Tearot ignored the sharp, irritated shout. Pretending not to have heard Banteon’s rejection, he reached out again. Banteon moved to brush him off, but Tearot caught his arm. At some point, his glove had come off, revealing Banteon’s bare hand. It was direct skin contact between a Guide and an Esper. Though Banteon tried to pull away, his body moved of its own accord, and he clenched his teeth.
“Just let me stay like this for a little.”
“I get that you’re in a hurry, but follow the order.”
A voice from behind Banteon brought Tearot’s movements to a halt. Covered in sand from who knows where, Rohan approached, shaking out his hair.
“Everything’s ready. Let’s go down.”
“……”
Following the direction of Rohan’s pointed finger, Banteon saw a gap opening in the middle of the desert. Tearot helped him walk—more like forced him to—and stairs descending underground came into view. Banteon leaned forward, peering into the space that seemed to stretch endlessly downward. Without hesitation, Rohan began to descend.
Tearot, who had been waiting behind them, lifted Banteon’s body without asking. Banteon instinctively tensed in shock, but Tearot effortlessly cradled him and followed behind Rohan.
The underground was more expansive than expected. Like the marble temple above, the space was built entirely of white stone. Candleholders with burnt-out candles stood here and there. Faced with the unfamiliar architecture and strange atmosphere, Banteon momentarily forgot the gravity of the situation and glanced around in awe.
As they descended deeper, sunlight vanished completely, and Banteon could see nothing—but the two others moved forward without hesitation.
When they reached a place cool enough to forget the desert’s scorching heat, something massive came into view.
“What is this…?”
It looked like glass, clear and immense—it was ice. To think something like this existed beneath the blazing desert. The ice emitted light, illuminating its interior.
Inside the enormous block of ice was a familiar figure, curled up with eyes closed. He looked exactly like the Rohan standing before them.
“First time seeing me like this, right?”
“So that’s your original body.”
“You figured it out, huh? Smart of you.”
The mocking tone laced in the praise was far from pleasant. Rohan raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture before bowing slightly.
“Let me formally introduce myself. I am what you people call the first Esper—and the spiritual form of the very first SS-rank Esper who created this desert.”
Rohan’s real body, a small and frail boy, was held gently in the ice, embraced like a precious treasure.
No wonder he cast no shadow. He had no real form. The unresolved mystery suddenly made sense. But with that revelation came a surge of unease. A spiritual form moving freely—that was unheard of. What would happen if such a powerful spirit, even in this form, reclaimed its body?
“It’s time to break the seal. When it’s done, you’ll guide me.”
“Says who?”
“How long are you going to pretend you have a choice? You know you don’t.”
Banteon clicked his tongue. Rohan was right. In this isolated space, where no help could reach, it was only Tearot and Rohan—both acting abnormally. Everything would inevitably go the way they wanted.
He glanced at Tearot. There wasn’t even the slightest reaction, as if it had all been prearranged between the two of them. Banteon was trapped with no way out by his own strength.
“What about that child? Do I need to guide him too?”
“……”
Banteon pointed to the boy inside the ice, the one Rohan’s body held so dearly. At the gesture, the calm expression on Rohan’s face cracked slightly.
“No. That child is not an Esper.”
His expression distorted with pain for just a brief second before returning to normal. It was so quick, Banteon questioned if he’d imagined it.
“Then who is he?”
“The monster’s first Guide. And its last.”
For the first time, Rohan’s voice trembled slightly. After pausing to collect himself, he continued in his usual tone.
“You’ll find out later. For now, let’s try waking up my body.”
“Hold on.”
Banteon stopped him from moving.
“If you’re the first Esper… I heard you went berserk.”
“I did.”
“So you were sealed just before you died?”
Rohan smiled broadly and nodded. The nonchalant expression, like it was nothing at all, made Banteon bite his lip hard.
“You’re telling me to calm down an SS-rank Esper right before a rampage?”
“You won’t die. You’ve done it before.”
“That’s not the point.”
Sure, he hadn’t died when guiding Delroz at the edge of rampage. It had just hurt like hell. That time, it hadn’t even been a complete Guiding—and afterward, he’d needed medical care for several days. Doing it out here, in the middle of a desert, with no equipment or support, was an entirely different matter.
A chill ran down his spine at the looming threat to his life. He tried to step back but bumped into Tearot behind him.
