Chapter 81
Chapter 81
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: The Soul-Devouring Monster
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The next day, Arsen headed with Eloise to where Gisharan was, requesting once more to meet Irene.
Irene, whom they met again, appeared to have regained much of her energy compared to the day before.
"Well, I was so exhausted yesterday that I was rude."
"Not at all."
"First, I should teach you how to use the item you received yesterday. Let me have it for a moment?"
At Irene's words, Eloise handed over the staff she had brought.
Irene took the staff in her gaunt hands and spoke to Eloise.
"Try casting a sustained spell. Something like light or fire."
"Got it."
Eloise focused her mind for a moment, and soon a spherical orb of flame appeared.
Irene smiled at it.
"What a cute little flame orb. Let me see..."
Irene aimed the staff at the spell.
Before long, Eloise's flame orb began to change. Into a butterfly, a flower, a bird, a deer—various animal shapes.
Arsen had seen something like this before.
Back in their childhood, hadn't Eloise practiced changing the shape of flames to master her magic?
Eloise, startled by the sight, tried to dispel the spell, but the flames didn't vanish; they kept dancing endlessly.
"Is this... controlling someone else's magic at will? Stealing it?"
"Yes. That's the power of this staff. It's not an invincible wand that can control every spell completely... but it could be a nightmare for opponents unaware of its ability. And beyond that, using the staff as a medium will make casting spells much easier."
Finally reverting to a sphere, the flame shot out the window and vanished.
Irene handed the staff back to Eloise.
"Do you like it?"
Eloise nodded eagerly.
Arsen bowed his head in thanks as well, then got to the main point.
"Thank you for the gift. Irene, there's something I'd like to discuss."
"What is it?"
Arsen revealed that there was a mage among them who could erase memories.
And that, using this, they could return the son of Lord Bazra without any major issues.
Irene, hearing this, asked with a somewhat surprised expression.
"Is that really possible?"
"Yes, it is."
"How extraordinary. Even the village I used to live in didn't have such magic."
"How long ago did the lord's son see this place? If it's within the last few months, that should be plenty."
"It hasn't been that long. Time is hard to track these days... but at most a month."
Irene coughed lightly once and asked.
"So, you're offering to help with this?"
"Yes. Especially after receiving such a precious gift. There's even a way to ensure no one from Bazra Estate ever thinks of entering the forest again."
In truth, executing this plan would cost Arsen's group almost no energy or time—it was that simple.
Yet it would grant Irene a great favor.
A warm smile spread across Irene's face at Arsen's words.
"Thank you. Truly, thank you. If there's anything I can do to help, I will. And I must repay you as well. What's the plan?"
"We plan to create a monster in the forest."
Simply releasing Ilak wouldn't guarantee no second Ilak would appear.
Arsen intended to create a thoroughly convincing false rumor—one that no one would dare enter the forest over.
* * *
At Arsen's request, Irene sent for Ilak to be brought to the house.
The blond youth from yesterday appeared, his hands tightly bound behind his back.
"Untie me right now! Once I get out, you bastards...!"
The fuming youth—Ilak of Bazra—spotted Arsen and shut his mouth.
For a moment, then he shouted in rage.
"You coward! The man who came to rescue me is right here, and you ran away—what gives you the face to come back?!"
Arsen shook his head at Ilak's nonsense.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm not here to rescue you. I didn't even know someone named Ilak existed until I came here."
"W-what?"
Despair crossed Ilak's face upon realizing Arsen wasn't part of the rescue team.
For another moment, he bellowed again, demanding.
"I don't care! If you're a knight, you know what honor is, right? Save me from these vile villains! Is there any greater honor than risking your life to slay the wicked and rescue noble blood?!"
Arsen understood how Ilak had avoided falling into delusion.
With an ego so ironclad that he believed sacrifices for him were a given, there'd been no room for petty fears or anxieties.
His head must have been filled only with the conviction that, as a noble being, he was destined to succeed in adventures and claim every glory.
Arsen had felt a twinge of guilt about tampering with a stranger's memories absent any grudge, but that vanished completely now.
This kind of person deserved to have his memories wiped.
Moments later, Marun appeared, bringing a mage.
It was Jeron, a master of memory-erasure magic.
"Is this the one?"
"Yes. It's been about a month, he says. To be safe, could you erase around two months' worth? Can you adjust it?"
"Yes."
Jeron nodded and approached Ilak.
The villagers holding him flinched at the mage's approach, but Jeron ignored them and said.
"Make him kneel and hold him tight. It's going to hurt."
One villager kicked Ilak's legs out from under him, sending him crumpling to his knees. As Jeron placed both hands on his face, Ilak seemed to sense something ominous and yelled loudly.
"What are you doing, you mage scum?! I never thought ill of your kind before, but once I return to the estate... Aaaaaaaagh—!"
The moment light flowed from Jeron's hands, Ilak couldn't continue and began screaming.
His voice was a harrowing scrape like metal on metal, so piercing that even the surrounding villagers recoiled in horror.
Moreover, his thrashing was so violent that the villagers pressing down on his shoulders and knees groaned from the effort.
His eyes had rolled back white, veins bulging, foam spewing from his mouth—like he was undergoing electric torture.
Arsen glanced at Marun and asked.
"Is he really okay? He looks..."
"He's fine. They all do that. The painful memory vanishes anyway. I got hit with it as a kid after peeking at a secret document the elders told me not to—the pain itself is gone from my memory."
Seeing Marun's wistful expression as if recalling a fond memory, Arsen inwardly wondered if Marun's current state stemmed from a botched childhood memory wipe.
Soon, the light from Jeron's hands faded, and Ilak's screams cut off abruptly.
Jeron removed his hands from Ilak's face and magically cleaned them of tears, snot, and all manner of filth.
