Chapter 10

Suddenly, the space in front of Rhema distorted, and a massive, vibrant bird materialized. The bird opened its beak and let out a loud cry.

"Danger line! Danger line!"

"Silence, Ofeq, before I truly twist your neck," Rhema waved his hand dismissively at the bird.

Ignoring his gesture, the bird ascended, flapping its colorful wings and circling above Rhema. Feathers of various hues rained down.

"Warning! Warning!"

"I'm already aware," Rhema retorted sharply, his gaze fixed on the fleeing figures below.

He spotted the portly Count Colte, mounted on a knight's back. An invisible, colossal hand reached out, lifting him into the air. The countess, in the midst of hastily gathering her yet-undamaged jewelry, suffered a similar fate as she too was ensnared by the unseen force. Finally, Deborah Colte was located and seized.

"Halt! Halt! Halt!" the bird cried incessantly.

Ignoring the warnings, Rhema made a gesture toward the bird, and its beak snapped shut as if glued. The bird shivered, its feathers ruffled as it fluttered frantically.

The once-proud Colte Castle had crumbled, transformed into a massive sand dune. The entire Colte family was now brought before Rhema, who stood atop the hill. His first inquiry was directed at the count.

"Where did you acquire Azriel?"

The question was, needless to say, a means to extract information from the count's memories as well. The count's eyes contorted in agony as his thoughts were probed.

Rhema, with an indifferent demeanor, withdrew his hand after extracting the information. The count's neck was twisted, and before long, he turned to sand, scattering in the wind.

The countess, who had witnessed this horrifying spectacle, promptly fainted and met the same fate as her husband as soon as Rhema's hand touched her.

Deborah Colte, the last to be confronted, paled while clutching a glass slipper. The castle had collapsed around her while she berated the servants for failing to locate the runaway maid, Maylie, or her missing shoe. Rhema wrested the shoe from her grasp and fixed his ice-cold gaze on her, tapping her forehead with the tip of his hand.

"Witness the consequences of your actions."

"Agh!!! Arrgghh!!!!"

Deborah crumpled to the ground, shrieking in agony as if being lashed by a thousand whips. Though no visible wounds appeared, the pain was undeniably real.

Leaving Deborah to her suffering, writhing in the sand, Rhema turned his attention to the persistent bird that continued to circle overhead.

"I have no intention of crossing any lines. Return to your rightful place, Ofeq."

The bird, now with its beak unbound, let out a loud cry and continued to circle.

The bird that had been squawking suddenly spoke in a melodious voice, reminiscent of a boy. "Rhema Reshith, can you kill Azriel Esthera?"

Rhema seized the bird's neck and brought it close to his eyes. The bird's pitch-black eyes stared back defiantly. It repeated its question.

"Rhema Reshith, Rhema Reshith, if you must kill Azriel Esthera, can you do so without hesitation?"

Rhema's grip tightened to the point where his hand's veins bulged. The bird, however, remained strangely calm as if it were immune to strangulation. At last, he responded.

"…If it becomes necessary, I can."

His belated response sounded as harsh as metal being scraped. The bird blinked and closed its beak. Rhema eventually released the bird. It no longer issued warnings.

Fluttering above Rhema's head one last time, it vanished, distorting space just as it had appeared. A couple of feathers, a blend of red and green, floated before his eyes. He scowled at them momentarily before they were consumed by flames, turning into ashes.

If necessary, he could end her life, so keeping her close was acceptable. …Could he truly do it? Rhema halted his thoughts at that juncture. After running a tired hand across his face, he impatiently gestured at Deborah, who was still screaming. Without watching her crumble into sand and dissipate, he turned his back.

***

Azriel remained in a hazy state, her head spinning as if she had been feverish. She longed to check on Maylie, who was still unconscious, but she couldn't muster the strength to move. Wrapped in the robe that Rhema had provided, she curled up and closed her eyes.

As she took a deep breath, the scent of birchwood from the robe filled her nostrils, clearing her mind ever so slightly. For a while, she simply focused on her breathing, finding some solace in the act.

Gradually, her dizziness began to subside, and she rubbed her eyes, which still felt warm, before finally managing to open them.

What she saw before her eyes left her breathless, and her dizziness evaporated instantly. The grand Colte Castle was disintegrating into dust right in front of her. It crumbled like a sandcastle, and the once-proud household of the Colte family turned to sand, one by one, under Rhema's influence.

No, this can't be happening…

It was a horrific sight. Despite her anger and resentment toward them, she had never wished for their demise. She had imagined them apologizing and begging for her forgiveness, but this outcome was beyond her darkest thoughts.

She certainly didn't want them to turn into dust, writhing in agony. Instead of satisfaction, a wave of revulsion washed over her.

Rhema, his expression remaining unchanged throughout, seemed less like a human and more like something on the cusp of divinity. The moniker "Wizard of the Horizon" had never felt more apt. He suddenly reappeared in front of her, holding a sparkling glass shoe.

