Chapter 9: Hage (1)

Chapter 9: Hage (1)

The early morning sun filtered through the heavy fog that lingered over the forsaken realm, casting a dim glow over the rugged landscape. Sebastian's boots crunched softly against the dirt road as he walked, the faint outlines of a small village just starting to take shape in the distance. His cloak, a light brown that blended with the earthy tones of the village outskirts, swayed gently with each step. It was a far cry from the rich, flowing attire typical of the Silva family, but Sebastian had made sure to swap out his usual ensemble for something less conspicuous.

Hage, the forsaken village nestled between jagged hills, was where his journey had led him. It was a place the former Sebastian had only heard of in passing—an impoverished, overlooked corner of the kingdom. Yet, despite the unfamiliar terrain and lackluster atmosphere, there was a purpose to his presence here.

As he walked, Sebastian's thoughts drifted to the conversation he'd had with Alfred the night before. They had spoken late into the evening, Alfred's voice full of its usual quiet authority as he shared the news. Word had spread of a peculiar figure expected to attend the grimoire acceptance ceremony in Hage today: a witch, rumored to possess dream magic, a rare and elusive gift. She was said to wear a pink hat and to be perpetually sleepy, which piqued Sebastian's attention. Even though it might be a while before Dorothy can pull off Glamour World, she's still super valuable. She's one of the few who can dodge Megicula's detection and cut ties with those pesky curses tied to her name. Without her, any treatment for Acier and Nozel would be impossible without Megicula catching on.

Alfred had been certain of the witch's arrival, and that certainty had pushed Sebastian to make the decision to leave the Noble realm earlier than planned. The distance between the forsaken realm and the noble estates was considerable, so he'd parted ways with Acier right after their conversation. Acier had tried to convince him to stay, to wait and talk more at a more leisurely pace, but Sebastian couldn't afford to waste time. The longer he delayed, the higher the chances the witch would slip through his fingers.

Sebastian was pretty sure he'd run into Dorothy again at the Magic Knights Exams, but he wasn't too optimistic about the Silver Eagles winning her loyalty. With squads like The Grey Deer, White Snake, and Blue Rose in the mix, and given that the Silver Eagles are one of the more classist squads in the kingdom, he felt they had a tough road ahead.

And now here he was, walking through the narrow streets of Hage in the soft morning light, his hood pulled low over his face to avoid drawing attention. His attire—a simple pair of black pants, a plain shirt, and the cloak—was as unremarkable as it could be. Beneath the cloak, Sebastian tugged at the material of his shirt, feeling the unfamiliar coarseness against his skin. He couldn't help but grimace, thinking of the luxurious silver robes he usually wore as a Silva. Despite their elegance, he hated them. They were impractical, and stiff, and did nothing but make him stand out in the worst ways.

The very thought made him shake his head in disapproval. The Silva's—his family—were known for their impeccable looks and silver hair, but their fashion sense? Garbage. Especially the men. Their long, flowing silver capes, paired with those ridiculous slippers, made them look like clowns rather than nobles. He'd long held this opinion, but it seemed especially poignant now, surrounded by the drab reality of Hage. Here, in this forsaken place, the absurdity of Silva fashion felt even more stark in comparison to the rough practicality of the villagers' attire.

Sebastian chuckled to himself, adjusting the cloak to ensure none of his silver hair escaped. Normally, his long hair was tied in a rat tail—a signature of the Silva family—but today he had gathered it into a tight man bun, high atop his head, covered under his hood. The last thing he wanted was to give away his identity. Silver hair, while beautiful, had a way of attracting unwanted attention, and he couldn't risk anyone recognizing him for who he truly was.

As he walked through the village, passing by modest homes and crooked fences, his thoughts wandered further. In any other anime or manga, he mused, silver-haired or white-haired characters were always portrayed as these stunning, badass figures—heroes or villains with a sense of style and power that made them larger than life. But the Silva's? Despite their natural good looks, they somehow managed to squander their potential, reducing themselves to walking fashion disasters. Their looks and hair were wasted on them, Sebastian thought with an amused shake of his head.

He toyed with the idea of cutting his hair. The thought had crossed his mind many times before, but it lingered longer now. A drastic change might be exactly what he needed—cutting off his long locks, perhaps even changing his entire wardrobe. Maybe he'd trade in the extravagant silver robes for something more practical, more his style. But then again, such a change would undoubtedly cause more of a stir than it was worth. A Silva without their signature hair and attire? The very idea was scandalous.

