Chapter 80
**CHAPTER: Trembling Fear on the Cliff and the Forbidden Path**
Valdemar’s feet slipped repeatedly as he climbed the winding hill path. Once, he nearly tumbled forward, trampling the hem of his own robe. Even so, he could not stop. The suffocating terror that clutched his throat kept him moving.
He pressed on without a break, passing the barren, steep slope that grew closer to the cliff edge. Sweat poured down his forehead.
When his feet finally reached the destination, two hands and two feet, he panted heavily while staring at the cliff right in front of him. There—at that very spot—he had shoved Roman off. It had happened exactly like that…
Perhaps the gods had been warning him. Back when he killed Roman to hide the oracle and claim the island as the new master, even if no one had seen it, the gods must have been watching him all along.
Valdemar scanned his surroundings with bloodshot eyes. The thriving plants, the trees, the flowers… all of them were things Roman had nurtured with his own hands. Unlike Valdemar, who passed by even the smallest tuft of grass in the garden without a second thought, Roman had poured affection into every single one. As if he cherished each and every butterfly flower…
As he drew nearer to the cliff, his body shook uncontrollably. Looking down was terrifying. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks rose clearly all the way to the cliff top: whoosh… whoosh… crash!
Gripping his knees and hands, he leaned his head forward carefully. Small stones from his palm rolled and tumbled down. After bouncing against the rocks a few times and rebounding, they struck the jagged, pitch-black cliffs rising from the sea and quickly vanished from sight.
“…….”
Valdemar stared at the sea for a long time, where the crashing waves created white foam. The wind surging upward from the bottom of the endless abyss swelled and whipped his robe sleeves without mercy. While gazing down at that sea for so long, his fear gradually eased and his mind steadied. Yes, it was an absurd thought. He had simply overreacted because of the prophecy and imagined nonsense.
If the gods’ curse was meant for him because of Roman, he should have received his judgment back then. Why now? Valdemar took a deep breath, calmed his heart, and slowly stood up. He told himself he had been unnecessarily flustered, just as his hand stopped in mid-motion while dusting the dust from his robe.
That hand froze. Suddenly, a memory from long ago resurfaced—one he had never once recalled in all the years since.
It was the day he first entered Credo Island, waiting for the initiation ceremony. At that time, the only ones who had come as initiates were him and Roman. Valdemar had spoken to the unusually calm boy, far older than his years.
“Hey, kid. So you and I are the only ones here to take the ceremony.”
“…Yes. Please take good care of me.”
“How did you end up here?”
“The only place that accepts the son of a fisherman as a priest is Credo Island, so I came here.”
“The son of a fisherman, huh? So you know how to swim. What about diving?”
“I’ve been helping my father collect shells and mussels since I was little.”
“So the sturdy worker is gone now. Your father must be pretty upset.”
Valdemar slowly turned around. He recalled the sight of Roman he had witnessed with his own eyes. The robe fluttering in the wind like a butterfly, and the young priest’s body falling into the endless depths below.
That could not be. How could Roman have survived falling from that cliff? Even if he had somehow survived, how could he have stayed hidden on this island for years without being seen? It was impossible. It was an irrational thought.
*Don’t jump to conclusions. You didn’t see the body with your own eyes, did you?* Another voice inside him mocked him. Valdemar’s hands trembled. The priest bit his lip, tightly closing his eyes. Even as he thought it was nonsense, a nagging unease lingered in the corner of his heart.
That was right. Roman had simply vanished. Valdemar had never confirmed with his own eyes that his body had been torn apart on the jagged rocks. And even afterward, nothing had happened. No blood-stained robes had been found, no body had washed up on the shore in the past few years.
It was absurd. A lie.
But no matter what, how could anyone swim out of that sea full of jagged rocks? Valdemar watched that fall to the very end. He saw Roman’s body barely avoiding the rocks and being swallowed by the sea. So he had died. He had to have died.
