Chapter 89
Chapter 89
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Into the Cave
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Life never unfolds quite so easily, as always. And even though I'm a noble now, I'd never heard of a spatial expansion pouch before, so I could tell from what Oliver just showed me that it was an incredibly rare item with very limited uses.
"It's an extremely valuable item. In fact, it's less a magical object and more something mystical. No one knows who made it or when or how, but my master obtained it by chance."
For a mage—the very embodiment of mystery—to describe it that way meant that magic pouch was on the level of a national treasure.
"But is it okay for you to tell me about it? What if I tried to steal it?"
"Hmm... Well, I'd just have to give it to you. If you hadn't saved me, Lord, I'd have ended up as spider food anyway. That wouldn't be a bad price for my life, right? Haha!"
Oliver laughed heartily. He didn't fit the stereotype of a reclusive, nerdy mage at all. On top of that, he had a smooth, handsome face. I stared at him for a moment before calling over the people we'd just rescued.
"I'm afraid we can't escort you back. We're heading off to find the culprit behind this mess, and I can't spare any soldiers. If you want, you'll have to make your own way."
The rescued group murmured among themselves. They probably hadn't expected us to take them along anyway, but they surely hadn't anticipated us pushing deeper into the forest like this.
"We'll head back on our own... milord..."
The villagers who knew the forest best grouped together, saying they'd manage. The merchants glanced at one another before gathering around us.
"We'll follow you, noble sir... But... could you spare us some weapons for self-defense, just in case there's fighting? We'll pay whatever price later."
"Of course. I can hand out sidearms."
I ordered the mercenaries to distribute backup weapons to the merchants. No one complained. After all, the gear they already had came out of my pocket— they had no room to gripe.
"We need to resolve this and leave before sunset. There's no benefit to spending the night here."
Our group, now twice as large as before, set off. Mercenaries took the front and rear, with the merchants clutching their sidearms in the center.
As we ventured deeper into the forest, I called over Oliver, who was walking beside me.
"Oliver."
"Yes, my lord?"
"Do you have any idea what's causing this incident? I thought it might be black magic."
Oliver nodded, confirming it was.
"I can sense an evil aura here. Places like this form for various reasons, but..."
He rummaged in his pouch and pulled out a book, flipping it open.
"It says here: 'When abnormal magic beasts or undead appear, there's a high chance an evil aura has infested the area. This aura can stem from many sources, but curses are the most common culprit.'"
"Curses?"
A curse out of nowhere?
"There are many types of curses, but black magic has nearly died out, so this is probably a primitive one."
"Primitive curse... Could it take down a person?"
Lenia, who'd been listening to our conversation, suddenly perked up with interest and asked.
"Oh! Absolutely! Curses are meant for that sort of thing. They're used to hex enemies, gnawing away at their life or bringing misfortune upon them! A powerful one could fell even a healthy person just by afflicting them."
"..."
Lenia bit her lip hard, her face turning grave at Oliver's words.
"What's wrong?"
"The Count collapsing so suddenly... It might be connected to this."
****
"The evil aura is stronger this way."
Oliver proved his worth faster than expected. Our blind search had turned purposeful the moment he joined us.
Clatter!
"Grraaah!"
Skeletons and zombies appeared more frequently. The mercenaries smashed these foul-smelling horrors under their merciless blades in short order... but as their forms grew more grotesque, so did their strength.
The undead on the forest's outskirts had worn simple peasant rags. But deeper in, they sported proper armor—rusted and tattered, but real gear nonetheless. And amid them, we found something telling.
"The equipment these things carry... it's from Sarisa territory."
The crests on their weapons and armor matched those from the workshops in my domain now—produced back when it was still Sarisa land.
"Was there a war around here, my lord?"
Oliver had been inspecting the scattered remains.
"There was one, a while back. Between Cligrove and Sarisa territory."
"Hmm... Then maybe a simple curse absorbed the grudges from that war and grew stronger..."
