Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: Down There
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Down there.
Adelin left the half-dead Rakshasa behind.
We slipped out without delay.
Sweet outside air.
But Adelin Bus was even sweeter.
I had expected her to handle it, but I never imagined she'd cleave an elite monster in two with a single strike in the fourth dungeon.
Deep down, I thought even a brainless charge might get us past the mid-boss at this rate.
'No. Don't get complacent.'
Even without complacency, bad luck strikes—being complacent would only make it worse.
"Cough, cough…!"
Luna let out a harsh cough.
As I patted her back and looked up at the sky, a reddish glow was approaching from beyond the horizon.
It was late afternoon now.
The scouting had ended quicker than expected.
“Hey! Is everyone alright?!”
“Phew… Any injuries? Let me take a look!”
The guards waiting for us made a huge fuss the moment they saw us return safely.
“This is the map of the dungeon entrance.”
“Ooh…!!”
“Has the grace of the Dirge Sword finally reached Grabner too?!”
What grace.
After feeding them a suitably vague scouting report, we headed straight back to Grabner city.
We sat at the inn, gazing at the setting sun, and began a late meal.
As I popped a piece of meat slathered in Luna's special sauce into my mouth, I reviewed the day's scouting.
“We'll have to bring Elia after all.”
“That guy barely passed any combat classes at the academy, you know?”
I knew.
In the original story, Elia only got high scores when the protagonist picked him as a follower.
But recalling today's events made Elia's necessity even more pressing.
'Adelin can handle DPS on her own, overflowing even. But stability is markedly worse than last time.'
With a three-DPS party, there were clear limits to handling variables. Today alone, we'd shoved so many antidote herbs down our throats I worried we'd get poisoned by them.
Adelin being a monster had saved us—if she hadn't been there, or if we'd faced the Rakshasa alone, party wipe wasn't out of the question.
What we needed was a supporter.
Fortunately, Elia was a hexagon character who could shine as a healer or supporter depending on how he was used.
And this fourth dungeon was one he could barely clear if he timed his bombs right, given his specs.
This could be the perfect chance to make real use of him.
I'd left the choice to him, but it seemed we were the ones who needed him more.
“I need to head back to the workshop.”
It was just past six in the evening.
“Now? Master Enedor won't be happy.”
“We can say I thought the appointment was at seven.”
“?”
Then Luna spoke up.
“Um… Could I step out for some fresh air? I think the poison's still lingering…”
“You okay? Need antidote herbs?”
“No, it's not that bad. Thank you for worrying, Sir Haribal.”
Luna smiled softly.
I nodded, and she headed outside.
The moment she left, Adelin lowered her voice.
“Haribal. Are you close with Luna Grace?”
“Working on it.”
You couldn't exactly get close to a ghost.
“Then you should be careful.”
“Pardon?”
“She was too calm when you mentioned the monster egg earlier, wasn't she?”
“Well…”
‘…Huh?’
Yeah.
Adelin might have some inkling I know things and tolerated it.
But how did Luna stay unfazed seeing me know about a dungeon I'd supposedly just entered?
She'd been contacting somewhere via the Abyss Core at the entrance.
From here, Luft or Neville might be in range.
Contacting Victor?
Or a friend?
No, she doesn't have friends.
Suspicion reared its head.
Until now, I'd chalked up her knowing my personal habits or tastes to her being a stalker.
But setting that aside, doesn't she know just too much for it to be 'just' that?
Things like the magic tower trials or demon eggs had nothing to do with me.
The stalker hypothesis shattered in an instant, replaced by new possibilities.
“What's wrong? You look pale.”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“Anyway, be careful. She might really be a church spy, even if you don't think so.”
‘She jumped to that conclusion.’
It was a reasonable judgment.
I hadn't ruled it out entirely myself.
But deep down, I doubted it. No solid evidence, though.
“If you're worried, want me to dig into her?”
“No, no need for that…”
Just then, Luna returned, and Adelin asked her outright.
“Who were you contacting?”
“My father.”
“Hmm.”
A perfectly reasonable answer.
Adelin knew Victor's personality well too.
Luna contacting him frequently was common knowledge.
But the response was too pat. Either prepared in advance, or truly nothing.
