Chapter 315: The Black Iron City (III)

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"I am dying." 

A weathered old man, his face lined with the marks of time and hardship, sat upon the Iron Throne, his voice barely above a whisper. 

His body bore the scars of grievous wounds. His left arm was entirely missing, and his left leg had been severed halfway up the thigh. What remained was a mere fraction of a foot, shin, and thigh. Whether the wounds extended to his waist and abdomen was unclear, as his clothing concealed the damage. 

The exposed flesh at the stump of his leg was covered in jagged gray protrusions, resembling clusters of barnacles clinging to the bottom of a ship—grotesque, twisted remnants of his battle with the Abyss. 

Ugly. Monstrous. These were the scars the Abyss had left upon him. 

But at least he had made it home. He had returned alive. 

"I didn't want to be buried in the tomb we built together. So, I carved out this place for myself—on a distant island, far from home. I dug my own grave with my own hands." 

"But... I overestimated my strength." 

The old man let out a faint sigh. "A dog of the Abyss took a bite out of me… And, oh, did it bite deep." 

He let out a small, complicated chuckle. "If my old friend hadn't given me that final push, I might never have made it back." 

"A being born from the condensed rules of the world… even if it were just a mindless beast, it wouldn't be an easy foe to deal with. We were fortunate to kill it when we did—because if we hadn't, and it had fully matured, the Gates would have inevitably broken." 

"Even if we had survived, we would have been forced into exile, drifting through the void with only the last remnants of the Star Core, searching for a new home… with no guarantee of ever finding one." 

"At least I still have a homeland where I can die. Isn't that enough?" 

He spoke as if to himself, his gaze never lingering on the unseen audience he knew would one day witness his message. He did not need to look. He knew they would be there. 

"I regret that I couldn't die out there. Maybe… maybe it's because, deep down, I still hope to see my friends again in the world beyond death. Even though the memories of those final moments are unbearable… what's even more unbearable is the thought of dying alone, away from them." 

"I hope there will be more Wakened Ones after me. I know—we are nothing more than tools, hatched by the world to protect it. That is our mission, our fate. The Abyss has not been completely vanquished. And as long as it remains, then we, as tools, will always have a purpose." 

"I hope my successors will have it easier than we did. We, as their predecessors, have already dealt with most of the trouble for them. Their lives… should be lighter, less burdened." 

"Even if we are destined to be used as tools, we are still human. And humans—" 

"—humans deserve to live as humans." 

"Look at this banquet." 

The old man smiled, his face softening with nostalgia. 

"It was so lively. I hosted it, in my homeland's castle. We gathered, drank fine wine, and feasted together." 

"Once, I was a prince. But when I returned from the Abyss, all I saw was ruin. My father had long since passed—hundreds of years ago, even. Perhaps this war-scarred castle is the last lingering piece of my memory. But… I can barely remember what it used to look like." 

His words grew quieter, his expression more peaceful, his voice carrying the weight of time itself. 

"It's time for me to go. To find my old friends. We were once comrades who shared a banquet together in life. In the afterlife, perhaps we will never again taste the richness of wine or the sweetness of food—but at least, we will not be alone." 

"Perhaps someone will find this place one day." 

The old man lifted his gaze, smiling faintly in the direction where Harry and Fleur stood. 

"I'm sorry… I have no treasures worthy of keeping. Only this half-finished city that will never be completed, nor does it need to be." 

"Giving away a graveyard is a bit inappropriate, isn't it? Hah!" 

His laughter was lighter now, his face more animated than before. 

"Though I have no great riches to offer, I do have a few interesting trinkets." 

"I hope you find some enjoyment in them, my successors." 

He reached out and tapped the Iron Throne with a single, light knock. At his touch, the throne unfurled, revealing a hidden gateway—its destination unknown. 

"The magical barrier has been opened for me."

The moment the old man's recorded message dissipated, Harry immediately sensed a difference. The faint magical suppression that had once weighed upon him was now completely lifted. However, while the barrier had released its hold on him, controlling it was another matter entirely. After all, this castle was never meant to be inherited—it was an unfinished tomb, built by its creator for himself. He had neither the time nor the intention to perfect it. 

A thousand years later, this place was nothing more than a million-ton hunk of pure iron. At best, it was worth a fortune in scrap metal. Even if someone gave it to him for free, Harry wasn't particularly interested in owning it. 

But what did intrigue him was what the old man had called "a few interesting trinkets." 

"That old man… he was a Wakened One, wasn't he?" 

Fleur's voice carried a hint of fascination. Though she knew Harry was one as well, seeing an actual recording from a Wakened One who had lived a thousand years ago was a first for her. 

"How incredible!" She linked her arm through his, speaking softly. "If we were to leave a message like this… would our great-great-great-great-grandchildren be able to see it someday?" 

Harry chuckled and lowered his head slightly, inhaling the scent of her hair before pressing his forehead lightly against hers. 

"Why great-great-great-great-grandchildren?" 

"Because I asked Daenerys," Fleur murmured, her voice carrying a quiet smile. "She said… we can be together for a very, very, very long time. So..." 

With a playful bounce, Fleur wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped lightly, her long, toned legs curling around his waist. Their faces were so close that they could feel each other's breath, and the warmth between them rose ever so slightly. Her soft fragrance lingered in the air. 

There was no need to finish the sentence. 

They could hear each other's heartbeats. They already understood everything. 

After that brief, intimate moment, Harry extended two fingers and tapped lightly on the armrest of the Iron Throne. 

In response, the massive black throne began shifting, countless seams splitting open. The iron structure reassembled itself at a startling speed, forming a grand doorway. A shimmering magical glow rippled across the empty frame like a curtain of water. 

This was supposed to be a dark, lifeless tomb. 

But it was anything but empty. 

Unlike the Black Iron City above, this space had been carefully arranged by the unknown elder—a place filled with the "toys" he had prepared for himself. 

Harry had no idea what the afterlife truly looked like. But that old man… he must have known. Unlike ghosts who wandered between life and death, bound in eternal suffering, the true world beyond was likely silent. Isolated. Dark. Cold. 

Everything here had once been meant to stave off that unbearable loneliness. 

And yet—this place was not shrouded in darkness. 

It was blazing with light. 

Magical flames burned bright, illuminating every inch of the cavernous chamber. 

Before them stood a colossal iron giant, towering over four hundred meters in height—so massive that one had to crane their neck just to take in its full form. Around it, automated magical lifts moved up and down in rapid succession, buzzing with activity. 

A crowd of people bustled around the massive construct, examining the intricate runes etched across its iron surface. 

The entire floor—spanning tens of thousands of square meters—was lit by a soft blue glow, a vast, elaborate alchemical array shining beneath their feet. The sheer complexity of it was enough to leave even a seasoned mage in awe. 

And then— 

Two unfamiliar figures descended from the sky. 

The moment Harry and Fleur set foot on the ground, hundreds of eyes turned sharply toward them. 

"Drop your weapons! Hands on your head! You are under arrest for trespassing in a classified magical research facility!" 

"This is the Australian Federal Ministry of Magic!" 

Though it seemed they had taken a second too long to react, within mere seconds, a horde of heavily armed wizards surrounded them in a tight formation. 

A forest of cold, steel gun barrels locked onto their heads, fingers already resting on the triggers. 

(End of Chapter)