I Can Hear the Saint’s Inner Thoughts

44 – The Secret of Astal Kaisaros (3)

My past self witnessed the deaths of people with eyes that were stinging with cold.

On my tenth birthday, a day that should have been happier than any other, I lost everything I loved.

The lingering stench of blood, so vile it made my head spin, the cries of people begging to live, the painful sting of ash and acrid smoke in my eyes…

Everything was mixed together, a hellish scene that looked like paint splattered across a dark canvas, unfolded in the town where I was born and raised.

The happiness I had taken for granted was utterly shattered by the demon army and the Four Heavenly King’s Dullahan, who invaded my hometown of Mavilos.

—

Regret always came too late.

What if I had known beforehand that monsters were swarming around the town and issued an evacuation order?

Or if not, what if I had built a defensive wall around the entire village and called for help from others?

Those thoughts swirled around in my head.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop, they kept repeating.

Otherwise, I felt like I would just go insane.

– These are apples I just harvested today. They’re full of honey, so sweet and delicious. You should try one!

I saw the fruit shopkeeper, who had always been so kind to me, with a huge hole where his heart should have been. His face was twisted in agony.

He, who had been kind to everyone, soon became a lifeless corpse without a single twitch.

– Astal oppa, show me magic again! The water droplets turning into stars was so cool!

Yesterday, the little kid who’d been laughing and playing with me had their arms and legs torn off. A girl, writhing like an overturned insect, came into view.

The girl who’d loved the magic I used, ended her short life with a scream-filled sob.

– Hey, hyung! Teach me some magic sometime! I don’t wanna be a farmer like mom and dad, I wanna be a mage!

The little one who’d asked me to teach him magic with bright, sparkling eyes was covered in oil, set ablaze, and was burning.

The boy, who dreamt of being a mage in the future, was thus burned to death, leaving behind the smell of roasting flesh and a horrific scream.

Only after the people I knew withered away and died miserably like weeds, could my childhood self finally accept the bleak reality.

Until then, I thought, I was an unparalleled genius.

Because, unlike others, I had special eyes that could see mana.

Because I’d mastered intermediate magic before any of the adults.

There was a part of me that thought everything would be okay.

That even if demons or monsters invaded, it would be okay, even if it was the Demon Lord’s army.

…Looking back on it now, it’s laughable bullshit.

—

People die so easily.

And a life already lost cannot be brought back.

I, who was far too young, hadn’t realized that fact.

Even using healing magic until I was bleeding from my mouth and nose, a person who was already dead couldn’t be brought back.

Even after pouring out my mana until I collapsed from exhaustion, I couldn’t even inflict a scratch on the enemy.

The demon that took my magic, cackled, and said, as he completely flayed the flesh from a child’s thigh down to their toes,

*This* is what real magic is, he said.

The child, unable to bear the pain of the softest part of their flesh being carved away, screamed and fainted.

Seeing that scene, I thought I was disgusting. A nasty feeling, like ants were crawling all over my body in rows.

Why can’t I save anyone?

Why can’t I do anything?

No matter how hard I tried to breathe, my breathing wasn’t right. I didn’t want to believe the scene before my eyes was real.

No matter how much magic I used, I couldn’t repel the Demon Lord’s army.

No matter how much magic I used, I couldn’t save people.

It felt like fighting a cold glass wall.

A wretched reality was there, that wouldn’t break even if I hit it until my hands were bloody, wouldn’t even get a scratch if I clawed at it.

At that moment, I could finally realize it.

…I wasn’t a genius.

Just a cocky kid who thought he was lucky.

I was just turning a blind eye to that fact.

—

The Demon Lord’s army wasn’t killing me on purpose.

Like they were enjoying a game, they threw the kids I played with high into the sky, laughing loudly.

And, watching as those kids hit the ground and became a gory pulp of blood and flesh.

I screamed.

Begged them to stop, begged them to just kill me instead.

I cried and shouted until my voice was hoarse. I banged my forehead against the ground, begging the demons and fiends on my hands and knees, but.

“Hey, brother! Come over here and look at this brat! Uahahahah!”

“Everything that’s happening here today, it’s all your fault, kid.”

But all that came back was the ruthless slaughter and cold sneer of the Death Knight Durahan, one of the Demon Lord’s Four Heavenly Kings.

A middle-level magic that a child learned on their own couldn’t possibly wound a high-ranking demon or fiend.

My magic sense, my battle instincts, everything was lacking. Magic power, mana reserves, the speed at which I activated magic circles… nothing was right.

That day, the study of magic was relentlessly cruel to me, a young child.

Soon after, all the magic flowing through my body was depleted.

I felt like the muscles all over my body were twisting, things began to look double.

And as a backlash from overworking my mana core without thinking of the consequences, blood began to pour from my eyes, nose, and mouth.

‘Am I going to die like this?’

The word ‘death’ was something I could feel with every fiber of my being,

In that moment, trapped in this hell where everything was burning, when I thought I wouldn’t be able to live again.

“Astal, you must survive no matter what.”

There was a man placing my fading body on a horse, and a woman casting magic so the horse could run out of the village.

“Astal, we’re sorry we couldn’t give you a proper 10th birthday celebration.”

Those familiar faces were my parents.

They’d never even held a weapon, their hands trembling as they grasped farm tools, swinging them at the demons in a pathetic struggle.

“Even if you end up alone, don’t forget that we’ll always be by your side.”

