Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Dark Elf Who Gives Without Stinting
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"An antidote to Turbid Truth? Does something like that even exist?"
"Master said making antidotes wasn't fun, so she quit."
The wildest origin story for the most outrageous incurable poison I've ever heard.
Pamon fell deep into thought as she gazed at the parchment.
"But why ask about an antidote to Turbid Truth of all things?"
What does it matter? The key point is that 'Sahila' is seeking help from the 'Witch of the Western Forest.' This is your master's chance to settle the debt the Sahila family holds over her. No more tiptoeing around them.
The reason the 'Witch of the Western Forest'—a disgrace to dark elves—carried Sahila's parchment.
Remembering the debt her master owed them, Pamon let out a snort of laughter.
"Oh my~ how sudden. A chance like this drops out of nowhere~? Feels like nothing but good things have been happening lately. Ever since I met Rishir, that is. No way this is connected to my disciple too, right?"
Yeah right. How about Rishir ate Turbid Truth for you?
"Oh my~ so touching~ my disciple indeed."
You're hopeless. Oh. Wait. But if we don't know the antidote to Turbid Truth, we're screwed anyway, right?
At that moment,
Pamon suddenly covered her mouth and let out a 'pfft' of laughter.
What now?
"Nothing. Just suddenly thought of our Rishir."
Sudden my ass—you bring him up every chance you get. Anyway, I get why you'd think of him now. You're betting his Unique Color could normalize Turbid Truth, aren't you?
"Duran thinks so too, huh?"
You're such a sap. Yeah, his ability's special, but come on—there's limits. Neutralizing one of Night of the Forest's six deadly poisons? No way in hel—... Damn. Why does it feel plausible?
"Duran's addicted to my disciple's charm too."
A poison worse than Turbid Truth. Anyway, you planning to introduce Rishir to them?
"To the dark elves of Kehlin, my disciple in Mondalles? Can they even meet within the deadline?"
True.
"We need a more realistic plan. That's where this comes in."
What?
"There's no antidote to Turbid Truth, but there is a suppressant."
Pamon jotted down the details on the parchment regarding the suppressant.
Suppressant? Sahbaekryeon—that's a body-wrecking poison herb.
"Every poison herb's poison in its own way~? This one's destructive because its energy is just too immense. Normally, it's refined into an elixir. You know Desert's Tear?"
The dark elves' secret elixir? The one only Sahila direct descendants can drink—
"Sahbaekryeon is the main ingredient in Desert's Tear."
...You're saying feed it raw as a poison herb instead of refining it?
"Fight poison with poison. The massive energy inside will temporarily drive out Turbid Truth's effects."
And then?
Pamon shrugged.
"That's it. This method only buys time—postpones the end. Changes the worst outcome to the second-worst, you could say?"
Will Sahila settle for that?
Whoosh.
In that instant, the parchment burst into flames.
At this moment,
the debt the dark elves' shame, the 'Witch of the Western Forest,' owed to Sahila vanished.
"Yay~"
Pamon gleefully picked up her wine glass again.
Toasting the celebration before it arrives, and the luck follows suit.
"All thanks to my disciple eating Turbid Truth for me~"
Sticking to that narrative, huh? You sure it's fine if Rishir actually ate it?
"I trust my disciple's power~ After all, it's the absurd strength that unconsciously shrugged off a true ancestor's mental interference~"
Fair enough... Oh, right. Pamon, speaking of which—why'd you stop in this city? Wasn't on your schedule, was it?
"Cuz~ I was curious~. The Holy Sword's new master showed up."
Ah, that.
"Heard the new Holy Sword wielder was a young swordswoman, so I wondered who it could be—and got the shock of my life. Of all people, her~"
Pamon giggled, picturing her disciple's face.
"Wonder if my disciple would faint if he knew? Hmm~ Talking about him so much's making me miss him. My disciple. Hope he's doing well?"
Doing well? The master who took a taste and spat him out.
"No~ he'll be fine~ Rishir's a tough kid~ Probably at 4th circle by now. No, 5th~"
Sure, sure. You're right. Great Lord Rishir will hit 6th circle soon.
"Right? You think so too, Duran? That's what worries me. Has Rishir picked up any secret arts by now?"
Unlike basic or general magic, secret arts formed their own unique systems.
Secret magic.
Mastering them didn't just expand a mage's knowledge explosively.
It became their unique identity.
Thus, possession of secret arts often served as a benchmark for exceptional mages.
"Of course, my disciple has infinite potential even without secret arts...~"
Still, the regret was unavoidable.
"Really, such a shame~? If my secret arts were respectable enough to pass to Rishir, how great that'd be. If so, I'd have stayed by his side no matter what to teach him. Oh well, it'll be fine~? With Rishir's talent, people lining up to teach him their secret arts will form queues."
Yeah, queues alright. Problem is the kid's personality.
"What's wrong with my disciple's personality~"
Secret arts are a group's identity. Their history and future. No matter how talented Rishir is, would they hand them over for free? They'll demand their secret arts pierce his nose as payment. And Rishir left his family sick of having his nose pierced. Ironically, no teacher's better for him than you. Neglect can be read as perfect freedom.
