Turning-Chapter 846

- YuderYuderYuderYuderYuderYuderYuderYuder......!

- Let the sinner hear. Forgetting duty and responsibility, once the truth was revealed, he shamelessly met fitting punishment by execution.

- Even if there’s no meaning in ‘if’... it was all just a joke, just a joke, just a...

Aaaaaaaaaa.

Even knowing it wasn't real, his body wouldn’t move. His vision spun, and then blood burst from his eyes, nose, and mouth. His knees buckled.

His whole body felt like it was being branded with hot iron. Like drowning in a prison of water. Like his leg bones were being torn out. Like a nail embedded in his pierced abdomen was being twisted to prevent healing. Like his neck was being severed by a blade.

Just when every agony he'd ever experienced in life overlapped, layer upon layer, reaching the very brink of his limit—

Yuder, amidst the pain filled with ear-splitting noise, suddenly found a familiar silence.

The dust-covered old commander’s office he used to sit in alone, drinking alcohol brewed from monster blood.

The damp, filthy prison wall he stared at, feeling strangely distant from the torment tearing his body apart.

In those moments, he always delved deep inside himself, quietly watching the hollow stillness within, counting the passing seconds.

That place was desolate and barren, always silent. Where once something had existed, nothing would ever grow again.

And yet, it was the only place he could truly rest.

He hadn’t realized it then, but now he could guess. Those empty spaces inside Yudrain Aile—spaces no one could invade—must have had something to do with Kishiar la Orr at their core.

Kishiar.

As he faintly recalled the name, a tingling sensation bloomed in his chest. In the pitch-black darkness before him, a flicker of gold shimmered briefly, then vanished.

‘Kishiar.’

Longing for that flicker, he silently called the name again, this time a little louder—and again, golden light bloomed. It rose like a shimmering mirage, wrapping his entire body in warmth. As he watched it absentmindedly, Yuder felt the pain and cold begin to recede.

Just like that time... when someone held him tightly in their arms with not even the smallest gap, gazing together at the flickering fire.

Just like that day... when it felt like only he and that person were left in the world.

Yuder reached out with a hand that wouldn’t move, trying to grasp the light. And once more, he called the name.

The moment he looked up at the sky while kneeling before the guillotine. The last name he recalled while flower petals danced beautifully around him.

"......."

The ears, numbed and flooded with blood, couldn’t hear the name he whispered.

But that alone was enough.

"......!!"

As if answering Yuder’s call, the golden power flared into a brilliant blaze, sweeping away everything that had been pressing down on him. The curses, the pain, the pitch-black emotions that had begun to swallow him like a stain—all were powerless before the golden force and were pushed away, freeing him entirely.

He could breathe properly again. Feeling returned to his limbs. His ears slowly opened, and finally, his vision returned.

Only then did Yuder fully see the golden protective magic that surrounded his body—Kishiar’s. He’d thought it had faded away with time, but it hadn’t. Like great wings, the magic wrapped around him, shining so beautifully it was hard to look away.

"Haa... haha... ha."

As he blankly stared at the protective spell, a faint sound close to a cough-like laugh came from before him. Lowering his gaze, he saw Naham, pierced through the chest by his sword. Naham’s limbs were pinned to the ground, bound completely by the forces of earth and water, unable to move even slightly.

Even as Naham had unleashed his illusions, the force behind Yuder’s sword had still done its job perfectly.

Just moments ago, it had felt like an eternity had passed—but now, Yuder finally realized that it hadn’t been long at all.

Gasping for breath, Yuder summoned the last of his strength and sent it skyward. A yellow flame streamed out like a ribbon, slicing through the darkness and rising high, # Nоvеlight # higher still.

That was the ‘signal.’

‘Once it’s seen... the veil will finally lift.’

Now, all that remained was to wait until then. Yuder didn’t even have the strength to shift his posture as he half-knelt over Naham—he simply decided to stay as he was.

"...Let me go."

Naham’s lips moved as he muttered. Around him, the power of the illusion still flickered faintly, only to fade again—now a pale shadow of what it had been.

Still, Naham kept mumbling, trying to express his intent. Few words came out clearly, but the surrounding illusions whispered his meaning as if amplifying his thoughts.

"I finally figured out who I need to get revenge on... I can’t break here."

"......"

"Is what I was trying to do... such a terrible crime?"

"What is it you were trying to do?"

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The moment Yuder opened his mouth, something pooled inside spilled out. The liquid that fell down his chin wasn’t clear—it was thick and dark red.

He was a wreck. But even so, Yuder didn’t let go of the sword that pierced Naham’s chest.

"Revenge... clearing out all the trash, and then moving on to a new world..."

Yuder suddenly remembered part of a conversation he’d once had with Naham in the Eastern caves. What Naham spoke of—then and now—seemed, on the surface, unchanged.

But was that really true?

"A new world, huh. Who exactly is in that world?"

"......"

"Tell me. What is that world? Who are you going to enter it with?"

Talking to someone in a state of complete mental collapse was foolish. And yet, seeing this man still clinging to revenge in such a state made it impossible for Yuder to stay silent.

A new world just for Awakeners. It sounded good. But who, exactly, was supposed to be in that world Naham imagined?

The companions who once followed him were all gone. More than half, Naham himself had abandoned. Even Hosanra—the last one who remained—had been swept up in Naham’s rampage and now stood at the edge of death. Did he even realize that?

"Do you remember the non-Awakeners you tried to kill in the West?"

Yuder asked quietly. Naham didn’t respond.

"Did you know that many of them became Awakeners later?"

Of course he wouldn’t.

Yuder looked down at Naham’s silent face and recalled Marti, who had struggled to accept her own awakening. Many who nearly died and barely survived later awakened—only to find it unbearable.

People terrified of their own powers, disgusted by them, desperate for suppressors. The man before him refused to even consider that anyone could become an Awakener.

The gap between Awakeners and non-Awakeners was both vast... and incredibly narrow.

"There was a time when I thought... maybe some of what you said made sense."

Back then, what Naham said had felt like it came from reason and conviction.

If someone like him had fought for Awakeners suffering in places the Cavalry couldn’t reach... Yuder had even thought that perhaps a kind of implicit alliance could’ve been formed.

But in the end, Naham had been consumed by revenge and abandoned everything.

The “new world” he now muttered about was nothing more than the delusions of a man who had been brainwashed.