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yusei-tales · 1 month ago

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The Magician of Crossroads (Chapter 1)

I already know what kind of ending will come if I continue like this. Even knowing that, I’ve let it drag on until now—that is wholly my fault. So here, I mustn’t be reckless, mustn’t hurt anyone.

Alone, I resolve and resolve again. Even if that resolve might scatter like a fleeting daydream when we meet face to face; even if, for me, all of this is but a momentary fragment of time—still, surely, I will end up regretting it.

Whichever crossroads I choose, all that remains for me will be nothing but self-reproach, resentment, and despair. Knowing this so well, I find that there is no one to resent but myself.

The Magician of Crossroads

It was a day just like any other, with good weather. In a small hut nestled deep in the forest, she and I were seated. I wore the same worn cloak as always, but she, as though she were meeting someone important, had dressed to impress. She’d tied a red ribbon in her hair and donned a new white dress that suited her well.

As a gentle breeze stirred the thin linen curtain, I cast a sidelong glance at its soft swaying and found myself lost in thought about how I might send her away. Of course, I kept a smile on my face, careful not to show any signs of trouble.

Just as I was about to speak, she beat me to it with a bright voice. "You're smiling, but your mind’s somewhere else, isn't it? I can tell. It’s obvious."

My throat went dry.

"No, not at all. Would you like some more tea?"

Though I knew she couldn’t read minds, it always felt like she could see through me completely. When had that begun? It wasn’t like this at first.

"Don’t dodge the question. But I’ll take the tea. Thank you, Laden."

The pout from earlier disappeared, and she smiled brightly. Seeing her face, words escaped me for a moment.

It was always like this. Every time I met her, I felt drawn in. Today, I was certain it would be the same.

In the beginning, the gods of Time and Light were born from darkness. Hand in hand, they emerged from the rifts in the void and surveyed their surroundings.

The god of Light spoke: "In this empty darkness, all feels hollow. Here, there is neither chaos nor order. Nothing holds meaning."

Facing them, the god of Time replied: "Yesterday is the same as today. Nothing changes or grows. Only we know of this emptiness—such a shame."

Together, they stood and declared: "I will bring light to this place." "Then I will bring order to this place." "So that all may know what is up and what is down." "So that all may know when is yesterday and when is tomorrow."

Thus, they scattered pieces of themselves into the darkness, and from these fragments, the world was born. Now, the world turns under the light and flows within the bounds of time, bound by set laws.

The magician is the only being who diverges from the world’s rules. All the more so, they are warned to refrain from meddling. For they are mere byproducts of fragments that should have faded away after creating the world. Their existence does not align with perfection.

Many magicians have already disappeared. I will, too, in time.

***

“Are you a magician, mister?”

Those were the words of a young child, eyes wide with innocence, that sparked everything. Without thinking, I answered, "Yes, I am."

There was no need to hide it. Still, magicians rarely revealed themselves. It was an unspoken rule that kept them from unnecessary entanglements with the world.

"I’ve lived for a thousand years, or maybe ten thousand… perhaps even longer. I’ve been here since the world began."

But something about this child—the innocent curiosity and the refreshing boldness—compelled me to answer, and I responded with a hint of humor, speaking in a slightly exaggerated tone.

"I am Laden, the Magician of Crossroads."

Surely, she would soon forget. And even if she didn’t, a human child is born only to return to the earth swiftly. If it became bothersome, I could simply disappear for a while as I had before.

Or so I thought back then.

To be saying this now means, in the end, things didn’t go as planned.

***

Despite their abilities, magicians do not live among people or flaunt their powers. It’s simple—they were not made for that. Because magicians are fragments of the gods who should have built and then vanished from the world, the more they use their powers, the more they lose their will, gradually becoming part of the world itself.

When the world still remembered the gods, magicians were revered. Called “fragments of the divine,” they would step forth, nurturing the creations beloved by their gods and fading only after fulfilling their roles. Those who wished to interfere excessively with the world were either stopped by other fragments or disappeared naturally, following the flow of cause and effect.

And those who vanished—only other fragments retained any memory of them. By now, few remember, and only the fragments who value quiet, solitary lives remain.

In a world where the divine is no longer remembered, they became known as "magicians," existing only as ghostly tales or ancient legends.

