Chapter 202
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 202
Should she call this girl a rat-woman? Or, with a touch of personal spite, a rat-bitch? Or perhaps, more bluntly, a 'rat-like bitch'?
I wanted to call her that, but…
"…Pimp."
As a Holy Fire whom everyone in Rium respected, Rocheisa had to be careful with every word and action.
Swallowing her annoyance, Rocheisa spoke to Pimp.
"You're the one who left the petals, aren't you?"
"Of course! Just as I'd expect from a snake. So sly. You saw right through me."
"…Pimp, you and I are both Holy Fires. Everyone in Rium looks up to us. You should consider the listener's feelings when you speak—"
"Snake-woman!"
"Could you be a little more polite…"
"Snake-woman!"
"I'm telling you, that word 'snake-woman' is getting on my nerves—"
"Snake-woman! Snake-woman!"
"You little rat. Did growing up without parents teach you to throw your manners out the window?"
"Oh my? I'm pretty sure that goes for both of us, doesn't it?"
Rocheisa, who had been speaking calmly, drew the twin swords at her waist. As if she had been waiting for this, Pimp raised her two daggers and pointed them at Rocheisa's face.
"Is having a foul mouth something to be proud of, you idiots?"
A giant, hairy male beastkin sitting in the distance looked back and forth between the two of them in pathetic disbelief.
The lower Southern Root was the domain of the Holy Fires. The training ground was built exclusively for their use, and the speaker, Hendrigo, a burly bear beastkin with a bushy beard, was one of Rium's proudest Holy Fires.
"Alta, Prisa, and Bernard are still on their missions in the distant Empire. Rocheisa, is this how you act just because you finished your task early?"
"A-Ah, no. That's…"
"And you, Pimp. Is it right to be causing trouble while everyone else is working?"
"That's because I'm the only one who wasn't given any work!"
Hendrigo had intended to mediate, but the little rat—Pimp—snapped back at him. However, she too seemed aware that her behavior was wrong.
"Ah, whatever! I just missed her, so I was giving her a passionate welcome!"
Pimp quickly sheathed the daggers she had aimed at Rocheisa's face, puffed out her cheeks, and turned her head away. Rocheisa also quietly sheathed her twin swords. Hendrigo, who had been casually prodding a straw dummy,
asked Rocheisa.
"What happened to the man from the monster merchant guild we captured?"
"…I didn't stay for the final sentencing. But from the atmosphere, he'll likely be imprisoned."
"I guess he has no intention of cooperating easily."
"It's all because that snake-woman brought him in! If I had brought him, he would've spilled everything by now!"
"…"
"Patience, Rocheisa. More importantly, what did Her Majesty say?"
"…She said there was nothing out of the ordinary. To be precise, that nothing has been uncovered yet."
"Any additional oracles?"
Rocheisa shook her head. When Pimp smirked and teased, "There probably is, but she's just not telling us!", Rocheisa's thread of patience finally snapped. Her sword flashed from its sheath in an instant.
As if waiting for that exact moment, Pimp drew her daggers in a blur. This time, their blades truly clashed, and a loud, metallic clang! echoed through the air.
Unable to watch any longer, Hendrigo grabbed a straw dummy with both hands and ripped it apart. The dummy, woven so tightly it could withstand thousands of strikes from a wooden sword, was torn in half in an instant, its straw guts spilling onto the floor.
"…"
"…"
The intimidated snake and rat tucked their tails.
Having seized control of the situation once more, Hendrigo continued.
"I know you two are close, but keep it down for a while. At least until the other three return from the Great Evil Caves."
Ever since the Empress's oracle, things had been tense.
Four of the six Holy Fires had headed to the Empire. Rocheisa had returned after completing her mission to abduct the informant, but the three who went to their respective Great Evil Caves had yet to come back.
Around the time Riaze disappeared, rumors had also spread that Nilkumbal and the Sand Hell had collapsed.
The simultaneous collapse of multiple Great Evil Caves was unprecedented, unless it was due to a large-scale subjugation by humans.
