Chapter 32: The Enigmatic Mist and a Rebirth

Despite her profound concern for the enigmatic mist, Aldoran found herself at an impasse, devoid of any tangible leads. With no other recourse, she reluctantly set the matter aside, redirecting her efforts to gather information concerning the elusive bard of the Horus tribe.

As for Liliya and Thrud, since Liliya had woken that morning feeling entirely normal, Aldoran had entrusted them both with the task of investigating clues related to the mist.

The day dawned with exceptional clarity, bathed in bright sunshine and alive with the cheerful symphony of birdsong and fragrant blossoms. Strolling along the town’s paths, breathing in the crisp air, one could not help but feel utterly refreshed and invigorated.

Yet, Qing Yu was struck by a perplexing anomaly: despite such glorious weather, the town’s streets remained eerily devoid of pedestrians. Most of the scattered shops lining the thoroughfares were firmly shuttered, with only one or two general stores slightly ajar, their narrow openings exuding an undeniable aura of solitude.

“Aldoran, there are so few people in this town,” Qing Yu observed, his gaze darting left and right, as if hoping to conjure more figures onto the desolate path.

Alas, as far as Qing Yu could see, the most abundant inhabitants of the road were merely discarded scraps of newspaper, strewn haphazardly.

With a soft ‘snap,’ a newspaper was whisked by the breeze, landing at Aldoran’s feet and lodging itself firmly beneath her shoe.

Aldoran instinctively lowered her gaze.

The newspaper’s headline blared, emblazoned with a line of bold, stark type.

“Town Disappearance Case: Confirmed Missing Persons Reach One Thousand. Where Does the Eerie Mist Truly Hide?”

“The mist?”

Aldoran’s brow furrowed. She picked up the newspaper, shook off the dust, and then unfolded it, beginning to read right there in the middle of the road.

“Since the first mist sighting was reported in town a month ago, the town’s Knight Order has received over three thousand reports of disappearances. Without exception, each report details how an acquaintance of the complainant mysteriously vanished within a day of mentioning a sighting of the strange mist, leaving not a single trace behind.”

Standing beside Aldoran, Qing Yu read the newspaper’s contents word by word, a growing sense of unease slowly stirring within his heart.

“According to reports from the town’s meteorological monitoring center, over the past three months, the town and its surrounding areas have experienced no fog whatsoever. Air quality remains excellent, with no signs of pollution…”

Indeed, the town boasted a remarkably pristine ecological environment, with verdant mountains and clear waters, utterly devoid of any trace of pollution.

Moreover, in a world where technology remained largely undeveloped, the very notion of widespread pollution seemed implausible.

“…Consequently, investigators were compelled to shift their focus to the mental states of both complainants and missing persons. However, Ms. Roalsa, the commander of the town’s Knight Order, noted that during investigations by Knight Order members into the acquaintances of the disappeared, it was discovered that the missing individuals came from all walks of life—vagrants, teachers, doctors, and professionals from various other industries. Those interviewed consistently reported that the missing were generally in good physical health and possessed sound mental states. Furthermore, none of the interviewees themselves exhibited any significant mental health issues. More crucially, in a town with a permanent population of only about five thousand, it is simply impossible for over three thousand people to simultaneously suffer from mental illness…”

The deeper he delved into the article, the more a chilling dread crept up Qing Yu’s spine, an inexplicable terror permeating his heart. The once-warm sunlight now felt less like a comforting embrace and more like countless icy shards, piercing relentlessly into his very being.

“…So, what exactly is this bizarre mist? What did the missing individuals truly witness before their disappearance? What fate awaits this town? As of the report’s publication, Knight Commander Ms. Roalsa has already dispatched emissaries to the nearest metropolis, Sturgel, to seek assistance, with the hope that the dark cloud hanging over the town may soon be dispelled.”

Below lay the journalist’s signature and the article’s publication date.

Having finished reading, Aldoran lowered the newspaper, her expression growing increasingly tense.

The enigma of the mist seemed to deepen with each revelation: peculiar disappearances, a mist visible only to those who vanished, and the mass, inexplicable disappearance of residents. All of it demanded a rational explanation.

“Aldoran, this… this is truly strange, isn’t it?” Qing Yu whispered, timidly clutching the hem of Aldoran’s garment, his gaze darting nervously around their surroundings.