If no one remembers you, are you truly there? If no one acknowledges your existence, are you truly alive?

We exist. We were here. But if all of us disappear, if that day comes… then, our existence would be as if it had never been.

Was it too greedy to hope that someone would remember us? Some grew attached to humans, hoping they’d be remembered, though in the end, it was all in vain. Still, I think, in their final moments, they were happy.

How do I know? Well, wouldn’t you know better?

Oh, don’t play innocent. If you don’t know, then who would? You, of all people, should know how to make a choice without regret. You, the Magician of Crossroads. Yes, you.

***

The meaning behind the title "Magician of Crossroads" might make you curious. To put it simply, it means this: “Foreknowledge.”

As a fragment of the god of Time, I can see the future—more precisely, I know the outcome of my actions. Thus, in moments of choice, I can decide in advance what action will benefit me.

Though faint, this power is indeed akin to divine authority, a gift bestowed solely upon me. It’s why I’ve survived for so long and why some even call me the greatest magician. But this ability is also a curse. There are inevitabilities one cannot avoid. What good are crossroads if you cannot choose either path? This power merely offers a chance to select the lesser evil, forcing me to walk a road of despair, fully aware of the outcome.

And there’s another flaw: though I see the outcome, I cannot see the path that leads there.

So, when I unwittingly glimpsed the child’s future, I was struck with alarm.

Because from the moment she became entangled with me, this child’s fate—regardless of the form—was sealed to end in death because of me.

That was something I realized after our third meeting. Despite my warnings, she somehow managed to find me, even as I secluded myself deep in the forest. Exasperated and unsure how to shake her off, I resorted to my power.

Yet an entirely unexpected result came forth. Normally, I’d see only the near future consequences of my actions. But this time, I saw nothing at all—just a clear end of death at the end of all possible paths, with no way to avoid it. It was a prophecy, absolute and inescapable.

But why? How could it be? There was no way for me to understand what could lead to such an outcome. It was something beyond my control.

In disbelief, I tried using my ability again, only to find the same result.

It had been a long time since something shocked me like that. The child, oblivious, had approached and tugged on my sleeve.

"I found you."

So carefree. Out of sheer curiosity, I tried using my power once more, imagining I might run far and hide.

The outcome?

She stumbles in the forest, meets her end in an accident.

Unbelievable.

"Do you like hide-and-seek that much, mister? You made it hard to find you this time!"

If I erased her memory of me, what would happen? Is there still one who could do that? No—she might die before I even find such a person.

"And you know, mister, your head sparkles so bright! I can see it from far away!"

Technically, this isn’t my fault, but this really, really leaves a bad taste, doesn’t it?

#The Tale of Magicians(Fragment of gods)#oc:laden #oc:linne #The Magician of Crossroads

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yusei-tales · 1 month ago

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Ergonia's Forest (Chapter 1)

What exactly is love?

"Ergonia," "Help me, Ergonia."

Is it really right to call that 'love'?

"Please… There's no one else I can ask… it's only you I can count on."

At the very least, that mad magician, standing there so desperately begging, must believe that’s what he’s doing. I can see everything within my own space even with my eyes closed. A blond magician stands at the threshold. In the depths of my forest, "Ergonia’s Forest," the only one who could find my home without getting lost and knock on my door is him.

"Ergonia…"

I finally open my tightly closed lips. My voice, intentionally loud enough for him to hear, is tinged with irritation. But there’s no real chill to drive him away.

"Ugh, enough already. You’re making my head pound! This is my space, my house. If you’re going to whine, do it outside!"

Then, I stomp my feet three times, thud, thud, thud, against the wooden floor as I get up from my seat. Maybe because I built this tree house myself, the resonance climbing up my legs is quite satisfying. This is a banishment spell. With three stomps, I can drive out even a king from my space.

"Ergonia, you know that doesn’t work on me. You’ll let me in anyway, so stop with the theatrics."

Except for that cheeky exception.

"A friend who only shows up when it suits him, huh?"

"…"

"You want me to save someone?"

"…"

"Do you have any idea what happens to a magician who interferes with the world? Ruining your own life is your choice, but why should I get involved? You, of all people, know why I live shut away here."

"…"

"Hey, stop staring and say something!"

