Chapter 330: Epilogue
Seasons changed.
Winter gave way to spring. Spring eventually surrendered to summer. Summer faded into autumn, and autumn once again welcomed winter.
The cycle repeated endlessly, indifferent to the joys and tragedies of the living.
Time continued moving forward.
The world had not stopped for Vanitas Astrea. Nor had it stopped for Margaret Illenia.
Ten years had passed since the day the Crownless Emperor died, and the day his blade vanished without a trace.
Ten years had passed since the Black Dragon fell from the heavens, since the veil cracked, and since humanity first laid eyes upon the beings watching from beyond the world.
The scars left behind by that era still remained.
Yet scars had a curious way of healing.
"Another meeting, fuck... When will this end?"
Irene stepped outside the meeting hall and immediately took a long drag from her cigarette.
The smoke escaped her lips as she leaned against a nearby pillar, allowing herself a moment of peace after several consecutive hours of discussions, debates, and paperwork.
These days, if she didn’t smoke at least five times a day, she felt like she would finally lose her mind.
"Good work today, Miss Aetherion."
"Huh? Yeah. See you around."
Eventually, people began shuffling out of the meeting hall, exchanging greetings and discussing future agendas before continuing on with their respective lives.
After the peerage system was abolished, noble titles disappeared alongside it. The old hierarchy that had governed Aetherion for centuries had been dismantled piece by piece until little remained of the institution that had once defined the Empire.
As a result, Irene, who had once been known as Princess Irene Barielle Aetherion, was now simply Irene.
That said, the Parliament itself had undergone major changes.
What was once a legislative body composed of fifty percent commoners and fifty percent nobility had gradually evolved.
Rather than one’s birth determining eligibility, seats were now filled by individuals who possessed the necessary qualifications, experience, and expertise to contribute meaningfully to governance.
Naturally, the system was not perfect.
No system ever was. Corruption still existed. Political propaganda still existed. And idiots still somehow managed to find their way into positions of authority.
Yet despite all of that, the new system was widely regarded as an improvement over the old one.
At the very least, people could no longer rely solely on their surname to secure a position.
"Ugh..."
Irene rubbed her temples.
She hated politics.
She genuinely did.
Ten years ago, if someone had told her she would eventually spend most of her days sitting inside meeting halls arguing over budgets, infrastructure proposals, educational reforms, and international trade agreements, she would have punched them in the face.
"Life’s a fucking joke."
Another drag. Another sigh.
Irene took in the sight of the capital before her.
Far in the distance stood new buildings that had not existed a decade ago.
Airships routinely crossed the skies above the city. Universities had expanded. Research institutions dedicated to studying the veil and the Alephs continued receiving unprecedented levels of funding.
Humanity was advancing.
Exactly as Vanitas had envisioned.
The thought irritated her. Because the bastard had been right.
"Damn you."
Irene clicked her tongue.
Even after ten years, she still found herself talking to a dead man every now and then.
Eventually, Irene boarded a magitrain. The station was crowded as usual.
"Tsk."
Irene clicked her tongue once more and took a seat by the window.
Even something as mundane as the magitrain reminded her of Vanitas Astrea.
Most people remained completely oblivious to the truth of the improved transportation network.
Yet Astrid had told her the truth years ago.
Many of the technologies, administrative reforms, and infrastructure projects currently benefiting the nation had originated from proposals Vanitas left behind before his death.
The irritating part was that they worked.
The bastard had somehow managed to contribute more to the country after his death than many politicians accomplished during their entire careers.
"Annoying bastard."
Irene rested her head against the window.
Outside, the scenery continued passing by.
New districts had emerged. Formerly isolated regions were now connected through extensive transportation routes.
Trade flowed more freely than ever before. The nation itself was almost unrecognizable compared to the one she had grown up in.
By the way, the term Aetherion Empire no longer existed.
Following the abolition of the monarchy and the dismantling of the peerage system, the government eventually abandoned the title of Empire altogether.
In its place emerged a parliamentary republic that sought to define itself through institutions and civic participation.
Naturally, many opposed it, just as many had supported it. Yet ten years later, it was difficult to argue against the results.
The nation had changed. It no longer belonged to an Emperor, the nobles, or to a single family.
For better or worse, it belonged to its people.
The Metropolis.
"Honestly." Irene sighed. "If you could see this now, you’d probably be insufferable."
The thought alone made her grimace.
Vanitas would have spent hours explaining how all of this fit into some grand historical trend, complete with charts, statistics, and enough political theory to put an entire room to sleep.
