20. The Root of All Evil
20. The Root of All Evil
'......What the hell?'
At first, she tried to block it. From the moment the Fragment of the Holy Relic had injured Adam, she'd had no intention of standing by while some suspicious-looking light got absorbed.
But the one who stopped Rus, strangely enough, was the Dark Sword itself.
More precisely, the Dark Sword vibrated quietly and halted Rus in her tracks.
Once again, it had slipped free of her control and planted itself at her feet.
'The Dark Sword too.......'
Because of its ominous power, its name, and its power to grant wishes, it was classified as a demon sword.
Strictly speaking, the Dark Sword was no cursed blade at all—merely an artifact.
So why had an artifact like the Dark Sword overruled the control of Rus, to whom it was bound by soul, not once but twice now?
'If the Dark Sword didn't drink enough blood earlier.'
If so, could it have cleaved the Holy Relic clean through? Rus had finally reached the 7th Rank, true, but that final blow had clearly surpassed all Rank limits.
There was no question the Dark Sword had amplified the Sword Aura's force—especially steeped in blood as it was, its power had astonished even Rus herself.
Could it be that the Dark Sword had deliberately craved Rus's blood, forcing the matter, just to face an artifact on the same conceptual dimension—the Holy Relic?
If so, what was its reason for stepping in front of Rus now?
Wooom!!!
.........!!
In that brief moment of hesitation, a light of sheer purity was absorbed into Adam. His body rose limply into the air.
Though his heart was gone, it still beat. Breathing shallowly, he hung slack, drifting as though lifted by something unseen.
At last, the light of the Holy Relic settled into the hollow of Adam's missing heart.
......That's—
And what appeared next was, to Rus's own surprise, something she knew well.
A black scabbard of crude design. The very one that the continent's foremost agent of ruin, Milia, had so often wielded.
The Scabbard of the Dark Sword.
The same scabbard that the Chairwoman should have had in her possession was now taking shape, slowly, near Adam's heart—and then, in the next instant, it reconfigured itself as if to cage the Holy Relic's light.
A scabbard's original purpose is to suppress the Dark Sword's power.
So now, as if to prove it could suppress even the Holy Relic—another artifact on a conceptual dimension—the scabbard transformed into something resembling a heart and "housed" the light.
And at once, color returned to Adam's face.
Adam!!
Rus rushed to him and caught him in her arms. The hole that had been punched through him—wide enough to see the other side—had cleanly closed.
Rus didn't know, but this was a phenomenon that had already occurred once before. When the future Adam had performed an incomplete regression and sacrificed one hand to halt Milia—
When Adam had woken again, that wound, too, had been cleanly gone.
'Then the Scabbard of the Dark Sword.'
The scabbard said to have been crafted by a Great Dwarf. It was never simply a device meant to suppress the Dark Sword's power, as most people mistakenly believed.
Rus, who had stood against Milia, knew the truth. The scabbard's true power lay in "restoration."
Ordinarily, whenever the Dark Sword used its wish-granting authority, it would immediately crumble to ash. If that were the case, what would be the point of sheathing it?
The Great Dwarf had engraved a special power into the scabbard to prevent precisely that: the ability to restore everything in its vicinity to its original state.
Thanks to that, the Dark Sword could be restored to its original form instead of turning to ash. Milia, knowing of that restorative power, would "restore" believers on the verge of death and pass it off as her own divine authority—the Pope's power, the Savior's power.
Rus remembered it well, because it was the very power that had rescued Milia time and again even when she had cornered her.
'So why is that scabbard?'
In the previous cycle, Rus had visited the dwarf city that had inevitably fallen to ruin and met the last surviving dwarf: one named Tir, who had been its mayor.
To Rus, bearing the Dark Sword, Tir had told her everything about the scabbard—
Including the story of the Great Dwarf who had made it.
'The legendary dwarf said to have been the first ever to reach the 9th Rank.......'
Having transcended even the 8th Rank into the 9th—a realm spoken of as the divine—had that been what let him create such a staggering artifact?
But the real question was why this scabbard should be inside Adam's body—not the Chairwoman's, not even Milia's. Once again, the future Rus knew was twisting.
Even as she held him, relieved that Adam was unharmed—
Ah.
A strange sensation crossed her mind.
......Her unstable spirit was steadying. The extreme thoughts, the corrosive emotions—they were settling. A fragile peace was creeping back.
The side effects Rus had suffered ever since she first took up the Dark Sword were being neutralized.