A jewel glittering from his ear catches the light, swaying with my intensity. That face could have easily charmed those swayed by appearances, and his sad expression could have stirred sympathy in anyone who didn’t know him as long as I have. Long ago, I admit, I enjoyed looking at his face just because he was handsome. Maybe at first, that alone seemed like payment enough. But how long can someone live on just a handsome face? Life (though we’re not humans) is give and take. You have to bring something to the table.

"Whatever you bring, I’m not granting this favor, Laden!"

This request would risk my very existence, and there’s no reward that could equal that.

Therefore,

"I don’t care if you’re completely enamored with some human and are ready to die over it. It’s your business, not mine. Sort it out yourselves. I’m staying here, living peacefully, quietly, conducting my research. So don’t come barging into my forest!"

No involvement. I refuse to get involved this time!

"How can you say that? You haven’t even heard the story yet."

"Like it’d make a difference. Hey, hey, stop looking all pitiful. Humans die eventually, you know. That’s the natural order. It’s foolish for you to cling to it. How long have you lived, and you’re still getting hung up on this? The ‘strongest magician in the world’ has surely looked away plenty of times before."

"It’s Outh's curse."

I’m momentarily silent at the mention of that dusty, old name.

Outh? Come to think of it, I haven’t heard that name in ages. I can still hear the voice that cried, "You can do it! Why are you running away?" echoing in my ears. Is he still alive? That one was annoyingly persistent.

"What’s that fool got to do with it?"

Laden drops his gaze, letting out a shallow sigh. I know his expressions well after all these years. Whenever he has to face something unpleasant, he makes that face and looks away. It’s just one of the rules of a magician’s life in this world—a life law one inevitably learns after living long enough.

"It’s because of me."

When Daria died, he looked like this. When Elgie passed, he looked like this. When Pscheka disappeared, when Shile and Phetan were no longer of this world, when Elge, Arnoa, Jult, Unchen, Bryce, Nadam, and those whose names I’ve long forgotten faded away. During all those times, I stood by, quietly watching Laden, while Outh was always the loud one.

"You could save them! You could show them a better way! It’s nothing to you! Why do you just stand by and watch?"

What started as a plea turned into a demand, then a desperate entreaty, which transformed into reproach and resentment, eventually festering into hatred.

All because Laden possessed the ability to see “the paths ahead”—the power to know future outcomes. Among us magicians, gifted with the shards of light and time from our origin, it was an ability considered miraculous, but for some reason, he never liked it. There were a few who sided with Laden, and I was one of them.

"Quit making easy comments. If you’ve done even one thing for Laden, maybe you’d have the right to speak."

"Ergonia, you’re close to him. You don’t understand my feelings. Have you ever thought about what it’s like to see everyone go? There aren’t many left of us. Really, only a few remain."

"So what? When it’s time, it’s time."

"…That’s why I hate you. You’ll never understand."

Straightening his slouched shoulders, he turns toward me, his eyes fierce as he spits out his venomous words. For once, his voice has strength, like he’s been holding back for a long time.

"Having power but doing nothing is a sin. What’s the difference between doing nothing and not existing? You’re better off gone. You only give false hope. You might as well disappear."

A skinny figure with dark hair and a navy-blue scarf. Once, he might have looked at me with kinder eyes. Maybe I even saw him smile long ago, though it was so long ago that the memory is nearly dust.

"…Annoying brat."

A voice calls out from outside the door.

"I know. I bring bad luck."

"Good you know. But this time, I wasn’t talking about you."

"Then let me in. I’m getting tired of standing out here. It’s damp, I’m carrying something, and my arm is sore. And there are probably bugs down here, so I can’t put it down."

With a defeated tone, he finds a way in, and I finally relent. With a snap of my fingers, the person outside is suddenly inside, standing before me.

"It’s been a while, Ergonia."

The face that’s the same as it was a century, a thousand years, an eternity ago.

Holding a human corpse.

The Witch of the Forest, Ergonia. That’s my title. Who knows how long ago, I created this space apart from the world and nestled within it. It’s a dense forest with a mental barrier, so no one can enter without my permission. My beloved forest. The greatest masterpiece of my life. A waterfall, a spring, moss on the stones, the scent of wet wood after rain, and a small house nestled among it all. It’s a place anyone would dream of. I had crafted my own world, intending to live quietly and peacefully. No chance of unwanted entanglements, no unwelcome encounters.