But at that moment, I sensed something off about our surroundings and cut him off.
"Hold on. What's with this fog?"
Mist was rising around us. Not dawn mist, either—the sun was still up. The forest had darkened to an unbelievable degree for midday. It had been dim before, but this was another level.
"Light some fires. The atmosphere feels wrong."
"Yes, my lord!"
The mercenaries scrambled to build fires, but Oliver raised a finger.
"This isn't natural. Torches won't cut it. Light to dispel the darkness."
A brilliant glow bloomed from his fingertip, and like magic, the enveloping fog and shadows receded a bit.
"And this means we're nearing the source of the incident. The heart of the evil curse."
Oliver urged us to steel our minds. Weakness here could make us succumb to the aura's temptations.
Snort!
Our horses whinnied and reared back. Merlin alone pawed the ground irritably.
"The horses are spooked."
We had no choice but to tether them here. Precious as they were, they refused to advance. We unloaded our gear from the horses onto Merlin and pressed on.
The mist retreated wherever Oliver's light touched. Undead burst from the fog. As if confirming we were on the right path, their assaults intensified.
"Roaar!"
"Doppelschwerters up front, crossbowmen in the center!"
"Damn undead bastards!"
"If you don't wanna die to these shits, hold the line!"
Mercenaries bellowed as they fended off the undead lunging from all sides. The merchants fled in panic, faces pale.
Some quaked at tales of rising as undead if slain—eternally wandering the dark. But that fear fueled their fight.
Win the battle, or become one of them. Pushing through the fray, we reached a small cave.
"The evil aura's coming from inside. Hmm... More like sorcery than mana..."
And then, faint whispers reached our ears. Not unpleasant, but seductive. Alluring, like temptation itself. I couldn't make out the language.
"Do you hear that?"
"Like someone whispering right in my ear?"
"I hear it too!"
"Such a beautiful voice..."
It seemed to affect everyone. Oliver called it the voice of corruption, scanning our surroundings.
"What are you looking for?"
"If we go in like this, we'll fall to the temptation for sure. We need some defense first."
He foraged nearby and returned with flowers from the brush, distributing them.
"These have the meaning 'strong mind.' Not perfect, but holding one in your mouth will help resist the lure."
"How much time do we have?"
"Well... No harm in hurrying, but even if things go wrong... I'd say get out within an hour for mental health's sake."
An hour. Not long, not short. For exploring this little cave. I gripped my sword and peered into the darkness within. Nothing but unknown shadows.
"We move in."
I stepped toward the gloom.
Fwoosh!
A gust from inside made my torch flare wildly. The voices grew louder—whispers now like words spoken right beside me.
"Whatever you do, don't spit out the flower in your mouth! When you speak, tuck it under your tongue!"
"Mage... my stomach... feels bad..."
"That's the evil aura stimulating your body. Take a deep breath... Recall a happy memory."
"All I can think of is that soup from the neighbor lady when I was starving as a kid."
"How about your first earnings?"
I take back what I said about his skills. Oliver was a fine mage right now. While burly mercenaries complained of nausea or dizziness, he dashed about fixing them.
Lenia appraised him.
"A fine mage. Don't know his skill, but good attitude. Most are trash."
"Really?"
"A few 'mages' visited our territory. Always begging for workshops or research funds."
"Haha! What did you do?"
"Kicked 'em all out. Might be lurking in the territory somewhere now."
We laughed and chatted to fend off the eerie voices, but the mood sank anyway. The torchlight dimmed. And then—something grabbed my ankle.
Grip!
Another undead? No. The one clutching me was someone I never expected.
[I'll... kill you... for sure...]
"Sarisa Count?"
The dead man had returned. And as if on cue, our surroundings shifted—from pitch-black cave to a familiar scene.
"This is..."
The place where I stood now. The very plain where the Cligrove-Sarisa war had raged long ago.