Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Vaidian Mountains (4)
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Ronan's eyes widened. The woman was undoubtedly talking about the temple of Seniel. Finally, a decisive remark slipped from her cracked lips.
"P-please... take me to Sarante..."
"You know Sarante?"
Instead of answering, the woman drooped her head. Even when he shook her shoulders, all she did was let out ragged breaths; she couldn't open her eyes. Her mana had vanished again, meaning she'd lost consciousness once more.
"Damn it, she's in bad shape."
"I'll take her there and come back."
"My feet are the fastest. I'll be quick, so link up with Asel and wait."
Ronan spat a curse as he hoisted the woman onto his back. He had no idea what circumstances had led such a noble race like an elf to crawl all the way here on the brink of death, but he couldn't just leave her.
He turned to Marya and Braum.
"Don't get hurt screwing around needlessly."
With that, Ronan took off running. Even carrying a person, his speed climbing the mountain was like a squirrel's. Watching his retreating figure, Braum chuckled heartily.
"What a kind junior."
"Yeah. If only his mouth weren't so foul and he weren't so dense."
"We can't just stand around either. Let's go."
Marya nodded and looked up at the sky. Asel's bombardment was still ongoing.
"Impressive, cutie."
Boosted by the leylines' influence, her telekinesis was noticeably more powerful. The orcs swept away by the river current almost seemed better off. The two shouldered their greatswords and set off.
"Sarante!"
"Whoa! Ronan?"
Ronan arrived at the temple in less than thirty minutes. Sarante, who had been polishing Seniel's statue, jumped in surprise and turned around. His eyes went wide at the sight of the bound elf woman.
"Th-that's...?"
"Found her rolling around near the orc village in this state. She called your name right before passing out, so I brought her."
"She was looking for me? And what's this about an orc village...?"
"Damn it, just take a look first. She looks really bad."
Ronan carefully laid the woman on a long bench. Fortunately, she was still breathing. Sarante gasped in shock upon seeing her face.
"Heavens, Lady Brigia...!"
"You know her?"
"Yes. She's one of the pilgrims. Last saw her about two hundred years ago. How did this happen...!"
Sarante explained that she was a devotee of Seniel like himself. Pilgrims periodically set out on journeys to Seniel's statues, and it seemed she'd met with some misfortune on her way here.
"No time for this now. Hold on."
Sarante cut himself off and rushed into the temple's inner chamber. When he returned, he held a small jar.
Inside was a honey-thick liquid. After feeding it to her, the woman's complexion improved dramatically. Sarante wiped sweat from his brow and murmured.
"Phew... crisis averted for now."
"Damn it, what the hell happened? Potions barely worked, but is she okay now?"
"I'm not sure myself. But judging by the symptoms, it looks like poisoning, so I gave her a neutralizer."
"Poison?"
"Yes. Seems like a type that seeps into mana. No idea where she got hit with something this potent."
"Then what's with these ropes? Hell, they wouldn't cut even sawing at them."
"This is... definitely..."
Sarante examined the ropes. Gone was his usual gentleness from his twisted expression. He placed his hand on the ropes and muttered something.
"Huh?"
The ropes, unbreakable even by La Mancha steel, unraveled like snakes after mating. Ronan's eyes bulged.
"What? How'd you do that?"
"Lucky guess on the spell. It's a very ancient magic tool. Of course it wouldn't cut."
With that explanation, Sarante carried Brigia to the bed in his room. He placed a damp cloth on her forehead and finally sighed in relief.
"Whew... I've done all I can. You did a great deed."
"What happened to this woman?"
"As I said, I don't know. We'll have to wait till she wakes."
"What a mess."
Sarante said he couldn't even guess how Brigia, who'd lived about as long as he had, had ended up like this. Once he'd caught his breath, he asked Ronan.
"Why'd you approach the orc village, anyway?"
"Huh?"
"I'm truly grateful you saved Lady Brigia. But I must ask. Was there any reason to get that close to such a dangerous place? What if something had happened to you?"
Ronan was at a loss for words. He'd said he found her near, not inside, the village, yet he was still getting called out. It was probably like scolding a great-grandkid playing by the water.
"Well..."
"Well?"
Ronan trailed off. Telling the truth would definitely get him labeled insane. How could he say he'd gone to exterminate orcs and ogres highly likely to smash up the temple soon? Thinking fast, he opened his mouth.
"Just wandered around and ended up there. I'll be careful."
"Wandered? Looking for something?"
"Uh... ever heard of a monster called Curse Eye?"
Ronan explained that an acquaintance was cursed, and he'd come to hunt a Curse Eye to lift it. Sarante nodded as he listened.
"I see. A curse."
"Yeah. Meant to ask from the start, but timing slipped."
"Vaidian is certainly a plausible spot for Curse Eyes. Don't know where exactly... but why risk such a dangerous exorcism?"
"Pardon?"
"It's true Curse Eyes allow simple exorcisms, but it's a heavy burden on the cursed. It's forcing the curse out without proper ritual. That's why it's only used in Rodolan for interrogations."
This was new info. Sarante added that in severe cases, the cursed could go mad or suffer permanent damage.
Come to think of it, after being drained by the Curse Eye, his eyes had itched constantly. He'd thought it was a precursor to seeing mana, but it might've been going blind.
"Almost fucked up..."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. I'll head out, Sarante."
"Already? You're not going back to the orc village, right?"
"Of course not."
Ronan turned away. He'd never expected to owe the guy again like this.
Time was running short. To make it back to Phileon by Wednesday night, they had to leave the temple today at latest.
"...Told you to wait nicely."
