Aurora Chronicle: Despair's Aftermath Left by a Fallen Ruler
My name is Ash. I was once the right hand of the world's most feared ruler, the Demon Lord Aurora Chronicle.
Three years have passed since that final battle. People celebrate Aurora's death and laugh together in a peaceful world. But every time I see those smiles, my heart is torn by a sharp pain. They don't understand anything. What Lord Aurora was protecting. What she was fighting against.
Three years ago, the world faced two threats. One was the horde of monsters visible to human eyes. The
Aurora Chronicle: Despair's Aftermath Left by a Fallen Ruler - Silence and Fangs of the Ash Vault
Deep underground, it was quiet.
The light formulas carved into the walls gave off a faint, pale blue glow. The air was cool and cold, carrying a faint smell of mold.
Ash sat at his desk, a single map spread out before him. His dull silver hair hung down carelessly. Across the desk lay scattered bundles of scribbled notes and a small silver pendant.
His left eye was deep crimson, his right eye amber. Those two gazes moved back and forth between three red marks drawn on the map.
One was Hexa. A place that had once been a village. Now, no one was there.
The other two were the locations of the dissolution incidents that had occurred around it. People had suddenly melted.
Ash's right hand trembled. A hand with only three fingers, missing the middle and ring fingers. With those fingers, he traced the three red marks in order.
Reflected in the crimson of his left eye was something invisible to ordinary people.
The code that made up the world—an unseen flow of information. That flow was stagnant and distorted at those three points. Like a river's current swirling into eddies behind a rock.
"...This is it."
His voice was hoarse, like dry paper.
The stagnation and distortion weren't random. All three were being pulled in a single direction. Far to the east. Beyond the Kadour Mountains. A ruined city in the Duchy of Dreigan, one whose name didn't even appear on maps.
The Ruined City of Zalvark.
There lay the source of the Quiet Rot.
There lay one of the Seals.
One of the seven sealing keys left behind by Lady Auror. One of them had begun to resonate, distorting the surrounding code.
Ash picked up the silver pendant. A memento of Auror. A replica of the Seal, engraved with a seal in Auror's own blood. As he gripped it, a cool sensation spread through his palm.
"Thirty percent faster than predicted."
He glared at the map once more.
The Quiet Rot's rate of spread was far faster than his calculations. At this pace, the world wouldn't last a year. The cancer of the world was spreading, steadily and surely.
No one noticed.
No one could see it.
Three years ago, Lady Auror had been killed by the humans. Even though she had become a shield to protect the world, sealing the cancer within her own body. No one knew the truth. They called her the Demon Lord and raised their glasses in celebration.
The old burn scar running from the nape of Ash's neck to his left cheek throbbed.
A wound from that final battle. The day Lady Auror died.
—The world will rot from the inside out in three years.
Lady Auror's last words repeated in his head.
And now, it was happening exactly as she had said.
That was when it happened.
A grating, high-pitched sound echoed through the room.
An alarm signaling the destruction of a warning ward. Someone was outside.
Ash tucked the pendant inside his cloak and quickly rolled up the map. Auror's memento, the black cloak, swayed softly. Tension ran through his body, clad in a dark blue combat suit.
He looked at the iron door in front of him. A steel door, five centimeters thick.
The next moment—
A roar.
The door was blown inward by code sorcery. Fragments scattered, and the shockwave sent papers flying through the room.
"Found you, traitor—!"
Six men burst in.
Leading them was a tall swordsman. His close-cropped, ash-brown hair was streaked with white, his right eye a deep indigo. His left eye was covered by a black eyepatch. The one-eyed swordsman, Grue Bastan. The fury radiating from his 185-centimeter frame filled the basement.
Behind him were five armed elites of the Ashfang Corps. All of them survivors of the former Auror army.
"Grue."
Ash spoke the other man's name in a low voice.
"Don't you dare speak my name, you piece of trash!"
Grue drew his longsword from his hip. The black blade was etched with fine code sorcery formulas. A weapon designed for anti-code sorcery combat. A special blade, made to fight opponents who used sorcery.
"At Falgram, you stood by and let Lady Auror die. In the middle of the battle, you retreated!"
His voice trembled with rage. With only one eye's worth of vision, he glared at his former comrade.
"We swore to protect Lady Auror! And yet you—!"
Ash said nothing.
In his heart, the scene from three years ago came back to life.
Falgram Castle crumbling. Black smoke. Flames. And—Lady Auror's quiet smile.
—Ash, my death is necessary. Now, go.
Back then, Ash had been silent too. Now, silence was all he could offer.
There was no way he could say it.
That Lady Auror had contained the cancer. That the seal could only be undone by her death. And that the undone seal was the key to saving the world.
Even if he said it, who would believe him?
Who would believe in the existence of the cancer?
"Your eyes see nothing."
His voice was quiet.
"What did you say?"
"How many incidents have already occurred in the Ashlands?"
At Ash's words, Grue's movements stopped.
"People melting. Suddenly, screaming all the while. Villages vanishing overnight. They're being dismissed as a disease of unknown cause, but—"
"Shut up!"
Grue lunged, slashing at him. The black blade traced an arc, aiming for Ash's neck.
Ash raised his right hand.
With three fingers, he traced through space. An engraving motion. Pale blue patterns of code sorcery materialized in the air. The next moment, a shockwave was born, catching the slash.
Sparks scattered.
"You couldn't protect the people of the Ashlands."
"Shut uuuup!"
Another slash. Then a second, a third, in quick succession. Ash retreated, defending himself with the bare minimum of sorcery.
