Chapter 59
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Private Audience
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Slice.
A curved sword shimmering with blue light cleaved through the air.
At the same moment, the head of the Forest Wolf prowling the woods tumbled to the ground without even a dying cry.
A clean strike. No excess motion.
"Hoo."
Baekrin shook the beast's blood from her blade into the air and sheathed it.
The chill aura clinging to the edge of her curved sword dispersed like smoke.
"Oh ho."
Kain, watching from behind, let out an exclamation of admiration.
"You're getting the hang of it nicely. Hard to believe you only just awakened your aura."
"......No need for empty flattery."
Baekrin lightly brushed her lower abdomen as she replied.
By her own reckoning, the energy gathered there was still woefully insufficient.
"If I keep it up constantly... it runs out in no time.
So I have to focus only on the instant it connects—the moment of the cut."
"Spot on. Grasping the knack like that on your own is a talent in itself."
Kain nodded in agreement.
"From here on, keep honing that efficient use in those key moments."
"You mean, use it sparingly?"
"Exactly. The small size of your seed is the main issue now, but there's a fundamental limit too."
He continued his explanation with a deliberately serious expression.
"Think about the method I taught you from the start. Isn't it based on holding your breath?"
"Yeah, it is."
"No matter how vast the energy in your dantian—like an ocean—
we can only wield it during that brief time we hold our breath.
In other words, when your breath gives out, so does the aura."
Kain patted his chest as he spoke.
"Even if you build up more energy, it's the same. You might want to burn through it wildly, but your lungs won't let you.
So, as you said, short and sharp only when needed.
Maximum efficiency—that's the key, and it'll be your weapon going forward."
Baekrin nodded silently at the veteran knight's advice.
His words had never steered her wrong so far.
And he was far stronger than her,
having taught her sword aura as well.
Plus, he always made wise judgments in every situation.
Though they hadn't been together long...
I've owed him so much already, she thought to herself.
"Let's wrap this up quick and head back. At least tomorrow, I want a proper bed."
Kain shifted Noy in his arms and jerked his chin toward the wolf's corpse.
"Pull every fang. No skipping 'cause it's a hassle."
"......Got it."
Baekrin drew a kunai from her belt.
When fulfilling beast subjugation requests, gathering parts was standard procedure.
They served as proof for the guild.
For Forest Wolves, the fangs were the markers.
And one more thing.
Mana stones—crystals of mana occasionally found near the hearts of magical beasts.
Separate from the request fee, the guild bought them at a tidy profit. A vital side income.
"Dunno if this one's got one."
With practiced skill now, she sliced open the beast's chest.
To hit the 30-wolf quota, they'd roamed and camped in the forest for three days straight.
Of the twenty-nine caught so far, only five had yielded stones.
More likely not to drop than to.
But.
"......There it is."
Near the wolf's heart, a fingernail-sized red stone glimmered. Lucky.
"Ooh? Nice color. Sharpest one we've got yet."
Kain chuckled and smacked his lips.
Then he paused midway through reaching into his pouch.
Because of Noy in his one arm.
"......Damn, getting old, I guess."
He clicked his tongue awkwardly.
He still forgot he was down an arm sometimes.
"Ow, my joints are aching... Hold the kid a sec. I'll bag these quick."
Kain shoved Noy toward Baekrin with an excuse.
"Come on. Maps to check once we're done."
"......"
Baekrin hesitated a moment.
But with no real reason to refuse,
she stripped off her bloody glove and took the warm, squishy bundle.
Baekrin held the child awkwardly compared to Kain.
Then Noy, waking up, rubbed his eyes and looked up at her.
"Nguh......"
"......"
Instinctively seeking comfort, Noy's tiny hand grabbed her breast.
He giggled and burrowed into her arms.
"Mama! Hehe......"
"......"
Baekrin's face stiffened oddly.
She corrected him in a flat tone.
"......Not Mama."
"Huh?"
"No milk here for you."
Despite her firm words, the kid just laughed gleefully and tugged her clothes.
She let out a small sigh watching him.
Honestly, she owed Kain plenty,
but this little guy? Utterly useless no matter how she sliced it.