When Ronan returned, another village had been wiped out. Asel, Marya, and Braum gathered in the center of a village with no moving orcs left.
"Hahaha! Couldn't let you suffer alone!"
Braum laughed heartily, hands on hips. At his feet lay five or six orc corpses. Marya swung her greatsword wide to shake off the blood coating the blade.
Red droplets clung to her golden hair like dew. Ronan quirked a brow.
"Did better than expected?"
"Eh, monster hunting's gotta happen sometime."
"Good attitude. This dwarf's still got a long way."
"D-don't say that..."
Ronan lightly pressed Asel's head with his hand and shook it back and forth. Dark shadows ringed Asel's eyes from mana overuse.
"Oh, where's Citta?"
"Handling the orcs that survived the river. Wasn't that your order?"
Marya tilted her head. Ronan chuckled dryly. Seeing it handle unsaid tasks so well, maybe it'd start talking soon.
"Anyway, good work everyone. Time's short, so finish up and go."
The group swiftly moved to the next spot. The slaughter in already-victorious villages was systematic and thorough. With each village razed, their skills visibly improved.
"I-Invisible Hand!"
"Chiiik! I'm flying in the sky!"
Asel killed by dropping orcs from heights. Said she wasn't ready to kill by launching projectiles yet. Hilarious hearing that while releasing telekinesis from heights barely visible.
"Next, let's check the spots our grand mage demolished."
"Eeeek...!"
The two villages Asel bombarded needed little work. House-sized rocks and logs had fallen on buildings and orcs, leaving ruins unfit to call villages.
"Well done, Asel. Your handiwork."
Definitely telekinesis magic. Clap clap clap. Ronan applauded amid the pulverized orc corpses and buildings. Asel covered her mouth with both hands and whispered.
"...I'm going to hell."
They scoured the villages, looting everything worthwhile. Long-established villages yielded plenty of spoils. No survivors besides Brigia.
After touring the villages, the group returned to the temple. Their steps were light, despite the overcast sky.
Biggest threat's gone now.
Orcs were prime suspects for smashing Sarante's temple. Raiding and destroying in packs was their habit.
With numbers cut over 70% and bases destroyed, surviving orcs would scatter from Vaidian.
Now that pointy-eared geezer could pick herbs worry-free. One doubt crossed Ronan's mind.
Odd. Ogres are rare, but not this invisible.
He'd expected one or two when bursting the river. Since they might've trashed the temple, he'd hunted diligently, but found none.
Kinda disappointing.
Ronan licked his lips, recalling a past rival. The Twin-Headed Ogre, Vaidian's tyrant he'd fought three days straight without victory. Wanted to settle it now, but oh well.
They'd done all they could. Of the three suspects—orcs, ogres, natural disaster—only orcs were handled, but unlikely anything else now.
Entering the temple, they saw Sarante meditating. Ronan greeted him.
"Sarante, we're back."
"Welcome. You didn't go near the orc villages, right?"
"Of course. How's the woman?"
"...Hasn't woken. Poison's stronger than thought."
Brigia was still ill. Ronan grimaced.
"Damn, she's nagging at me. Contact me if she wakes?"
"Of course. I'll let you know."
Ronan handed a note with dorm address. Sarante forced a smile.
"Don't worry. She'll be fine. Without you, she'd have met tragedy. Nearly lost one of few Seniel devotees."
"Wondered since day one: what's Seniel?"
"Strictly, not a god but a great soul. Dwelling in great wills transcending time..."
Sarante stroked his chin, murmuring nostalgically. His gaze fixed on Seniel's statue.
"Memories flood back. Carried that rock all the way to Da Konya myself."
"Hell, you carried that? Da Konya?"
"Yes. Holy site for Seniel faithful."
Ronan raised a brow. Sarante spoke of Da Konya, far from imperial lands.
"Always storms rage there. Every millennium, we bring a thousand massive rocks to the site's center. Leave untouched another millennium. Surviving rocks become Seniel statues."
"So a hundred survive, that's all the Seniels?"
"Exactly."
"Sorry, but weird religion. How call rocks statues?"
Sarante placed hand on statue.
"Seniel's a soul, not god. Like pride, conviction, love without form. We honor the will endured millennium here—not stone—as Seniel statue."
"Deep. Kinda cool though..."
Millennium. Feat unimaginable sans near-immortals. Elves or dragons maybe? With Seniel info, Ronan prepped to leave.
Luggage multiplied several times. Ghost horse might not run properly. But not over. As they were about to depart, Sarante offered more sacks.
"Take these. Prepared for you."
"Why give more? Got plenty already."
"Don't need this much. Consider payment for saving Brigia."
Sacks brimmed with herbs and mana stones he'd given before. Despite Ronan's refusal, Sarante insisted.
"Jeez..."
Hard to refuse elder over thirteen centuries his senior being so humble. Ronan took the sacks. Sarante smiled warmly, offering farewell handshake.
"Safe travels. Best two days in near millennium. May Seniel bless your paths."
"I'll visit sometimes. Take care."
Ronan grinned awkwardly, shaking hands. Sarante waved till they vanished behind trees. Thunder growled beyond clouds; rain soon. Gazing at handshake palm, Sarante murmured softly.
"Ronan."
Sarante stood outside long, then returned. Empty temple silent again.
He passed steadfast Seniel statue to his room. Brigia, who'd lain there, was gone.
Sarante quietly took teapot and left. Drank tea as usual, then wiped statue with dry cloth.
Every nook flawlessly. After polishing entirely, Sarante spoke without turning.
"You've changed much since last, Brigia."