And the worst part was that he would probably have been right.
"Hehe."
The magitrain continued moving forward.
Irene arrived home.
After taking a shower and changing into something more appropriate for the evening, she reluctantly changed her work attire for a far more elegant outfit.
It felt strange every time she dressed up like this, especially considering that most of her days now consisted of sitting in meeting halls and arguing over legislation.
Before long, she made her way to a fine dining restaurant.
The establishment was one of the more prestigious venues in the capital, frequented by politicians, scholars, wealthy entrepreneurs, and the occasional foreign dignitary.
"Ah, yes. Miss Aetherion. Right this way, please. Your companion is already waiting."
Irene nodded and followed behind the waiter.
As they moved through the restaurant, several patrons glanced in her direction before quickly returning to their meals.
Such attention had become commonplace over the years, especially given her status as one of the city’s more recognizable figures.
Eventually, the waiter stopped.
"There you are."
Irene settled into her seat.
Waiting for her on the opposite side of the table was a woman with flowing golden-blonde hair. A beautiful dress accentuated her figure, while an air of confidence and maturity surrounded her in a way that would have been unimaginable a decade ago.
"You’re late, sister."
It was Astrid.
Or rather, her little sister.
Though calling her little felt increasingly inaccurate with every passing year.
When exactly had this kid grown up into a woman?
"Sorry." Irene leaned back in her chair. "I got held up all evening."
Astrid raised an eyebrow. "No one forced you to join Parliament, you know?"
"You didn’t want to do it, so I had no choice."
"Uh, you had the choice of not joining?"
For a moment, Irene simply scrutinized her sister.
The resemblance to their mother had become more apparent over the years. Yet at the same time, there were countless traits that belonged solely to Astrid.
"Enough about me." Irene waved a hand dismissively. "How’s work?"
"It’s alright," Astrid said. "Kids these days are quite something."
A faint laugh escaped her lips.
"What’s really crazy is that sometimes I see them doing something ridiculous and suddenly realize I acted exactly the same way years ago. Then I find myself wondering how the professors even managed to put up with someone like me."
"Trust me." Irene immediately answered. "You were a pain in the ass."
"Hey!" Astrid pouted. "I wasn’t that bad."
"You absolutely were."
The sisters exchanged amused smiles.
Astrid had eventually taken up teaching.
Now a professor at the Silver University Tower, she spent her days lecturing students, supervising research projects, and occasionally preventing young geniuses from accidentally blowing up portions of university property.
Ironically, she had ended up following in the footsteps of a certain man.
Not that she would ever admit it.
Or rather, she repeatedly insisted that she wasn’t.
According to Astrid, her decision had been based entirely on practical considerations, her passion for education, and her desire to contribute to the next generation.
According to literally everyone else, she had become a professor because of Vanitas Astrea.
"It’s not because of him."
Astrid had repeated that statement so many times over the years that Irene could practically recite it from memory.
"I believe you."
"You don’t."
"I really don’t."
Astrid groaned.
Even after ten years, the topic remained an easy way to annoy her.
Yet if one looked closely enough, the similarities were difficult to ignore.
"Besides," Irene smirked. "You literally inherited his office."
"That wasn’t my decision."
"You also kept all of his books."
"They were useful."
"You kept the desk too."
Astrid immediately looked away.
The reaction alone answered the question.
"...."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The waiter arrived and placed several dishes on the table before quietly departing once more.
Outside the restaurant windows, the lights of the capital illuminated the night.
The city had changed. The country had changed. And so had the people living within it.
Yet some things remained surprisingly difficult to leave behind.
No matter how many years passed, no matter how much time moved forward, there were certain people whose influence remained long after they were gone.
And whether Astrid wished to admit it or not, a part of Vanitas Astrea still existed within her heart.
"By the way." Irene casually took a sip from her drink. "When are you planning on getting married?"
"Huh?" Astrid blinked. "Why are you talking like you’re married yourself?"
"Because I’m actually seeing someone."
"What?"
Astrid nearly dropped her fork.
The revelation was so unexpected that she genuinely wondered whether she had misheard.
"Sister."
"Yeah?"
"What?"
"Why are you asking the same question twice?"
Astrid stared at her sister.
For several long seconds, she simply sat there trying to process the information.
Then she pointed at Irene.
"You?"
"Yes, me."
"You’re dating someone?"
"Why are you acting so surprised?"
"Because it’s you!"
