After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 137
In the Belkram Empire, illusionists were even more unfamiliar than shamans. Claude knew this well because he had once researched illusion magic himself.
He also knew how stubborn an illusionist could be when encountering another illusionist, even one who didn’t fully understand their own abilities.
“…Ha.”
Claude looked at Sebelia as he recalled his master’s mocking words: One day, you will face the consequences of your actions.
Her eyes, as blue as a calm lake, glimmered with a determined will, as if she was saying that it didn’t matter if he rejected her.
* * *
As Dehart trudged through the narrow crevice between the rocks, he finally reached the valley.
Whooo!
“So even a god, whose name is forgotten, once ruled the world.”
He murmured with a sigh. The majestic valley, hidden in the heart of the craggy mountains, stood before him.
The towering cliffs rose to the edge of the clouds, and the sheer drops below seemed endless. Cold water cascaded downward, but eerily, there was no sound of the water hitting the ground.
Instead, dense mist, rising like a reverse flow, turned into snowflakes and fell onto his shoulders. The sight, unimaginable anywhere else in the empire, left the herbalists following him in awe.
Eli said as he approached, tapping a snowflake off his hand,
“To think this place was never discovered until now.”
“Considering the fools holed up in Suffredi, it’s not that surprising.”
Dehart replied with a twisted smile.
“They’re more concerned with debating what cannot be seen or how to better dig under a person’s skin. They pay no attention to the environment around them.”
The sight before them was mystical, something that couldn’t be explained by ordinary logic. But this was Suffredi—the forgotten city of gods, a place where the mysteries of the sanctuaries still remained unsolved.
“But in the end, these gods are but fallen ones now. Everyone, focus. We need to start the work quickly.”
The group nodded in unison at Dehart’s words. They swiftly moved to set up camp, following Dehart’s orders efficiently. As the tents were being erected, Dehart slowly scanned the area around the valley, looking for any foothold beyond the cliffs and the flowing water.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Forget that. Make sure the tents are properly set up and double-check the supplies.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thud.
There was a small sound of rocks tumbling at Dehart’s feet as he adjusted his stance.
Without showing any sign of concern, he bent down to examine the valley below, but just as he was about to focus, an unexpected interruption forced him to lift his head.
“Screech!”
“What?!”
As Dehart lay down, the blue bird, which had escaped from his arms, clung onto his hair, tugging it with its tiny claws. It wasn’t just any playful tug – the bird had firmly gripped the back of his neck, as if urging him to move away from the valley.
“Wait, what now…?”
He was unable to do anything because it was the bird that Sebelia had asked for. He could hardly touch it, so he lay there, helpless, with his back flat on the ground.
“…”
“Chirp.”
Dehart closed his eyes, surrendering to the situation. The little bird seemed satisfied as it flew around a few times over his head before landing on his chest and giving a sharp, short cry.
“Peep!”
The bird seemed almost triumphant, like a general returning from battle after beheading an enemy. Dehart couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. But as if the bird had sensed his laughter, it puffed up in defiance.
[Don’t scold it. It only tried to stop you because it was worried you might fall.]
It was the voice of Alos, the red butterfly that had been hiding in the sleeve. Dehart furrowed his brow.
I didn’t even know it was there.
Unlike the beloved blue bird, he had completely forgotten about the red butterfly, which Claude had reluctantly given him. As though to prove Dehart wrong, Alos fluttered up and landed next to the blue bird. The little bird, startled, scampered away from Alos.
And it ended up perched atop Dehart’s head.
[You don’t need to be scared.]
Alos said lightly, fluttering its wings.
[I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier. Allow me to do so now. I’m Alos, Claude’s familiar.]
The voice was neither masculine nor feminine, but somehow, it had a compelling, persuasive quality to it.
“What exactly is this ‘familiar’?”
Dehart asked as he sat up, still unaffected by the appealing voice. Alos, sensing his resistance, couldn’t help but feel a bit amused.
[Hmm…]
Instead of gliding away, Alos flew higher and began to explain.
[Familiars are the most powerful manifestation of a summoner’s will, a being directly connected to their heart. If you had to compare it… you could call us an extension of the summoner.]
“…”
Dehart’s face twisted in confusion. He struggled to comprehend the thought of this seductive voice being the manifestation of his uncle Claude’s will.
Seeing his confusion, Alos let out a small laugh.
[It doesn’t mean we’re the same being. We are still independent, separate entities. But we share a close connection, and our emotions are intertwined.]
“Hmm.”
[In the first place, we are born from the hearts of our summoners.]
Alos flew slowly over Dehart’s head, continuing its explanation.
Meanwhile, the blue bird had burrowed into the folds of his clothes, pecking its tiny beak gently at his collarbone. The small, almost imperceptible marks left by the bird felt like a necklace resting against his skin.