"So you're saying my disciple won't take another master's secret arts just cuz he doesn't want me replaced?"
You're nailing the gist despite the word salad. Yeah, like you said—he hates constraints, so he won't become anyone else's disciple to learn secret arts.
"What if, just what if~? There might be an elder who feels pure awe at my disciple's magical talent and teaches their secret arts for free~"
A moron handing down secret arts? Better off without. Like some rotten teacher.
"So mean~"
"Lady?"
"Huh...? Oh—"
Catria snapped out of her daze at Kairen's call.
But only for a moment.
She stared blankly into space again, murmuring vacantly.
"Kairen. What day is it today?"
Catria glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist.
Verdande's Hand.
Right after using the demon's power to postpone Rishir's end, Catria had been wracked with intense self-loathing.
Was this really right?
If the first button was buttoned wrong, every attempt to fix it only made it worse—like now.
But at this point,
her judgment had proven correct in the end.
"...It's been three days."
"Three days..."
Day three of the investigation.
Catria and Kairen still hadn't found anything to purify Turbid Truth.
Without Verdande's power, Rishir would long since have been dominated by Turbid Truth, reduced to a husk.
"Good..."
Catria's mouth clamped shut before she could finish.
"...What a load of crap."
"Lady...?"
Her voice dripped with bitter sarcasm.
"What the hell have I even done...?"
After three days of investigation, Catria reached one conclusion.
To find whatever was hidden in the Magic Tower, she desperately needed help from insiders familiar with it.
But Catria couldn't seek the Magic Tower's aid.
Here, in the tower, she was just a dark elf slave.
Even revealing herself as a Sahila lady wouldn't change a thing.
What could she even say to get their cooperation?
That she fed Turbid Truth to one of their mages, and now wanted their help detoxing him?
As if they'd listen.
The situation boiled down to one word.
Desperate.
And it was all because she'd botched the first step.
Because of her foolish resolve to throw their hatred right back at them.
"Lady...?"
"..."
Deep anguish.
At its end, Catria forced a cheerful smile.
"Yeah! It's nothing. Just zoned out from fatigue. Kairen! Let's get back to investigating!"
She didn't even deserve to grieve right now.
Early morning of investigation day six.
Maid Tia bustled in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for her master.
"..."
Catria stared into the pot of simmering soup.
Grass clutched in her hand.
The herb called Sahbaekryeon, extremely rare in the southern deserts.
Its primary use: ingredient in the dark elves' elixir, Desert's Tear.
In other words, a medicinal herb.
When used properly, that is.
Sprouts growing at the peak of sheer cliffs kissed by the sun accumulate solar energy over years under scorching rays.
That bloom was Sahbaekryeon.
Its unrefined energy was so vast it became poison.
Catria kept one sprig in her private storage.
For the distant day when all ingredients gathered, to make Desert's Tear.
Yesterday, she'd retrieved the Sahbaekryeon with an artifact.
Per the Witch of the Western Forest's advice, to feed it raw to Rishir.
To postpone his end once more.
Is this really right?
Catria wondered.
The answer came swiftly.
No way it is...
Feeding him Turbid Truth for a time-limited life.
Not content with forcibly injecting demon power, now poison herbs too.
The more she tried to help him, the more harm she caused.
But what choice did she have?
This was all she could do.
Plop.
The Sahbaekryeon slowly dissolved into the soup.
"Smells good. Tia, that's breakfast?"
"...Yes! You'll love it!"
Catria plastered on a cheerful smile.
It felt somehow off.
I'm beyond saving—just hurting him over and over.
Roar!
"?"
"?"
Rishir panicked.
Meltas panicked too.
Mid-spar.
Flame energy had infused his signature wind magic.
"When did you learn fire magic?"
"Oh, is this fire magic?"
"?"
"?"
Late night of investigation day seven.
The large topaz embedded in her bracelet absorbed moonlight, displaying its characteristic murkiness.
Catria commanded Verdande's Hand.
"Verdande. Last order. Transfer all your existence and power to this hair's owner."
-No, don't!!! Sahila!!! Take back that order!!!
"...I know. I know how foolish this is. But I can't help it. We've come too far."
-Nooo!!!
Crack.
The topaz shattered.
Thus, Rishir, already bearing the mighty desert demon's power, now harbored its very existence.
"...Kyahahahaha!!!"
Catria laughed cheerfully—excessively so.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Rishir. Please, just hold on a little longer... just a bit more...
"...!"
Meltas couldn't hide his shock.
A mysterious sandy wind laden with unknown energy whipped up, shattering his barrier.
Today,
Rishir's magic finally reached Meltas.
With a shocking secret art, no less.
"Rishir, you...! When did you learn secret magic!?"
"Oh, is this secret magic?"
"Give it a rest."
Early morning of investigation day eight.
Catria thought.
"Tia, that white flower-looking veggie? Got any more? Smelled great, whatever it was."
What.
The man's condition was off—Turbid Truth poisoning him, encroached by demon power and existence, dosed with poison herbs.