Chapter 820: Heard You Were Carried Again
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 820: Heard You Were Carried Again
As the three guests departed, their agendas unfulfilled, Encrid’s gaze drifted toward the sky.
Rem and Dunbakel had also glanced upward. Dunbakel had caught a scent, while Rem had been alerted by the divine power currently dwelling within him.
Was there something in the sky? No.
It was invisible to the naked eye. However, they had faintly seen something flying away, leaving a long, lingering trail behind.
A knight was a walking disaster, capable of slaying a thousand men alone, yet none possessed the reach to seize an intangible entity soaring through the heavens.
No, perhaps if I had realized a bit sooner, I could have.
Encrid thought to himself, his mind drifting to the unique properties of his sword.
Was it strange, or was it only natural?
Dawn held the power to purify evil. If it was an intangible force originating from truesilver, reacting to Will and flowing along the blade, it might very well be capable of cutting down such a thing.
Well, it doesn't look like I'll have the chance right now.
No matter how great a knight was, they could not fly.
Rem furrowed his brow, then relaxed it.
"If it comes back, I'll shoot it down next time."
At those words, Dunbakel spoke up.
"Shouldn't we just deal with it before then?"
Rem replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"I'm saying if you miss, I'll be the one to catch it. You hairy beastman."
Dunbakel pointed out Rem's error.
"For a beastman, thick fur isn't a disgrace—it's a point of pride."
"Then should I pluck it all out for you?"
"Ah, go ahead and try."
Her experiences in the East had matured the beastman. The Dunbakel of the past was gone; she now talked back to Rem without hesitation.
In the midst of this, Krais spoke up.
"Why do you think the demon's minions came?"
He defused the brewing conflict between Rem and Dunbakel with a casual question. Even for those two, a pack of demon's minions was a topic worth listening to.
Indeed, they needed to consider why those entities had come here. Why had they suddenly offered Encrid eternal life, land, and even promised to make him a demigod?
Krais looked around the group with his large eyes and continued.
"We should probably start from there, shouldn't we?"
If you don't know, you get caught. Even if you do know, you can still get caught. That was why a coward like Krais always imagined the worst. His innate anxiety drove him to visualize every possible disaster.
Krais clenched both hands into fists and bumped them together in front of his chest. A sharp clack echoed.
"I suspect they might be fighting among themselves."
The forearms of Krais, who wore short sleeves, bulged with muscle. He pushed his fists against each other with force, but neither side budged. He continued speaking in that posture.
"What if, despite subtle differences, the weight on both sides of the scales is equal?"
Krais was a genius. Moreover, demons were so arrogant that they didn't even register the possibility of a mere human discerning their intentions.
So what if you know? What are you going to do about it? Their attitude could be viewed in that light.
"But what if they ultimately need to tip the scales to one side?"
The Balrog must have been a variable. In the meantime, various proposals would have been made to draw that variable to their side. Yet, a being who had spent its entire life roaming this land, desiring nothing but struggle, had rejected all of it.
And a human killed that Balrog.
A target far easier to entice than the Balrog had appeared.
Then, has there been no temptation directed at other knights until now?
There had been. Those who fell to such temptations became Death Knights, sided with the Demon Realm, and became special monsters or true Majin. The elf tainted by demonic energy, said to be in a place called Thorn Castle, was likely the same.
He had heard about it from Encrid. Even without thinking deeply, Krais grasped Encrid's current position and value with just a few clues. Of course, he could be entirely wrong, but assuming the worst was his habit.
An incredibly delicious prey.
Wouldn't Encrid look exactly like that to the demons coiled in the Demon Realm?
Krais opened his left hand and wrapped it around his right fist.
"Or perhaps they want something like this."
One chewing up and swallowing the other. Could they be trying to tip and break the scales to devour the opposing faction? Did those three minions come because the demons were close? Or did they band together on their own?
There were far too many questions that could not be resolved by mere speculation.
"Why are those demon bastards fighting in the first place?"
Rem also possessed a sharp mind. He pointed out the blind spot in Krais's words.
Dunbakel blinked a few times, wondering what they were talking about.
"I wouldn't know that," Krais shrugged. What he didn't know, he didn't know.
