Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Homecoming (2)
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“Alright. That’s done.”
Wiping away the holy water sprinkled around the area, Lucienne finished the consecration ritual.
Yuria, who had been carefully sitting inside the circular barrier inscribed with the names of the seraphim in sequence, slowly slid the Dissector back into its sheath.
‘...The progression should have slowed down a bit.’
Lucienne looked at Yuria, who was wearing the star-iron circlet, with worried eyes.
The ‘white tendrils’ extending from the Dissector’s sheath had climbed up to Yuria’s wrist.
This was something new. It was proof that the curse was beginning to erode her body due to keeping the Dissector on her person for too long.
Even so, by having her attach it like this and repeating the consecration and purification rituals every day, they were drastically slowing the progression. But still, that cursed relic remained firmly rooted in her little sister’s body like a disease.
“...”
The Dissector. One of the oldest relics discovered by humanity.
If its curse were to fully progress and consume the user, all that remained were records of a ‘miracle of God’ descending upon the earth.
And from the very beginning, the artificial lifeform created by the Pontiff with the intent of being devoured by it was her little sister.
That was why it was physically impossible to remove it from her body. It had been that way from the moment she first gripped the sword.
‘...If.’
If, as the Pontiff intended, Yuria were ‘devoured’ by it and became a ‘screen’ forcibly ‘fusing’ with her...
What kind of state would she be in right now?
Just imagining it sent chills down her spine.
As those thoughts crossed her mind, Yuria began to totter forward.
Even with the star-iron circlet on, it was clear this was an instinctive reaction born from years of habit, something she couldn’t help.
“...”
To avoid any accidents, she cautiously took one step closer.
She couldn’t let anything happen if she stepped within three paces.
But even as she entered the danger zone, there was no reaction. Lucienne, who had been preparing a divine blessing just in case, let out a relieved smile.
“...!”
Yuria beamed widely and threw herself straight into Lucienne’s arms.
She rubbed her head against her body over and over, like a child throwing a tantrum.
“Yeah. Now that we’re stuck together, it’s fine. Big Sis isn’t going anywhere.”
Lucienne chuckled softly and stroked her hair.
It was a heartwarming moment that made her earlier worries seem unfounded.
It had already been several days since they could touch like this, yet it was always like this every time. Like a puppy reuniting with its owner after a long separation—
“...”
Even she knew that wasn’t a fitting comparison for her little sister.
Startled by her own irreverent thought, Lucienne instinctively traced the sign of the cross and murmured a prayer.
“...Big Sis?”
Seeing this, Yuria tilted her head. That innocent expression only pricked at Lucienne’s conscience even harder.
Lucienne steadied her trembling lips and barely managed to speak.
“Um, Yuria. How about taking off that collar first...?”
Honestly, constantly wearing something like that would make such thoughts inevitable.
But at her suggestion, a shadow crossed Yuria’s face instead.
“...Why?”
“...”
She wanted to ask why she was the one questioning it.
“No, but... It’s a gift from Mr. Dawood...”
As Yuria fiddled with the collar around her neck and mumbled her response, a throbbing headache struck Lucienne.
It was always like this.
Yuria obeyed her every word on anything else, but whenever this topic came up, she stubbornly dug in her heels like this.
“Big Sis, do you hate Mr. Dawood?”
Of course she did. Or at least, she should.
Putting a collar on someone else’s little sister and, even if unavoidable, grabbing it to hurl her around like an object!
“...”
And yet, somehow.
If asked if she hated him, she’d naturally say no.
She couldn’t fathom his intentions, but it was a fact that this man was casually helping them sisters with utter devotion.
-You can stay at the academy as is for the time being.
She recalled hearing those words not long ago.
Shortly after wrapping up the Valkasus incident, he had passed her an official document from the Holy Kingdom and said that.
-Now, the Holy Kingdom won’t be able to touch you properly for a while, so in the meantime, stick close to Yuria and do your utmost to keep the Dissector from eroding her any further.
She remembered being too stunned to even ask how he’d obtained it.
She had no idea what he’d done to the Pontiff, but right now, it felt like they’d grant anything he wanted within reason.
A man with that kind of ability, and still going all out to help them. There was no reason to hate him.
“I don’t hate him.”
“Then...”
“Not like I like him either...!”
As she huffed those words, Yuria tilted her head.
“Why are you getting mad?”
“...”
Truthfully, it wasn’t something to deny so vehemently, as Yuria said.
But readily admitting she saw him in a positive light felt like losing in its own way.
“...It’s complicated.”
“Hm, talking about Mr. Dawood makes me miss him.”
But it seemed her reaction didn’t bother Yuria much. She said it so casually.
It was always like this. She wouldn’t say much even after half a day apart from him.
But after a full day, she’d start showing clear signs of anxiety, and by the second day, she’d set out full-force to find him.
He’d said he was leaving somewhere today but would be back within two days, probably considering that.
“Anyway, let’s go. We’re done here.”
With that, Lucienne calmly took her hand and headed into the hallway.
