy) at novel35.com

John shook his head, “You are telling me that a fire told you what the future would be? And your believed those words?”

Some border between living and death this is… I thought it meant I will get to see them again… I am retarded.

John made a face as he insulted himself.

“Sir…? Is my explanation unsatisfactory?” the person asked. “If you wish so, I can repeat myself—”

“Wait, wait, wait. First off, just call me, John, I don’t like honorifics, they mean nothing. Secondly, I need to know why are you the only person who can speak?”

“I—” the man tried to answer, but his face became wide in shock. “You mean you can’t understand what the other souls are saying!?”

“Umm…” he paused, then looked to the other ethereal people around him, all of them had their mouths and facial expressions moving, but he could not hear a single thing from them. “That…seems to be the case.”

“T-that’s…bizarre. All of us speak in the same language but you are only able to hear mine?”

“I am as clueless as you are, don’t look at me.” John gave a shrug as the other ethereal people looked in his direction, “So, how do I free you lost souls and get myself out of this place? You said the fire great foretold this would happen, so it must know a way out don’t you?”

“It said that you have a strong connection to the immediate outside world, that because of this connection, you are able to bring yourself and us along with you outside. Once we are free from this place, souls like us will be free to move on…”

“That’s a vague description.”

“Unfortunately that is so, but the voice in the fire did say something about you are strong enough to do so. Afterall, casting magic inside a magic dampening field is unheard of.”

“Dampening field?”

Magic is conventionally casted whenever one tapped into their existing mana pool. In a way, it works like the physical body’s stamina reserves, the more magic one casted, the larger the toll it would take on a person. However, magic dampening fields are caused by the inscription and enchantment of powerful magic on physical objects such as books, scrolls, talismans, and supposedly in this case, the very space where John and the lost souls were currently imprisoned in.

Picture a person running on the peak of a mountain where the air is thin and few, a person who has the stamina to run for two hours without stopping would end up gasping for air should they do the same activity in the mountains.

Magic dampening field works in such a way where it is similar to the mountains, only that it causes magic users to deplete their mana pool faster than they could regenerate it. Eventually a person’s mana would become completely drained no matter how fast they can generate it.

With the extreme exception of some people being able to use [Mana Drain] or [Spell Nullification] to temporary create rooms with magic dampening fields. Permanent magic dampening fields are impossible to construct and remains a concept until this day. The amount of energy and mana used to sustain such a facility is simply fictitious and unachievable.

There are no walls, no celling, only the ground… Who—What kind of place is this?

To think a place like this existed for centuries, and souls were trapped here for some unknown reason…

 

A tingle ran down John’s spine.

 

“Am I still in the academy? Or this someplace else? A place like this…”

If such a construction were to be used in the actual world, there can be no telling to how many lives could be robbed from just massively dampening everyone’s mana reserves.

Mana is akin the stamina that sustains one’s soul in their physicalbody, though most people don’t have the ability to use magic, if their souls were deprived of their inherent mana and aren’t allowed to be returned to normal levels, the mana deprivation could cause their entire being to collapse in on their very bodies.

That’s why these people are still stuck here…

The ethereal people that stood around him, though they are nothing more than lingering souls at the moment, John understood why they have not been able to move on like most souls are supposed to.

 

It was the dampening field that the ethereal man spoke of.

 

“The academy? May I inquire what this academy you are speaking of?” the man asked.

“It was the final place I was at before I arrived here. Though, I still am not too sure if I was still at the academy when I climb the cursed stairs…”

“I do not follow, by academy do you mean an institution?”

“Yeah, the one in Dezarith Empire, maybe I got teleported here by some coincidence? Because I don’t think a place like this can go unnoticed by the academy—” John cut himself short when he saw one of the ethereal people moved, and behind that person was a hazy image of a door, slowing phasing into existence. “H-hey, there’s door there. Has it always been there?”

“Perhaps you are mistaken, John, but there has been no doors or entrance of any kind in this place…” the man stopped speaking when he looked at the direction that John was squinting his brows at. “Oh, heavens, you are correct!”

The longer the both of them observed, the clearer the image of the door became, eventually the door itself materialized itself in front of everyone, garnering attention from all.

John craned his head towards the mysterious door, his heart raced as he confirmed the situation with the ethereal man, “You are sure that this is the first time something like this happened here? Or have you all not noticed it from how dark it was”

“Positive, it appears that you have—"

“Let me check it out.”

