Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Priest(?) Rona
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Fienne couldn't hide her surprise.
Rona.
She had lost the core power of a succubus and become an ordinary human with no strength at all.
To use a metaphor, she was a blank slate.
But what was this?
Suddenly, Rona was handling mana.
And not just a little— the mana she wielded had a gentleness that was far too mild for a former succubus.
'A priest?'
Fienne reflexively thought of them, the old guard of the church.
This holy power.
If her eyes had been closed, she might have mistaken it for a passing priest bestowing healing.
The thought struck her as utterly ridiculous.
'She's a succubus. Suc. Cubus.'
They were a breed whose very name brazenly included "demon," as far removed from priests as criminals were.
Yet here was a succubus suddenly mimicking a priest.
'Sure, a former succubus...! Now just a normal human...!'
Former succubus. Priest.
A priest from succubus origins?
"...Ha."
Fienne let out a scoff and halted her thoughts.
Thinking further just made her feel like a fool.
More importantly, Rishir's complexion was visibly improving.
His breathing, labored enough that each inhale came with coughs, was gradually steadying.
"Hoo... Hoo..."
Soon, he sat up with Fienne's support.
"Thanks, Fienne. And Rona, thank you too. You saved my life."
In this moment, the one most flustered by the succubus's deviation(?) was none other than Rona herself.
She stared dazedly at her own hands, then snapped to attention at Rishir's thanks with a flinch.
"I got praised..."
Rona's expression twisted uncontrollably.
Wasn't she supposed to show she was a mere wench, not a slave?
That face was more womanly than mine?
Fienne barely swallowed those words and addressed Rishir.
"Rishir, are you alright?"
"Better than before. Still, that was a shock. Who knew succubus power could be used like this? Succubi might actually be beneficial, huh? Like beneficial insects— or beneficial demons?"
Fienne nodded seriously at Rishir's words.
"If you're spouting nonsense, you're definitely recovering."
"Isn't that a bit harsh to say to a patient?"
"Act like a patient and shut up, pretend to be in pain or something. Say something sensible. As if succubi have that kind of power."
"Then what is it?"
"What else? It's because of you again."
"You're saying it too easily. The world doesn't revolve around you just because you're pretty."
"Ugh. I wish you'd just keep coughing."
Then, Rona murmured timidly.
"I... I think the same. This seems to be thanks to you, Rishir."
"Huh? You figured something out?"
"Yeah... When I thought I wanted to help you, this happened..."
No.
That wasn't what we were talking about.
Rishir and Fienne itched to speak but couldn't bring themselves to voice it.
Rona's adorable figure— head bowed, fidgeting with her hands— was just too precious.
'How can she be so womanly?'
Even the true ancestor inwardly admired her, analyzing every gesture for future reference.
Meanwhile.
As a final check, Rishir tried to draw up his mana after flexing his arms.
"...!"
But just before.
Instinctively, Rishir sensed it.
'This won't work.'
His magic power and the mana circuits rooted throughout his body were fine.
The problem was his body.
Rishir noticed his hands trembling like aspen leaves.
'My body... fears resonating with the mana.'
No visible wounds, but his physique had clearly suffered massive damage or strain.
Rishir explained what he felt to Rona and Fienne, seeking their opinions.
"Overload... overstrain..."
After a brief contemplation, Fienne spoke.
"Come to think of it, I went through something similar long ago."
"Something similar?"
"Around a year after awakening as a true ancestor and stirring my mana. Back then, I was aiming for the 5th circle."
"Reaching the late 4th circle in a year...?"
Rona gasped in shock.
"Right? And you stick by your master, getting surprised at every little thing?"
"Ah."
Rona nodded in understanding.
"Anyway. One day, as I tried operating mana normally while eyeing the 5th circle, I felt sudden discomfort. I knew something was wrong with my body. Later, I realized it was because my body couldn't keep up with my rapid magic growth."
"So what did you do?"
"I waited. Refrained from using mana as much as possible until my body adapted."
"Then, if I just rest, will it get better?"
"Who knows. Our cases are similar yet different. My growth wasn't as explosive as yours, and my side effects weren't as severe."
Fienne pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and began wiping the blood from Rishir's face.
"You should see a specialist for a proper diagnosis. Maybe those new magic tower friends you mentioned could help?"
"...A sudden thought."
"What brilliant idea!?"
"Right now, Fienne, don't you seem kinda like a mom? Mmph!"
Fienne threw the handkerchief at Rishir's face.
"Wanna say something gross? Can't hit a patient. Or should I? You can't use mana now, right? Not that power either?"
"No... It felt affectionate... Or like a wife?"
"Wife, he says! Ugh! Ugh!!! Quit the creepy talk!"
Fienne pretended to be disgusted but picked up the handkerchief again, wiping his face more carefully and tenderly than before.
"Jeez. Talking like I'm his wife. Unbelievable..."
Hmph. Tch. Hmph.
Hmph. Tch. Hmph.
Her disbelief came with endless snickers and snorts, almost like she was giggling happily.
"So, what about it? Will your magic tower friends help?"
"They're kind, so maybe if I ask."