I eyed Luna suspiciously, but she looked perfectly serene.
That calm demeanor. Pressing her now would yield nothing.
“Then I'll be off.”
As I stood to leave,
‘Maybe keep her close a bit longer.’
I turned to Luna.
“Luna.”
“……Yes?”
“Want to come along? I have questions about your flames too.”
Leaving the investigation to Adelin? Maybe. But I wasn't optimistic.
More than that, something told me I needed to learn about her myself.
After hesitating at my offer, Luna nodded readily.
⁎⁎⁎
Elia was in full panic mode.
Haribal had barged in out of nowhere, dumped an absurd assignment on him, and vanished.
“Argh, that crazy bastard.”
Looking back, Haribal was always like this.
The madman who'd shoved a sword in his face at their first meeting.
Before even enrolling, he'd sought out Elia and ordered the Alicia Machine's installation—using the princess's name, no less.
The solemn command of the Crimson Scales.
What choice did he have but to obey?
Elia grumbled but got it done.
No, he had no choice.
The Alicia Machine was something Elia had conceptualized long ago anyway.
Expanding the communication network around Neville was the same.
Another dream he'd harbored.
A network enabling instant core-based contact anywhere in the empire—no, the world.
If such a network had blanketed the empire back then.
His mother, isolated on the front lines, wouldn't have died so pointlessly.
So he'd done it.
It was strange.
Elia wasn't the type to follow orders. He'd rebelled against his father, stubborn in his own path.
Yet why did Haribal's every command align so perfectly with his own aspirations?
Today was no different.
The assignment: craft all sorts of outlandish explosives he'd never dreamed of.
Fine, others maybe—but what the hell was a remote-detonated mana bomb carrier?
‘Gravity bomb? Shit. Go develop it yourself.’
Absurd nonsense.
This is why sword-swinging idiots…
And yet.
Elia's gaze had drifted to the prototype he'd made.
“……It works?”
The healing bomb Haribal ordered.
Mix in recovery herbs and a few potions with the usual explosive formula, and boom—a bomb that spread healing effects in an AoE upon detonation.
Of course, it couldn't match Saintess Mine's heals.
But it would easily rival mid-tier priests' spells or high-grade potions.
Plus, depending on ingredients, it could treat poison, burns, or internal injuries.
“Gravity bomb… mana carrier…”
Elia's eyes scanned the list Haribal left again.
Words he'd dismissed as mad ramblings now ignited possibilities in his mind.
‘We plan to tackle the fourth Evil God's Abyss soon.’
‘You, the empire's top artisan.’
Why? Being called the top artisan by the first-year top student thrilled him less than Haribal including him as key personnel.
Enedor always said:
‘You're no warrior material.’
He knew.
No, he knew better than anyone.
Sword, spear, blunt, magic, holy power.
He had no talent for any.
His only skill was hammering. Fortunately, his artisan talent even surpassed his father's.
Still, he wanted to conquer dungeons.
Ever since that day—after hammering all day at the forge and coming home to news of his mother's death. That was his path.
So he obsessed over firearms.
Firearms needed no talent—whether wielded by a seven-year-old child or an eighty-year-old geezer, the power was the same.
Enedor wouldn't acknowledge it.
Useless clownery that failed in upper dungeons.
He'd persuaded Elia countless times to abandon his folly.
The other artisans agreed.
But Haribal Belder.
That arrogant madman alone recognized Elia's firearms.
No—beyond recognition, he'd handed him a vision of the future.
Staring at the darkening ceiling through the window.
Elia aimed his mana gun at it.
Bang!
The bullet shattered the window and rocketed into the sky.
“What are you doing.”
In that moment, a deep voice came from behind.
“……Father.”
It was Enedor.
Haribal hadn't shown, leaving him fuming all day.
Pacing the forge endlessly, he'd rushed to Elia's lab at the sudden gunshot.
He eyed Elia's mana gun.
“I told you to quit the clowning.”
“This isn't clowning!”
“Hmph.”
With a cold snort, his gaze shifted to the workbench.
Enedor picked up a blueprint scattered there, scribbled with bizarre terms.
“…Healing bomb? Gravity bomb? Remote… carrier?”
