Chapter 53
Chapter 53
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Vaidian Mountains (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ronan lowered his sword. The middle-aged elf finally let out a sigh of relief. Picking up the fallen basket from the ground, he said,
"I am a priest who serves Seniel. To come all the way to this forsaken place... you must have your reasons."
"Seniel?"
"Yes. An ancient spirit. Now, only a scant few remember that name... I truly thought you were a pilgrim come to worship her."
Seniel. It was a name Ronan had never heard before. The man began gathering the spilled herbs and mushrooms from the basket. Ronan helped him pick them up as well.
"Ah, thank you for your help."
"It spilled because of me, so it's only right. But... you eat all this?"
Ronan frowned. Every single one of those strangely shaped weeds was something he'd never seen before. The man chuckled as he picked up a root as black as a demon's beard.
"They may look like this, but they're excellent herbs. The kind you can only find in places where mana pools like this."
"They look like they'd sprout tails from their asses and it wouldn't be weird... but now I'm curious since you say that."
"Come inside. I'll brew some humble tea. It's been ages since I met someone who's not a pilgrim."
"Sure. But I have companions. Mind if I bring them?"
"Ah, that explains the presence I felt. Of course."
The elf man readily agreed to Ronan's suggestion. Before long, Asel, Marya, and Braum arrived in front of the temple. They all marveled at the sight of a temple built in such a harsh wilderness, looking around curiously. The man clasped his palms together and bowed at the waist.
"La Seniel. I am Sarante Lemation."
"Lemotion?"
Ronan frowned upon hearing the surname Lemation. It was the same as the elf Cirilla's, who was holed up in Rodolan.
But he didn't raise any objections. It was common among elves to use the name of their mother tree as a surname, and Lemation was one of the more common ones. Ronan's group exchanged greetings in turn.
"I'm Ronan."
"H-Hi... I'm Asel."
"Hello, Sarante. I'm Marya Karabel."
"Wahaha! I'm Braum!"
Sarante clasped his hands again and led the group into the temple. The rectangular interior carried the austere, serene atmosphere typical of such places. Marya murmured as she stroked the relief-carved walls.
"It's an architecture style I've never seen before."
Most of the structures, from chairs to the altar, were made of stone. They appeared crude at first glance, but a closer look revealed they had been meticulously crafted with great skill. As Ronan examined the temple, his gaze stopped at one spot.
"This is...?"
In the center of the temple stood an ugly rock. In other faiths' temples, that spot would hold a holy relic or altar. Then, Sarante's voice came from behind.
"Ah, that's the statue of Seniel."
"A god? This?"
Ronan frowned. Nowhere on the rock, which resembled half-eaten corn, could he discern any divine form. Only the passage of ages and hardships etched into its worn surface conveyed themselves.
What a strange religion. After pondering for a moment, Ronan spoke up. He'd been mildly concerned about Cirilla anyway.
"Hey, Sarante."
"Hm? What is it?"
"Without asking anything, just repeat after me once? 'The descent of the stars is the day starlight falls.'"
Sarante tilted his head. Ronan was ready to draw his sword at any moment.
"What does that mean?"
"I'll tell you soon. Just repeat it first. Come on."
All eyes were on Sarante. Marya suddenly began polishing her greatsword, and Braum pretended to admire the reliefs while blocking the entrance. Finally, Sarante spoke.
"Alright. The descent of the stars is the day starlight falls."
"Hm."
"Now, will you tell me what it means? Is it some trendy spell from the outside world?"
Sarante repeated Ronan's words without a change in expression. Even if told to insult Ahayute, it would be the same.
Only then did Ronan relax, releasing his grip on the sword hilt. He gave a rough explanation about the organization called Nebula Klazie. Sarante shook his head with a wry smile.
"Forces that plunge the world into chaos with false faiths have always existed. Come to think of it, there was a similar group during the reign of Riksoda VII..."
"Riksoda...?"
