Chapter 278: Of Course Not |
“The happy moments are always short-lived. It seems our time together is almost up, Master.”
He’s leaving?
Saul quickly took a half-step forward. “Do you have more golden pages?”
“I do, Master. But due to the unique nature of golden pages, I can't carry them all with me. Most are kept on other continents. As for the Western Continent, there's only one left—and it’s currently in the Wasteland. When you one day arrive there, Master, I’ll naturally return it to you.”
So there's another golden page in the Wasteland. No wonder Kismet had once invited him to go there in that letter.
Even though he still had no idea what these pages were truly for, Saul had a strong intuition: the more, the better.
But judging from Kismet’s words, this one wouldn’t be delivered to him like the last—it had to be retrieved in person.
“What exactly are golden pages for? You must know, right?”
“Of course I know. But please understand—this isn’t something I can tell you just yet,” Kismet said with a smile.
After a moment of thought, Saul changed tactics and asked a more important question.
“Kismet, I have one last question.”
“Please, go ahead, Master.”
“To become the owner of the Dead Wizard’s Diary... is it true that you need to have no blood relatives or friends in this world, and that you must not have killed the diary’s previous owner yourself?”
That was something Saul had learned from Ralph, but he’d never had a way to verify it.
Kismet froze for a moment, then smiled meaningfully—smugly, even.
“Of course… not.”
Saul’s eyes narrowed.
With one light-hearted remark, Kismet had denied decades of Ralph’s research.
Ralph had slaughtered his kin, plotted against his grandson, and faced off with Gorsa—all for nothing. It was all a colossal joke.
At the same time, Saul became more cautious.
If Kismet knew the real method of becoming the diary’s owner... then everything he’d done up to this point—was it all part of a plan to seize the diary?
As if sensing Saul’s wariness, Kismet took the initiative to explain, “Rest assured, Master. I would never use the diary. Nor could I ever become its true owner.”
But how much truth could there be in the words of a habitual liar?
“So you can’t tell me the real way either, can you?”
“You really are clever, Master,” Kismet said, bowing slightly with a hand over his chest. “But I can tell you this—the fake method, the one everyone believes, was a rumor I planted myself.”
“What?” Saul said in disbelief. “You did it… to get people killed?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dirty my own hands so casually, Master.” Kismet wiggled his long fingers in front of him. “These hands have far more important uses.”
Saul’s expression grew complicated, and Kismet seemed momentarily confused by it. But he went on, grinning proudly, “I buried that false information deep in the web of rumors. Whoever discovered it would believe it was the hard-won fruit of their desperate search. And they’d trust it wholeheartedly.”
He licked his lips. “Impressive, right, Master?”
“Just a few whispers, and they’d cling to scraps of truth—maybe just the diary’s name and from that, countless brilliant wizards would throw themselves toward death in hopes of seizing it. Isn’t that a beautiful scheme?”
He rested his chin in one hand. “Actually, the golden page that emerged in Ralph’s manor wasn’t something I’d anticipated. At first, I was confused—after all, I leaked the information to a genius of the Bloodrose Family. Who would’ve thought the place where the golden page would be born… was a lowly offshoot clan: the Bloodthorn Family?”
“Looking back now, I finally understand. It was all because one day, you would come to Ralph’s manor and take that newly formed page!”
“So the destruction of the Bloodthorn Family… was you doing as well?”
Did Kismet know the diary itself had originated from the Bloodthorn Family? Or did he just not care?
“The Bloodthorn wasn’t my original target—they were too small back then. My sights were set on the Bloodrose Family. But the genius of that family had a ruthless heart. After discovering the clue I left behind, he slaughtered the entire Bloodrose Family to meet the false requirements, even colluding with powers in the Wasteland and dooming the Kema Empire’s northern campaign.”
“But then again… if he hadn’t done that, he never would’ve been able to kill all his close kin. His only misstep was that he was assassinated in the end—causing the clues tied to the diary to fall into the hands of the Bloodthorn Family instead.”
Everything Kismet said lined up with what Saul already knew.
And that terrified him.
So many people… had killed every last family member they had just to obtain the diary.
But what was even more chilling was Kismet himself. Just one lie from him, and who knows how many lives had been wiped out—all to forge golden pages.
Still, wasn’t the Battle of Hanging Hand Valley in the Western Continent over seventy or eighty years ago?
This wasn’t Kismet’s first time using the diary’s “rumors” to kill.
Just how old was this man? And what exactly was his goal in creating these pages?
Unfortunately, those were things Kismet would never tell him.
The conversation came to a brief pause.
Saul was deep in thought, while Kismet simply smiled at him.
Just then, the giant bird reappeared in the sky, this time flying directly toward them.
“It seems you have no further questions for now, Master. Then let me leave you with one final piece of advice—since the diary is in your hands, you’ll inevitably face more death. This is the danger and opportunity brought by fate.”
“And you’re part of that fate too, aren’t you?”
“Indeed, Master,” Kismet said calmly. “And if you die during some crisis… that would simply mean you weren’t the diary’s true master. I’ll just wait for the next one.”
In the sky, the great bird let out a long cry. It had noticed Saul and was issuing a warning.
Kira was about to land!
But neither Saul nor Kismet reacted to the bird overhead.
“That, I actually believe,” Saul muttered darkly.
Of course Kismet could see Saul’s irritation, but he didn’t mind in the least.
“Master, the more you interact with the diary, and the more pages you use, the deeper your connection with it will grow. Only then will you truly become its master. I sincerely look forward to that day.”
“If that’s your goal, you really didn’t need to go through so much trouble to stir up chaos for me,” Saul replied. “At the very least, I’ve already used quite a few of the white pages…”
That caught Kismet off guard.
He tilted his head, uncertain. “Master… have you really used that many white pages? I don’t mean to doubt you—it’s just that I’m worried we might have different understandings of what that means.”
He leaned forward slightly, testing the waters. “Have you used… ten pages, perhaps?”
Saul glanced at the diary on his left shoulder and cleared his throat. “I think it’s close to a hundred, actually… By the way, is there a limit to the number of white pages you can use? If so, I’ll start pacing myself.”
Kismet froze.
It was the first time Saul had ever seen him lose control of his expression.
And he had to admit—it felt really satisfying.
(End of Chapter)
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