Monster Island

At the southern edge of the world, in the land of savages called Greenfall, it turned out there was nothing at all. In Storm Valley I had learned a shocking secret of this world—yet the Wall of Storms I had been searching for was nowhere to be found.

I set out on the road once more.

In the past I would have wandered wherever my feet led me, without a second thought. That was what adventure meant to me.

But I could not do that now. Bound by the contract with the grimoire, I had no choice but to head for the northern edge of the world.

“Scathia.”

I opened the grimoire and called the name again. Its master answered the summons just as before, revealing that form that was neither fully human nor fully beast.

The same words as the first time I had summoned it.

I shook my head.

“No. I called you because I have a few questions.”

“You told me to come north. That place is the Grimshade Kingdom, right?”

“How soon do I have to get there? Is there a deadline?”

I tilted my head at Scathia’s answer. I had assumed it wanted my body when it handed me power and told me to come north—but apparently that was not the case.

“So… there’s no need to hurry?”

Scathia simply stared at me in silence, as if the question did not even deserve a reply. I let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Then what if I just don’t go?”

Still no answer. I eyed it warily for a moment, then snapped the book shut.

I wound the iron chains tightly around the grimoire and checked my condition. I had expected some ill ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠effect from accepting the wicked mana used by black mages, yet after watching myself carefully for nearly a month I could feel no major change.

The mana circles spinning in my heart were fine, and the mana itself remained pure. Still, it was too early to relax. A grimoire that lent power to wicked black mages was bound to lead its user to ruin eventually.

The real change had begun with the strange mark carved into my right hand—the mark of the Great Warrior I had received through the orcs’ ritual.

The blood-drawn sigil had faded naturally with time, yet whenever I used mana the vanished mark would reappear faintly across the back of my right hand.

It was not a bad change. Thanks to that mark my combat power had risen sharply.

When I closed my eyes and focused mana into the back of my right hand, the blood flowing through my body began to burn hot. I had gained a kind of doping technique that artificially excited the body and greatly enhanced my strength.

“Mmm…”

I tugged Nightmare’s reins and turned us around. If there was no need to rush to the Grimshade Kingdom, I would visit somewhere else first.

And so my next destination was decided: Monster Island. A place where violent mana storms raged without end, a place only the hardiest adventurers dared set foot.

To reach Monster Island I first needed to return to the Karuma Empire. From there I would have to catch the ship that came once every half-year.

I hope the timing works out…

Together with Nightmare I began retracing the road I had already traveled. Leaving the land of savages behind, I arrived at the Oblein Holy Kingdom.

“Mm…”

I gazed up at the great walls of Oblein Castle and swallowed a faint groan. Stealing swordsmanship from that boy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still pricked my conscience a little, yet I could no longer even remember his name.

Had the monster subjugation he had gone off to join ended safely? If I was truly worried I could simply enter the castle and check whether the subjugation force had returned. For some reason, though, I had no desire to go inside.

How should I describe this feeling?

An instinctive aversion?

Pruurrrk—

While I stood staring blankly at Oblein Castle, Nightmare began urging me onward. I turned my head and followed its demand.

Leaving Oblein, the next place I reached was the border zone where the Karuma Empire and Oblein met. Just as before, the area overflowed with people, and large and small fights broke out constantly.

I was watching the scene in a daze when a female cleric on horseback approached. Her face looked familiar; looking closer, I realized she was the nameless priestess who had given me a blessing when I first entered the Oblein Holy Kingdom.

“It has been a while, Adventurer. Did you enjoy your travels?”

Just as I had recognized her, she seemed to recognize me as well. I nodded.

“It was a wonderful journey—thanks to Elune’s blessing.”

The priestess smiled faintly at my answer.

“I would like to offer a small prayer for the departing adventurer. May I have your permission once more?”

“Of course.”

She came closer while I waited for the exit inspection and began reciting a prayer. The words were short and simple, yet her voice was so reverent it felt sacred.

Just as the prayer was drawing to a close, I had to clamp a hand over my mouth. Sudden nausea had hit me—like the hangover after drinking far too much.

“Adventurer…?”

“Y-yes…”

“You look unwell. Are you feeling all right?”

“M-my stomach suddenly feels awful… Maybe it’s the meat the orcs gave me…”

“Ah! So you visited Greenfall. Since their food culture differs from that of humans, it seems your digestive system is having trouble.”

Looking worried, the priestess began a new prayer for my health and well-being. Yet the longer the prayer continued, the worse my stomach felt.

Just as I was about to lose the fight and empty everything inside me, the inspector’s voice rang out.

“Next!”

“Ah, that’s me. I’ll be going now. Thank you for the prayer!”

“Oh—yes! Please visit us again!”

I waved to the priestess and hurried through the arched gateway. The farther I moved from her, the more astonishingly my stomach settled.

“Hmm… Pass!”

The inspector waved me through without issue.

I pulled Nightmare’s reins and wiped my forehead with a grave expression. Tiny beads of sweat had formed there.

