Chapter 100
Chapter 100
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Piercing Regret
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A lineage that had wielded a single whip against the demonkin for generations.
The last heir of the Western family stared vacantly at the changes overtaking her in some space detached from reality.
Silver fur matching her hair color sprouted across her limbs. Probably her face too.
Her long hair shortened, her nails lengthened. The transformation—an irresistible one—continued even now during the teleport.
The woman shed tears unwittingly.
‘I don’t want this.’
To turn from human into something inhuman, and by force no less, was utter horror. At its end, even her intellect would vanish, leaving only a pure beast behind. Just like her family and relatives—human gone, animal remaining.
‘No... don’t...’
Her voice no longer emerged. A guttural screech burst from her mouth instead. Though it was merely one lifeform shifting to another’s shape, to a person, it was death.
As death as a human loomed, a montage flashed through Lucia’s mind. From childhood days to this dire moment. Her entire life flipped past like pages in a book.
‘Father, Mother. And sister, brother...’
The Western family was cold to demons but warm to kin. Parents, relatives, blood siblings—all had been affectionate to Lucia, the most trustworthy people in her world.
Until the day Grimudo came calling.
Or so it had been.
‘I wanted... somehow to save them.’
Her blood kin turned beast pack—sister a weasel trying to devour Mother the chicken. Former family unrecognizable, reverted to feral states.
When Grimudo departed and Lucia, luckily away from home, returned to this despair, the demon king had spared their wealth. She hired caretakers with it, at least.
But then what? Most animals outlive humans? No—few do.
Even Mother as chicken: longest estimate, ten years. Shortest, five before departing this world. Facing this, she appealed to the pope of Elisian Church, close to her family. But they had no answers.
—I can’t even grasp the principle behind this curse.
Even with the pope personally infusing holy power, the animal-turned kin didn’t revert. They simply became healthy beasts.
The Three Gods Church stirred at the demon king’s dread power revealed anew. Thus, even an elixir proved meaningless.
—Child, if there’s a way to lift this curse, only an ancient demon king might hold it. I’m sorry. Elisian Church has no method.
To send them off without conversation or communion for life?
Had her family died outright, true hopelessness might have let her surrender. But no—they lived. All alive! Just find the way to restore them!
For that sole purpose, she volunteered for the hero party. To meet Grimudo, subdue him, uncover restoration for her kin. A journey for family revenge and reversal.
Yet the result?
One more beast added. What had all that travel, suffering, been for?
Tears came unbidden.
Deep down, she might have known. From that pathetic rout fleeing the North Pole, she’d averted the truth.
Revenge on Grimudo, kin restoration—she could achieve neither. She’d shunned facing that sad fact.
Twinkle.
Eyes squeezed shut, she missed it. The bluebird feather pinned to her chest quivering.
Polymorph curse was pure attack, not environmental shift. Beyond bluebird feather’s block, it decomposed into pure holy power.
Miracle force reverted to essence. The resulting blue holy power seeped into Lucia’s chest.
Warmed awake, she saw limbs smooth again—no trace of fur. Frantic, her violet eyes scanned her body.
“Polymorph curse...”
She bolted up, eyes wide. Where was this? Regaining senses, she lay in a filthy, crumbling shack yard amid deserted woods, birdsong deafening her ears.
Teleport complete to unknown, but she scarcely noticed. Too busy confirming her body—even stripping her top for thorough check. Certain: no change.
“Ahh, ahhh... What happened... what just happened...”
Parnel stretched, loosening her still-numb waist. She’d nearly become a snake, reverted to human.
Body creaked, but rolling in shit as human beat beast any day.
“Grimudo... he definitely did something to us at the end.”
Yurinel squinted at her reverted forepaw—no, hand. She’d nearly been a lion.
Success would’ve meant killing the snake post-arrival, devouring the cat. Bluebird feather decomposed, blocked something—but what?