These events were surely related to Riaze's disappearance. The truth would be revealed once the remaining three Holy Fires returned.
"If the 'Black Cloud' from the oracle is really Swallow, we may have to fight that ancient monster. You two should be working in perfect harmony, not at each other's throats…"
"Well, people usually get to know each other by fighting…"
"Pimp, do you want to get to know me very deeply?"
Pimp stared at Hendrigo's thick, muscular forearms and quickly shook her head.
"It's good to be confident. Really, it is."
"…"
"But the ones we might have to fight in the future are all monsters as well."
Pimp possessed a weapon that was one of the 36 Masterpieces.
And Rocheisa…
Around this time last year, Sian Tsukikrup, one of the Empire's Heroes, came here.
Sian had been an honored guest of the Empress, but as a human, he faced backlash from all of Rium's residents.
At the time, Pimp had rushed in blindly, and to cool her anger, Rocheisa had stepped forward to face Sian in her place.
The beastkin, despite their hatred of humans, eventually accepted Sian as a friend. Still, that was the reason for their duel.
He recalled it hadn't been a proper duel to determine a clear winner. The space was confined, putting the mage at a disadvantage, and there was an unspoken rule of mutual courtesy.
Even so…
—Rocheisa had utterly overwhelmed Sian Tsukikrup during their brief duel.
So, honestly…
He didn't think she would lose to any enemy, save for the Black Disaster.
"I'm just saying we should stay on our toes for that 'just in case.' Stay alert."
Even as he said that, Hendrigo thought to himself:
The current Holy Fires are strong. There's no way they can lose. Unless it's someone like Swallow, no one can match them.
To add a bit of a joke…
Unless that 'Beastkin Slayer' from the Liberation War is still alive.
* * *
"My ears have been feeling itchy lately."
"Huh?"
Patrick, who didn't even have ears, was muttering nonsense again.
When Melju glanced over, Patrick's eye-lights had frozen, giving him a dazed look.
Melju silently turned her head back to the front.
Inside the Primordial Core.
Something was happening.
"This is quite the conundrum."
"Even I must admit as much."
As Patrick clattered his jaw while staring at what was in front of them, Melju nodded in agreement.
Indeed, even with the vast knowledge Melju had accumulated in the library of the Demon King Castle, she could see no answer to the problem before her.
—On one hand, the egg of Calamidad: an absolute delicacy guaranteed to be delicious no matter how it was cooked.
—On the other, Rene: a cook who managed to produce the worst possible flavor no matter the ingredients.
So, if Rene were to cook the egg of Calamidad, would the result be delicious? Or disgusting?
"The ultimate ingredient versus the ultimate anti-cook… a true contradiction. This was an act that defied magical science."
"Your voice is too loud, Melju."
Melju and Patrick were witnessing this historic moment together. Of course, "historic" and "terrifying" were two very different things, which was why they were both pressed tightly against the cave wall, practically hugging each other.
They weren't overreacting for nothing. Just a moment ago, a reaction resembling an explosion had nearly occurred within the pot.
—But why were they here again?
Patrick tried to remember. Right, he'd brought Melju to meet Rene to get her opinion on losing contact with Scobina.
But how had it led to this?
…He didn't know. Since analyzing the cause wouldn't solve the current problem, Patrick gave up on thinking. He simply watched the scene before him.
I heard a rumor that the Empire's magic scholars are highly interested in alchemy. Isn't this exactly the ultimate alchemy they've been seeking?
The egg white was translucent. The seasonings and other ingredients were all light green or white.
And yet, the smoke spewing from the boiling pot was a deep purple.
But why is she boiling it? It's an egg. Do people usually boil eggs like this?
"Do you think Lord Swallow will like it?"
As they stared, dazed, at the forbidden transmutation, Rene suddenly spoke.
Startled by the sudden question, Melju flinched violently, banged her head against the cave wall, and collapsed.
"Of course he will."
Patrick, left alone, replied.
"It'll be so good that if two people eat it… both of them will die."