Irene’s eye twitched. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you’re you!"
"That explanation clarified absolutely nothing!"
Astrid shook her head in disbelief.
The image of Irene dating someone felt strangely unnatural. Not impossible, but certainly unexpected.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Irene frowned. "I might be old now, but I was once a princess, you know?"
"That’s exactly why it’s weird."
"How is that weird?"
"You spent your entire youth threatening people!"
"I did not!"
"You absolutely did!"
"I only threatened people who deserved it!"
"That’s not helping your argument!"
Irene clicked her tongue.
Meanwhile, Astrid continued staring at her as though she had just discovered a new species.
"Does he know you smoke?"
"Yes."
"Does he know you swear every other sentence?"
"Yes."
"Does he know you’ve punched people before?"
"Several times."
"Voluntarily?"
"Most of them deserved it."
Astrid buried her face in her hands.
"Poor guy."
"Hey!"
For a moment, the sisters glared at one another before simultaneously breaking into laughter.
The sort of laughter that only came from years of familiarity. Eventually, Irene leaned back in her chair.
"You’re changing the subject."
Astrid immediately looked away. "No, I’m not."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I’m not!"
"Astrid."
"...."
The silence answered everything.
Astrid quietly looked down at her hand.
Ten entire years had passed. Yet even now, there were moments when she found herself remembering a certain professor’s smile.
"...."
And somehow, that memory remained as clear as the day she last saw it.
* * *
"Hoo..."
Ezra let out a long breath.
Sweat stuck to his skin as he stepped outside the cave, the cool air immediately washing over him.
Running a hand through his hair, which had long since grown down to his neck, he brushed it back and looked toward the distant horizon.
After everything, Ezra had ultimately concluded that self-isolation was necessary.
Many people misunderstood what it meant to witness something beyond human comprehension.
The experience did not simply leave one frightened. Even now, Ezra could still remember them.
The immense pressure.
The feeling of being observed.
The realization that something infinitely greater existed beyond the world he had always known.
Those eyes had haunted Ezra more than anyone else.
After all, while most people believed those entities had been gazing upon humanity, Ezra knew otherwise.
At least, that was not how it had felt.
Humanity had merely happened to be present. But Ezra had felt it. He had felt those eyes watching over him, straight into his soul.
And that realization had stolen sleep from him for years. Because there was a profound difference between witnessing a predator and realizing the predator had noticed you.
It was then that Ezra finally understood.
It was then that everything suddenly made sense. Fyodor had learned a truth Ezra himself had remained ignorant of for most of his life.
A truth hidden within his very existence. A truth connected to whatever had stared back through the veil.
And it was only after witnessing those eyes that Ezra finally understood why Fyodor had been so desperate to kill him.
"...."
Slowly, Ezra extended a hand.
Ever since Araxys had been slain, dark magic had ceased to exist entirely, as if the phenomenon had vanished from the world.
As far as everyone was concerned, dark magic had become extinct.
Yet for some reason...
Crackle——!
The darkness still writhed around his hand as though it were alive.
Sure, one could argue that it was merely his Stigmata. Yet that fact only made the situation worse.
Because if dark magic had truly disappeared from the world, then there should have been nothing left for his Stigmata to draw upon.
———!
The darkness continued crackling around his hand.
Ezra clenched his fingers.
Immediately, it dispersed.
* * *
"Over here, Cassandra!"
Hearing her name being called, Cassandra made her way across the bustling street, where two figures were waiting for her.
"Look who finally showed up." Silas raised a hand in greeting. "We were starting to think you’d forgotten about us."
"Please." Cassandra rolled her eyes. "If I wanted to avoid you two, I would’ve just said so."
"That’s fair." Arwen nodded. "She does strike me as the type to reject people directly."
"Thank you?"
The three exchanged amused smiles.
"Still, it’s good to see you both." Cassandra’s expression softened. "How have things been?"
Silas immediately groaned. "Work is trying to kill me."
"That’s a normal answer from you."
"No, seriously." He pointed at himself. "Do you know how many reports I had to finish this month?"
"You’re asking the wrong people for sympathy." Arwen gestured between herself and Cassandra. "He thinks appeasing his seniors counts as work."
"Hey! Do you know how difficult politics is?!"
"Do you?"
"I’m literally in Parliament."
"Exactly."
"...."
Silas opened his mouth.
"...."
Then closed it.
"That’s a low blow."
"It wasn’t intended to be."
Cassandra laughed.