“Did you… agree to this too?”
“Don’t worry. I brought all the medicine we’ll need. It’ll be hard, but endure it. Once you wake up, it’ll be a world just for the two of us.”
Tearot gritted his teeth as he pulled a pill case from his pocket. It held the same suppressants, blockers, and painkillers used when calming Delroz. Just enough to keep someone barely alive. An unavoidable snare began tightening around Banteon from his ankles to his entire body.
There were no options. He had no choice but to guide Rohan, just as Rohan wished.
“Don’t worry. I won’t demand perfection from the start.”
“How touching. I could cry.”
He let out a hollow laugh at the crocodile pretending to care for its prey.
“Then, shall we begin before your Esper comes looking for you?”
At the mention of Delroz, Banteon instinctively looked up. Only a stone ceiling greeted him. Would Delroz even be able to find him in this situation? He regretted not agreeing to install a location tracker between partners when he had the chance. Regret was useless now.
“Come here.”
Dragged by Tearot’s hand, he was forced to stand before the ice. Up close, the forms inside were clear: the Rohan who stood before them now and the small boy curled within.
Banteon reached out and touched the ice. Rohan looked exactly the same as before from a distance.
But the boy up close was dressed in clothing soaked pitch-black with blood. His thin arms and legs were riddled with cuts and scrapes. Judging by the amount of blood staining his garments, he had to be in critical condition. His face was pale, lips devoid of color.
“Is this child dead?”
“Not yet.”
“What happens if the ice is broken?”
“He’ll die soon enough.”
A strange sense of déjà vu made Banteon look at Rohan. Earlier, when he had spoken about the boy, Rohan had seemed truly pained. His voice had been heavy with longing and grief—but now, he spoke as if the boy’s death meant nothing.
Even staring at him in confusion, Rohan’s expression remained as calm as ever. Was that brief flicker of emotion just Banteon’s imagination? It seemed hard to believe, considering the way Rohan’s frozen form in the ice clutched the boy so desperately. The way his arms cradled him, careful not to touch any of the wounds, wasn’t something that could be faked.
“Isn’t he someone precious to you?”
“……”
“Or did you just stop caring? After being sealed for so long, is he no longer useful?”
“Shut up.”
The instant Banteon pushed the subject, the reaction was immediate. The faint smile vanished, and Rohan’s gaze turned hard, staring at him with a face frozen like a golem whose core had just been struck.
As Banteon refused to begin guiding and kept digging into the boy’s story, Rohan’s tight lips gradually loosened.
“You really want to know?”
“If guiding you is going to shave years off my life, I think I deserve at least that much.”
“Fair enough.”
Rohan nodded several times in agreement, then curled his lips into a grin. His eyes gleamed with an unsettling light.
“I suppose it’d be unfair for you to go in blind. I’ll just tell you.”
“……”
“He’s not dead yet, but like you said, he’s badly hurt. He lost a lot of blood, and it’s critical. So…”
Rohan’s gaze locked onto Banteon—pupils stretching vertically like a serpent’s.
“Before his last breath slips away, I’m going to give him a new body. Something far more beautiful and healthy than that broken, bloodied shell.”
That grotesque gaze scanned Banteon from head to toe, like a jeweler assessing a rare gem. His shoulders tensed instinctively, but he forced them straight out of sheer defiance.
“Silver hair, the most beautiful on the continent, with eyes like a tranquil lake. Wouldn’t that be perfect?”
“……”
Rohan’s oily eyes met his. Banteon scowled, clutching his silver hair-covered nape reflexively.
“What kind of sick shit is that?!”
Tearot shouted from behind. He pushed in front of Banteon, his eyes ablaze with betrayal.
“That wasn’t the deal! You said after the guiding, you’d give Banteon to me!”
“And I will. Of course, his body might be a little different. Ah, and I never promised he’d survive the process, did I?”
With a sly grin, Rohan spoke, and red energy began to rise around Tearot. Despite the pressure thick enough to suffocate, Rohan’s expression remained relaxed, amused.
What an idiot. Trusting someone like Rohan in the first place was the real mistake.
Only now did Tearot seem to grasp Rohan’s true intentions. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground audibly. The back shielding Banteon trembled violently. Then, fists clenched tight, he lowered his body. With a piercing glare aimed directly at Rohan, he pushed off the ground and lunged.