“Anyway, glad it ended without issue. Who cares, long as we’re safe. More importantly, where’s the saintess? No way I overlooked her in the rush.”
Parnel scanned around. She, Yurinel, Lucia decently intact here—but Araidel nowhere.
Only her holy robes sprawled ragged on the ground.
“Cheep, chirp chirp...”
No—strictly, the robes weren’t alone.
A bird whose cry Yurinel knew from country childhood flapped trapped inside, making the robes twitch like solo dance.
“No way...?”
Yurinel paled. Parnel fell silent, speechless.
Hopelessly not, but they’d felt their own bodies morphing nonhuman mere moments ago. And Araidel? No bluebird feather.
“Tell me that bird isn’t the saintess. Quick.”
“I... I don’t know. How should I say it? That’s blasphemy...”
“Chirp?”
Soon, a bunting poked head through the collar. Its plumage somehow matched Araidel’s hair—then Parnel staggered unwittingly.
She saw. Distinctly. Unlike ordinary buntings, its eyes weren’t black—blue. For reference, Saintess Araidel’s were sky-blue.
“Oh, dear god.”
“Chirp. Flap flap...”
Wary bird spread wings to flee. Parnel, slumped in exhaustion, casually cast anyway. Low magic, usable even mana-dry.
“Bind.”
“Tweet?!”
“Grab it. I... can’t with my hands. I’ll die and go to hell...”
Blasphemy-bound saintess, the woman clutched head, eyes shut—praying to Lady Nemi, perhaps.
Yurinel safely cupped the grounded bird in both hands. Nearly dropped it.
Chill ran her spine. Noble saintess nearly plummeted to death here...
‘Grimudo’s mana too potent. Won’t erode or shatter.’
Her state mirrored Geher and Rayman’s: Grimudo’s pitch-black aura infested mana circuits, claiming mastery.
Mana flowed improperly; even external draw restricted.
‘Damn, mana too strong. Self-black aura this vicious?’
Suffocating. Nose-plugged tight, asphyxiating. Mana everywhere, circuits blocked—couldn’t breathe it in, horrific.
Prior North Pole fight: Hope God’s holy power influx melted interior self-black aura, averting this. Yurinel sighed.
True regret now. Shouldn’t have sent him off like that. But none regretted more than Lucia.
“Lucia. I know it’s shocking, but snap out... Lucia?”
Dazed, the woman gnawed nails ragged. Neither Parnel nor Yurinel had seen demon hunter so undone.
“Scared? Fair, but we escaped that bastard twice. Be grateful for that.”
Parnel coaxed. Silence.
Lucia murmured ceaselessly—not to them.
“Why, why? How... if you could lift polymorph curse... why not tell me?”
Her lifelong quest’s answer—right beside her, no North Pole trek needed.
More precisely: had been.
“Why... when you could...”
“Polymorph curse? That bird-thing on saintess? What nearly hit us?”
Parnel exhaled, replied.
“Dunno how you know, but did you even ask Kyle if he could lift curses? Never did. So he wouldn’t know either.”
“...Lucia? Lucia? Hey, what’s wrong? Snap out!”
Parnel gripped collapsing Lucia’s shoulders, inwardly screaming. Truth: she wanted to cry too. But tears wouldn’t solve.
‘Dunno where, but far from nearest Magic Tower branch.’
Near wilderness: magic comms spotty. Telepathy or message spells could signal plight, request aid—but massive mana drain. Long-range info transfer guzzles it.
Her sole acknowledged commoner—awkward flatmaster. Nominal mentor. Oldman Tower Lord crossed mind; Parnel sighed.
They: nominal priest-disciple, reality yearly letterless sidesteppers. Not bad blood—just mutual indifference.
No routine contact, so cutoff wouldn’t prompt search.
“For now, rest here. Then... somehow get saintess back to Empire. Once there, contact temple or tower...”
No holy sword, whip, even mana really. Still alive.
No suicide surrender—plan ahead.
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