 

He did not wait for the man to finish his sentence and got to the door in hasty steps, rushing to it as though he feared that it was disappear just as suddenly as it came to be.

Out of habit, his hand moved to the handle to pull it open, but stopped when he noticed the designs on it. The golden handle bore an odd design that closely resembled the ones that are in A’vetheas.

Elven construction?

John wondered, but he could not see any reason to why only the handle to the door had such design while the rest of its body was just a piece of wood. Seeing the Elven designs on the handle, his tight chest softened, his racing thoughts took on a slower, calmer pace.

The Elven designs mean that this is safe right?

He hesitated, he was not about to grab hold of the handle yet, so instead, he placed his right palm against the door to sense what laid beyond.

Fuzzy heat radiated to fingertips, then his palm, then the mellow heat travelled through his arm and spread to the rest of his body enveloping him in a soft gentle warmth.

“Is there someone behind it…?”

Compared to Dezarith Empire, the weather in A’vetheas was more consistent and controlled due to the Elven Queen’s magic. That was why even when it was the winter season crops are able to grow without fail unlike the outside world. Having lived in both A’vetheas and Dezarith Empire, John quickly understood what the mellow heat that his body felt meant.

The door before him was filled with magic.

Though unsure of what type magic the door was coaxed with, he was certain that this door’s appearance had been recent and would soon disappear when the magic sustaining it runs out. The waning heat on his palms was just proof that.

 

It’s losing its warmth, it won’t last long with the dampening field sapping the magic sustaining it. No time to waste.

 

John pulled the door open, a blast of warm wind rushed at his face, toasting his exposed skin, revealing a wall of red mist in front of him.

“What is this…” as he squinted his eyes at the sight, the ethereal man who he could speak to let out a wild gasp.

 

“T-that’s… I remember now! Yes!!! I remember who I was!” his face was one of amazement and revelation, different emotions surfaced on the man’s face as the other ethereal people also reacted the same way. “All of my m-memories!!! All of o-our memories!!! John, you’ve done it!!!”

“They returned? I didn’t do…”

“The voice in the great fire was right! You are truly are savior!” the man opened his arms and leaned to John for a hug passed right through John’s solid body.

“???”

“Ahh, I forgot you are still living, haha! That door leads to where souls like us should go to, the underworld. I don’t know how you did it, but on behalf of everyone here, I would like to thank you.”

Following that man’s statement was a unison bow from all the ethereal people.

“I still don’t…” John tried to say something but he stopped himself when he remembered that the magic on the door was fading. He looked to the ethereal people and said, “You guys should enter as fast as you can, the magic has a limited time.”

 

One by one, the ethereal people obliged his words and went into the door, many of them tried to thank John but since he can’t hear what they are saying John simply nodded when their mouths moved.

I still don’t know how to get myself out of here… If it leads to the underworld… Then someone must have been observing me, using me as a link to create an exit for these souls here but…

He drowned in his thoughts as the many people passed by, thinking about the ways that someone might have been observing him without his notice.

“Was it that eyeball creature thing?” he recalled the floating eyeball that spoke in words he could no comprehend. “But he said, a voice in the fire foretold that this will happen, so maybe it has something to do with that—”

John frowned.

He remembered the night before the Harvest died. The night where he was consumed by an imaginary fire, the night where he cursed the existence of gods and berated how cruel his romantic fate was.

That voice he heard, a voice that did not belong to anyone he knew.

 

“…what are you doing giving up on life! I thought…”

 

The way it spoke to him, the voice seemed though it knew John well enough to reason him out of his negative thoughts back then.

It also called upon magic to alleviate the pain that his head was drilling into him.

 

“[Rebirth]”

 

Until now, he had thought that voice he heard was just a hallucination, an illusion that he somehow conjected, and that the phantom pain he felt was from how depressed he was back then. But now, he was starting to see the correlation of the voice he heard that day to the voice of the great fire.

Could they be the same being?

 

“John,” the ethereal man interrupted his thoughts, he tried placing a hand on John’s shoulders but missed. “Ahaha… I keep forgetting that I can’t touch you. Have you figure out how are you going to leave this place? Since you’ve opened a direct the entrance for all the souls to the underworld where they can move on, you must have a plan in mind?”

Most of the ethereal people had entered the wall of red mist, it was evident that this ethereal man wanted to say something to John in private before he joined his fellow comrades.