He had spoken under the assumption that just as nations fought over hegemony on the continent, demons fought among themselves. The reason? Unknown. The goal? Unknown.
But he felt he knew one thing: even if they heard it, it would not be a desire they could easily comprehend. It was difficult to dare guess a demon's intentions. That was true for everyone. It was the same for Esther, who was currently held in Encrid's arms.
Dunbakel, who was pondering what to eat for dinner, spoke up.
"Is it because they're hungry?"
When traveling deep into the East, fighting over food was a common occurrence.
"Look at how your mind works," Rem chided her. In the end, the two of them traded blows.
* * *
The Companion of Heat had started as a Parasitic Horse, transcended being a monster, and became a demon.
Perhaps due to the characteristics of his origin, he was able to divide his Intent into dozens or hundreds of pieces. The Balrog's soul-splitting technique had been stolen and learned after observing the Companion of Heat's specialty. This was the original source.
At any rate, his Intent passed over the mountain range. The will imprinted on the Intent was clear.
If I cannot have it, no one else shall.
In that case, it was only right to crush it here. The Intent turned into a red-glowing snake and plummeted toward the earth.
* * *
"Damn bitch."
The mage known as the Guide of the Black Wave gained more wrinkles on his face as he lost his clone. It was because the clone, created by sacrificing his lifespan and youth, had vanished.
"Gather, everyone."
He summoned his apprentices and slaves. A slave approached and bowed his head to receive his message. Mages and witches were reclusive by nature, but naturally, they would assist or interfere with each other's affairs when necessary.
"Tell the pack of beasts coveting prey that the Star Child has appeared."
Without clear instructions, a slave could not perform their duties properly. This was why he stated exactly what to say and to whom it should be delivered.
After sending the message, the mage tapped his right thumb against his fingers, from index to pinky, before pulling it away as he racked his brain.
Mages were not those who conformed to the world and followed its natural order. To be precise, they dreamed of a world contrary to the will of heaven—the celestial will.
"Only truth deserves to be called God," they were those who openly declared such things.
Therefore, their stance differed from that of merchants and warriors. Just because they had become a demon's minion did not mean they offered up everything they had. And the world was not simple. Just like the relationships between humans.
Though I didn't know the Star Child was there.
That would actually prove helpful. He immediately attempted telepathy with the one who claimed to be his master and spoke.
"We failed, but there is still room for us to intervene."
After delivering the message, the mage fell into deep thought.
They called him a madman.
Eternal life, land, truth. If he desired none of these, then what did he want? It was a question that would remain eternally unresolved for him.
* * *
The demon of the Demon Realm received the news, and since he could not move himself, he employed several minions. Among them, 'Pure White', who possessed the most powerful minions, also took action.
Just then, the telepathic artifact vibrated, asking:
"May I proceed as I wish?"
Pure White had made him his pawn and promised him land. He had promised to make him the final ruler of this land once he 'ascended'.
Therefore, he nodded.
Do as you wish.
At Pure White's words, the minion nodded.
* * *
"Let us begin."
The South was called a great nation. The Great King of Richenstetten had received news that the parasite that had eaten away at his country's national power at the border for over ten years was gone. Therefore, there was no longer any reason to hesitate.
Draped over his shoulders was a leather cloak made from a demonic beast that once held the title of the master of this land. Along with his crown, this was the Great King's usual attire.
There was a tree referred to as an artifact in its own right. Its name was Yggdrasil. It was said to be a tree that granted wisdom, averted death, and allowed one to forge their own destiny. It was an artifact remaining only from the age of myths and legends.
In truth, the value of this artifact-grade wood lay in a single property: the nullification of all spells that targeted the mind, as well as the nullification of all curses.
A crown of thorns, framed with the branches of Yggdrasil and fashioned with thorns of gold, was his symbol. It was an object he kept by his side even when he slept.
"I will skewer the backsides of those continental misers and use them as banners."
They had already been engaging in localized warfare with Nauril. There would be no need for a formal declaration. While it wouldn't be an immediate all-out war, the time had come to thrust forward the blade they had prepared. The Great King was certain of it.
* * *
The Star Child.
There was a time when she was called that. The alias 'Witch of Struggle' came a bit later.
"You have talent."
