Chapter 316
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Oblivion (3)
It was like a glass of water handed to someone dying of thirst.
Croyen of the Night of Deception.
The news about her encouraged the High Priest of Oblivion, who had been driven into a corner.
Croyen's escape meant that, even at this very moment, the White Shadow was steadily advancing toward its goal.
Even if they kept him pinned down here.
No matter how much he struggled and thrashed...
Nothing would change.
Yes.
High Priest of Oblivion Vud was certainly regaining his lost composure with that thought.
The boiling air in the room reflected his state of mind.
And—
The air that abruptly settled also reflected his state of mind.
"Ratsil, what did you just—"
Just then.
They posed the same question to the messenger.
"Croyen of the Night of Deception. The condition she demanded from Rishir... was that Rishir hand over his secret art?"
Seeing their reactions as confused as his own, Vud felt inwardly relieved.
Certainly.
Given the situation, it seemed like he wasn't in his right mind at the moment.
—The condition they proposed was to receive instruction in his secret magic!
To hear the messenger say that just moments ago.
Croyen of the Night of Deception.
The secret mental magic she had independently developed was something even High Priests wielding the powers of great demons would covet.
There were even tales circulating about her abilities.
That the only way to unravel Croyen's deceptions was for her to make a mistake herself.
If there was anyone who knew the power and value of that deception better than anyone—
It had to be Deception herself, the very source.
Her pride went without saying.
Yet.
To abandon freedom and return to her prison, demanding "take my secret art."
Even bringing a gift to curry favor.
Information on the White Shadow Church, no less.
If that was true, then even her temporary escape with the White Shadow Church's help had been to secure a gift for them.
"Ha!"
As Vud pieced the situation together, a involuntary chuckle burst from his lips.
Looking back, how utterly absurd a fantasy this was.
There were limits to how much it could defy reason.
Thus, Vud was convinced.
He must have misheard.
"No! It's not demanding Rishir's secret art—it's demanding that Rishir take her secret art!"
"Ratsil! What the— Do you seriously think that's remotely plausible!?"
"Pardon? Isn't it entirely possible?"
"...Hm. Come to think of it, you're right."
"Wait!?"
Vud cried out unwittingly.
What on earth had they been thinking in that brief moment to give such an answer!?
From the start—
'It wasn't a mishearing!?'
Vud, a mere naive devil follower, no longer had faith he could keep up.
The devil follower could only gape in a daze at—
The monstrous heroes who utterly defied common sense.
A pure devil follower struggled to protect himself amid the chaotic beings known as heroes.
By resisting the flow of their thought-corrupting influence and clinging to rational thought.
'Deception might be laying a trap to lure them out...'
Stepping back that way, the situation appeared positive in a new light.
Croyen.
Who was she, after all?
The incarnation of Deception, bearing Deception's name.
She was a master of deceptive tactics.
Was there anything more foolish than taking such a person's actions at face value?
In short, this.
Now wasn't the time to marvel at Deception's eccentricity of offering her liver, gall, and even her heart.
It was time to marvel at their foolishness in taking Deception's offer of her heart at face value.
High Priest Vud of Oblivion viewed the situation through that rational lens, reaching a rational conclusion.
'Right now, they're being toyed with by Deception. She's exploiting their tendencies to seize control of the situation...'
Vud rationally forecasted the flow ahead.
If they followed Deception, what awaited at the end?
Would Deception truly hand over her heart-like secret art obediently?
And as "payment," divulge info on the church that aided her escape?
No.
Rationally, there was no way.
'She's feeding them false church intel, using her secret art as bait to make them swallow the lie...'
Vud rationally deduced Deception's mindset and nodded in satisfaction.
Now it all clicked.
Approaching rationally made it this straightforward.
Now, Vud had only one task.
Maintain rationality and watch them dance to Deception's tune.
First.
When contact with Deception occurred, her opening move was set.
Pretend to offer her never-to-be-given secret art, stringing them along.
—First! Promise those elf bastards you'll master the grimoire I gave them! Promise a swift meeting for secret art transmission! Then I'll hand over the White Shadow Church intel I secured!
And subtly slip them prepped info via White Shadow alliance.
False intel to drag them to ruin.
—And here! Their base intel! Word is, the church will soon convene there to finalize the grand plan's direction!
"Deception, have you truly lost your mind!?"
At Deception's next words, the High Priest finally snapped and bellowed.
Because the church info Deception shared was pure truth, untainted by deceit.
"What's the meaning of this!? How did you end up a brainless mutt wagging your tail for elves—I'm asking!!!"
Too flustered, Vud overlooked how his agitation bolstered Deception's info.
He raged at the crystal rose on his desk—an artifact crafted by Lunadien.
Naturally, no reply came.
Rishir calmly continued with Deception.
—...That voice. A church High Priest?