Being called a recluse is at least tolerable. Ergonia the Witch. Ergonia the Crone. I’d go find and smack anyone who called me that.

The term 'hiding' doesn’t fit. I never ran away. Still, there are a few uninvited guests who visit. Laden is one of those rare visitors.

"One day, you’ll feel the same way I do. Then, against your own will, you’ll step out into the world." Or so someone once told me. Well, I’ll think about it if that day comes.

It felt wrong to place someone else’s body on the cold floor, so I summoned a low table and laid it down there.

In the witch’s hut deep in the forest, a calm conversation unfolds beside a corpse.

"That Pscheka’s gone, and now he’s lost it." I sip on my tea, brewed from herbs, warming me from within. "She was the only one who could understand him. That one’s such a loner."

"A loner?"

"An outsider. No friends. How can you roam the outside and not know that?"

"That, maybe, but I was just surprised to hear such words from you…"

I’m about to clench my fist in response but hold back when I see Laden’s face. Today, he looks like a drowned cat with all his spirit gone, so I don’t feel like arguing.

"A magician involving themselves in another magician’s matters is also a taboo. He’s completely lost it."

"I’m not entirely unsympathetic." His voice is calm, almost too calm, which irritates me a little.

"It’s not about understanding."

"I don’t really like my power."

"Ungrateful talk."

"It gives people hope as if something could be done, only to leave them with nothing. That’s why I hate seeing the future."

"And yet you’ve lived so long because of it."

"Would you like to take it, then?"

"Don’t waste words on something impossible."

Glancing at the body on the table, I ask,

"Do you love her?"

"You know, I’m not one for such emotions. I’ve always avoided entangling myself in anything. I dodged the idea of being loved by anyone and was determined never to love anyone. But now…"

The quiet whisper resonates in the peaceful hut.

"But that kid. They said they fell in love with me at first sight. They said they liked me from the moment we met."

"Huh, intrigued all of a sudden? When you didn’t even spare a glance when a princess from a country proposed to you that way?"

"Maybe."

Seeing how nonchalant they were about it, I furrowed my brow slightly, bothered by the smugness in their expression. I lifted my head slightly, meeting their eyes for a moment before looking down again.

"I thought it would end after meeting just once. But somehow, it's been one year, two years, and now almost ten."

No matter what the real story behind it was, it seems complicated.

"I should've separated us. But I couldn't. I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

Though they spoke as if it were no big deal, I could see their face slightly twist in pain. The cloak they wore slipped from their shoulders, falling down.

"I didn't know what to do."

I gave them a look of disdain, then placed the teacup I was holding down on the table between us.

This masterpiece of mine, made from the wood of a tree trunk, was something I usually only brought out when guests were visiting. I wondered if they even noticed. I could tell they weren't paying attention to such details.

But I had a promise to make now.

"Remember the time when Unchen was disposed of? We barely took him down with Periya, Kanoff, and Reltibe's forces combined. They were good guys, but now they're all gone. When you lose your mind, no one can stop you. So no matter what, you can't lose control. You can't go mad."

"If you're talking about being the strongest, then I don't need to be in the position of being the strongest."

With a soft sigh, Laden weakly smiled.

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a yellowish glow on their face, casting shadows that grew sharper in the light.

I am Ergonia, a fragment of the god of light. I know that everything has two sides, light and darkness.

Laden is afraid of facing the future. Once he knows what it holds, he fears being frozen by it, trapped in an inescapable despair. Because of this, he doesn't often use his abilities.

It wasn’t always like this for him.

Though I can’t speak for him, I know there was a time when Laden tried. He once believed that having such powers meant he could change things, so he rolled up his sleeves, traveled, and threw himself into one challenge after another.

But he failed, and failed, and failed again. In the end, he lost all confidence in his ability to change anything. And here we are, the so-called the "strongest" magicians, and yet magic has proven itself to be quite useless.

But in my view, the meaning of having this power isn't much. Even if we use it as we wish and vanish as we please, no one can stop us.

After all, aren’t we fragments of the gods?

We are but remnants of a god’s will, cast aside, chosen ones—how you see it is up to you. But from my long experience, I know we merely exist.

Those who think they have a mission or believe they can change things with their powers—they're the ones who either fade away into the world or are hunted by their fellow magicians.