…Had he really died?
“Damn it…!”
Valdemar bit his teeth together and clutched his head. He was going insane. Even if he assumed Roman had survived, how could he have escaped that raging current?
Valdemar shook his head and headed back to the cliff. He narrowed his eyes and carefully scanned the dizzying drop below, looking for anything he had missed. His eyebrows twitched as he stared fixedly at the boundary where the water met the land.
That…
There was a small side path just below the cliff. No matter how many times he looked, it was clearly a path someone could walk. Workers often went down there to gather crustaceans or mussels…
Valdemar nervously gnawed at the tips of his fingers. His chest felt like it would burst. Damn it! Why hadn’t he noticed this path back then? Was it because he was too scared? Where was the nearest point where this path connected?
He could not wait any longer. Valdemar sprinted back down the path he had come, then chose a route from the forest that could lead to the lower side path. He pushed through the underbrush and parted branches, charging forward recklessly.
“Damn… damn it…!”
He was almost screaming. If anyone had seen him, they would have called him mad. After a long run, Valdemar finally reached the side path at the bottom of the cliff just as his soles grew hot.
Finally, before him were the rough waves crashing against the shore and the gravel on the ground. It was not a true beach, but a space so narrow it was barely wide enough for one person. Still, if Roman had somehow been washed here…
Valdemar chewed his lip and groaned. His throat was so dry he felt like vomiting, but he immediately turned around and started climbing back up the path. He estimated where Roman would have gone if he had somehow survived and climbed up this way, and took heavy steps forward.
The forest grew thicker, blocking the path with brush. Valdemar pushed through the grass with effort, then suddenly lost his sense of direction. Where was he? No matter which way he turned, the scenery was identical. Panicking, he twisted his body in different directions. That was when a massive wall of underbrush appeared in front of him.
“This place…!”
Valdemar stopped in shock. He was standing at the entrance to the famous landmark of Credo Island—the Death Maze, where once you entered, you could never escape. The opposite side was open for training, but entering from this side meant certain death.
“Haa…”
Valdemar wiped the sweat from the back of his hand. He thought of every possible scenario. If Roman had miraculously survived the sea, entering this place would have meant certain death. Moreover, several years had passed since the accident, making survival even more unlikely. Even if he had somehow survived the sea, he would have starved to death locked inside the maze.
Then, what could this phenomenon be?
Valdemar looked around the forest landscape, tense. His imagination was playing tricks, but it felt as if every creature, tree, and blade of grass was growing thicker right before his eyes at this very moment.
As if rejoicing that the true master of the island had returned…
***
Morning announcement time passed without any notable events, flatly and indifferently. The only thing that left a deep impression was that the arrogant Prince Draconis of Igninof still had not secured his position as the clear heir.
“He’s got five red heads that ruin my appetite. It’s disgusting.”
Petra grumbled and tore off a piece of bread. Beside her, Elio whispered softly.
“Draconis is pushed way back in the succession order, so that’s why he’s always on edge. He’s throwing a tantrum because he needs to show off in this competition.”
“Draconis is pushed back in the succession order?”
Arkin asked Elio in surprise. The fog prince nodded shyly.
“Yeah. I heard Draconis acts like the heir, but nothing is actually decided. The brotherly competition is fierce…”
Arkin felt perplexed. He was supposed to be pushed back in the succession order and had to show good performance in the training competition, but his behavior didn’t match that at all. If anything, he had been desperate to ruin the competition.
Just a moment ago, that had been true. Draconis had openly disregarded Seneca, rattling off a few points before storming off.
The flame-red hair of Draconis peeked through the trees. Arkin fixed his gaze on the side of his face visible in the distance and caught a subtle signal from Draconis directed at someone across the way. It was a quite discreet gesture, meant not to be noticed by others.
After Draconis left the area, someone soon stood up quietly. The person walking soundlessly toward the direction where the fire prince had gone… was Princess Serena of Lakelium.