Phase. 11
The cold winter wind seemed to have swept every cloud from the sky, leaving the moonlight to shine brightly in the quiet dawn.
The Astrisha Forest surrounding Cheite Castle had few tall trees, allowing the moonlight to flood through the windows completely unfiltered.
Bathory stood silently in the center of the room for a while, bathed in that moonlight.
"…"
Her dress was a ruin. The pure white fabric was soaked crimson from the chest down to the hem, all of it fresh blood.
The treatment had been a bloody battle, all to restore the battered younger Yaksha sister to her original state.
It had taken an entire day.
"How tiring."
The treatment was a success.
Only after confirming that the younger Yaksha sister was breathing stably did Bathory dust off her hands. The blood that had stained her palms red splattered onto the carpet and then vanished as if evaporating.
With a flick of her fingers, dozens of bats flew in through the window and transformed into familiars.
Ordering the familiars to clean the room, Bathory immediately stepped outside.
The corridor air was exceptionally chilly. She had been so focused on the treatment that she hadn't even regulated the castle's temperature, lacking the spare mana for such trivialities.
"Tsk, making me do this."
She had faced the brink of failure multiple times.
She had anticipated that <Cure> would be useless against the necrotic tissue, but she hadn't expected to need additional surgery even after using <Recovery>, a high-tier restoration spell.
The problem was that the girl needed to be healed inside and out, and tampering with that damnable 'vessel of strength' was incredibly complicated. In addition to magical healing, she had to employ quite a few physical methods.
If Bathory hadn't captured and dissected alive the humans who had crossed over from the Eastern Continent in the past…
I wouldn't have been able to do anything this time.
A great deal of luck had been involved. The vessel's structure was remarkably similar to the 'dantian' she had discovered back then, which was the only reason she'd been able to restore it.
Without that precedent, the girl would have ended up in a half-baked state—her limbs perfectly healed, but her strength inaccessible.
Bathory recalled her conversation with Swallow the previous day, and the expression he had made back then.
"…"
Swallow had said that his primary reason for seeking out Bathory was not 'to save the younger Yaksha sister,' but to know 'if she could be restored to her original state.'
Seeing the look on his face then, she was certain of his thinking. If she is useless, discard her. To Swallow, the younger Yaksha sister's worth was just that.
Not that his logic was wrong. For a dungeon boss, compassion was poison. The others were far worse, never better.
They called it 'compassion'—this notion of helping others regardless of profit or loss—because they believed it was a useless emotion only humans possessed.
Bathory let out a soft sigh.
She had held out a small hope.
A small hope that perhaps Swallow, too, might possess a sliver of that compassion.
Even when Rene ran away from home a few months ago, Swallow had desperately gone to find her…
Desperately? Was he desperate?
She wasn't sure about that, but he had wandered all over to find her, hadn't he?
She had hoped that this time, too, he would cherish the younger Yaksha sister a bit more.
Yes. The ancient monster… needed to be a little happier.
—And of course, she also hoped things would go well between him and Rene.
"Ah, I've gone soft, way too soft. I guess my time is coming, too."
Muttering to herself, she walked down a long corridor that opened into a maze-like hallway.
This hall led to a banquet hall, a place she often used when fighting subjugation squads. There was also a reception room around the corner, which she occasionally used for guests.
Striding past the eerie portraits lining the walls, Bathory rounded a corner. A retainer was waiting there, poised respectfully.
As soon as the retainer sensed her presence, it bowed politely.
"He's in there, right?"
Receiving a silent nod, Bathory headed for the reception room. The door was already open.
Swallow was slouched on the reception room sofa. From her angle, however, she was facing the back of the sofa and couldn't see his expression.
Approaching quietly, Bathory came to a stop beside the sofa.
Outside the window, in the direction of his gaze, stood only barren trees, stripped of their leaves. There was nothing of interest to see.
"Is it over?"
"I've done everything I could."
Bathory replied to Swallow's low question. Immediately after, she smiled faintly.
For the notoriously lazy Swallow to stay awake and wait this late… it meant he was worried.