He felt as though their current predicament was something ripped from the pages of a ghost story—clueless, eerie, and terrifying.

What he had anticipated as an enjoyable journey had swiftly devolved into a situation starkly contrasting his wildest imaginings.

“It’s alright,” Aldoran murmured, gently clasping Qing Yu’s trembling hand. She offered reassurance, “With me here, you’ll be fine.”

A faint, rose-pink radiance gradually blossomed within Aldoran’s palm, and the delicate fragrance of flowers softly permeated the air. Aldoran glanced at the back of her hand; the power was surging forth of its own accord, without her conscious activation, transferring directly into Qing Yu’s hand.

The energy seemed to fixate on Qing Yu, clinging stubbornly to his hand, refusing to depart. Even Aldoran’s attempts to withdraw it proved futile.

“Qing Yu?”

Aldoran hastily released his hand and stepped away from Qing Yu.

Yet, it was already too late. The energy had already poured into Qing Yu’s body, a warmth spreading through his very core. The fragrance of flowers emanated from his skin, as pale pink magic circuits intertwined with his own golden ones, tracing intricate patterns across his entire form.

Under Aldoran’s watchful gaze, a soft glow enveloped Qing Yu’s entire being.

Light.

Gentle light.

“Qing Yu!” A blue radiance erupted from Aldoran’s body, and she reached out, desperate to grasp him, but the pink light held her at bay.

This was the first thought that surfaced in Qing Yu’s mind. Something seemed to be emerging within his consciousness—serenity, peace, tenderness.

Simultaneously, however, he was assailed by an inexplicable sense of solemnity and grandeur. Tenderness and gravity intertwined, as wafts of cherry blossom drifted around him. The petals danced and twirled within his mind, forming one beautiful tableau after another, filling his heart with a sensation of sweet bliss.

It was as delectable as freshly spun honey.

But in the very next moment, an deluge of sorrow washed over him—pain, despair, grief, helplessness, and self-reproach flooded his mind, shattering the inner sweetness.

Something, something was taking shape.

A small island in the sea, a longsword etched with blossoms, helpless weeping, the earth ablaze, dust-covered books, a scepter within flowers, sprouting trees.

A cherry-haired girl, a golden-haired mother, a dignified and graceful grandmother, a radiant and joyful father, a gentle and loving grandfather.

Sorrow, self-reproach, escapism, destruction.

These poignant, yet warm, images flickered ceaselessly through Qing Yu’s mind, profoundly stirring his soul.

Petals intertwined and swirled. Within Qing Yu’s mind, a certain pattern gradually became distinct, then all the images dissolved, fading away into the depths of forgotten memory.

“Qing Yu!” Aldoran cried out, her blue power desperately striving to breach the pale pink barrier.

Mother, father, grandpa, grandma.

Cries echoed through Qing Yu’s mind. The cherry-haired girl stood before a towering tree, as the world burned fiercely, everything turning to ash.

From the girl’s eyes, Qing Yu seemed to perceive an emblem formed of flowers.

It was, it was—

A set of scales.

The instant those scales materialized in his mind, Qing Yu seemed to hear a voice calling, ethereal, clear, and gentle, as if from a distant void.

“Greetings, Lord Frigga.”

“Ha!” Qing Yu gasped, snapping back to awareness. The pale pink energy had merged with his body, saturating his magic circuits. In that moment, Qing Yu felt as if he had been reborn, an inexplicable power surging through his heart.

Benevolence, tranquility.

“Are you alright, Qing Yu?” Aldoran quickly took his hand, her voice laced with worry as she inquired about his condition.

“No… no… it’s nothing…” Qing Yu pressed a hand to his head. What were those images he had just seen? He had completely forgotten their content, yet he felt as though the memories were not his own. Something seemed to whisper a reminder to Qing Yu: these were the memories of that cherry-haired girl.

Sorrow, pain, self-reproach, escapism.

He couldn’t fathom why the scenes from the girl’s memory, though undeniably beautiful, were saturated with an ineffable sorrow and agony.

That struggle emanating from the depths of the soul…

“Qing Yu? Qing Yu?” Aldoran grasped Qing Yu’s hand, her own energy pouring into him, attempting to counter the other force.

“Aldoran, that power… it holds no malice…” After a long moment, Qing Yu finally regained his composure. He lifted his head, a rose emblem now visible in his eyes.

“It seems to be helping me…”