“Nope, no idea. I might go into the red mist after you, and hope that it isn’t the underworld that it leads me to.”

“!!!” the man’s eyes grew wide. “A red mist!? Are you sure that you can’t see the scene of the underworld before us!?”

“…Maybe because I am different? You know, not a lost soul and all that? I am not sure if that would work… But I think it would be nice if I can pass through it... You see, my family… I haven’t g-got a chance to say goodbye to them,” he stopped himself as he felt his voice breaking.

The ethereal man nodded empathetically, “Family, huh? I had those… A son and a wife, it’s been so long that can barely remember their voices. I did disappear on them after my last adventure and died in it. It’s been so long, I doubt none of them will be waiting for me in the underworld. Knowing what a fickle woman my wife was, I might just as well be a deadbeat to her. It’s my son that I am actually worried about, he’s barely 10 when I left him, he probably hates me for never being there for him.”

“…” John remained silent, he didn’t know what to say to a fellowman who failed to be there for the people he loved.

“But you know, despite how different your face looks from my son, John. You remind me of him, the young boy uses brash words all the time, but his heart remains pure and never wavered. I really thank you for restoring everyone’s memories and freeing us from this place.”

“That’s not…”

 

I have nothing to do with that.

 

“Bah, I can tell. Don’t go all polite on me, where’s that strong attitude you have back when you were yelling at everyone, hahahaha! That was something I did not expect, to be yelled at even after I am dead! But enough about this old man’s rambles, I wish you the best of luck getting out of this place.”

John made a face as the man flashed his semi-tangible teeth at him.

“Yeah… Sure… That is, if another door appears for me,” he looked away from the man and eyed the empty space around him. Only he and the ethereal man was left in this place, every other lost soul had entered the underworld, returned to where they rightfully belong.

“Oh, on the off-chance that you need anything, just find my family— Well, my descendants or my relatives’, they are a helpful bunch, tell them Elijah sent you,” the man said as he moved to the open door, took a step into it.

“Elijah who? Giving your first name is so vague, it’s not going to—”

 

“Harvest. Elijah Harvest, father of Palter Harvest.”

 

“H-harvest?”

 

“It’s a weird surname, for all I know no one might be using it anymore, but if you have the chance, just say hello to them for me. Thanks again, John, for all you’ve done,” Elijah Harvest gave one last smile before he entered the wall of red mist.

John’s face strained, his mind raced at the mention of the Harvests, his hands instinctively extended and reached for Elijah.

 

“D-do you perhaps know someone by the name Miros Harvest by any chance—”

 

 

But the passage that led to underworld shut before Elijah could even respond.

 

Woosh!

 

Elijah Harvest…. Palter Harvest….

 

There was so much more that he wanted to ask.

 

“W-what is this…” he brought his hands in front of him as he stared at where the mysterious door once was. “I-it c-can’t be…” his face contorted into one of disbelief. His feelings in shambles as he recalled the facial features of Elijah.

“H-how did I not see that…t-the way he dotes o-on his son, i-it’s just like M-Miros…”

His vision became blurred as he stared lifelessly at where Elijah had disappeared into.

“I c-could a-at least ask him to pass a word to them…”

His eyes watered, his head throbbed as he pushed the base of his palms against his forehead.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I missed another opportunity yet again… I am sorry… I am sorry… I am so sorry I didn’t be there for you all when you all needed me the most.”

John blamed himself. Like the past week that he had been drowning in his own misery, he, once again blamed himself for the Harvest’s passing, he blamed himself for his weakness, he blamed himself for not reaching Parac Village earlier, he blamed himself for doing something so stupid over Ephinelyth’s lack of communication with him.

Miril, Mera and Meli, had escaped into the forest before they were inevitably killed. Knowing their personalities, they must have tried to run for help for their parents, had John been a tad bit earlier…

His voice cracked, “I m-might have s-saved t-them… I c-could…could have done something for them… I-I…”

This sin of his, the sin of inaction and self-indulgence, was carved it into his heart as he succumbed to the pain of losing his family and lost his conscious.

You can find story with these keywords: Consignor (Serious Fantasy), Read Consignor (Serious Fantasy), Consignor (Serious Fantasy) novel, Consignor (Serious Fantasy) book, Consignor (Serious Fantasy) story, Consignor (Serious Fantasy) full, Consignor (Serious Fantasy) Latest Chapter