Ronan narrowed his brow. It was a name he'd only heard in history class. The kingdom that ruled the central continent when the Millennium Empire Valon was still a minor frontier state. Interpreting Ronan's silence, Sarante smiled awkwardly.
"Hm, the master of this land must have changed hands again."
"How old are you exactly?"
"I don't know myself. I stopped counting years over a thousand years ago."
Ronan shook his head. Conversing with long-lived races often shattered his common sense. Sarante asked various questions about the current state of the continent.
"Heh, so the demon dragon Orse was defeated. That's truly surprising. To think mortals have reached such heights."
"The war between the founding emperor and Orse is now just a fairy tale."
"I should make an effort to hear outside news at least once a century... Ah, here. Tea you can only taste in Vaidian."
Finishing the conversation, Sarante handed steaming teacups to the group. The bluish tea emitted a scent that maximized the aroma of various herbs.
"Ah, thanks."
The loyalty test was over, but Ronan couldn't let his guard down yet. He only drank after seeing Sarante empty his cup. The moment the hot liquid went down his throat, Ronan's vision blurred.
"Huh? What's this...?"
Ronan blinked repeatedly. From the hazy distance came Sarante's low chuckle.
"Heh heh heh... I hope it suits your tastes."
"M-My eyes!"
"What is this...!"
The panicked cries of the others rang out. Damn it, poison? As Ronan reached for Ramancha, his foggy vision suddenly cleared, and his eyes felt refreshed like stepping into a mint field.
"...Feels refreshing?"
"Heh heh... That's not all."
All eye fatigue was gone. Sarante smiled contentedly at the flustered group. Then, Asel, looking around in awe, exclaimed.
"Ma-Mana...! It's so clear...!"
"Wahaha! This is amazing. Did I just awaken my aura?"
Unable to contain his excitement, Braum jumped up from his seat. Ronan rubbed his eyes in disbelief. The floating mana around him was several times sharper.
"What the hell is this...?"
It felt like his eyeballs had been removed, washed in a potion, and put back in. The range was much wider, and he could even faintly glimpse the mana inside people's bodies.
It was a vision one could only attain through aura awakening unless born with a mage's talent. Ronan let out a hollow laugh.
"Damn it, what did you feed us?"
"Tea made from herbs that enhance mana affinity. It's temporary now, but drinking it steadily will surely help long-term affinity too."
"I'm really grateful, but this is scary good."
"Heh heh... Take this too."
Sarante offered a large sack. It was filled with the same herbs from his basket. He gave each member a sack and even shared the tea recipe.
"By the way, if you have time, how about staying a few days?"
"Stay?"
"Yes. Feel free to refuse if it's inconvenient. It's just so rare to talk with such young, promising folks."
Pilgrims were probably ancient elves like Sarante, at least a thousand years old.
Ronan looked at his companions. They were all engrossed in marveling at the suspicious tea's effects.
"I'm good with it. You guys?"
"I-I'm for it. Riding that thing needs some mental prep anyway..."
"I'm in too. Learning more about leylines would be great."
"Wahahaha! I don't care! Can I have another cup?"
The group unanimously agreed. Ronan, who had been silent, nodded. It was too good an offer to refuse over faint suspicion.
"Then we'll impose on you. Thanks, Sarante."
"The pleasure is mine."
Thus began their short stay at the temple. Sarante treated Ronan's group with utmost hospitality. He didn't stop them from gathering leyline byproducts and even helped them find better ones.
That afternoon, Sarante led them into a cave. The mana density was so high even the stalactites had turned to magic stones. Pointing to the magic stones scattered deep inside, Sarante said,
"What do you think? The stones here are decent."
"D-Decent? These are mostly top-grade...!"
"Take as many as you need. They only gain meaning when used."
Marya's eyes widened like saucers. Promising to repay him, she carefully selected and packed magic stones into her backpack. That fruitful night, Sarante brought back a large wild boar.
"Let's have this for dinner. It absorbs Vaidian's mana, so the taste is superb."
"...You sure you're an elf?"
