The Magic Kingdom of Morian (8)
A goldfish with vibrant colors that looked expensive enough to fetch a high price if sold as an ornament swam ahead, painting the narrow cave passage with dazzling hues. I had prepared for ambushes just in case, but I dimly realized it probably wouldn't matter much. Whoever had prepared this stage and could impose trials on us—if it were Princess Lyla or Ligret, maybe, but with my level of combat ability, trying to resist was nonsense.
As I've said repeatedly, compared to the Nameless War Demon or the Successor of Red and Blue Blood, the Greedy Prodigal's combat power was, at best, that of a second-string reserve member. Even that was only because the totem's performance was so good that it earned a spot in the party; without it, I might have been benched behind other elite members. Even though I started two years earlier than the original Prodigal and used the time that should have gone toward family succession struggles to raise my specs instead, I honestly had low odds against original aces like Crow, Akasha, or Eagle. I could manage against anyone below that level, though.
That aside, the Proud Barbarian was likely Rabaul, but what about the other templates? The Scheming Saint always wore a mask despite being a playable character, and the past descriptions were full of vague phrases like "suffered something terrible" or "reborn from the very bottom," leaving almost no clues to identify them. Normally, players would join the Star God Church and gradually rise in rank, but there were occasional corruption routes that led them to join the Followers of the Stars. The last one originated from the Ivestan Empire, so they weren't someone I could do anything about from my side.
While lost in such idle thoughts, I walked for a while. Just like the first and second trials, the final trial that appeared was also a fork in the road. A three-way junction leading left, right, and straight ahead. At the center, water rose and began changing into various forms.
Shapes that looked like symbols arranged in circles, triangles, and other peculiar figures. Shapes where small dots seemed arranged according to a fixed rule at eight points. Shapes that continuously expressed something halfway between pictures and writing. The water kept shifting forms until it finally transformed into the characters I normally used—the empire's common tongue—and displayed three sentences.
[If you desire a treasure too burdensome to bear, head left.]
[If you desire the moldy advice of an old sage, head center.]
[If you desire a stepping stone that will raise you to greater heights, head right.]
Hmm... It was quite blatant for something called a riddle. The correct answer was the center. The next best was the right. The left felt like a landmine. No, the description itself openly warned, "I'll give you treasure, but don't think you'll be able to use it properly." Was there really anyone who would pick that trap option after making it this far through the trials? Probably not.
Yet... there were two reasons why I felt uneasy about simply ignoring it. One was that, unlike others, I didn't want to clear this lake's trial too perfectly. The second was that the golden mist leading left was far too thick. At this point, it made me curious what kind of reward it would offer.
"Hmm."
Judging from Rabaul and the others, failure didn't seem to result in immediate elimination. Princess Lyla would clear a problem of this difficulty without much trouble, and even Valkius, despite appearances, was among the empire's elite of the elite. He wouldn't make any strange mistakes. After a moment's thought, I spoke.
"Goldfish, let's go left."
The goldfish opened and closed its mouth. For some reason, its expression seemed to say, "Huh? Really? Are you an idiot? Do you have a brain?" Or was that just my imagination? In reality, no voice could be heard.
"Can you hurry up and guide the way? It's hard to walk without light."
The goldfish reluctantly swam left, and I followed behind it. Well then, let's see what happens.
<><><>
Faced with the choices written in water in midair, Lyla Everblaze Barhart spoke without hesitation.
"We'll take the center path."
The red-bodied goldfish traced a large circle through the air before leading the way forward. Come to think of it, the other two probably needed guides too—what had happened to them? If goldfish had multiplied and attached themselves to each person, that would be amusing in its own way.
She simply walked along the narrow, damp path. Suddenly, she felt as though she heard someone's voice.
Why didn't you choose the right path? You actually wanted to pick that one.
Perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by the environment where there was no one to talk to. Though her mouth didn't open, the thoughts circling in her mind naturally formed a response.
The correct answer was the center. She had to choose what was right.
Do you really have to choose what's right? Can't you just do what you want?
That would be irresponsible. Both as the leader guiding this party and as the empire's princess.
That's strange. Royals don't do things like this. You're basically just a convenient mercenary.
But she had needed it. Through normal means, she could never gather power. The rivals who had been born before her and secured their positions, those who recoiled at the blood flowing through her veins—they would never forgive her. So she had to build achievements and gather strength in places they couldn't reach, places they wouldn't come to.
It's too flimsy a plan. Almost no one actually approaches you. No matter how strong or excellent you are, that's not enough.
The small, whispering voice grew louder.
Stop being so stubborn and just relax.
The place that truly wants you isn't the empire. You know that, don't you?
Forget about a father's blood you don't even love.
Unlike the hateful empire, they welcome you.
How long do you plan to turn away from the desperate feelings of those waiting for their true king?
The voice, once like that of an innocent girl, had at some point transformed into that of a mature woman. Filled with burning passion, seething hatred, and clinging resentment. Someone whose parents, siblings, and lover had been killed in war, constantly demanded revenge by their mother. Someone forced into a union with an unwanted partner, only to be rejected even by that person. Someone who had despised their daughter's red hair, inherited from the one they hated, yet loved her blue eyes.
Lyla stopped walking at the voice she could no longer hear.
The next moment, a sharp blade sliced through the air around her.
"──!"
With a scream that couldn't be expressed in human language, "something" that had been clinging near her head fell to the ground. Its body, torn apart by blades of magic and wind, resembled a human but had dragonfly-like wings attached to its back. From head to toe, it was no larger than a palm, and instead of red blood and organs, something like pollen spilled from the severed cross-section.
Enraged that Lyla had harmed one of their own, small beings with similar appearances began to emerge one by one. Colorful mist seeping from the ground, walls, and ceiling gathered and transformed into dozens of entities resembling the one that had just fallen. In the past, someone had called them "Mist Fairies." Beings that existed on the boundary between living creatures and non-living things dwelling in the lake.
The Mist Fairies openly displayed their anger, as if condemning her for breaking the rules. No, they were actually condemning her. Foolish visitors. Ignorant challengers who couldn't overcome the trial. Sinners who must be judged for their atrocious acts.
Under the weight of overflowing rage, the air grew heavy, as if foretelling the tragedy about to unfold.
"At first, I thought it was just a trial and tried to laugh it off," the sinner said.
The Mist Fairies tried to act, thinking it was too late for excuses, but the next moment they realized something strange. Their magic power wouldn't move. It was different from the clumsy imitation humans attempted—it was control of magic power through innate instinct. The action that was like breathing to the Mist Fairies wouldn't work properly.
"I'll forgive you for reading my memories. I'll also forgive you for mocking me as foolish." The air remained heavy under the weight of anger. Yet Lyla's expression showed no discomfort that would indicate she felt threatened. In that case, right now, this was...
Who was the master of this emotion dominating the area, lightly overwhelming even the rage of those whose kin had been slain?
"But." Only then did the Mist Fairies understand. They had touched something they shouldn't have.
"I can't possibly forgive you for imitating that person."
Right after the Mist Fairies tried to flee through the walls with screams, a tremendous explosion filled the space as if the surroundings didn't matter at all.
BOOOOOOM!