During subjugations or camps.
Toting this blood-sack doubled her worries, made everything a chore.
A living bundle of hassle, pure and simple.
[Don't hate him too much. Try liking him a bit.]
Like him? How the hell?
How was she supposed to like this tiny, annoying lifeform?
It was an emotion she couldn't grasp.
But.
"Hehe......"
Gazing at the giggling cheeks in her arms,
she didn't particularly feel like shoving him away or setting him down.
He wasn't heavy or burdensome in size.
Just awkward. A strange sensation.
"By the way."
Kain, crouched and yanking the remaining fangs with one arm, asked.
"How long's it been since Leon went in?"
"......"
Baekrin adjusted Noy slightly and answered indifferently.
"Three weeks and two days."
"Heh... Already? Time flies."
Kain muttered about how fast it was going,
then his mouth stretched into a grin ear-to-ear.
"But damn, you're counting the days pretty precisely, huh?"
Her eyebrow twitched at that.
Kain pocketed the bloody fangs with a mischievous smile.
"Missing him that much? You marking an X on a calendar every night or what?"
"......Shut up. Don't tease."
Baekrin's ears flushed faintly.
She shot Kain a sharp glare,
but didn't deny it.
It was true.
Three weeks.
'Already' to this cheeky old man,
but to her, no short time.
Still plenty left.
Another week to endure before...
he'd return.
The place the overseer led me to
wasn't the usual indoctrination room for daily routines.
Up the stairs to the second floor.
Unlike the underground reeking of piss and mold,
this corridor was spotlessly clean and tidy.
Not exactly luxurious,
but calm and somehow off-putting, with a faint scent lingering.
"Go in."
The overseer stopped before a white door at the hall's end.
The guy who always swaggered before slaves
now stood with hands clasped politely.
Knock knock.
"Your Grace, Number 25 here."
......Bishop?
[Come in~]
That fresh, chilling voice from beyond. Definitely her.
Recognizing it, my body started trembling on its own.
Creeeak.
The door opened, and the overseer shoved my back.
I stumbled inside.
The room was all white.
White wallpaper, white furniture, white curtains.
A stark white space evoking a padded asylum cell.
At its center, a round table. She sat there.
"Welcome, Number 25? I've been waiting."
The squinting girl with neatly combed pinkish hair.
Her usual look? Or pre-my-turn look.
No blood-soaked panting from underground;
she sat primly sipping tea in immaculate priestess robes.
"......"
The overseer bowed ninety degrees to her, glanced at me, and left.
Clunk. Door shut.
Just me and her now.
Hard to breathe.
Truth be told, she scared me way more than those butcher boys.
Logically, no reason.
Had she ever hit me? Stabbed me?
She'd fixed my ragdoll body good as new,
never harmed me directly once.
......Gulp.
Still.
Every time I saw her, my skin crawled like scales rising.
That ecstatic face watching my torture.
Her quickening breath at torn flesh and exposed bone.
And healing me with spells,
drooling, eyes rolling back, collapsing in orgasmic bliss.
Not once or twice—every day, always.
Just a primal disgust and terror from her.
Like a mouse before a coiled snake flicking its tongue.
"Come on, why stand there? Sit already."
She even pulled out a chair, gesturing.
I swallowed again, hesitantly perching on the seat.
"Here, drink. It's warm."
She slid a steaming teacup my way with a bright smile.
Steam rose gently.
Couldn't bring myself to touch it.
"......What's this."
"What else? Tea. You think it's piss?"
"Wasn't thinking that."
Forcing slaves to drink piss?
This psycho might, sure,
but the cup smelled of fragrant herbs, not urine. Tea it was.
Question was what it'd do to me.
"Poison in it or something?"
"......Huh?"
"Melts your guts from the inside out... that kind?"
Who knew.
Tired of skinning the outside,
might be going internal now.
Her small eyes widened at my blunt suspicion.
Then she burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! What're you saying? Why would I?"
"......"
"Who poisons a guest? It's just tea. Like water."
She pouted, looking wronged.
This expression creeped me out more. Total psychopath.