Still, he couldn't shake the thought. Even if it did attract attention, it was better than walking around in clothes that made him feel like a fool. He grimaced, imagining himself back in those gaudy silver slippers and oversized capes. No, something had to change. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.

As Sebastian strolled through Hage, he spotted the bustling central square, already buzzing with preparations for the grimoire ceremony. Villagers were busy setting up stalls and decorations, the air filled with their lively chatter. Parents were soothing their kids, while little ones argued over who would snag the best grimoire before heading to the tower. He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and slipped into the shadows, keeping an eye out for any sign of the young witch. The day was just getting started, but it felt like there was something—or someone—out there worth searching for.

And as he stood there, blending into the village like just another wandering traveler, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Today, the forsaken realm felt less forsaken, and more like the beginning of something far greater.

Sebastian shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He had spent enough time mulling over the details of his conversation with Alfred and his disdain for Silva fashion. Now, with the day stretching out before him and the grimoire acceptance ceremony still hours away, he decided to explore the village. It would be a long wait until evening, and the charm of Hage beckoned him to see more of it.

His first stop, naturally, would be the church. It was a focal point in any village, and Sebastian was curious to see what this humble sanctuary would look like in a forsaken place like Hage. He set off at a leisurely pace, moving silently through the village streets, his boots barely making a sound on the uneven cobblestone paths. The villagers were already active, bustling about with their daily routines, though some paused to greet him with a wave or a friendly word.

"Morning, traveler!" one of the older men called out, tipping his hat.

Sebastian nodded back with a polite smile, responding to each greeting with a quiet gesture or a brief word. There was a certain peace in the air, a sense of simplicity and contentment that made him sigh in bliss. Hage, despite its reputation as part of the forsaken realm, had an unpretentious beauty to it. The rolling hills, the crooked fences, the modest homes—it was a place where life moved slowly, where people lived with little but seemed content.

Looking around, Sebastian found himself admiring the scene. In another world, he thought, if things had been different, he might have loved living in a place like this. The peaceful isolation, the quiet streets, the absence of the pressures that weighed on him in the noble realm—it was idyllic in its own way. But then, as his eyes wandered toward the edge of the village, his gaze settled on the ominous sight in the distance: the looming silhouette of the demon skull. The massive structure hung over the horizon like a dark omen, casting a long shadow over the peaceful village.

Sebastian's smile faded. As beautiful as Hage was, that skull was a constant reminder that this place wasn't as tranquil as it seemed. It was a forsaken realm for a reason.

He soon arrived at the church, a small, unassuming building nestled on the outskirts of the village. It was simple, with twin wooden doors and stone walls that had clearly seen better days. The cracks in the stone and the sagging roof made it clear that this church had been neglected for years. Sebastian sighed softly as he stood in front of the doors. The gap in wealth between the forsaken and noble realms was painfully obvious here. Even if this is just an orphanage church, he thought, this place is no home for children.

He knocked on the doors, and after a moment, he heard the creak of old wood as one of them slowly opened. The sound made him frown, his eyes wandering over the structure's worn exterior. It was barely holding together, with gaps in the walls that would make it unbearably cold in the winter. Sebastian imagined the freezing drafts seeping through those holes, the children shivering inside. This building wasn't fit for anyone to live in, let alone the six children who would soon call it home. Frostbite was a real risk here.

Before he could dwell further on the state of the church, the door opened fully, revealing a middle-aged man standing in the doorway. He had short, black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, his long black robe trimmed with wide white bands at the hem and cuffs. A high-collared, white mantle rested on his shoulders, and around his neck hung a gold cross that glinted softly in the morning light.

Sebastian immediately recognized him. Father Orsi, the priest of this church. But something was off. He looked younger, far younger than the gray-haired man Sebastian remembered seeing in the anime. Inwardly, Sebastian marveled at the difference. So this is what Father Orsi looked like in his younger days.

"Oh, a visitor?" Father Orsi greeted him with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling in pleasant surprise. "I'm the priest of this church, Father Orsi. Please, come in."

Sebastian nodded, stepping inside as Father Orsi gestured for him to enter. The interior of the church was just as modest as the outside, but there was a warmth to the place that transcended its physical state. Despite its run-down appearance, it had the feeling of a sanctuary—a place where, no matter how bad things got, people would still find refuge.

Sebastian gave a light nod as he stepped into the church, but his frown deepened as he took in the state of the interior. The condition inside was even worse than the cracked and worn exterior had suggested. The wooden benches lining the small chapel were splintered and cracked, spider webs clung to the corners of the ceiling, and a thick layer of dust covered nearly every surface. Stains—some old, others more recent—spotted the floors and worn-out rugs, evidence of neglect and hard times.

