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 - Contract with the Mad Scientist
How much time had passed since they left the ruined city?
Ash could barely feel the sensation of his own feet pressing against the ground anymore. With every step, Grue's weight on his back bit deeper into his shoulders. The bandages on his right hand had long since hardened black with dried blood, and a sharp, ceaseless pain radiated from the severed stumps.
Even so, he could not afford to stop.
Grue's breathing was so shallow and rapid that Ash could feel it clearly even through his back. Occasionally, he murmured something like a delirious prayer, but the sounds never formed words. From the wound in his side, a dark, viscous blood continued to seep steadily. A wound infected by Silent Rot could not be healed by ordinary treatment.
*(Half a day. That's all he has left.)*
Ash clenched his back teeth.
They had crossed the mountain path and slipped over the border of the Republic of Lesperia only moments ago. He had avoided the checkpoints, choosing animal trails hidden from sight. Passing through an official gate would have left a trail for certain. It wasn't just the hero party, "Blade of Dawn." Every nation's forces aiming for the Seals were now hunting Ash.
The Academic City of Nova.
He turned the name over in his mind. The city of knowledge, home to the Palvarn Academy. And the place where a man, exiled from the Academy for his forbidden code research, now hid as the owner of a used bookstore.
Thoma Vexla.
He was the only one who could heal this wound.
Before dawn broke, Ash finally reached the base of Nova's outer wall. The city's silhouette, floating under the starlight, was fitting for the continent's greatest repository of knowledge—countless spires and observatories stretching toward the sky. But he had no leisure to be captivated by its grandeur now.
He found one of the rear gates, blinded the guards with a concealment formula, and infiltrated the city.
Even in the dead of night, Nova was not shrouded in complete darkness. The phosphorescent glow of code formulas, functioning as street lamps, illuminated the cobblestone streets in pale blue. From the direction of Palvarn Academy, lights shone in many windows—likely belonging to those immersed in their research through the night.
But Ash's destination was not the Academy.
It was a used bookstore, standing quietly in a back alley away from the city center.
"Ink and Dust."
A tilted signboard creaked faintly in the night breeze. The storefront was old, the spines of the books displayed in the show window faded and discolored by the sun. It hardly looked like a shop run by a former Academy instructor. But that was precisely the disguise.
Ash circled around to the back of the shop and stood before a hidden door.
With the fist of his left hand, he knocked: three times, two times, once.
After a pause, two more times.
The signal he had been given beforehand. The secret door used only by those who knew what the used bookstore "Ink and Dust" truly dealt in.
A long silence.
Then, the heavy iron door slowly opened from within.
"...Oh my."
A crawling yet strangely elated voice came from the darkness.
"This is quite a rare specimen. A missing right arm, a wound infected by Silent Rot. And the one on your back... oh my, isn't that one of the Ashlands folk? How fascinating."
The man who emerged from beyond the door had an appearance far more bizarre than Ash had imagined. His receding hairline gave way to brown hair streaked with gray, slicked back. Behind thick round glasses, yellowish-brown eyes gleamed with a glittering, curious light. The skin of his face twitched minutely, as if from excitement.
And the fingertips of his right hand were unnaturally blackened—perhaps the result of a failed experiment.
Thoma Vexla.
The mad scientist who had once dabbled in forbidden bio-code research at Palvarn Academy and was cast out.
"I need treatment."
Ash spoke bluntly. A low voice, devoid of inflection. His usual way of speaking, with all emotion suppressed.
Thoma, his twisted smile still in place, observed Ash's entire body as if licking him with his eyes.
"But of course! However—"
He stepped forward, bringing his face close to Ash's. Behind his glasses, his eyes shone like those of a starving beast.
"—Your left eye. And the fragments of the Chronicle Code you've inherited. I want unlimited rights to research them. Those are my terms."
Ash did not answer.
He simply stared back into Thoma's eyes, his expression as blank as a Noh mask.
*(A reasonable demand.)*
A cold voice echoed in his mind. This man is a researcher. Ethics and common sense are worthless before his thirst for knowledge. He would never help without compensation.
"Fine."
A single, short word.
The twitching on Thoma's face grew more violent.
"Wonderful! I do appreciate swift negotiations. Now, come in. You're short on time, aren't you? That man won't last more than a few hours."
He turned his back and walked deeper into the shop. Ash followed in silence.
The interior of the used bookstore was even more chaotic than its exterior suggested. Piles of books stacked to the ceiling. Bundles of parchment scattered across the floor. Countless anatomical charts and circuit diagrams of code formulas plastered on the walls. All of it was covered in the smell of dust, mold, and something else—a metallic, chemical odor.
Thoma placed his hand on one of the bookshelves and slid it sideways. A hidden passage appeared. Stone steps leading underground. A faint, pale light from formulas leaked from below.
"Now, welcome to my laboratory."
The underground laboratory was a bizarre space far exceeding anything Ash had imagined.
Countless specimen jars lined the walls, filled with various organs suspended in formalin and the fetuses of grotesque creatures. From the ceiling hung several metal arms engraved with code formulas, each tipped with scalpels, injection needles, and complex instruments he had never seen before.
In the center of the room, a steel operating table.