His brow furrowed menacingly.
“That bastard.”
“……”
“That arrogant pup turns my son to delusions after one day of hammering!”
Enedor bellowed.
“It's not delusions!”
Elia pointed to the healing bomb prototype.
“This… it works. Just like Haribal said!”
“One toy success and—!”
“It's not a toy!”
Elia's grip crushed the mana gun.
“Haribal… invited me to the Evil God's dungeon.”
“What…?”
“And called me the top artisan. Said… he needs me.”
Momentum building, he lashed out at Enedor.
“You always said wait for the right time. But he's different!”
“Hah. Thought him noble, but he's a demon! Thoroughly possessed!”
“He pulls that 'time' forward! He understands my heart better than anyone!”
Elia's eyes now gleamed with faint madness.
Enedor barked at him.
“I know.”
“……Pardon?”
“Which is why I can't let you go with him.”
Enedor dragged a chair and sat.
“Know of Master Jin?”
“……Aren's mentor, right?”
“Yes. Master Jin is called one who glimpsed worldly truths through the sword. Even the Church of the Lord God couldn't contact gods, yet he did and received a prophecy.”
Elia knew the tale vaguely.
But why bring it up now?
“There's a saying: Ten Thousand Streams Return to the Source.”
Enedor's gaze fell to his hands.
“Extremes meet, all paths converge to one. Grip a hammer, reach the pinnacle, and you might glimpse the stream's end.”
“……Father?”
“You're right.”
He met Elia's eyes.
“The Dirge Sword pulls 'time' forward. Mortals have fixed causality and flow, yet he defies it.”
“Th-that's proof he's amazing…!”
“Which makes him dangerous.”
His eyes turned to the healing bomb prototype.
“Iron must be heated, cooled, hammered at set times. Ignore them and force it—what happens?”
“……”
“It shatters at the crucial moment.”
As far as he knew, Elia lacked the capacity for such inventions. Not now, anyway.
But somehow, Elia had ignored 'time' and created something new.
Far beyond his own abilities.
Like 'drawing forth' talent prematurely.
“The Dirge Sword is that type. His path dazzles now, but will shatter everything around him.”
“……”
“Stay by such a one? Ride the waves he stirs and shatter too?”
For the first time, Enedor warned his son as a father, sincerely.
But.
“Even if I shatter, I don't care.”
“What…?”
“Even shattered, I'll go with him!”
Elia gripped the mana gun tighter.
“You preached waiting your whole life. But Mother died waiting!”
“Elia!”
“He doesn't wait! Drags it forward, shatters ahead—he advances! I want to go with him!”
The madness in his eyes.
Vengeance, longing, blind faith in the one who saw him—intertwined.
Only then did Enedor realize, meeting that gaze.
His words would no longer reach.
Enedor read the blueprint.
‘Mana carrier…’
Then, to the back:
“…So says the one who filled him with delusions—what do you think?”
Elia's gaze followed Enedor's to the entrance, where Haribal and Luna stood—who knew since when.
“How much did you hear, latecomer?”
“'What are you doing' onward.”
“So you heard it all.”
Enedor approached Haribal.
“Dirge Sword Haribal Belder. Heard the name much, but never verified it myself.”
“……”
“So, young master. Why come here?”
“To invite Elia to the party.”
Elia gasped.
Now, unlike morning, Haribal seemed to truly need him.
The seasoned artisan saw what happened in between at a glance.
“…Already been?”
“Yes.”
At Haribal's curt reply, Elia grasped Enedor's meaning too.
He'd gone to the abandoned mine today.
“Results?”
“Confirmed I need your son.”
“Then prove it worthy.”
“What proof?”
“Recently offered to craft a sword for someone. But no ore here fits the vision.”
Enedor glared.
“Fetch the ore I name now?”
“What ore?”
“Dronium.”
“Where from?”
Haribal's instant reply raised his brows.
“Not asking what it is?”
“You say it's for my proof. So I fetch and prove. What it is matters little.”
“…Indeed…”
Enedor chuckled.
“Good. Dronium's there.”
He pointed out the broken window.
To the towering ceiling at the city outskirts.
“Down there.”