No way. That can’t be it.

I shook my head, trying to deny reality. Feeling sick just from hearing a prayer? It made no sense.

I wanted to summon Scathia right then and demand an explanation, but this was the border zone adjoining Oblein. If the clerics sensed the aura of the grimoire I carried, it would be disastrous. I needed to be careful.

Entering the Karuma Empire itself was not difficult. Showing the Swordsman Guild rank plaque I had received in the capital got me through easily.

Once past the border zone I rode hard—far enough that I could no longer feel the presence of any clerics.

In a quiet stretch of plain I glanced carefully around, then took out the grimoire. The moment I unwound the iron chains, Scathia appeared.

“W-what the hell is going on?”

“I almost threw up just from hearing a cleric’s prayer… What is this?”

“Strange? Yeah, it’s definitely strange, but…”

“What…?”

While I stared blankly, Scathia’s eyes gleamed as it scanned my body. I frowned at the unpleasant gaze, and it continued—more to itself than to me.

Suddenly the muttering Scathia moved. From the head that had been floating alone, an arm stretched out—as if it were trying to crawl free of the book.

The arm that had emerged reached toward me, as though to seize me.

I yelped and slammed the book shut.

The arm that had been sticking out was severed, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leaving only a faint trail of mana before it vanished.

“Hah…”

I gasped for breath and wound the chains around the book again. I still did not fully understand what had just happened, but from Scathia’s muttering I could roughly piece it together.

It had asked me how I could still be fine—had even questioned whether I had truly heard a cleric’s prayer.

According to its words, those who accepted the mana of the dead could not remain unharmed by a cleric’s prayer.

Yet I was fine. Aside from a little nausea, that is.

“This is okay… right?”

Pruurrrk—

Nightmare answered my question by tapping my back with its tail, as if telling me to hurry up and leave.

“Hold on… this is kind of a serious problem.”

Pühihing—

But Nightmare did not wait. As if to say that it was the one doing the walking anyway, it simply started trotting off with me still on its back.

From the swaying saddle I glared at the chained grimoire. Not that glaring would tell me anything. I sighed and stuffed it into my bag.

It looked like I would need to dig up some information on black mages separately.

A vast plain stretched out before me, and a cool wind stirred my hair. What lay ahead was a field of flowers in full, riotous bloom. I had passed the border zone and returned to the windmill city of Talen.

Wanting to rest my tired body, I headed into the city. The guard at the gate remembered my face and let me through without trouble.

A job that must see dozens of faces every day, yet he still remembered mine after one meeting. Impressive memory.

While strolling through the city with Nightmare I ran into a familiar face—a man with exotic features wearing a thick robe and turban.

It was Kasim.

“Oh…”

He seemed to recognize me, yet could not quite place the name. Hand half-raised, he mumbled for a moment before offering an awkward smile.

“Your name was…?”

“Ceris. Mr. Kasim.”

“Ah, forgive me. I’m rather bad at remembering women’s names.”

“It’s been a while. Have you been traveling as well, Mr. Kasim?”

“Something like that. Where are you headed?”

“I’m thinking of visiting Monster Island.”

“Monster Island… Come to think of it, it is about the season for the ship to return.”

“Have you been there before?”

“Once—just a quick look around and back.”

“Oh…”

Kasim fell into step beside me as naturally as if we were already traveling companions. Nightmare made its displeasure plain, but Kasim only smiled.

“Still a fine horse…”

He seemed to need someone to talk to for a little while. He stayed with me until I found a suitable inn, chatting the whole way.

“I should be going. Short as it was, I enjoyed it.”

“Me too. Ah—thank you again for this brooch. It let me rest comfortably.”

“You still have it? I thought you would have sold it by now…”

How could I sell a souvenir that proved I had been to the desert? I laughed lightly and waved him off.

That evening I slipped out of the inn alone and headed for the great bridge—the same place where I had once bought a storybook. The merchant who sold them was still there, peddling his wares.

“Hello?”

“Hmm…?”

He looked up at my greeting. After a brief frown he recognized me and broke into a bright smile.

“Ah, it’s you. Well? Did you enjoy the book?”

“Yes. It was a wonderful story.”

“Coming back means you need a new one, I take it?”

“Yes. Do you happen to have any storybooks about black mages?”

“Ah, I do indeed.”

The book he handed me was a worn fairy-tale volume—short text and pictures.

“Great Mage Haven…?”

“Do you like it?”

Standing right there I flipped roughly through the pages. It was a children’s hero tale that did feature a black mage, yet it contained none of the information I had hoped for.

“Do you have anything else? Something with more accurate information…”

“Hmm… Sorry, but that’s the only book that features a black mage. And because of the Magic Tower, I can’t stock anything with more detailed information.”

“Ah…”

“So, will you buy it?”

After a brief hesitation I nodded and paid.

Back at the inn I opened the old fairy tale by the soft light of a candle.