She looked down hurriedly at the Dark Sword in her grip. The blade had lost its ominous edge; it was slowly reverting to an ordinary, worn-out sword.
'Because the scabbard is inside Adam?'
No. If it were that simple, she should have gone through the same phenomenon—irritating as it was—when she faced Milia.
Which left only one possibility.
'Is it because of the Holy Relic's light?'
Was this happening because the scabbard had "sheathed" the Holy Relic's light instead of the Dark Sword? If so, using the Dark Sword beside Adam would grow difficult—but by the same token, she could free herself from the Dark Sword's side effects and its influence.
Rus, who had witnessed Adam's corruption in the prior cycle and had felt nothing but exhaustion since taking hold of the Dark Sword—
She leaned quietly against Adam's shoulder, listening to him breathe in a soft, steady sleep.
'Truly, my wish was.......'
──To return to those happy days.
And in Rus's life, "happiness" had only ever existed in the time she spent at Adam's side.
Regression, the future, ruin, corruption, the Dark Sword—none of it mattered.
For the first time, with a heart wholly at ease, she let herself savor a fleeting moment of happiness.
Several minutes passed that way.
.............
Rus, who had closed her eyes to enjoy the quiet, opened them slowly.
Immediately after.
CRASH!!!!
......That appearance. That blood.
..........
You will explain this—thoroughly.
The ceiling began to collapse.
A figure radiating murderous intent from every inch of her body stared Rus down, having abandoned even the strained politeness she had been trying to maintain.
Adam's body was restored, yes, but it was still drenched in blood—and Rus was covered in that very same blood.
And yet. Rus found herself, for reasons she couldn't name, deeply disinclined to explain the whole situation to the Chairwoman in her current fury.
So.
It's nothing, really.
Nothing...... you say?
Simply that Adam has become my scabbard.
Truly, that was all there was to it—so Rus answered with a pure, untroubled smile.
If Adam hadn't woken from the shock of the Chairwoman's landing right after?
......The fist the Chairwoman was clenching so hard it bled would likely have been the only reply.
*
Hm, the Great Elder has made contact with the Elders. The other Elders are unharmed as well.
Truly......!? Lady Surveyor, thank you—truly, thank you!
There is no need, Elder. This Schoene did nothing worth thanking.
Strictly speaking, the Surveyor was objectively correct. From the digging to the rescue of the Finance Director, the Chairwoman had done everything.
But it was the Surveyor's presence that had allowed them to pinpoint the location in the first place—and, just as importantly, that had allowed them to reassure the laborers and onlookers when word spread that an 8th Rank had joined the effort.
Count Anton alone found the Surveyor's very existence somewhat grating, but the man was ostensibly unconscious, so there was little he could do.
In the end, the Finance Director of Grandis Academy—the Chairwoman's right hand—and the academy's youngest-ever 6th Rank student were both safe.
It was the best possible outcome. While Finance Officer Marcus was still patting his chest in relief, the Surveyor's eyes remained fixed on the hole the Chairwoman had torn downward.
'There was no life signature, and then it appeared abruptly.'
The Surveyor's power wasn't something that could be explained away as magic or ki. The Archmage had once called it a kind of magical talent, but the Surveyor had never handled a shred of mana in her life—she was, and remained, an ordinary person.
Just decades ago, the Surveyor had been nothing more than a simple technician.
It had come to her in a sudden moment: the realization that the surveying techniques she had used all her life could be employed without tools—through sight alone.
And the Surveyor, paradoxically, had been able to "survey" the nature of her own ability.
'That dragon spirituality flowed into this Schoene was purely by chance.'
The power belonged to a higher being believed to be long extinct.
Dragon. A creature beyond all norms—born at the 7th Rank from the moment of its first breath, now surviving only in history books.
Why did even a fragment of a dragon's spirituality still exist in the present age? The Surveyor had traced that path.
'The same phenomenon had occurred then as well.'
She had ultimately determined that it was a remnant—loosed from the death, and the sudden, unlooked-for resurrection, of the Last Dragon left to this world. Then, too, the life signature must have vanished entirely, only to reappear again, just like now.
And she had even learned who the Last Dragon had been.
The Surveyor narrowed her eyes, recalling a hat so ill-suited to the Chairwoman, a martial artist through and through.
'The one who forced the dragon back to life was most likely that being in the Western Wilderness.'
Put another way, only a being of that order could reverse death. And yet that same phenomenon had just occurred beneath this mine.