So by now, after such a long time, the ones who know how to stay under the radar, or the ones who are suited to survive, should have remained (I am one of the prior; Laden is the latter). So why is Outh, who used to stay out of trouble, suddenly picking fights now?

Among magicians, there’s an unspoken rule: we cannot use our powers to threaten the world or harm other magicians. If either happens, other magicians can intervene, taking sides and rejecting the other.

When this happens, one side is usually destroyed completely.

"Does Outh really want to die?" I muttered.

Laden, despite his calm appearance, is the strongest magician. Anyone who tries to mess with someone who can see the future is essentially courting death.

I know, because I witnessed it myself. There’s no scenario where Laden loses.

I still remember Laden, standing there, lost and hollow, holding onto the fragments of the broken pieces of our kind. They grew "mad" for a reason I no longer recall.

A vast field, now an empty wasteland, the sand blowing away in the wind, no life left, except for Laden standing there. In his hand, a translucent, thin shard of glass, gleaming in the last colors of its fading light.

As the shard slipped from his hand, Laden watched it with a distant, almost resigned expression, before whispering something under his breath.

I don’t know what he said, but it was probably a prayer or an apology. After all, despite fighting until the end, the future-seeing magician’s heart is something I can’t understand, nor do I particularly want to. My mind is already tangled with more pressing matters.

Laden might be an interesting subject for research to someone, but I'm not idle enough to study him. The world is full of far more interesting things.

"Ergonia, I can forgive a curse that's cast on me."

"Is that so? Well, you'd probably dodge it anyway, wouldn't you?"

"But this isn’t just a curse. This is pure spite."

"In that case, what? Are you planning to fight back?"

"If we fight, I’ll win. That much is certain."

Laden muttered this softly, then interlocked his fingers and pressed them against his forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again with a slightly more serious gaze.

"So, what I’m asking now is whether it’s alright to do this. Whether it's okay to go down this path."

His voice was unusually subdued, the playful light in his eyes briefly dimming, replaced by an almost fox-like intensity. Ah, it's been a long time since I’ve seen him genuinely angry.

"I’m really tired. Running away, pretending I don’t care. I’ve held it all in because I thought Outh might have reason to hate me. But do you really think killing Outh will break the curse?"

"Wait, wait. Hold on a second. I haven't heard anything clearly yet. I get that Outh cursed you, but what does that mean? What are you saying?"

"I’m not the one he cursed. I know how to break Outh's curse, but if it was cast on me, I’d probably let him hit me once or twice. Pscheka was a good person, after all."

With a deep breath, Laden continues.

"I’ve never been at peace with what happened, either."

So the curse must’ve been cast on that woman over there, lying on the low table. I gesture toward her, and Laden responds.

"Yes. Because it seemed like we were getting along, Outh cursed her…Linne. She suddenly collapsed while talking to me, stopped breathing, and her body’s growing cold. She’s definitely dead by now. But I couldn’t leave her like this. I brought her here, hoping that you, with all your research, might find a way…"

It was a clever move. No matter what Outh did, he couldn't directly harm Laden. But what does he hope to gain from this?

It seems like Outh lost everything, but now he’s bitterly watching as Laden grows close to Linne. Does he want to take her from him, out of spite?

Well, it’s not the first time a magician has gone mad. And nothing makes a magician more mad than love.

I give a little nod and, placing the teaspoon down with a sharp "ting" on the empty teacup, speak up.

"Well, theoretically, if you kill a magician, the magic effect disappears, right? If I die, this forest would disappear. Remember Thelthea? After he died, his healing spells vanished, and so all those who lost limbs and were disfigured suffered."

"Ha ha."

"Does that make you laugh?" I scowl, shooting a glare at Laden. If he really goes mad, I’m not sure if this is just a joke anymore.

"No…I just find it a bit pathetic. I’m called the strongest magician, and yet now I’m thinking of doing nothing more than harming others?"

Laden says this with a slightly regretful expression before quickly returning to his usual neutral face, speaking in the same detached tone he uses when discussing trivial things.

"But if I can save Linne, I don’t care what happens."

What should we do with these magicians.

#The Tale of Magicians(Fragment of gods)#oc:laden #oc:linne #oc:ergonia #oc:outh #Ergonia's Forest #The Magician of Crossroads

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