Those were the days when she first encountered magic with such words. Her master was a person without a scent. More precisely, she was someone who desired nothing in particular.
"Some people might find joy in eating delicious food. For me, I simply find joy in watching the stars in the sky day after day."
Rather than a witch, her master was someone who read the heavens, tracked the movements of the stars, and remained aloof from worldly affairs. Though called a witch, she occasionally tended to injured hunters and helped those in distress.
It was either luck, a blessing, or perhaps merely a series of coincidences. To Esther, her master was such a presence.
It's a dream.
Esther realized she was facing a part of her past. Time flew by, illuminating her childhood. It was a time when she was gradually learning how to comprehend principles and seek the truth.
"Is it fun?"
Her master asked, and she, with beads of sweat forming on the bridge and tip of her nose, replied.
"Pardon?"
Her tone suggested it was an obvious question. What lingered in her master's eyes back then was worry. The young Esther had not known that.
Time passed, and this time, an encounter akin to misfortune or a curse arrived.
"The Star Child."
It was an alias. A term referring to the blessing of being born with a magical power as vast as the stars in the sky. And that talent was an incredibly appetizing target for some who pursued magic, often referred to as the essence of mana.
If refined, she would become a living elixir surpassing the legendary Elixir. That was the reason and meaning behind calling her the Star Child.
"You hid it well, but you cannot deceive my eyes."
She still couldn't forget him. He was said to be a mage who had accidentally lost his facial expressions and emotions during spell research. The owner of the alias 'Master of the Emotionless Blade'.
His intuition was exceptionally sharp, and he bypassed the multiple layers of veils her master had cast to peer into Esther's secret. He immediately targeted her master with a surprise attack.
Her master, who sought truth but simply enjoyed each day, burned everything she had to protect Esther.
"Live, Esther. Do what you want to do, and live."
Her master's words became a shackle. Esther did not know what she wanted to do.
The truth.
Exploring spells was what she desired. The means became the end. She believed she could do anything to expand her spell world. Esther was becoming not like her master, but like the one who had killed her master.
However, instead of sacrificing others, she merely exposed herself to danger while exploring magic.
"Long time no see."
In the midst of it, she pursued and fought the mage who killed her master. How delighted he had been at Esther's greeting.
"You've come to be devoured!"
She tore the mouth of the bastard who said that from ear to ear. She did so using the very spell he specialized in. Demuiller's Scythe was this man's specialty.
This was the point when she began to be called the Witch of Struggle.
"It's the Star Child!"
She learned how to fight by battling those who recognized her, and explored spells in her spare time. She did not even know what lay at the end of this path. She walked without knowing. There was a path, but no destination.
Then, consumed by a spell, she ended up trapped in the body of a panther due to a curse. At the time, she thought of it as yet another misfortune, but looking back now, it seemed to have been a stroke of luck instead.
What I desire is...
She did not know. She walked without knowing. She simply wished to become a star in the sky—the star in the sky that her master, who had saved her from a life of selling her body on the streets only to die, had wished for.
That was not her own life, but her master's. She had merely continued the life her master had lived.
Then what about now?
"You're awake."
Would it sound like this when clear, beautiful dew rolled down a leaf? The elf's voice was truly beautiful.
She was soaking naked in hot water. There was more than one Warm Spring. Among them, this was the Warm Spring said to be the best for bodily recovery. Stones were piled around the spring, creating a very tranquil scenery. The green eyes of the elf, who was part of that scenery, looked at Esther.
Esther spoke.
"Yeah."
The elf asked.
"Heard you were carried again?"
Esther thought that question was quite amusing.
"Yeah."
Upon her answer, the elf nodded, her expression remaining blank. It was an unreadable face. Then, she suddenly asked.
"You look like you have a lot on your mind."
The elf continued.
"You do not have to try to resolve it all on your own."
The advice of the long-lived elf was helpful. Though faint, Esther now knew what kind of life she desired. She also understood her master's wish.
Peace.
To that, she added her own.
Joy.
Eliminate discomfort. If it was uncomfortable to see people dying from useless experiments, she would sweep them away. If it was uncomfortable to watch the demons of the Demon Realm playing tricks, she would sweep them away too.
And.
Even if a crowd coveting vain things attacks.
She would sweep them away.