NOVEL'S EXTRA: I Will Die at the Peak-Chapter 40: Second Entity (2)

Night had finally fallen completely.

The sky had wrapped itself in a deep navy-blue veil, and stars appeared one by one, covering the heavens from end to end.

Each one differed in size and color; some faint, others shining brightly. A spectrum stretched from red to violet, from icy blue to pale yellow... The sky looked like a breathtaking infinity.

It had been eighteen hours since Ravien had stepped into the center of the room.

He was still there, in the exact same position—motionless. His left hand rested on his knee, while his right hand was placed on the creature’s left foot.

His eyelids were half-open, yet his gaze was focused; his consciousness locked onto only one thing: the capacity transfer.

The creature, on the other hand, showed no reaction. No movement, no physical change. It simply absorbed the energy being transferred into its system in silence.

(POV: Ravien)

Twenty-second hour.

My mind is foggy.

My thoughts are like pebbles under water—visible, yet I can’t seem to grasp any of them completely. I was thinking about something... yes, something...

A new city.

The city I’m going to build.

What should its name be?

Something’s on the tip of my tongue, but my mind is a cloud of dust. Words come and then retreat.

None of them feel right. It’s as if the name I’m looking for is buried somewhere far beneath, beyond my reach.

Then an image surfaces, like one of those fleeting dreams just before sleep.

I’m standing at the edge of the sea. A map spread over my lap flutters slightly in the wind. I glance at the compass in my hand. Back then, I was wearing my Admiralty uniform—a weighty yet familiar burden on my shoulders.

When I lifted the lid of the compass, there was a name etched on the inside surface.

Kelvia.

"Kelvia..."

I whisper it to myself, just like I did back then.

That ship... it had accompanied me for years.

Through storms, discoveries, escapes... it was always there.

For a moment, my thoughts sharpen.

A clear idea emerges through the dull mist.

I’ve found it.

This city...

This place...

From now on, it will be called Kelvia.

—Twenty-sixth hour.—

The sweating had become rhythmic. Droplets first gathered on my forehead, slid down my face, leaving faint traces, and disappeared.

Within minutes, new ones would follow. This time they reached down to my chin, pausing there for a moment before vanishing in silence. The only change was the shortening of intervals.

—Thirty-second hour.—

My head feels heavier now. My eyes are open, but focusing is becoming more difficult. My consciousness is intact, but it feels like I’m under some kind of pressure.

And for some reason, random memories keep surfacing in my mind.

This time, we were in open waters. On the starboard side, a landmass had risen near the horizon. We had traveled for months to reach that land. The ship moved slowly.

"We must keep going. Even if it’s far, we’re heading in the right direction."

I remember that voice clearly.

Brief, few words, but perfectly said.

Now I feel something similar.

I haven’t arrived yet.

But the direction is right.

—Past the fortieth hour.—

The first sun had risen once again.

As the sky turned a pale orange, the green and white moon silently retreated behind the horizon. Light was returning—slowly, cautiously, but clearly. The air was still cool, and the ground remained damp.

A new day had begun.

In front of the castle, Jiho was waiting. Ravien had previously asked him to bring villagers with fate abilities to his study.

Before him, ten children knelt on the stone ground. Their ages ranged from eleven to seventeen. All were villagers, brought here because of their fate abilities.

Normally, those with fate abilities would leave for wealthier cities when they grew up, seeking better lives, leaving behind their families and everything they had known.

Jiho leaned slightly to the children’s level. His voice was as soft as possible, yet still held a respectful distance.

"Alright. Are you ready to meet the young master, children? Don’t worry—your families will be given extra rations after this meeting."

The children nodded slightly, though their faces were tense. Among them, the eldest—a girl with messy yellow hair, around 160 centimeters tall—Nornara, gave Jiho a blank, unflinching stare. Then, in a quiet but clear voice, she spoke:

"This... is it about our special abilities?"

Jiho hesitated for a brief moment before offering a faint smile. The smile was controlled—he tried not to make it seem forced.

"Yes," he said. "You will assist the young master with your fate abilities. In return, you will receive rewards."

He chose his words carefully—simple enough for children to understand. He deliberately avoided complex concepts.

Nornara stared for a second longer, then shrugged.

"If we get food... fine."

If they were going to get food, nothing else mattered. It wasn’t like they ever had a choice, anyway.

Jiho silently turned and pushed open the castle’s heavy door. It creaked as it opened.