"Heh heh, that prejudice won't vanish until elves go extinct. Most of my kin abstain from meat, of course, but those who venerate Seniel like me don't mind. Death isn't an end but the start of a cycle."
Sarante's mindset differed from typical elves. Unlike those who shot arrows at anyone killing a rabbit in their territory, he didn't fear nature's consumption.
Behind the temple was an oven for grilling meat. Sarante skillfully cooked and served the boar with expert hands.
Indeed, the mana-infused meat was on another level from anything they'd eaten before. Watching the group devour it, Sarante murmured softly.
"Heh heh heh... Tomorrow, I'll treat you to something even more special."
Ronan, who overheard by chance, widened his eyes. Horrific possibilities flashed through his mind.
Judging by Sarante's expression, it wouldn't be odd if Asel vanished that night and unfamiliar meat appeared on the table the next day. The tragedy would begin with Marya finding a red hair stuck in her teeth.
'Right. He was suspiciously nice. Now the true colors show.'
But contrary to Ronan's worries, the night passed uneventfully. The next day, Sarante brought a massive deer for lunch. It was larger than a typical reindeer.
'...Fuck?'
Ronan frowned. Seeing his expression, Sarante tilted his head.
"Hm? Is something uncomfortable?"
"No... I overheard you say something about special meat yesterday, and your face looked ominous. Guess I misunderstood."
"Ha...! You heard that...?"
"Yeah. I thought for sure one of us would end up on the plate."
"Ah... Sorry if I made you uneasy. I got overly excited with such esteemed guests after so long."
Sarante scratched his head apologetically. The venison hit the table that evening. As befitting special meat, it was exquisite. After devouring an entire hind leg, Ronan nodded.
'I was too paranoid.'
He had to admit it now. Sarante was just a kind old man. Suddenly, he wondered who had destroyed the temple this good man lived in.
'Doesn't seem like some grudge.'
Contrasting the intact temple with the aged ruins' feel, Ronan concluded the destruction had happened recently.
Ronan recalled the ruins' scenery. The shattered temple remnants, with only a few pillars left, showed no malice or intent.
Ronan began narrowing down likely culprits for wrecking it like that. He came up with three candidates; one unavoidable, but the other two manageable.
'Perfect timing. My body's itching anyway.'
That night, with Sarante absent, Ronan gathered the group. Marya, woken from sleep, yawned.
"Yaaawn... What's this in the middle of the night?"
"A great idea popped up."
"Great idea...?"
"Before we leave, let's clear out the nearby orc villages. Hunt for more Curse Eyes too."
"What?"
The group's eyes snapped open, including Marya's. What nonsense was this? Ronan continued, pipe in mouth.
"We're just mooching off that elf elder. Eat, then work."
"Th-That's true, but..."
"And nothing beats real combat for improving skills. Right, Asel?"
"Eek!"
Asel backed away. Ronan wore the same smile as when suggesting they steal Luna Goblin loot.
"Follow me."
Ronan dragged them relentlessly to the mountaintop. The vast Vaidian Mountains unfolded before them. Pointing to flickering lights here and there, Ronan said,
"Those are all shitty orc villages. Figure a hundred to three hundred per village."
"Th-Three hundred...!"
"We'll wipe them all out today or tomorrow. It'll be solid experience, I guarantee."
It didn't take long to realize he wasn't joking. The group's faces paled.
"A-All of those?"
There were at least six villages. Individual orcs weren't too strong, but the numbers were overwhelming. Reading their thoughts, Ronan continued,
"I know what you're thinking. Seems like it'll take forever, right?"
"Honestly, yeah. Even if we fight well, stamina has limits!"
Braum said seriously. Fatigue for even a moment meant being swarmed. Ronan exhaled smoke.
"Don't worry. We won't even cross blades with most of them."
"Hm?"
Ronan smirked at the orc villages. Each was built in an ideal clustered spot: caves, riversides, cliffs serving as barriers... He turned to the terrified Asel and said,
"Fighting and killing are two totally different things."