Chapter 158
Chapter 158
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 158
Chapter Title: If Effort Returned Fairly
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If effort returned honestly in proportion to what you put in, what in the world would be difficult?
Even if it only returned half of what you invested, guaranteed, at least you wouldn't grow lazy.
But when there's no certainty whether your hard work and efforts will pay off, and the returns aren't all that great anyway, that's when it becomes a matter of mental fortitude.
Pushing forward even when the payoff isn't assured.
Yet the worst is surely that.
No matter how much you strive, toil, pray, wish, and beg.
If it never comes to pass. What happens to that person then?
'At least they won't simply give up.'
The impulses of self-destruction and self-loathing. A crumbling sense of self-worth and identity.
Shahad had been like that. He found himself so utterly pathetic, and that pathetic self so revolting and infuriating.
On the surface, he acted indifferent, indulging in booze and debauchery, but deep down, he was crawling toward moments of shattering despair day by day.
Even so, clinging to that flimsy pride, he wore a thick ring on the hand that should have gripped a sword, as if he'd never harbored any resentment toward others, and draped himself in soft, luxurious fabrics instead of rugged training gear.
Days soaked in the scents of perfume and liquor, rather than sweat and blood.
He'd thought it was just innate.
Born with limits that capped there. A worthless body inferior even to some slip of a girl younger than him, which he'd imagine slashing and crushing with a knife every night before bed, only to remake anew.
No need for fancy Traits—just five minutes of frantic movement without gasping for breath or tasting blood in his mouth. If only that much.
Nights spent calling upon the gods of the pantheon one by one, wondering if he was asking for too much.
'And all of that, in the end.'
"This is from the Fifth Princess, who's away at the Magic Tower."
Shahad took the box from his adjutant's hand—the answer to the questions he'd sent.
Inside the box was a glass vial, and within that vial bloomed a flower made of gold.
"This should be enough now, surely."
Even so, he'd wondered. Could it be that this Innocent group had fabricated it all to check First Princess Seria?
The seal was real. The circumstances pointed to it being an inside job at the imperial court—an implicit truth.
But there was no ironclad proof pinning it directly on First Princess Seria.
Different mothers meant no brotherly bonds—just constant wariness between siblings. Once swords were crossed as enemies, there was no turning back.
Even after forcing that arrogant hooded man from Innocent to swear on a divine contract, Shahad had started hunting for other evidence.
And today. From the sealing of Traits to Seria as the culprit.
Staring at the golden flower that granted certainty to it all, Shahad rose slowly.
Gone was the gaunt frame where his ribs had shown through like a young lady's.
No longer scrawny, but lean and solid without an ounce of fat, he gazed at his throne from a newly heightened vantage.
"Sealing Traits on siblings has been going on for at least several years, maybe over a decade."
Otherwise, the potent imperial bloodline couldn't have been this suppressed.
"Plus, in this generation of the imperial family, no one from First Princess Seria onward publicly declared their Traits—and that's because hers were worthless."
Shahad's own Trait proved his genius; with just the minimal evidence, he pieced together how it all began.
"Nothing noteworthy beyond the power to seal Traits. Isn't that right, Seria?"
'So she must have envied and hated us. I know well the heart of one denied a Trait.'
Shahad's amber eyes gleamed colder than ice.
"What do you intend to do, Your Highness?"
"Our foe is Seria. She's undoubtedly hidden considerable power beneath the surface while orchestrating this. My forces alone can't handle her recklessly."
But the enemy of my enemy is my ally.
Had Seria truly only sealed him and the Fifth Princess?
Shahad thought of his brothers and sisters who had ventured abroad and never returned.
"Thanks to that wastrel Adelian, Seria's taken a hit and is distracted, right?"
Shahad lightly gripped the glass vial on the table.
The golden flower inside bathed in sunlight streaming through the window, scattering a halo of light.
"If I had my way, I'd..."
His grip tightened slightly on the vial, eliciting a low creak from the glass.
"Smash it to pieces right now."
With a sharp crack! the vial shattered, and the golden flower within crumpled in Shahad's hand, its stem snapping like a broken neck.
Thick red blood trickled down the flower's stem, which had been radiating light.
Shahad gazed down at it impassively with his amber eyes, then slowly opened his hand. The cuts from the glass shards and jagged petals healed under divine power.
"Moving rashly when we can't gauge Seria's strength is out of the question."
"What will you do, Shahad?"
Flicking the bloodstained, crumpled golden flower with his fingertip to topple it completely, Shahad spoke.
"Select the most trustworthy among our blood kin who've gone abroad."
Then he would topple Seria, who fancied herself the sun at its zenith.
* * *
Honestly, let's face it. Regardless of age or gender, how many otakus wouldn't crave to sail the high seas by ship, assuming no seasickness?
My ship! My crew! My treasure!
'Though the treasure I'm after right now is our healer.'
Travel itself is exhilarating enough, but doing it by ship?
And I get to customize it however I want?
'I can't hold back.'
"Stop looking already and let's gooo..."
"Rachel, what are you talking about? I promised to buy you drinks. Just one more—up to that ship over there."