After finishing these sessions, they always had to report to the academy staff who’d lent them the room that they were done.
“Oh my—You’re finished early today—?”
“We’re always in your debt, Lady Ophelia.”
Lucienne bowed her head to the knight with her abundant golden hair.
This laid-back supervisor of the freshman dorm always lent them an empty room, letting them work undisturbed.
“...By the way, what are you doing?”
Lucienne glanced at the massive wooden door clutched in Lady Ophelia’s hands.
Knightly as expected, she was hefting something that size single-handedly with ease, but why was it being carried down the hallway in the first place?
“No—There was a bit of an accident inside the dorm—”
“An accident?”
“One of the doors came off its hinges—This is a spare to fix it—”
“...Why would that happen?”
“Apparently two girls got mad hearing they’d all gone on pilgrimage homecoming at the same time—They straight-up broke the door down—That boy is something else—”
“...”
This is weird.
She hadn’t heard a single name, yet she somehow knew exactly who it involved. Saintly intuition, perhaps.
“...Was that Dawood Campbell by any chance?”
“Oh, that student’s gotten famous, huh—”
Of course it was.
See?
There was a reason she was wary of him—
“No wonder—even those big shots were asking about his whereabouts—His popularity’s shot up lately—”
“...Pardon?”
Thanks to saintly intuition again, a chill ran down Lucienne’s spine.
“No, a few people asked if that student was heading back to the Campbell Barony—”
“...Could I perhaps learn who they were?”
“It’s not exactly classified, so sure—”
Lucienne took the documents from Lady Ophelia and scanned them all with sharp eyes.
Then she folded them in half and handed them back.
Unlike before, her hands were trembling now.
“...Yuria.”
“Yeah?”
“You said you wanted to see Mr. Dawood?”
“Uh, yeah? Why?”
“Good timing. We need to go see him right now.”
“...”
Suddenly?
This out of nowhere?
Even Yuria gaped in bewilderment as Lucienne whipped her head around to Lady Ophelia again.
“Lady Ophelia.”
“Yes—?”
“Is there direct transport from inside the academy to the Campbell Barony?”
“There should be a train from the central plaza—”
“Thank you, Lady Ophelia!”
With that, Lucienne spun on her heel and bolted.
Lady Ophelia watched Yuria get dragged along in confusion, tilting her head.
“But—what’s taking you there—?”
“Something urgent came up!”
The saintess could affirm it.
It was already chaotic knowing the hero candidate and the Tristan Duchess had gone down together.
If the people listed in these documents gathered in one place on top of that.
“If we’re not careful, the entire Campbell Barony might vanish!”
That reply trailed behind the sprinting Lucienne like a comet’s tail.
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[Mastery Info]
[ Trait: Alchemy – Basic ][ Grade: Basic ]
[ Proficiency: 0% ]
[ Sacrifice a medium to inscribe a stroke on the body. Depending on the shape of the stroke inscribed on the body, different effects can be formed into a sigil. ]
[ ■ Can only be used with living creatures as the medium. ]
[ ■ Currently, up to 3 strokes can be inscribed. ]
[ ■ The sigil’s power increases with the number of strokes. ]
[ ■ Raising proficiency will increase the number of strokes that can be inscribed and the types of sigils that can be formed. ]
He reads the window with serious eyes.
Certainly, for a trait from the world’s greatest alchemist, this is all there is to it.
He’d thought it odd that it came as a trait rather than a skill, but now he sees why.
With only 3 strokes, he can probably form just one sigil at most.
The fact that it requires a living creature as the medium is a bit concerning too.
‘This alone is a huge gain.’
But just seeing the power of the alchemy Valkasus unleashed in our battle shows the merit of me being able to use it.
The appeal is being able to customize effects through combinations.
In the hands of a master, these are instant-cast spells with absurd destructive power.
He can only do one for now, but that’s just a matter of raising proficiency.
‘If I had enough of these, I’d pump the proficiency right away.’
With that thought, he switches the window.
[System Log]
[ You achieved solid results in battle thanks to the buffs applied to ‘party members’! ]
[ AP has been awarded! ]
[ Use AP to raise proficiency in desired traits! ]
These are from the previous battle with Valkasus.
He’d accumulated some during the midterms dealing with hordes of students too, but compared to then, this is less than half.
In terms of difficulty, Valkasus was far tougher, but here ‘results’ seem to weigh the ‘number’ processed more than the opponent’s strength.
To really benefit from proficiency gains, he needs to stockpile more—
“Are you escaping reality, young master?”
“...”
Herman’s words from across the way pulled his attention back to reality.
The ever-gentle old butler was looking at him with eyes like needles pricking.
He averts his gaze silently and replies.
“What do you mean by that?”
“...I’m questioning if this situation is even salvageable.”
Herman pointed at the two carriages flanking his own, sticking close as they followed.
It wasn’t that unusual a sight, truthfully.
After getting off the train, traveling by carriage was standard, so the local folk nearby wouldn’t bat an eye at the carriages themselves.
However.