His practiced motions suggested this wasn't his first or second time.
"It's done. He'll wake in about half a day."
"No chance of the memories returning?"
"Absolutely none. To put it simply, it's like burning the memories to ash completely—restoring them would be like turning charred food back into raw ingredients."
Arsen nodded at Jeron's firm assurance.
* * *
On the eastern edge of Gloomwood, Bazra Estate's rescue team had set up a simple camp to regroup.
The camp was shrouded in gloom, thanks to the groans of the wounded.
It was because they'd failed to rescue Lord Bazra's son, Ilak, who had ventured into Gloomwood to explore not long ago.
The rescue team's leader, Knight Ubal, scowled.
His subordinates were on the verge of mutiny, their frustration boiling over.
"We absolutely won't go back in."
"I'll take penal labor instead!"
The soldiers attacked in Gloomwood were voicing near-psychotic terror.
Some still couldn't keep food down.
They were soldiers trained to fight even unto death, yet the barrier within Gloomwood was a nightmare that broke even their will.
Ubal wanted nothing more than to return to the estate and collapse into his comfortable bed, but he couldn't.
"Are you defying orders right now?"
Ubal slammed the table, shattering the crudely made wooden thing with a thunderous crack.
It was only natural, struck by a knight's superior strength.
Frightened by the gesture, the mutinous subordinates bowed their heads meekly.
Ubal sighed inwardly in relief, but he knew this was just a temporary fix.
They still hadn't found a way through the forest's nightmares, making Ilak's rescue impossible.
'That idiot... why the hell did he go in there...'
The fool had heard tales of people entering and never returning, and that only fueled his adventurous spirit.
Ubal wanted to say he went in hoping to die, so good riddance—but the lord's love for his late-bloom son was beyond imagining, successor or not.
"Knight Ubal! Knight Ubal!"
Just then, an urgent voice called from outside the tent.
Ubal barked gruffly.
"What?"
The response was utterly unexpected.
"The young master is back!"
"What?"
Ubal, along with the soldiers who'd come demanding retreat, all rushed out of the tent.
A knight in battered, torn armor rode up on a mechanical beast.
Draped limply over his shoulder was a blond youth—unmistakably the rescue target, Ilak.
His clothes were rumpled and worn, but still bore their signature extravagance.
"Who are you?"
The mounted knight replied steadily.
"Arsen of Belluan."
"Ah, that's...!"
Some soldiers dispatched recently from the plains as reinforcements recognized him.
He was a knight from the distant east, known for slaying the mountain bandit lord and strong enough to fell seven of Bazra's young knights.
"But how did someone like you end up here? No—first, the young master!"
"Here he is. Just unconscious."
Arsen lifted the fainted Ilak with one hand, and soldiers hurried forward to take him.
Seeing the bloodstains on Arsen's ruined armor, Ubal shouted urgently.
"You need treatment at least... Wait a moment. Hey! Call the healers!"
"No."
Arsen shook his head, stopping Ubal.
"I have to go back in. There are still some comrades alive inside."
"What the hell happened?"
"There's a monster in the forest. One that devours human souls. Most of my comrades died saving your young master from having his soul sucked out."
Arsen added in a somber tone.
"Tell Lord Bazra this: under no circumstances should anyone set foot in that forest."
Ubal shot back at the threat-like warning.
"Just how strong is this monster?"
"My fellow knights were slaughtered in seconds. They couldn't even resist properly. Even a hundred knights charging in would melt away like a pinch of salt in a river. Yes, pointlessly, like vermin."
Arsen's muttering held thick dread, like a madman's, infecting the rescue team easily.
The fact it came from Arsen amplified the fear.
Anyone lacking insight might dismiss it, but a knight who'd slain a mountain lord and bested seven knights in a row—terrified? A being that made a hundred knights meaningless?
If true, no force here—not even all of Bazra and neighboring estates combined—could hunt it. A calamity beyond measure.
"Compared to that thing, the monsters at the forest's edge are mere infants. You survived by sheer luck. Remember that. Never, ever go back in."
"Then you, Sir Arsen..."
As if knowing what Ubal would say, Arsen shook his head.
"I have to go. I can't abandon my comrades."
His face was hidden by his helmet, but midway through, emotion choked his voice to near sobs.
Thus, Ubal and the soldiers keenly felt his anguish.
"Then... if you survive, we'll meet again someday."
"Ah, wait! Hold on!"
Before they could stop him, Arsen spurred his mount back into the forest.
Ubal and the soldiers stared in stunned silence, their gazes meeting.
"Knight, what do we do? He just went back in."
"What can we do? You lot were refusing to go moments ago..."
Ubal declared they'd wait for Ilak to wake, then return to the estate immediately.
He felt bad for the benefactor who'd saved the young master, but he had no desire to throw his life away in a hopeless situation.
Moreover, he now had a vital new mission: escort Ilak back and deliver Arsen's warning to prevent the lord from sending more into the forest.
Gloomwood had been proven an impenetrable den of unimaginable monsters.
The brave knight who'd sacrificed himself surely wished the same, Ubal justified to himself.
He'd at least immortalize the tale of the knight who didn't abandon his comrades in an epic ballad.
Ilak woke soon after but remembered nothing of the past two months.
Convinced it was the monster sucking his soul, Ubal ordered retreat in a fearful voice.
Gloomwood had always been ominous, but now he vowed never to approach it again.
"Everyone, prepare to return! Break camp!"
Hidden in the forest, Arsen watched them leave and let out a sigh.
'Ah, almost laughed at the end there. Makes sense—it's been ages since I put on such deliberate acting.'
As Ubal felt a pang of guilt for not pursuing the young knight, the knight in question was chiding himself for nearly losing control of his emotions.