Unfortunately, conducting a more detailed survey was obstructed by the Great Elder, and—astonishingly—by another Elder who had just raised the level of her existence by a full step.
A forced survey would certainly draw unwanted attention.
Tch. Regrettable.
That heartbeat-like object she had half-surveyed—no matter how she focused, she could not properly survey it. Since gaining the dragon's spirituality, such a thing had been exceedingly rare; but its very rarity told her what this was.
If it fell beyond even the Surveyor's ability to measure—then there were very few possibilities.
'It is either the Dark Sword, or the Holy Relic.'
Honestly, it was hard to accept that either would be lying in a rock salt mine of all places. Objectively, however, it could be nothing else. Even the Chairwoman, or the Honorary Emperor—both of whom the Surveyor could survey, to a degree—had never resisted measurement so completely.
The Surveyor had experienced the same thing once before, in the Imperial Capital, which made her all the more certain.
'Whether Dark Sword or Fragment of the Holy Relic—it is of great significance.'
The former was important; the latter was vital.
Because the Imperial Capital held another Fragment of the Holy Relic.
The Holy Kingdom possessed one as well, beyond doubt. If this truly was the Holy Relic, then the whereabouts of all the fragments—once shrouded in mystery—would at last be clear.
Which meant, in other words—
'My master will be pleased.'
That the Empire would set its colossal frame into motion for the sake of completing the Holy Relic.
The Surveyor smiled, having uncovered a handful of truths without quite intending to.
The Sculptor would be busy enough "sculpting" the Holy Relic's fragment as it was; the Guardian Dragon, meanwhile, had long hungered for a confrontation with the Chairwoman.
The Great Elder's internal injuries would be precisely the sort of news the Guardian Dragon relished.
'But before that.......'
First, the Delphia Kingdom. The Surveyor lifted her gaze toward the sky, thinking of the kingdom she had surveyed not long ago.
Now that the kingdom's sole 8th Rank, Grand Duke Wiguk, had gone so far as to betray Delphia, civil war was unavoidable.
Her light survey of Delphia Kingdom—conducted with support—had already detected mass troop movements.
'Margrave Gregory was to take the field, was he not?'
If so, the Claudia Family and the Margrave's "Magic Spear" would go with him. Truthfully, that was the part that most concerned the Empire.
Resolving the matter of the Magic Spear would, at the very least, make future operations against the Kingdom far easier. Yet if the Margrave were consumed by the Magic Spear, a monster would be born that would terrify even the Empire—though, of course, a man of Margrave Gregory's caliber was hardly likely to be devoured so easily.
'......In the end, this is not something a mere Schoene who stumbled into some power should be concerning herself with.'
The Surveyor shook her head, setting aside the Empire's many intricate designs. In the end, she was a technician—nothing more—who simply needed to survey as her masters and the Elders directed, just as she had done all her life.
Intrigues of this sort did not suit the Surveyor.
There was, however, one scheme currently being advanced by a certain 8th Rank that even the Surveyor felt moved to personally oppose.
'To bring down Grandis Academy.......'
They say you must enter the tiger's den to catch the tiger, but was it truly possible to destroy an institution rivaling the Imperial Academy just to get at the Chairwoman?
The Surveyor's results were clear: the Great Elder was injured. But that did not make her any less the Great Elder.
The Great Elder's injuries were intelligence the Guardian Dragon would welcome—and therefore, they would not be passed on.
The Surveyor merely found the Guardian Dragon's futile scheming faintly absurd.
Then, Elder, I shall take my leave first.
Of course! Allow me to escort you.......
The Empire has arranged to meet me; please do not trouble yourself. I hope we may meet again.
The honor would be entirely mine!
The Surveyor accepted Finance Officer Marcus's farewell—a blend of faint sincerity and heavy flattery—and quietly withdrew.
......In truth, what truly held the Surveyor's attention was none of those matters: not the Holy Relic, nor the Dark Sword, nor the Great Elder's injuries, nor the state of the Delphia Kingdom.
'The Archmage Elder's disciple.......'
It fell short of the dragon's spirituality that the Surveyor herself possessed, but that mental body—so astonishingly powerful—had been unmistakable. If she could properly survey and dissect it, she could thoroughly decompose it and add it to her own spirituality.
She left it alone purely because she had no desire to have her eyes plucked out by the Archmage Elder.
If—purely hypothetically—
Chloe Pisti were to give up on being the Archmage Elder's disciple.
But the thought was too pointless even to entertain. The Surveyor smiled, brushed it aside, and let it go.
That was all.