After years of obtaining the necessary qualifications, certifications, and public service experience, Silas had officially joined Parliament earlier this year.
Back then, Silas had represented House Ashford as a Marquess.
His influence had stemmed from his title, his family’s standing, and the privileges that came with noble birth. Like many nobles of that era, his position within society had largely been determined long before he was even born.
However, that world no longer existed. The title of Marquess had disappeared alongside the peerage system.
If Silas wanted a seat in Parliament, he had to earn it himself. And to his credit, he had.
Eventually, the three boarded a magitrain.
The journey lasted several hours, carrying them across vast stretches of countryside. Along the way, new towns, research facilities, and transportation hubs could be seen dotting the landscape.
At long last, they arrived at their destination.
Amesticross.
"Oh. Everyone’s already here."
"Yeah."
"We’re the last ones."
Waiting for them was a familiar group.
Astrid, Irene, Soliette, Elsa, Anastasia, and Kafka.
Each of them had changed over the years.
Yet despite the passing of time, there remained a sense of familiarity that made it feel as though only yesterday they had stood together on a battlefield facing the end of the world.
After exchanging greetings, the group quietly began walking.
No one spoke much.
There was no need.
Everyone already knew why they had come.
The path gradually ascended uphill. The sounds of the city faded behind them. The wind gently stirred the surrounding grass.
And eventually, they arrived.
A solitary tomb rested upon the hill.
[Vanitas Astrea]
[May 3, 1996 - January 6, 2024]
Silence descended upon the group as they took in the sight before them.
Technically speaking, there was no body buried beneath the grave.
After Margaret Illenia had delivered the final strike for all to witness, both she and Vanitas had disappeared without a trace. Despite countless investigations, searches, and rumors over the years, neither of them was ever found.
Naturally, many theories emerged.
They believed the two had escaped together and had gone into hiding.
Yet among those gathered here, most already knew the truth.
Or at least, they knew enough.
However, Astrid had revealed a fact few people had known during Vanitas’s lifetime.
Vanitas Astrea had been dying.
Mana Core Degeneration Syndrome.
The revelation had shocked the others. In hindsight, however, his recklessness and willingness to gamble everything suddenly made sense.
That if he was going to die anyway, he might as well make a difference.
As a result, most had eventually reached the same conclusion.
Even if Margaret had somehow managed to spirit him away from the battlefield, even if she had hidden him from the world, even if the two had escaped together, Vanitas Astrea would most likely have died not long afterward.
The wind continued blowing across the hill, and for a while, nobody said anything.
Eventually, Cassandra broke the silence.
"Has anyone heard from Ezra?"
"Nope." Astrid crossed her arms. "If I ever see him again, I’ll make sure to give him a good earful."
"You’ve been saying that for five years."
"And I’ll keep saying it."
A faint smile appeared on her face.
Five years ago, Ezra had vanished.
There had been no farewell.
Despite the resources available to them, no one had managed to locate him. Neither Astrid, nor Irene, nor even some of the more influential people they knew had uncovered any meaningful clues regarding his whereabouts.
It was as though Ezra Kaelus had simply walked off the map.
"He’ll be back," Silas spoke with surprising confidence. "I’m certain."
"And you’re so sure because...?"
"Because I know him." Silas shrugged. "And I’m willing to bet he’s already been here before us."
The group exchanged looks.
Strangely enough, nobody disagreed.
That sounded exactly like something Ezra would do.
"Yeah." Astrid sighed. "That does sound like him."
Silence returned.
Whoosh——
The wind swept across the hill, swaying the grasses along it.
Today was not an ordinary day.
It was a holiday and a day of remembrance.
A day commemorating what the world had endured and the beginning of what came afterward.
The fall of Araxys, the survival of humanity, the rebirth of Aetherion into Metropolis, the day the old world ended, and the new world began.
Every year, ceremonies were held throughout the nation, and countless people looked toward the heavens, remembering the day humanity first gazed beyond the veil.
It was also the day Vanitas Astrea died. Or at least, the day the world last saw him.
Ten years later, opinions regarding the man remained divided.
They viewed him as the worst criminal in history, while others regarded him as the architect of the modern world.
Many still argued over which interpretation was correct.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say studies about Vanitas Astrea had become a topic for Universities.
Yet standing here, before a grave that contained no body, none of those debates seemed particularly important.
Because, regardless of what history chose to call him, every person gathered on this hill knew one simple truth.
The world they lived in today would not exist without Vanitas Astrea.