"No reason to delay then. Let's go."
"Go? You're coming too, Fienne?"
"Why? Can't I? You said I was wife-like earlier."
"No, not that I mind, but I don't want to bother you. It's the weekend— shouldn't you rest?"
"Of course it's a bother! Totally! Super! Insanely! Weekend rest? Obviously I want to! Do you know how busy my week was!? But what can I do. You're a selfish guy who ignores my situation. You'll drag me to the magic tower regardless of my opinion."
"C-Caught...?"
"Well, I get it. People want to be with who they admire most when sick, right?"
"E-Embarrassing...?"
"Plus, you wanna show off knowing such a cool woman."
"P-Proud...?"
"So! Just this once, I'll graciously accompany you. Go on, say thanks."
"Th-Thanks...?"
Because I'm worried about you.
Too shy to say it outright, the true ancestor used mental interference (rhetoric) to draw it out of him.
"Hey."
Rona, who had been waiting for an opening, spoke up timidly.
"Can I come too?"
"Am I a selfish guy who ignores others' situations to you too, Rona?"
"What? I just... just..."
Rona averted her gaze before whispering the rest.
"I'm worried about you..."
What am I then if you do that to you?
When do I show I'm a mere wench, not a slave?
Fienne eyed Rona with sunken eyes.
Rishir followed suit, looking at her.
"Wh-What!? Why, what!"
Rona bolted forward as if fleeing.
Rishir and Fienne followed her toward the magic tower in the Bondales magical district.
"But really, is this okay?"
Just before arriving at the magic tower.
Fienne voiced her concern.
"I hear the magic tower is as closed-off and conservative as they come."
"What do you mean?"
"Can you really get full help from folks who nitpick status and bloodlines?"
"Ah."
Rishir nodded.
He understood Fienne immediately.
Though Rishir had earned merit exposing a black mage hidden in the tower, the mages' gazes weren't all warm.
As Fienne said, most tower mages were picky nitpickers.
According to Melthas, they resented an outsider without a family name solving their problem.
Some even grumbled it damaged their prestige.
Luckily, he had ties with a few masters.
Otherwise, per Melthas, he'd face not just poor treatment but injustice.
"You know I have good luck with people, Fienne? The ones I'm asking are generous in that regard, so no worries."
Soon, they reached the tower's main gate.
Rishir approached the guarding mage.
"May I see your pass?"
"I'm here to see Master Melthas and Master Didoa."
"Your name?"
"Rishir."
Rishir. The guard's face stiffened at the name.
He was among those in the tower who disliked Rishir.
"Do you have an appointment?"
An honest "no" here, and the guard planned to invoke rules and eject him.
Breaking the unwritten rule of flexibility for masters' acquaintances.
"Yes. They told me to visit freely whenever today works."
But Didoa and Melthas had urged Rishir to use their names freely for such cases.
Mentioning the masters, the guard relented grudgingly.
Fienne let out a small laugh at the sight.
"Rishir, not bad, huh?"
What bastard freely enters the magic tower?
Fienne, ready to use her true ancestor power if needed, was genuinely impressed.
She followed Rishir with light steps.
"Rona?"
Unlike Fienne, Rona showed no sign of moving.
Under their gazes, she mumbled awkwardly.
"On second thought, maybe I should wait here."
"No need to worry."
"It's not that... You know..."
Rona glanced around, then whispered so only they could hear.
"We're already here?"
"Don't apologize. I'm not scolding."
"Honestly, I'm fine. But what if something goes wrong and I cause you trouble..."
Rishir nodded at her genuine worry.
Dragging her along when she was this concerned wouldn't be right.
Rishir and Fienne left Rona behind and entered the magic tower.
Melthas immediately informed Didoa's lab of Rishir's visit.
Moments later, a wolf came bounding in and leaped at Rishir.
"Hiiing..."
To sense the energy more precisely, she shifted to human form, not forgetting to shed her clothes.
Thus, Fienne coldly eyed Rishir embraced by the nude woman.
"I swear, I did nothing."
"Sure. You're really doing nothing. Must be thrilled to reunite with that lady?"
"Rishir. Rishir. Me. Butt. Butt. Do that thing."
Perrin, clinging to Rishir, wiggled her hips.
Fienne gaped at the indecent display, staring at Rishir.
That thing?
What was that?
Perrin glared curtly at Fienne, as if she were an intruder.
"Who're you?"
"Me? Well—"
In this situation, saying "I'm Rishir's acquaintance!" felt pride-wounding. Was that odd?
Fienne hesitated, then said,
"Um, I'm someone Rishir thinks of like a wife?"
"Rishir! You have such a lovely wife!?"
"Don't fall for verbal traps, Sir Melthas."
"Traps!? Rishir, that's how you phrase it? Sounds like I made up words that weren't there."
"Not made up— worse, actually..."
"Heh heh. Fittingly extraordinary for Rishir's acquaintance. Anyway, Miss Perrin. Where's Master Didoa? Just you?"
"Out now."
"I see. Shame for Didoa. Back to the point—"
Having heard Rishir's story from Melthas, he promptly gave the answer.