"Yes. High Priest of Oblivion, Vud—do you know him?"
—Don't know individual cultists—but I've heard of the Oblivion faction. Their powers... tricky ones to handle. You captured one alive? Even High Priest level. How?
"Stole his true name for blackmail, but he had multiples, so I gained the edge!"
—...You will honor our deal.
The crystal rose dimmed, ending their talk.
As Lunadien stowed the artifact, Rishir summed it up.
"High Priest's reaction suggests Deception's intel is legit."
"Ha, haha! Hahahaha!!! Uhahahaha!!!"
The half-unhinged High Priest erupted in mad laughter.
"Uhahaha— U, uwaaaagh!!! Uwaaaagh!!! "
His face flushed crimson as he screamed at Rishir.
"..."
"..."
Everyone but Rishir eyed him oddly.
Why was that?
This blatant devil follower threat raging at Rishir evoked sympathy and pity first.
The manic flow from laughter to fury.
Strangely, they fully grasped that emotional torrent.
"You monster—what, what the hell are you scheming!!! "
"Scheming? Aren't you the ones doing that?"
"I'm asking what you did to Deception!!! What sorcery to puppet her and shame our church!!!"
"Right... what shift in heart made her suddenly aid me—"
"U- uu...!!! Uuuuuugh—"
Cough!
The High Priest retched like his guts boiled, vomiting hot blood.
Blood streamed from vein-bulging eyes.
His shredded psyche ravaged his aura, triggering mana reflux.
"You— Gray Tower Honorary Mage Rishir— you at least—...!"
The words cut short.
Suppression locked his mana flow.
High Priest Vud of Oblivion failed to tame the reflux and collapsed.
"..."
Rishir, silently watching, turned to his comrades.
"For now, shall we resuscitate him again?"
"..."
Pitying gazes pierced the fallen High Priest in turn.
Then.
Rishir's eyes flicked to Vud's belongings.
Oblivion Crystal.
A vessel sealing a stolen true name via Oblivion's power.
"..."
Vud's body jerked.
His blood pooled on the floor.
Crack—
The crystal fractured; its hazy contents vanished.
"Huh? Ah! Everyone—do you recall I'm a Gray Tower Honorary Mage?"
"What sort of question? Of course we—"
The instant they moved to affirm.
"Recall—..."
"Everyone!?"
Rishir's eyes widened, scanning their faces.
Swoosh—
Hazy mist drained light from their pupils.
"Everyone!"
"Yeah...?"
It felt hazy, like fog blanketing their minds.
Rishir's comrades, enthralled by the sensation, snapped alert at the startlingly lovely voice.
Turning toward the source—
"What are you all pondering so deeply?"
There stood a figure of picture-perfect beauty.
...Rishir.
"..."
They sensed wrongness.
Was he always such a flawlessly ethereal beauty?
Handsome and refined, sure—but not this level?
"Don't you like it?"
"...No—"
Yet.
They shook their heads.
Good was good, wasn't it?
Rishir.
If the man they cherished, admired, trusted was actually this handsome—
That was all the better.
A flicker of satisfaction and superiority stirred within.
"No issue at—..."
Thus.
They accepted Rishir's new visage.
Accepted the new Rishir's existence.
Simultaneously, denser fog flooded their minds, thickening.
Memories of Rishir.
Unrealistically perfect ones, inspiring desperate longing for their truth.
Rishir.
At just twenty-five, youngest ever to claim a Master's seat in tower history.
By thirty, 7th Circle, boldly hailed next Tower Lord—
By forty, transcendence achieved, enthroned as new Tower Lord.
His timeless ideal features amplified the surreality of his feats.
Who could fathom it?
The apparent youth, a transcendent archmage—
Great Archmage Rishir.
At magic's apex, yet unsatisfied.
He briefly shelved spells, took up the sword.
Folly.
All decried his choice.
Admiration soon followed.
In mere three years.
Great Archmage Rishir scaled in three years what sword saints chased lifelong.
Sword Master realm.
Swordsmen bowed to his strikes.
Holy swords took note; three of seven claimed by him.
Spirits adored him, ever swarming his side.
One hand: sword.
The other—
Reclaimed the magic set aside.
With sword in tandem.
World's laws shattered, heralding singular birth.
The continent chanted his name.
Dual Master Rishir.
His renown, eternal—
"Wait."
Absorbing new memories, Rishir's comrades recoiled.
The watcher—
Oblivion's Avatar masquerading as man—flashed an ideal smile anew.
"Calm yourselves."
Spoke in ideal timbre.
Unreal memory's rejection: fleeting.
Soon, they'd succumb to their comrade-friend-lover's perfection.
Eager to discard old for new.
"No cause for confusion. I'm Rishir—your friend, comrade, lover. How singular I am, you know best of all—"
"This is too ordinary though?"
Light pierced fog-shrouded eyes.