The Regressed SSS-Rank Water Mage Wants To Live a Calm Life-Chapter 52: To Rindell

"Have you ever heard about the tales of the vast divine eras?"

A young, blue-haired man, seemingly in his early twenties, threw a question at the young lady sitting directly opposite him.

Hearing his question, the lady flinched, shaking her head slightly. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"No-no."

The man nodded, crossing his arms as he relaxed his back on the wooden seat. They were in a carriage, and the ride was a relatively smooth one. Only a few gallops shook them sometimes.

The young man had piercing blue eyes that complemented his blue hair which framed a handsome, gentlemanly face. And to crown it all, a sweet smile was on his lips.

"Of course you don’t," he uttered. "How about I tell you the story? To relieve the boredom."

The young lady’s eyes lit up, her cheeks flushing as she gazed at Maxwell. She gulped. Then nodded.

"Go on."

The young man, smiling, looked outside the window at his corner, spotting the dry, rugged land through which their carriage rolled.

He breathed in.

Then out. And he began saying:

"𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈."

The man blinked, and immediately, the scene in front of him dissolved.

A black-haired man came into view, standing on top of the peak of a high mountain, a bloodied sword grasped in one hand.

His gaze, as dark as night, was fixed downward, intently staring at the pile of corpses below the mountain.

The man donned a dark coat, streaked crimson, which consumed his entire body, hiding his features. This coat fluttered in the wind.

A strange energy wafted from this man’s skin. It was thick and heavy. Black and unholy. It was darkness.

"𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒅."

The dark-haired man suddenly gazed skyward, and he narrowed his eyes as he spotted the sun.

Then, he smiled.

This dark-haired man was the third anomaly. The Reaper.

The scene dissolved as the blue-haired man, still in the carriage, opened his eyes.

He continued speaking.

"𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓."

"𝑯𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔. 𝑯𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒔."

"𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝑯𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆."

"𝑭𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒆."

"𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏, 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆. 𝑯𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆..."

"𝑪𝒂𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆."

"𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒓𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓."

"𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒔. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆."

The young man gazed at the young lady who, at this point, was absolutely dumbfounded.

"Their rule was cut short by the arrival of a certain being, the archangel of balance who’d been locked in the void," the man shrugged. "That one killed the archangels and ruled for quite some time before he identified a problem in the Cacosphere. The souls of living beings were evaporated as soon as their lifespan was spent. It was inadequate, and the Angel of Balance had to keep creating more souls to fill the space... so, to curb this problem, he created a filter, one that would recycle a fixed amount of souls."

"He created the mother tree."

"As the Cacosphere grew and evolved, the concept of transcendence became abundant. Mortal souls began to climb up, reaching for the Angel of Balance. They began to comprehend divinity."

"And so gave rise to the need to create a realm for these transcendents. The twenty-four heavens."

"The Era of the Archangels, the Era of Balance, and then, when the Angel of Balance retired to the mother tree’s embrace, the Era of... Pantheons came."

"Right now, though..."

The young man gazed out the window once more, staring at the sky this time, as if he was gazing at things the normal eyes couldn’t see.

"𝑾𝒆’𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔."

The man smiled. And then he turned to look at the young lady.

"How did you find my st–"

Eyes widened.

She was asleep.

The man sighed.

"Guess it wasn’t an interesting story, after all."

Left with boredom and his thoughts, the man rested his chin on his open palm, closing his eyes.

"Just three more days," he whispered. "Rita."

***

Volume Two: When The Ocean Sings.

***

Four days had passed since Maxwell said his goodbyes to Vin and Eithan and ventured off to the capital with Olive, the only daughter of Count Lorenzo.

During the first two days, as soon as they left the borders of Ludia and entered the desolate, dry lands of Vinal, the route to Rindell, Maxwell immediately became vigilant, never taking a moment of rest as he scanned the surroundings repeatedly, over and over again.

He took his job to protect Olive from assassins very seriously.

But after the first night, when all three carriages had to stop to set camp in the dry lands, Maxwell became a bit more relieved, seeing the fact that there had been no attacks whatsoever. But still, he didn’t sleep that night.

In fact, Frilo mocked Maxwell nonstop because the frantic way he acted was, without a doubt, hilarious to anyone who knew what he really was.

Anyway, the first night passed without any hassle, and during the daytime, they finally entered a small town called Nivian, where they had to make a stop at an inn for food, water and proper sleep that night.