"Overload. That's what's happening to you."
"Overload?"
"Yes. From the 5th circle, magic's impact on the body multiplies exponentially. Those reaching 5th without preparation often suffer overload like you."
"I didn't know... Why didn't you warn me?"
"I didn't know!"
Melthas cried desperately.
"Not even a year— a week away, and you hit 5th! I had no idea!"
"...Sorry."
His face was desperate, aggrieved, distraught.
Rishir apologized unwittingly.
"Sigh. No, I overexcited. As you said, I was careless. Too complacent with you."
"Don't talk like I'm a disaster."
"Then what are you if not mages' disaster? Warning: don't boast your magic career outside. If they learn your time to 5th, half will hang themselves, half curse your existence."
"Nah, not that bad."
"That bad."
"That much?"
"Exactly."
The elder, true ancestor, and spirit united in sternness.
"...I'll be careful. So, overload. Do all who reach 5th go through this?"
"Most do. But—"
Melthas examined Rishir's body and shook his head.
"Cases as severe as yours, threatening life? Extremely! Rare. No, unprecedented. Even elixir-gulpers don't suffer this. Know how wrecked your body is? Without that priest, coma or cripple at best."
"Huh? Did I say priest?"
"Body near total rupture, on verge of shattering. Few can mend that. High priest level at least."
"High priest..."
A rank that could lead church branches in mid-sized cities.
Rishir and Fienne imagined a former succubus leading city clergy and snickered.
"Frankly, even I was shocked. You tied to church folk!?"
"Yeah, surprised me too."
"Why you? Anyway. You asked for overload cure? Priority: heal your broken body."
"Th-Then keep asking that high pfft priest friend?"
"Best if possible. But okay? Healing takes long. High priests are swamped. Can't stick by you constantly."
"If I ask right, maybe."
Huh.
Melthas fiddled his braided beard, sighing.
"High priest as personal doctor? Rishir, what are you? Curious about that priest too."
Bastard.
She's a succubus.
Rishir and Fienne struggled not to laugh throughout.
At the same time.
Rona was killing time near the magic tower.
Utterly boring.
Until someone approached and spoke to her.
"Miss?"
Short golden blonde gleamed like ripened autumn barley, tanned skin evoked sunset shadows.
Clear sky-blue eyes like autumn heavens.
For androgynously beautiful Rona, strangers approaching was common.
At the cafe, she'd fend off suitors daily with her signature delinquent glare.
This time too, she tried to overwhelm with it.
"...!"
But Rona was overwhelmed before fully deploying it.
Rare black-haired middle-aged woman and youth wore pristine white robes with unique emblems.
Rona knew exactly what those meant.
Church clergy.
To succubus Rona, they were objects of terror.
If they sensed her identity, purification rites would follow immediately.
Purification here meant augmenting burning at the stake with healing to prolong exposure to holy flames.
Thump.
Thump!
Thump!!!
Rona's heart raced in fear.
The middle-aged woman smiled meaningfully, as if hearing the beats.
"Did I scare you?"
Her unique black eyes deepened Rona's unease, unreadable.
"Odd. Our church emblem usually reassures, yet you react oppositely. Reason to fear the church?"
"...Wh-What business with me."
Rona forced out. Fortunately, no need to feign emotion.
The tremor in her voice and eyes couldn't be hidden anyway.
"Your 'essence' caught my interest."
Thump!
"Es-Essence..."
"Yes, your essence. Most intriguing, miss."
Thump!
"Name?"
"...Rona."
The woman rolled the name in her mouth, lips moving silently awhile.
"Rona."
Finally, she uttered it.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Rona awaited like a condemned prisoner.
"Rona. Ever thought of joining the church?"
"?"
"Sudden? Forgive me. Your pure vessel captivated me utterly. You were born with qualities to illuminate this chaotic world, guide the lost with holy light."
Rona was just confused.
Was that churchly elegance for "you'd burn so nicely"?
Probably not.
No deception with the impure. Just burn.
Rona was certain.
They didn't know her identity.
"Too sudden? Or do you already serve another?"
"Serve another..."
Rona reflexively pictured one man.
The woman nodded understandingly.
"Indeed. Your vessel stems from realized faith. Shepherd of a nameless god."
"..."
What faith?
Nameless god's shepherd?
Just slave and master.
"Can't tempt one with realized faith. Understood. Whoever you believe, whatever path, may it lead to salvation and rest."
Rona watched the woman's retreating back with unwitting pity.
"High Priest Bardros."
The black-haired young holy knight.
Tacla cautiously named the high priest.
"Speak."
"Shouldn't we have guided that woman just now."
"She's not one for guidance."
"But isn't she a heretic?"
"Not chasing holy light doesn't mean all are lost. Saw her vessel?"
"...Yes."
"Can warped faith craft such a vessel?"
To the silent knight, the high priest spoke assuredly.
"Surely, she walks a noble path beyond even our measure."
The high priest's eyes filled with awe at her journey and the god she envisioned.
At last, they beheld the journey's end: the magic tower.
"As the great holy light decrees, a profane parasite's apostle hides there."