To me, it was a parent’s struggle to protect the son they loved more than anything. An act of desperation where they were willing to throw their lives into the fire.

“You won’t lay a finger on my son! You filthy goons of the Demon Lord!”

And then, my parents began to be brutally butchered by the Demon Lord’s forces.

My father, once a butler of the Kaisaros family, now a simple peasant farmer in the village.

“Let go! I said let go…!”

*Crack*—

Claude Kaisaros died like that, his head ripped off by a Dullahan’s hand. He couldn’t even scream, couldn’t leave a single word of love for his son, meeting his end in a gruesome state.

“You must survive, Astal.”

My mother, once a noble lady of the Kaisaros family, now a fugitive who eloped with my father and took care of the household chores.

Celine Kaisaros embraced her husband’s corpse and used magic.

To protect the son who was running away, to not make the sacrifice of her beloved husband, Claude, in vain.

“Our only son… even if we’re reborn, we’ll still love you without fail.”

With those last words, her throat was severed by the Dullahan’s sword.

Her brown hair, which I had always thought was beautiful, was plunged into the mud, rolling once on the ground with a sound like a ball.

I couldn’t do anything but watch my parents’ final moments.

Though I was on the verge of losing consciousness and could barely manage a voice, I don’t know how many times I cried out ‘Dad,’ ‘Mom.’

That’s how I ended up at the Azure Magic Tower, and they rescued me.

After receiving training and growing stronger there, I returned to the village belatedly and recovered their corpses.

A place that was hard to even call a village now, where everything had been burnt to cinders, leaving behind only ash and ruins.

Two out of ten of the remains were recognizable, while the other eight were just ash piles that were once people.

I couldn’t recover my parents’ remains, so I placed cosmos flowers, which my mother loved, on an empty tombstone.

…Even though the faces of my parents, smiling as they welcomed me home, were still vivid in my mind.

—

Was it from that time?

I had come to think, ‘It’s okay for someone like me to die anytime.’

The child who survived after his parents were killed, the sole survivor of a village after everyone was murdered.

I thought a sinner like me had no worth in living.

If it hadn’t been for my master, I would have committed a taboo. For about a year, I searched for information about magic that could revive the dead.

I didn’t even take care of my health.

Instead, I desperately researched magic that could save people. It was routine to stay up all night poring over magic papers alone, to the point where the other mages called me ‘a fanatic.’

Whenever there was a mission from the tower, I threw myself into saving people. If even one person died, I’d empty my entire fortune to console their families.

After becoming an adult, I spent each day drunk on alcohol. I didn’t hesitate to take up smoking either.

It was like, if I didn’t rely on booze and smokes, I’d be strangled to death any second.

So, on days I dreamed of the past with my parents, I’d even try to strangle myself.

But a human being, they just can’t strangle themselves to death.

And so, I lived, unable to die.

Until finally, I reached sage-like levels, got chosen as the mage of a hero’s party, and was given the royal decree to slay the Demon King.

‘I thought that was my grave, the place I was meant to die.’

If I died fighting the Demon King, no one would mourn me. Even my parents in the afterlife would say I fought well.

A hero’s sacrifice was always a given, after all.

But.

“It’s not your fault.”

On that journey, meant for death,

“The Demon King and his wicked horde are the ones who are wrong, aren’t they?”

My life began to change the moment I met Victoria.

—

“…That’s kind of enviable. If I were human instead of a demon, and a Saint, could I have swayed your heart too?”

Bellamora tapped her lip with a finger, sighing in a way that showed her disappointment.

“That son of a b*tch…”

Watching this “movie” Bellamora made, my hands and feet trembled. It was like she’d taken my memories and revealed them to everyone.

“You said you’d give me a chance to see my parents again, and this is what you do?! This is all it was?!”

My anger was boiling, and I ground my teeth, placing a hand over my heart, pulling out my core sword, and pointing it at Bellamora.

“But I was being honest? The feature of the movie theater in my territory is that the audience can directly enter the movie and experience the life or memory for themselves.”

Bellamora, who blocked my drawn sword with just two fingers, was staring at me as if she couldn’t understand me.

“In the end, it’s just a fake using illusions. What meaning is there in that!”

“Astal-nim…”

I yelled at Bellamora, and Victoria, seeing my state, pulled out her hammer to fight alongside me.

– It’s not like you always thought badly of me, then. I said that earlier because you looked so bleak….

– But, now that I know you have such a painful past, I could have said or done something warmer….

Victoria’s thoughts seemed like she was struggling with how to accept my past.

– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry….

In the end, Victoria was apologizing to me repeatedly in her mind, even regretting how she’d belittled me or concealed her feelings in the past.

“Well, now it’ll mean something. I’m going to mold your memories to my liking, make it so you can never escape this dream.”

“…Shut up.”

I immediately channeled several spells into my core sword and swung it at Bellamora, a line of crimson blood blooming where the blade grazed her cheek.

“Hah, you have quite the sharp edge, don’t you? I didn’t think you’d actually wound my cheek…. Yes, this kind of resistance makes you all the more fun to tame.”

Bellamora licked the wound I’d inflicted, her eyes glazed over with ecstasy as she exhaled a hot breath. Her signature red pupils shone in the darkness.

“Let’s just toss reality aside…and live in a new fantasy where your parents and loved ones are all alive, and you have me, your childhood friend. That’s what I call pure love!”