Anyone who could recognize the ‘Kendrid Margrave Household’ crest and the ‘Tristan Ducal House’ crest on those carriages.
Would instantly grasp how bizarre this was.
For both to appear together, it’d take at least a major imperial event.
This was no sight for a barony’s territory.
“...”
No.
He was genuinely dizzy too.
It started this morning when his door got smashed and Eliya and Elnor dragged him out by each arm, but he hadn’t expected them to have their ‘household carriages’ prepped and waiting.
Elnor had shown intense interest in this event from the start, but Eliya too?
‘...This is no joke.’
Bringing out something emblazoned with the household crest to visit another’s territory carried gravely serious implications.
This wasn’t something to brush off as friends from school dropping by each other’s hometowns.
It was a declaration of ‘official exchange’ between ‘houses.’
In other words.
Both wanted ‘serious discussions’ to take place where his family was.
“If it’s alright, may I go ahead and prepare the baron? We’ll need to ready a proper welcome for them.”
As the lord’s castle came into view, Herman made the suggestion.
“...Go ahead.”
“Young master.”
He turns slightly to look at Herman, who gazes back with concern.
“I won’t blame you. From my long years of service, I never believed you’d live quietly at Elpante. I figured something like this would happen from the start.”
“...Really?”
“No one in the territory would have believed it either. Someone who’d cut down anyone whose eyes met yours, living like a mouse...?”
“...”
“Even accounting for that, the young ladies from those houses are... quite formidable, to say the least.”
Herman continued with a sigh.
“So, to resolve this without hurting anyone, you’ll have some hard work ahead. I believe you can manage somehow.”
“...”
He watches Herman descend from the carriage and head to the castle, sighing inwardly.
Yeah.
He agrees a hundred times over.
The silver lining, as mentioned before, was that the ‘pilgrimage homecoming event’ was the one timing in the scenario where he could mediate between these two bickering women.
“...”
Of course, thinking about the content meant he’d suffer, as Herman said.
Mulling that over, he steps out of the carriage, and the familiar scent of home fills his nostrils.
Eliya and Elnor time their exits to match his.
“...”
“...”
“...”
A chill hangs in the air.
Eliya and Elnor never got along perfectly, but now the tension was like walking on thin ice.
They knew full well what dragging out their household carriages meant.
How else to explain the three of them walking in total silence all the way into the lord’s castle?
“...”
This is killing him.
The atmosphere needs ventilating.
Even if it gets rough, anything...!
“You worm, how many times have I told you to deal with this already? Huh?”
“...I’ve told you, Viscount Goldic. I cannot comply with that.”
“...”
Of course, he’d hoped for something like this, but not this rough.
Peeking into his father’s office, he saw his father looking troubled and a fat man hurling abuse at him.
‘Viscount Goldic...’
He knows the man.
A neighboring noble. Lord of Goldic Territory, centered on mining.
He’d been pressuring them to sell the iron vein inside their land.
He knew his father had been quite stressed over it.
“Then where are those territory folk supposed to live?”
“That’s not my problem. Maybe they should blame their lot under a mere barony’s trash?”
Over his father’s silent form, Viscount Goldic’s sneer continued.
“Or should I personally evict them by force? Huh? Don’t you know who’s behind me?”
“...Viscount. They’re all good, innocent people.”
But even so, this time it was particularly bad.
He’d been rough but kept lines before—what wind was blowing to make him so shameless now?
“What’s going on here?”
Saying that as he entered, his father turned with an ‘oh no’ expression.
He didn’t want to show his returning son this mess.
“Good timing, Dawood. You must be tired from the trip—rest up first—”
“No, perfect. Your son’s got enough talent to enter Elpante, right? Better for him to talk; dealing with you is too frustrating—”
Viscount Goldic approached him but squinted at the two figures blocking his path.
“...What’s this?”
“Quite the arrogant attitude—hardly befitting nobility. Better to calm down and state your business.”
“Agreed.”
Elnor and Eliya said with slightly crumpled expressions.
“I don’t know the details, but insulting others like this isn’t—”
“Ha. Women brought by a barony brat must be from nobodies. Hey, out of the way.”
Viscount Goldic smirked and spoke.
“I’ve business with that trash’s son over there, not you.”
Hearing that, his spine chills.
No, not anger at being insulted himself.
He didn’t care if he got called trash—his father’s insult flew by unnoticed.
Just.
From that line.
He instinctively sensed the two women before him were ‘furious beyond reason.’
“...Trash’s son. Nobody house’s daughters.”
Elnor chuckled and murmured. Eliya let out a disbelieving scoff.
But.
“You’ve insulted my precious one, his kin, and my house, viscount.”
“Ah, same applies to me word for word.”
Elnor as she said that. Eliya chiming in.
Their eyes weren’t smiling at all.
“You’ve made your preparations, I take it?”
Cold air flows.
Unlike before, not tension between them.
It’s hostility, born from having a ‘target’ for their emotions.
“...”
He instinctively steps back a pace.
Intuition told him ‘blue flames’ would follow.
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