"I don't know where the other one is," he calmly stated, kneeling before the stunned Azriel and placing the shoe on the ground.

Startled by his words, she retrieved the other shoe from her apron.

"I had the other one," she replied.

Rhema's eyes widened slightly as he took the shoe from her and gently placed her feet on his knee.

"Eek!"

Flustered, Azriel attempted to pull her feet away, but Rhema held them firmly. He swiftly removed her old, dirty shoes, revealing the slave mark branded into her flesh. He gazed at it for a brief moment, his gray eyes moving slowly like shifting clouds, his fingertips gently tracing the uneven scar.

"Reshith," he murmured in a low voice.

Azriel watched in awe as the brand of slavery disappeared under a faint, luminous light.

"Ah…"

The mark that had felt like an eternal shackle had vanished, along with all the minor scratches and scars on her feet.

Rather than putting her old shoes back on her now-clean feet, Rhema gently placed the glass shoes adorned with jewel flowers on her.

"I know you said you wanted to return these to me, but I have no desire to take them back."

"Um, Rhema, that…"

"You should get accustomed to receiving things from me in the future."

Her delicate and pristine feet complemented the glass shoes beautifully. Rhema carefully set her feet down.

"Azriel, since you granted me permission, I will not leave you to live like this."

Azriel stared at her now unmarked feet and the magnificent wizard who knelt before her, meeting her gaze at eye level. It was like a scene from a fairy tale, the dream she had harbored when she was younger—a strong, kind-hearted figure coming to "rescue" her. However, she couldn't simply rejoice in it. Fear gripped her heart.

Behind the wizard and beneath the half-moonlit night sky was a glistening white sand dune. The Colte Castle, which had stood tall just moments ago, had disappeared entirely, along with its inhabitants.

Azriel managed to move her stiffened mouth.

"Did you… kill them because I asked for your help?"

After a moment's hesitation, Rhema replied, "I have many ways to help you. But above all, I chose this way, not you."

"Why did you do this?"

"I was upset."

"Upset… because of my back?"

"Yes." His response came without hesitation.

Azriel was left dumbfounded. The fact that she bore some scars could be a reason for this man to turn an entire castle to dust and annihilate the entire Colte family? Furthermore, his face remained eerily tranquil and serene for someone who had committed such acts in a fit of anger.

"Um, Rhema… do you do this every time you get angry?"

"I seldom experience anger, Azriel," Rhema replied.

"But you just mentioned you were upset."

"That's because it involves you."

Azriel couldn't fathom why someone she had only met a few days ago would be upset on her behalf. She was baffled. Suddenly, a fragment of her memory, previously shrouded in darkness, resurfaced, causing a sharp pain in her head.

She pressed her forehead with one hand and spoke in a trembling voice, "Rhema, did you give me my name?"

Rhema extended his hand suddenly, almost involuntarily. He gently touched her face with his fingertips, offering a faint smile that barely qualified as a smile, his eyes slightly downturned.

"Yes, I named you, Azriel Esthera."

Azriel hadn't disclosed her surname to him; she had never mentioned it to anyone since becoming a slave. Her surname, unheard for about six years, sounded both strange and oddly familiar. She had countless questions, but her headache intensified the moment her surname was mentioned.

Each blink brought forth peculiar scenes, like paintings etched onto the back of her eyelids.

She shook her head. "Why can't I remember you?"

"I sealed your memory, Azriel."

"Why? Why would you… Did I do something wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why…"

A flood of memories rushed in, filling the void. Forgotten recollections spilled forth like a deluge from an opened cupboard, making it nearly impossible to distinguish one from another. She felt so overwhelmed and nauseated that she had to cover her mouth mid-sentence.

Rhema placed his hand gently on her forehead, his cool touch offering a refreshing sensation.

"You should take your time to recover your memory. Your body is quite frail at the moment."

As she felt his cool touch, her nausea abated, and the torrent of memories in her mind began to subside. Rhema attempted to lift her into his arms, but she halted his approaching arms, breathing heavily.

"Wait, wait… Maylie first…"

Rhema cast a brief, dispassionate glance at the unconscious Maylie lying beside the well, as if regarding an inanimate object. He muttered an insincere incantation, "Reshith." The whip-induced wounds quickly healed, and then Rhema teleported her to another location, as if disposing of a mere object.

Startled, Azriel gripped his arm. "Wh-where did she go, I mean, Maylie?"

"I sent her to the inn I've rented."

"Ah…"

"Let's get you there too. You should wash up and rest."

Rhema didn't move immediately but instead gazed down at the girl clinging to his arm. Azriel, her strength depleted from holding onto his arm, staggered weakly. It was a struggle to even keep her upper body upright. She leaned her forehead against his arm, her breathing gradually steadying. As a pause ensued, she raised her head.

"…Rhema?"

His hand instinctively brushed against her hair, displaying a tender and familiar gesture. Startled, Azriel tried to pull away, turning her head. Rhema stared at his own hand, now seemingly foreign to him, as if it held something perplexing.

"What's the matter?" Azriel inquired.