"You're just projecting your own powerlessness onto your revenge for Lady Auror."
His voice remained cold.
But deep in Ash's chest, a quiet ache throbbed.
Grue Bastan. Once, they had served Lady Auror together, fought together. A man who was short-tempered and fierce, but who treated his comrades like family. Now, he was burning with hatred.
"I, Grue. Even now, I carry on Lady Auror's will."
"Don't lie to me!"
One of Grue's strikes broke through Ash's barrier, grazing his left arm. The dark blue cloth tore, and blood seeped through.
"Guh..."
"It's over, Ash!"
But at that moment—
"Grue, wait!"
One of the Ashfang Corps shouted. Another comrade had been wounded in the shoulder by the aftershock of Ash's sorcery, blood flowing from the wound.
"We've got wounded! Any more of this and—"
"Don't fall back!"
"But—!"
Ash didn't miss that split-second opening.
With his crimson left eye, he looked at the flow of Quiet Rot beneath the ground. A weak, stagnant flow. Visible only to him.
Using that flow, he activated a formula he had embedded beneath the floor.
The ground shook.
Cracks ran across the ceiling, and with a roar, rocks came crashing down.
"What?!"
Collapse. Dust. Screams.
Ash ran through the chaos. Clutching only the essential documents from his desk and Auror's memento to his chest, he headed deeper into the archive room.
There, he had prepared an underground escape route for a day like this.
He climbed down the ladder.
Behind him, Grue's furious roar echoed.
"You think I'll let you get away, Ash—!"
But he could no longer catch up.
Reaching the exit of the escape route, Ash activated one final formula.
The self-destruct formula for the Ash Vault.
The underground collapsed completely.
Without looking back, Ash vanished into the forest.
The Gloom Forest before dawn was shrouded in deep fog.
Ash walked along the forest's western edge. His breath was white, his cheeks cold. The left shoulder of his cloak was wet with blood, but he pressed on regardless.
Behind him, the roaring sound had ceased.
The Ash Vault had completely collapsed. His hideout was lost.
—There's no turning back now.
Grue's hatred had likely deepened even further. That was fine. He would accept all of it—the hatred, the abuse.
Because that was what he had resolved to do, in carrying on Lady Auror's will.
The sun rose, and morning came to the capital of the Kingdom of Lushen, Breihart.
A hilly city with a population of 120,000. In its central square stood a triumphant statue of the Hero Selen. People were already bustling about from early in the day.
"Are the decorations done over here?"
"Yeah, we're almost done over here too!"
Tomorrow was the Liberation Festival. The continent's largest festival, celebrating the defeat of the Demon Lord three years ago. Colorful flags decorated every corner of the city, and preparations for the food stalls were underway.
"They say it's going to be especially grand this year."
"Well, of course! It's been three years of peace!"
Smiles overflowed on people's faces. As if expressing with their whole bodies the joy of being freed from terror.
Through that bustle, a lone traveler walked.
A man in a deep hood. His body was wrapped in a black cloak, his face hidden. He couldn't risk anyone seeing the burn scar on his neck.
It was Ash.
He went to an information broker and obtained a map to the ruined city. While he was at it, he also heard rumors of refugees flowing in from the Ashlands.
Rumors of the "Melting Disease."
But no one took them seriously. Not in the taverns, not in the marketplace.
"Probably just an epidemic. It's a shame, but the Ashlands have always been poor."
That's what they said, all of them acting perfectly nonchalant.
In the corner of a tavern called "The Iron Plate," Ash drank water alone. The owner, Galondo, was a former mercenary. The one-armed, fifty-year-old man paid Ash no mind, laughing and joking with the other customers.
Auror's name was being used as the butt of a joke.
"That Demon Lord is nothing but a laughingstock now!"
"You said it! Still, good riddance, I say!"
Ash tightened his grip on his glass.
No.
Lady Auror is not a laughingstock.
She was someone who became a vessel for the cancer herself, to protect the world.
But there was no way he could speak that truth.
He left the tavern and walked the streets.
Everywhere, preparations for tomorrow's Liberation Festival were underway. Children frolicked, adults talked about drinking. Peace. Perfect, absolute peace.
Ash headed east.
Towards the road to the Ruined City of Zalvark.
Towards the land where the Seal resonated.
Uncelebrated by anyone, understood by no one, all alone.
But that was fine.
"Lady Auror."
On the empty highway, he murmured quietly to himself.
"I will definitely prove the truth of your feelings."
With that resolve alone in his heart, Ash kept walking.
From behind him, the sound of bells celebrating Breihart's liberation could be heard. They were the bells signaling the beginning of a battle that would make an enemy of the entire world.
Meanwhile, at that very moment.
From the rubble of the collapsed Ash Vault, a one-eyed swordsman crawled out.
It was Grue Bastan.
His body was covered in scrapes and bruises, covered in ash. But his eye still burned. With the flames of hatred.
"Grue, are you alright!"
His subordinates rushed over. But Grue stopped them with a single finger.
"I'll chase him alone."
"B-but—"
"Don't tell me what to do."
He glared at the collapsed rubble.
Ash's words were seared into his mind.
—How many incidents have already occurred in the Ashlands?
—You're just projecting your own powerlessness.
He didn't want to admit it. He absolutely refused to admit it.
But something nagged at him.
"Tch..."
Grue kicked at the rubble and stared hard in the direction of the forest where Ash had disappeared.
For now, all he could do was chase.
Whatever the answer was, he wouldn't be satisfied until he caught that man.
That was Grue Bastan's way of life.
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.