After packing the necessary things like food that would last them at least three days, they continued their journey.

And so, shortly after, they entered the path of Binkan. A lonely, dry road.

On the third day, in Binkan, they encountered some ragged road bandits who were grinning with their blunt weapons, excited that they struck gold because the carriages they saw were quite fanciful.

Maxwell didn’t even step foot out of the carriage; he let the accompanying guards do their jobs.

And they did their jobs quite well, quickly dispelling and bringing an end to the bandits.

This pleased Maxwell and even Frilo, but it also made Maxwell remember the fact that assassins were probably still going to attack them.

To shut off this constant worrying, Maxwell broke through to the fifth circle there in the carriage. There was no light show or anything. In fact, no one even noticed. But Maxwell’s senses grew wider.

Detecting any foul presence became much easier for him; it was like he’d regained a small fraction of his divine sense.

Now, on the fourth day, they were about to exit the path of Binkan, ready to step foot into the relatively lush path of Mirama, a valley filled with grasses, herbs, and wild beasts.

Rumors said Mirama was a place where alchemists and other potion makers got the majority of their ingredients.

Maxwell sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Frilo was currently napping on his head. No surprise there, the spirit had spent the majority of their time during this journey napping.

Maxwell couldn’t blame it. There wasn’t very much to do here, honestly. Even he himself was getting bored with the staleness and monotony of traveling.

’Next time I’m traveling, I’m not going with a carriage. Or by road.’

A sly grin spread across Maxwell’s lips.

He asked himself a funny question:

’When was the last time I walked on water?’

He nodded to himself in reply.

That was a long, long time ago. When he was still a mischievous god, rampaging through the various multiversal cradles of the Cacosphere.

He would drown the assigned universes of rival gods, and then he’d ride in the waves of those floods. Malin occasionally joined him during his rampaging times.

Maxwell could still hear the former guardians yelling, ’Damned Siege Twins!’

Maxwell chuckled.

’Good times.’

His chuckling eventually faded as a nasty memory surfaced in his mind.

Malin.

His best friend. The one who gave his life for him.

That Malin was gone now. His soul would have disintegrated the moment he died.

A knot twisted in Maxwell’s throat, causing him to grimace.

He shook his head, gritting his teeth.

Because of his own selfishness, his brother had to die.

’Stop thinking about it,’ Maxwell told himself.

He’d stopped himself from thinking about it ever since he regressed. The burden was too great on his heart.

But alas, he had to swallow them.

Before he entered the cave to find freefall, Malin had given him a set of instructions.

To guide his actions in the timeline. And... to help the younger Malin.

Maxwell breathed out.

’It means I’ll have to meet Malin soon.’

Although the prospect of meeting that lunatic when he was still active as The Reaper didn’t sit quite well with him.

But he had to. After all, Malin wanted to live a peaceful life, much like Maxwell did.

And also, there was that matter of... unrequited love.

Maxwell smiled.

’That guy.’

He shook his head.

Opening his eyes, Maxwell stared at Olive, who was fast asleep in front of him.

Max frowned.

Throughout their journey, the young lady’s timidity had prevented them from having a decent conversation, fueling Maxwell’s boredom.

Even when he tried to strike up a conversation, she always slipped out of it.

And Maxwell had been meaning to ask her something.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at the sleeping blond lady.

That friend she talked about...

Bang–!

Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt, shaking both Maxwell, Frilo and Olive.

Olive’s eyes jolted open immediately, and Maxwell stood up, entering an engaged stance.

He stuck his head outside the window at once.

It was daytime, and they were surrounded by nothing but dry land.

"What’s the problem?!" Maxwell yelled.

Surely there hadn’t been any enemy attacks. His divine sense was always active after all, and he hadn’t detected anything.

"Uh... Sir Maxwell... we have a problem!"

One of the guards yelled in response.

Olive, still in the carriage, began to whimper.

"M–Maxwell? Is everything alright?"

Maxwell raised a hand to calm her.

"Stay here."

The young mage moved immediately, jumping out of the window.

"Frilo!" He called.

Swoosh–!

Maxwell began to run toward the front carriage, a couple of feet away from theirs.

Just before Maxwell could reach the carriage, he halted, eyes widening at the sight before him.

"What?" Maxwell choked out. "How?"

[A/N this is a powerstones Bonus Chapter!]