Beside it, a massive analysis device was installed. Embedded with numerous crystal spheres that visualized the flow of code, a pale blue light pulsed within them.
"Lay him down there."
Thoma pointed at the operating table, already beginning to pull on gloves. His movements were efficient, like those of a seasoned surgeon.
Ash carefully lowered Grue onto the operating table. Grue's face was pale, his lips discolored purple. His breathing grew shallower by the moment, and he only occasionally furrowed his brows in pain.
"Can you save him?"
"Of course! Completely excise the tissue infected by Silent Rot, then burn away the remaining spores with a code formula. Theoretically, it's possible. However—"
Thoma glanced at Ash.
"—The success rate is about sixty percent. The erosion has already reached his organs, you see. If the excision is delayed by even a millimeter, he'll melt and collapse from the inside."
Ash did not answer.
He only clenched his left fist.
"Well then, shall we begin?"
Thoma manipulated the ceiling arms, securing Grue's body to the operating table. At the same time, with the fingertips of his right hand—those blackened fingers—he began tracing complex formula patterns in the air. A pale blue light enveloped the area around the operating table.
"First, allow me to collect a sample from you."
Thoma approached Ash and took out a small syringe.
"Give me your left arm. I'll collect blood and a trace amount of code."
Ash silently offered his left arm. Thoma's hand touched it. Cold fingertips. The needle pierced his skin, and deep crimson blood was drawn into the cylinder.
"...This is..."
Thoma's expression changed.
The moment he set the collected blood into a small analysis device, the twitching on his face stopped. His eyes behind the glasses widened as if he had seen something unbelievable.
"Your blood... its code structure is fundamentally different from a normal human's. This is... the Chronicle Code fragments have already fused with your body. Magnificent! I've never seen such a perfect case of compatibility!"
His voice trembled with excitement.
But Ash's concern lay elsewhere.
"Hurry with the treatment."
"Ah, yes, of course."
Thoma collected himself and turned back to Grue on the operating table. He picked up a scalpel and engraved a code formula onto its blade. The blade glowed pale blue and began to emit a faint vibrating hum.
"I'm making the incision. You just watch from there."
He placed the scalpel against Grue's side.
*Sssss...*
The sound of burning flesh. Simultaneously, a putrid, rotting stench filled the laboratory. A dark, viscous liquid overflowed from Grue's wound, running along the grooves of the operating table and down into a drain on the floor.
Ash stared intently at the scene.
His expression remained a Noh mask. But his clenched left fist was so tight, so hard, that his nails bit into his palm, turning his knuckles white.
*(Grue...)*
Something creaked deep within his heart.
A former colleague. A comrade with whom he had shared the days of serving Lady Auror. A man now consumed by hatred and revenge, who had continued to pursue Ash to kill him.
Even so—
*(You shouldn't die in a place like this.)*
Thoma's scalpel reached Grue's organs.
"The erosion has spread to part of the liver and intestines. I'm expanding the excision area. Bleeding will increase, but I'm prepared for a transfusion. It's not a problem."
His hands, though cold and ruthless, were supported by undeniable skill. He seemed like a madman at first glance, but his fingertips moved without a single wasted motion. It was the mark of a true genius.
As Thoma continued the surgery, he kept operating the analysis device with his other hand.
"Now then... as promised, allow me to examine your left eye."
He reached his hand toward Ash's face.
"Don't move."
Cold fingertips touched the lower eyelid of Ash's left eye. The deep crimson pupil glowed faintly brighter. Thoma held a small scanner over the left eye, reading the flow of code.
"...This is... unbelievable."
For the first time, Thoma's voice was colored with astonishment.
"What did you find?"
"The rate of Silent Rot erosion. Analysis of the sample taken from your left eye confirms that it has accelerated exponentially over the past three months. If the erosion rate three months ago was one, it is now—forty-seven times that."
Ash listened silently.
"Furthermore, the release of the First Seal is causing a resonance phenomenon in Silent Rot across the world. Look at this."
Thoma projected a map of the entire continent onto the analysis device's crystal sphere. Countless red dots blinked across various locations. They were particularly concentrated in the southern Savelle Plains—the region known as the Ashlands.
"The remaining six Seals, responding to the First Seal you released, have begun broadcasting their own locations. This means—"
"Any Code Reader can now detect the positions of the Seals."
"Precisely. You've revealed the locations of every Seal in the world to all hostile forces. The Kingdom of Lushen, the Volkas Commercial City Alliance, the Draygan Duchy, and this Republic of Lesperia—all four nations have already begun organizing their own expedition teams."
Thoma scrolled through more data.
"And there's more bad news. This resonance has accelerated the activation of Silent Rot across all of Verdica. In the Ashlands, simultaneous dissolution incidents have already occurred in three villages. Zero survivors. The Silent Rot's erosion has completely left its initial incubation stage and entered the manifestation phase."
A faint throb pulsed in Ash's left eye.
*(My actions have...)*
Hastened a world-scale catastrophe.
In trying to inherit Lady Auror's will, he had, ironically, guided the world she sought to protect toward a swifter collapse.
His expression did not change.
But—
Blood dripped from his left fist. His nails had torn into his palm, and red droplets fell to the floor.
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