Father Orsi, noticing Sebastian's expression, sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "I, uh, apologize for the mess," he said with an awkward smile. "This place used to be a lot cleaner, I promise. But now that I've got two babies to look after, I don't have as much time to keep up with everything." He glanced around at the clutter with a guilty look, clearly aware of how bad things had gotten.

Sebastian nodded indifferently, his eyes scanning the dusty room. "Have you requested the clergy to send you a helper?" he asked, his voice even, but his gaze piercing.

Orsi sighed, hanging his head slightly in frustration as he tried to maintain his forced smile. "I did," he admitted, "but, well, the Church can't exactly force anyone to come to a place like this. And let's be honest, the odds of someone willingly moving out to Hage, at the edge of the forsaken realm... they're slim to none."

Sebastian could only agree. It was true; the forsaken realm wasn't exactly a place that attracted volunteers. This village was far from the comforts of the capital and noble realms. His mind wandered briefly to the future—he realized it would still be a few years before Lily Aquaria, the kind-hearted nun, arrived at this church. Until then, Orsi was on his own.

As Sebastian considered this, his admiration for the priest grew. Orsi had taken in Asta and Yuno as helpless babies, despite having little in the way of funds or manpower. The village was isolated, impoverished, and harsh, yet Orsi had seen those two infants and couldn't just leave them to freeze in the winter. Not only had he saved them from certain death, but he had chosen to raise them, despite the overwhelming odds. And in the years to come, he would adopt four more children, building a family in this crumbling, forsaken place.

Orsi interrupted Sebastian's thoughts, his voice hesitant but polite. "So, are you here to pray, or perhaps make a confession?" he asked, trying to gauge Sebastian's purpose.

Sebastian shook his head and reached into his cloak, pulling out a small pouch. Without a word, he pressed the pouch into Orsi's hands. "I'm here to make a donation," he said simply.

Orsi blinked in surprise, feeling the weight of the pouch immediately. His fingers loosened the drawstrings, and through the small opening, he saw the unmistakable gleam of gold coins. His eyes widened in shock. "This... this is..." he stammered, his voice trembling. The weight of the pouch alone had been shocking, but seeing the gleam of gold was something entirely different.

Sebastian, calm and composed, gave him a slight smile. "Go ahead, take it."

But Orsi hesitated, his brows knitting together in concern. "Are you sure this isn't stolen?" he asked, his voice dropping to a worried whisper. "I—I don't want to put the Church in danger. If this money comes from dubious means..."

Sebastian chuckled softly, lifting the edge of his cloak to reveal his silver hair. Orsi's eyes widened even more, recognition immediately flashing across his face.

"House Silva..." Orsi whispered, his voice shaky. He quickly moved to bow, stumbling over his words. "I—I had no idea! Please, forgive me, I didn't realize—"

Sebastian quickly held up a hand to stop him, his tone suddenly more urgent. "No need for that," he said firmly. "I'm here on a secret mission. I'd rather you treat me as a normal person while I'm here."

Eventually, the forest thinned, and Sebastian found himself standing at the foot of the enormous demon skull. Its hollow eyes stared down at him, a haunting reminder of the epic battle fought long ago. Sebastian exhaled, trying to steady the excitement building inside him. This was a sacred place—a place where history had been written in blood and stone.

He began his ascent, climbing the ridged surface of the skull carefully, gripping the rough bone as he pulled himself up higher and higher. Every now and then, he paused, catching glimpses of the vast landscape below, a mix of sprawling forest and scattered villages. But his true focus lay ahead—at the top, where the statue of Lemiel Silvamillion Clover, the first Wizard King, awaited him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sebastian reached the peak. There, standing tall and regal against the sky, was the stone effigy of Lemiel. The statue's expression was calm, noble, and full of the quiet strength that had defined the man in life. Sebastian walked slowly toward it, each step reverent. His breath caught in his throat. He was here—standing before the very monument he had once only seen through the glow of a screen.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. A small movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see a tiny antimagic bird—a familiar creature in this world—flutter gracefully toward the statue. In its beak, it held a delicate flower, which it carefully placed at Lemiel's feet before perching itself on the Wizard King's stone shoulder.