"We've already seen over a dozen ships!"
I grabbed the whining Rachel's arm and dragged her along. She resisted so hard she leaned back, making me stumble once before I spoke again.
"Aren't you gonna walk?"
"I'm tired!"
"Why are you tired?"
A dragon? A master-level fighter at that—not to mention a martial artist—what's there to be tired about?!
I watched as Rachel, dragged along by my hand, angrily grabbed her ponytail and started smacking me with it repeatedly.
"No, ships are all pretty much the same! But you keep wandering around, nitpicking the stern this and the poop deck that—huh?"
"Want to row after us solo in a rowboat?"
When I grinned and said that, Rachel pretended to cry with fake sobs as she walked.
I wasn't an expert like someone distinguishing galleys back on Earth, but inspecting them like house-hunting revealed nitpicks every time.
Like mana engine output, number of cannons mounted, or even cabin layouts.
The moment I gave up prying an armed merchant ship from Armand for a quick out-and-back, I realized I needed something livable for a while—no tangerine tree on deck, but close.
It'd be our floating home for the foreseeable future. Home is where you get comfy.
Plus, it needed defenses, precise control to weave through whirlpools despite its size, agility, and whatnot.
"Such a ship is possible. Soak new timber in mana solution and rebuild—about fifteen years?"
The shark-like merfolk ship merchant bared pointed teeth in a grin at my passionate specs.
"Kyahahak! So just pick any old one!"
Rachel burst out laughing as if she'd known it all along.
Ha... my dreams...
"Money's no object. If it's possible, go ahead and replace the figurehead, engrave new magic circles on the hull, upgrade to top-tier mana engines—whatever."
Speaking haughtily without toning down my arrogance, the merchant winced with a groan.
"To be frank, young master, what you're after is tough without redesigning from the blueprints up."
Here's what the merchant meant.
Huge ships were for merchant fleets, prioritizing cargo over cabin layouts—and vice versa for smaller ones with proper cabins.
Most sturdy ships were compact due to pirates; big ones hugged coastlines by design, unfit for open seas. Naval contracts were locked in, and even smuggling meant small fries—nothing flagship-sized like I wanted.
"...Guess I'll have to cram the cabins."
"The kids'll hate that."
"Shrink the ship size a bit?"
"It'd work, but too small and sea monsters or small-time pirates spot us easy. Annoying, right?"
Everyone together would've been nice for discussion, but Luna and Zero were off buying cabin furniture and kitchenware.
Leaf was hunting bookshelves and tomes, Kane meditating and training at the inn—so today it was just Rachel and me.
I'd figured I'd just buy the biggest, best ship since it was my call.
Ah, this wasn't the plan.
As Rachel and I whispered, my face troubled, the merchant scratched faint gill slits by his neck and spoke.
"Vessels with that freakish layout? Inland shipyards for merchants or navy don't make 'em. Pirates might."
I cocked my head.
"Pirates, you say."
"Yeah, big pirate crews claim an island as base, but most live, eat, sleep aboard."
Hence, bigger base cabins over storage.
Plus, built for speed in raids, and rich crews reinforced prows, decks, etc.
'...Have Kane snatch a passing pirate ship?'
Crew though?
"I'll think it over before buying."
The merchant nodded, and Rachel perked up about heading back to the inn.
"Worst case, compromise on something decent. Crew's the priority anyway."
"Right. Let's grab drinks and have fun today. Oh, and if there's an arena, let's hit it. Yeah?"
I chuckled at Rachel cracking her knuckles.
"You love booze and brawling that much?"
"Yeah. Clears the frustration right out. You wouldn't get it, weakling!"
What? Weakling? I laughed in disbelief.
"Honestly, if not for me in this party, in a normal adventurer group, I'd be the ace carrying everyone."
"Wanna say that to Kane's face?"
...Good grief. Where's my cheat key?
Even without standout Traits, Codex alone gets recruitment offers from any raid group, me.
Still, not something to say easily in front of Kane.
Grumbling a bit, we picked up grilled clams, shrimp, buttered conch stir-fry, etc., on the way out.
"Luna and Zero are out, so we'll grab theirs; Leaf too—so this much? What do you think, Rachel?"
"Maybe? But what if food overlaps? Ask the siren?"
I shook my head at Rachel's suggestion. Duplicates could be fun, variety tasty either way.
Like those random pork parties that were all the rage once. Back during Kang Su-ho's era, buddies or dormmates would show up with nothing but booze or just meat.
Chuckling, I popped a buttered conch as a palate cleanser on the way and handed one to Rachel—when I heard something.
"Third one already? Black mage work?"
A quick glance: one burly tow-head and one merfolk.
"Rachel."
"Got it."
I stuck Rachel on to eavesdrop.
"Sacrifices, human offerings... sliced up and displayed?"
"Like a black mage ritual. Difference is they always leave runes."
As if subtly advertising their group.
Fearless of pursuit.
"No word on runes yet; topic shifted to affairs."
"Back to the inn."
One more thing added to the to-do list, alongside crew intel.
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