"Follow me. Don’t wander off or get lost."

The children followed him one by one.

After some time, Jiho reached the door to Ravien’s study. He knocked twice, then cracked the door open and peeked inside.

"Young Master Ravien, as requested, I’ve brought the chil—"

His sentence trailed off.

The room appeared empty.

At least, Ravien was nowhere in sight.

Jiho stepped inside. A few curious children peeked through the open doorway.

And that’s when they noticed.

Asogi.

He stood silently in the corner of the room.

His entire body was covered in deep, uneven, irregularly shaped mouths.

The mouths spoke, all muttering the same thought in different tones, a low and broken voice echoing across them:

"Where’s father... did he leave me... no... this is his room... he’ll come... should I check... no... I’m being punished..."

These voices weren’t mere whispers—they were echoes of a crumbling mind, a despair that couldn’t be suppressed.

One of the girls flinched the moment she looked inside. She tried to close her eyes, but couldn’t. A muffled scream burst from her:

"Ahh—!"

Jiho quickly turned and stepped in front of the children, shielding them from the sight with his body. Then his eyes met Nornara’s.

"Can you look after the others?"

Nornara gave a quiet nod. She approached the girl who had screamed and wrapped her arms around her, whispering gently but firmly:

"Shhh... it’s over. You don’t need to be afraid. Everything’s fine."

Jiho closed the door and was left alone in the room. His eyes locked on Asogi. Despite the grotesque image of the mouths covering his body, there was only one thing Jiho was focused on:

Ravien was missing.

He approached Asogi slowly. He was calm, but the impatience in his voice was obvious with every word.

"Hey. Where’s the young master?"

Asogi’s eyes weren’t focused.

The rhythm of his sentences continued, unbroken, as if stuck on repeat.

Jiho’s expression tensed slightly. This time, his voice rose, sharper and firmer:

"I’m talking to you!"

Asogi continued to murmur to himself for a while longer.

As the mouths covering his body slowly closed, his skin began to return to normal, the tension in his muscles gradually easing.

His pale skin glistened slightly with sweat. His shoulders were slumped, and his breathing came in uneven waves.

When he finally stilled completely, he raised his head and looked at Jiho, standing across from him.

His long, messy hair swayed gently with the cool breeze drifting in through the open window.

The air moved through the room, rustling the piles of paper. The breeze from the window helped disperse the heavy, stifling atmosphere that had filled the space.

Asogi’s voice was hoarse but clear:

"...Human. You came? Why did you come? Where is Father?"

Jiho paused for a moment.

He brought his hand to his chin, thinking, eyes fixed on Asogi.

"What do you mean, ’where’? Weren’t you with the young master? You usually never leave his side."

Asogi slightly lowered his head, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Father... told me not to leave this room until he returns. I’m being punished."

His voice wasn’t childish; there was a tone of quiet acceptance, as if this was something he’d grown used to.

Jiho turned his gaze toward the light spilling in through the window. He stood in silence for a few seconds.

"If the young master hasn’t returned, then he must be somewhere else—occupied with something important. He probably wanted to learn about the children’s abilities. For now, I’ll have to handle this myself."

Having completed his thought, he no longer felt the need to speak. He slowly turned toward the door. As he reached for the handle, a hand touched his shoulder from behind.

Asogi’s arm had extended, grasping Jiho’s shoulder.

"You know where Father is, don’t you?" he said.

"You know... don’t you?"

There was desperation in his voice, but it wasn’t the kind that came with tears—rather, a tension born from the dread of being left without answers.

Jiho felt the hand on his shoulder, but his expression didn’t change. He narrowed his eyes slightly and responded:

"He probably stepped out for something private. It’s not unusual for him to be gone. Just wait. Don’t panic."

Asogi said nothing.

He simply remained where he was, eyes still fixed on the door.

Jiho opened it and stepped out.

The corridor was cold, flanked by stone walls. The chill that had built up during the night still lingered in the air.

The children were waiting outside the door. Jiho glanced over each of them, one by one. Their faces showed a range of emotions—nervousness, fatigue, curiosity. Some stared in silence, others avoided eye contact entirely.

He tilted his head slightly and gestured forward.

"We’re going to the dining hall, children."

His voice was neither soft nor harsh.

Upon hearing this, the children quietly lined up behind Jiho.

They began to walk slowly, step by step, down the cold hallway.