Sebastian blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the scene. The bird, small and unimposing, narrowed its eyes at him as if scrutinizing his presence. It was only then that the realization hit him—this wasn't just any bird. This was Secre Swallowtail, the bird who had loyally protected Lemiel's and Licht's legacy for centuries, who would eventually regain her human form, about 15 years from now. Sebastian hadn't planned on encountering her quite yet, but fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

He paused, contemplating his next move. In his original plan, he hadn't intended to make contact with Secre until much later. But now, with her right here in front of him, the wheels in his mind began to turn. Her presence was often disregarded or overlooked by many, making her an ideal ally to use in the shadows. He could leverage her forgotten status to his advantage—after all, who better to help him navigate the complexities of this world than someone who had already been through it all?

But for now, he decided not to act too hastily. Secre's gaze remained fixed on him, cautious yet curious. Sebastian met her eyes for a brief moment before offering a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of her presence. The antimagic bird tilted its head, seemingly satisfied, before ruffling its feathers and settling more comfortably on Lemiel's shoulder.

With a final glance at the statue, Sebastian stepped back, taking in the full scene before him—the statue, the demon skull, and the quiet bird that watched over it all. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned and made his way back down the skull, the excitement still simmering within him.

Sebastian was just about to descend from the demon skull, ready to put some distance between himself and this sacred place, when a voice—deep and gruff—sliced through the air.

"Sebastian?"

The sound of his name being called like that made his entire body freeze. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing, searching for the source. It didn't take long to spot the man standing a short distance away, watching him with a raised brow of confusion. Unlike Sebastian, the man wore no cloak or hood to conceal his identity. In fact, his appearance was strikingly familiar, so much so that Sebastian's pupils widened in shock.

The man was tall, towering even, with messy black hair that framed his rugged face, but what stood out most was the unmistakable green patch of hair on the right side of his head. His clothes were regal yet practical—he wore a high-collared shirt beneath a dark grey jacket lined with intricate green scrollwork. A red fabric belt cinched the jacket closed, and around his chest and waist, five gold strands of keys jingled softly as he moved. Dark grey pants and black boots completed his look, the boots trimmed with red and adorned with gold, diamond-shaped ornaments. Draped over his shoulders was a long cape, dark grey and lined with white fur, which flowed down to a mantle held together by a gold chain and red tassels hanging down in front.

Sebastian's throat tightened as the reality of who stood before him sank in.

One of the two people he had been actively avoiding since he had arrived in this world. And now, here he was, staring him down with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment, as though trying to make sense of why Sebastian, of all people, was lurking near the demon skull.

Conrad Leto.

Omake

Secre perched on Lemiel's shoulder, her small bird eyes narrowing as she watched Sebastian approach. She was ready to act if needed, but before she could, he spoke.

"I know who you are. Secre Swallowtail"

Secre's eyes widened in surprise. How could he know? But when he called her Secre Swallowtail and mentioned she was Lemiel's assistant, it was clear this wasn't just some clueless stranger. Then, to top it off, he pointed at Lemiel's statue and said it wasn't just a statue, but the real Lemiel.

Her eyes narrowed further, and she let out a sharp squeak. "What do you want?"

Sebastian, unusually serious, replied, "I need an answer to a question."

Secre gave a small nod, curious now.

Pointing at the statue again, Sebastian asked, "Why's he standing like that?"

Secre blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Lemiel was badly hurt, right? So why is he posing like that? It's like a full-on hero stance. Did he ask you to wait before you sealed him so he could strike a pose?"

Secre froze, trying to process what he just said.

Sebastian pushed further, still dead serious. "Like, did he picture people coming by in the future and thought, 'I better look cool for my fans?'"

Secre just stood there, her face heating up as she remembered something she hadn't thought about in centuries.

485 years ago:

Lemiel was lying on the ground, barely alive. Secre was ready to seal him, sad but determined when suddenly he waved her off.

"Wait, Secre," he rasped, struggling to sit up.

"Yes, my prince?" she answered.

Coughing, blood dripping from his wounds, Lemiel forced himself to stand. Despite being on the brink of death, he posed dramatically—grimoire open in one hand, the other pointing heroically out toward the horizon, standing tall at the edge of the demon skull.

Without looking back at her, he said, "Alright, Secre. Now."

Secre was dumbstruck. Here was her dying prince, posing like a hero in his last moments, and she had to resist every urge to punch him for it.

Back to the present:

Secre's wings twitched as she snapped back to reality, the memory making her blush hard. She glanced at Sebastian, her pride wounded.

"Don't ask," she muttered, clearly embarrassed.

Sebastian would never get a clear answer to this question.