As I dawdled warily,
"Jeez, so suspicious..."
She snatched my cup,
and slid hers over—lipstick mark and all.
"There. Believe me now?"
She sipped from mine demonstratively.
"Mmm~ So warm."
"......"
Fine, safe to drink.
No... better.
Stubbornness might provoke who-knows-what.
I lifted the cup cautiously to my lips.
Warm liquid slid down my throat.
Just tea, as she said.
Cheap herbal stuff, everywhere.
"......Hoo."
Setting it down, a relieved sigh escaped.
Proof of how paranoid I'd been, tensing myself.
"So."
"Hm?"
"Why call me here alone like this?"
She toyed with her cup, tilting her head at my question.
"Huh? Straight to business? I wanted to chat over tea slow."
"......"
"Busy? Short on time?"
Innocent tone.
Time? I had rotting piles of it.
Only task: hold breath.
Just this minute facing her felt like needles.
"Not that, but first time in a room like this... kinda thrown off."
"Aha... Yeah. Hm... Makes sense."
She nodded, smiling.
"But this is my first time calling a slave to my room too."
"......?"
"So I wanted to talk. Not the mangled you? The healthy one."
First time?
......Talk?
"What to say to a slave scumbag..."
"Why not? Could be something. Oh, introductions first?"
Hand on chest, she introduced herself.
"I'm Ellen. Affiliated with the church, bishop position."
Bishop.
I mulled the word.
Recalled that pig priest from before.
Bragging as 'high priest'.
"Bishop higher than high priest?"
"Hm...... Higher?"
She looked troubled briefly,
"Well... not exactly a strict hierarchy... How to put it, uhmm..."
Chin in hand, she pondered alone.
Not like knight ranks based on skill, feats,
or aura use—mid, high, etc.
So I rephrased.
"Between high priest and bishop, which has fewer?"
"Ah! That I can answer clear!"
Ellen clapped delightedly.
"Roughly, hundred high priests in the church...
Bishops? Me included, about five? Not sure. Could be less, more."
"Five...... Rare."
"Ooh, good word. Yeah! 'Rare' fits perfect!"
She beamed innocently,
but cold sweat trickled down my spine.
Churches everywhere—kingdoms, cities, towns, villages.
Even slums had one.
Not devout myself,
more like loathing their god, holy power,
miracles—whole package.
But street rumors stuck.
Untouchable sanctuary even kings feared.
Wars, plagues—always.
Top dogs everywhere.
And only five such posts.
'......Fuck, figures.'
My gut was right.
Elite of elites in that behemoth.
Rarity explained it.
No comparison to that 62-gold pig.
She downplayed ranks,
but headcount and her insane healing? Different league.
Kain-level knight? Probably higher.
Why here then?
Daily bloodbaths,
gawking at slave torture, healing pervs.
Incomprehensible.
Unfathomable = scarier.
As I stared, racking my brain,
"Jeez, why stare like you'll bore holes."
Ellen covered her face with both hands, cheeks flushing.
......Shy?
Her actions never matched her station.
Everything a mystery.
"So, not gonna? Introduce yourself."
At her urging, I swallowed a sigh.
"......Baekrang. Slave."
"Baekrang... Baekrang."
Ellen rolled the name on her tongue, then smiled.
"Nice. Now I know your name, so Baekrang instead of 25?"
"Whatever."
"Even slaves prefer names over numbers, right?"
Didn't care either way.
No plans cozying with this nutjob.
"Okay, so Baekrang, you're... Ah,"
Mid-sentence, she covered her mouth,
"Yaaawn......"
A massive yawn, tears welling.
"Ow, sorry. No sleep last night. So tired..."
"......"
Irritation bubbling now.
What was this charade.
Already uncomfortable as hell—tired? Crash then.
She'd descend for the damn routine anyway.
Break, fix.
As I grumbled inwardly,
"Ugh...... Stretch."
She even stretched right there.
Priestess robes outlining her flexible waist.
Defenseless, languid.
Pathetic woman's pose.
"Ahh, so stiff."
Arms raised high, she dropped casually,
"By the way, who taught you aura?"