“Back ‘then,’ I stored something very important here. And I was the one who guarded it.”

“Something important? Like what?”

Until now, Yuder had never gone into much detail with either Kishiar or Inon about the World Sphere. He hadn’t managed to fully uncover its nature before the end, and the Red Stone itself had become something entirely different since then.

‘In the past, I wouldn’t have said anything.’

Even now, he wondered if sharing those memories might only invite needless worry. But Yuder chose to speak plainly.

“The World Sphere.”

“The World Sphere...? What kind of grandiose name is that?” 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

“I remember hearing that name before,” Kishiar murmured, his gaze heavy. “Wasn’t it mentioned when you were investigating the strange phenomena occurring throughout the world? You said you found little result, but I recall the name came up.”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“What is it, exactly?” Inon pressed, demanding a proper explanation.

Yuder fixed his eyes on the exact spot where the World Sphere had once rested and began to speak.

“It’s another name for the Red Stone. The mages of the previous era took it and studied it, and what remained—just an empty shell—they named the World Sphere. Maybe they found it too strange to just throw away. They placed it here under that name and assigned the Cavalry to guard it.”

“The Red Stone... That’s the one you said had its power extracted into medium vessels and is now split and stored separately, right?”

“Correct.”

As Yuder nodded briefly at Inon’s words, Kishiar followed up with another question.

“So when you say the World Sphere was a shell, does that mean it no longer held any of the Red Stone’s power?”

“That was my /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ impression. Since I was too late to begin a proper investigation, I couldn’t determine what happened to the original energy. Still, I thought... maybe there might be some lingering trace in the shell, and I wanted to study it. But...”

Yuder shook his head as he recalled the World Sphere he had seen in his previous life.

“Everything ended before I could investigate it properly.”

Kishiar and Inon fell silent. Naturally, given the group present, it was impossible to avoid this kind of heavy atmosphere. Yuder had tried to explain it briefly to avoid this very thing—but it hadn’t helped.

It was Inon’s next question that finally cut through the tension.

“So why’d you stick something like the World Sphere here, of all places? Surely there were other options.”

“Well, this is a Sanctuary. It’s easy to control who enters, there’s nothing nearby, and it’s still relatively close to the capital. I guess they thought it was ideal.”

“Still, hiding it under a statue in a secret compartment? They could’ve just built a proper vault.”

“That probably has to do with the story behind the statue.”

This time, it was Kishiar who answered Inon’s question.

“This statue wasn’t originally here. It stood in the Dawn Palace. The first Empress, its original owner, sculpted it herself while mourning her late husband. They say she wrote down her deepest feelings—thoughts she couldn’t share with anyone—and sealed them in this secret space.”

Kishiar’s eyes remained on the compartment, thoughtful and quiet.

“After she passed away, her descendants examined the secret space and discovered that whatever was placed in it didn’t deteriorate easily and couldn’t be detected through conventional means. There may have been other functions, but those are lost to time. Nowadays, such things can be achieved with magical artifacts, but back then, they were considered extraordinary. Most magic, after all, was like that.”

“So basically, this secret space functioned like a preservation box... a kind of magical artifact.”

“But now it holds no mana at all,” Inon muttered flatly after Yuder’s explanation. “I guess the one who made it wasn’t a high mage.”

Kishiar chuckled softly and nodded.

“You’re quite good at distinguishing between those who were called High Mages and those who weren’t.”

Unlike today, early magic was mostly temporary in effect. Only a rare few could leave behind their power long-term—those were the ones who earned the title of High Mage. The first Empress had magic, but was never referred to as one of them.

“She undoubtedly cast a powerful spell over this space, but that magic faded within a hundred years of her death. After that, the secret compartment remained, but without power. That’s when the royal family decided to move the statue here to honor her memory.”

“So no one maintains the statue either, then?”

“Not really. It’s more like tradition. Supposedly, the Empress expressed a wish for the statue to weather naturally with time. There’s no formal record of that—it’s more of an oral tradition, but the imperial family has many such tales passed down that way.”

Yuder glanced up again at the statue of the First Emperor.

‘To weather naturally...’

The dead never age in memory. Maybe the Empress, unable to watch her husband grow older, wanted the statue to age in his place. That might explain why this statue was so different—why it wasn’t maintained, why it bore no embellishment, and why it had been left to the elements.

“Well, either way, this is a place steeped in legendary tales. If you wanted to hide and protect something dangerous in plain sight, this was as good a spot as any. Even if it didn’t have much protective power, the association with the First Emperor would’ve lent it credibility.”

That was true. Even nobles who obsessed over erasing the traces of the old imperial line—like Kachian or House Diarca—had left the First Emperor’s legacy untouched. They often emphasized that their lineage had branched from his, not replaced it.

“Let’s move on to Ghilandre Hill, then.”

Inon finally looked away from the statue. They had paused in the forest’s central region for a while, with Inon searching his surroundings, seemingly trying to pinpoint something. Now, it seemed he’d found it. As he started walking, Yuder followed, asking,

“What were you trying to find this whole time?”

“The entrance to Ghilandre Hill. After all this time, it’s hard to tell where it is.”

“You said earlier nothing had changed.”

“Shut up. It’s been a thousand years—I’m allowed to get a bit turned around. That statue’s moved, and they changed the trees around here. The flow of magic in this place is completely different now.”

Inon snapped irritably, and Kishiar laughed softly.

“What’s so funny? Does it amuse you when I yell at this brat?”

“No, not at all. I just realized something. I knew Yuder treated you more comfortably than others, but seeing it up close... it really feels like watching family. It’s a pleasant sight.”

Inon’s brewing anger evaporated, leaving him flustered. He exhaled in exasperation and ran a hand through his hair.

“...You’ve got a silver tongue, you know that?”

“Everyone says that to me. Even High Mage Luma acknowledged it—it’s given me no small amount of confidence.”

Yuder hadn’t said a word, but Inon turned his scowl toward him instead of Kishiar, brow deeply furrowed. Yuder responded only with his usual blank expression.

“Mm... Stop here. I think this is the spot.”

Finally, Inon came to a halt. They were a short distance from the center of the forest. Nothing seemed remarkable about the area, but Inon scanned the surroundings carefully, then gave a small nod.

“Stay sharp. Step only where I step. Don’t touch anything until we arrive.”

Inon said this without emotion. Then he gently touched a nearby tree and began to walk. Yuder followed in his footsteps, and behind him came the soft sound of Kishiar following as well.

As they walked, Inon touched several more trees. There was no obvious pattern to which ones he chose, and it was unclear what exactly he was doing.

That’s when Yuder began to feel something strange.

At first, Inon’s footprints had seemed faint, but they were gradually growing deeper. It wasn’t that Inon had suddenly grown heavier—but as Yuder stepped into those prints, he began to feel as if he were becoming lighter.

‘What is this?’

Just as confusion creased his brow, one side of Yuder’s vision flipped.

He was walking straight ahead, but now, through one eye, the world appeared upside down. The trees and sky had somehow inverted and were now beneath him, while he, Inon, and Kishiar walked a narrow boundary between worlds.

‘This is...’

He blinked each eye in turn, testing what he saw. And then it clicked—the inverted view came from the eye enhanced with his magical insight.

‘That means this must be a manifestation of Luma’s magic visible only through the Sight.’

The upside-down world in one eye. The normal world in the other.

As he gazed, stunned, at the bizarre vision—trees and sky reaching toward a mirrored center, the ground seemingly above and below—Yuder felt a strange shift.

It no longer felt like they were walking flat terrain.

No—it felt like they were climbing.

Like a hill.