Chapter 155
Chapter 155
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 155
Chapter Title: Shadows of the Great Mountain Range (4)
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She had no special name. Because she was the seventh born, she was simply called the Seventh.
No one thought it strange. Not even her. There was no reason to distinguish her with a name.
“……”
Hiding in the shadows and peering down at the mountain path below, the Seventh furrowed her brow.
They were practically fish already hooked, so she hadn't considered leisurely toying with the humans a problem at all.
But after the sudden arrival of reinforcements, her reaction had been—frankly speaking—a blunder born of her own carelessness.
Encountering the notion of a "human riding the wind" for the first time, she'd been caught off guard, staring in bewilderment, and before she knew it, the ogres and trolls had been wiped clean.
She was out of cards to play. Her ability wasn't creating magical beasts from nothing—it was controlling those that already existed. And neither ogres nor trolls were common fiends she could just replace on the spot.
“…Tch.”
It was a shame, but she hadn't walked away empty-handed.
The platinum flames engulfing his entire body marked a realm reached by only a rare few among the humans who styled themselves as god's servants.
Factoring in how he'd slain two ogres in the blink of an eye, he might even be a cut above that. It was hard to reconcile with his youthful face, though.
And there was a half-winged one too, even if she couldn't see them. No servant, no matter how capable, could fly through the skies.
That had to be thanks to some half-baked technique humans dared dub "demonic law." Likely a branch of wind manipulation.
She took no pleasure in either the servant or the half-winged one, but personal grudges aside, she had no intention of downplaying the threat.
It would've been nice to catch a glimpse of the half-winged one's face before withdrawing. They were frail and sluggish, after all—another short wait might do the trick.
She was lost in such thoughts, eyes fixed intently on the mountain path, when—
Plop!
Something cold and damp touched the back of her neck. Reflexively, the Seventh clapped a hand to her head.
“……?”
She rubbed her scalp, then inspected her fingers. Water. Plain water—no color, no scent.
Was it raining? The sky was clear. Puzzled, the Seventh tilted her head skyward.
Splat!
In that instant, a mass of water dropped from the tree above and slammed straight into the Seventh's face.
“Glrk?!”
Her vision exploded with stars from the impact, but paradoxically, the water's chill kept her from blacking out.
Yet the situation didn't improve one bit. The blob that struck her face didn't scatter—instead, it swelled even larger.
The water that had engulfed her face soon swallowed her upper body, then her lower half entirely. A prison of water.
The Seventh held her breath and thrashed with all her might, but it was futile.
Even flailing like she was swimming, the resistance was far greater than ordinary water.
Each time she barely inched along, the water prison expanded to follow, leaving her no closer to escape.
“Glug, grgl.”
Who could've guessed there was someone else besides the wind-wielding half-winged one. The Seventh's mind fogged over. Lack of air played a part.
The half-winged was obviously in league with the servant, and how that servant would treat her was a foregone conclusion.
There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of mercy—it was flat-out zero.
So dying here was preferable.
“Grgl, grrgl……”
How unjust.
Vomiting blood in place of her lungs' last air, the Seventh quietly shut her eyes. Her consciousness plummeted into darkness that would never lift.
Miraculously, no one had died.
The ogres and trolls had come at them leisurely, toying with them like playthings.
Of course, from the victims' side, it had been pure agony all the same—not that they emerged unscathed. Still, broken bones and torn muscles were well within the reach of healing miracles.
Flash!
Lilia's medical prowess had sharpened further while tending plague victims in the southwest—though she'd skipped surgeries back then. Now elevated to archbishop, her miracles were nothing short of wondrous. The seven drained adventurers swiftly regained their vigor.
“Thank you, Bishop!”
“You saved our lives and healed us... How can we ever repay this grace……”
“It's only natural. Take good care of yourselves. Oh, and grab your gear too!”
“Understood!”
Having deftly tended to the seven, Lilia finally turned to Maera.
She'd saved her for last because Maera's condition was stable. More precisely, it hadn't been at first, but she'd recovered on her own, as befitted a high priestess. Her holy power was nearly spent, true.
Lilia trotted briskly over to Maera, who had watched from a short distance away.
“Maera Bi—”
Lilia never finished. Maera pulled her into a fierce embrace without a word. Lilia's eyes, which had widened slightly, soon softened with warmth.
Only after a long moment did Maera release her, beaming with pride.
“You've grown so much. In skill, in kindness. Well done, Lilia.”
“Thank you.”
Lilia grinned broadly.
Not bound by blood but closer than mother and daughter, they needed no flowery phrases. A single heartfelt word sufficed.
Lilia nestled against Maera again like a spoiled child, and Maera patted her back soothingly.
But heartwarming reunion aside, reason soon stirred questions. Maera spoke up.
“How did you know to come here? I had no idea you were on your way.”
“I reached Avaca right around sunset! Sister Jenny filled me in, and I got worried, so I hurried after you.”
“I see. If you'd sent word ahead, I'd have waited and we'd have gone together. Were you trying to startle me?”
“A little, but mostly, I couldn't send word while crossing the mountains.”
“Mountains?”
“The Great Mountain Range!”
“...Pardon?”
“Right after the ordination ceremony, I came straight over from the Central Diocese!”
“……?”
One sentence crammed with too much info—Maera's mind short-circuited for a beat.
“You crossed the Great Mountain Range...?”
“Yes! On wyvern-back!”
“Ah, right, wyvern.”
Her old letter had mentioned wyvern hunting. Lilia had never struck Maera as a liar, but was it really so casual a thing to chatter about?
No, that was secondary.
Coming from the center made sense. Her last letter mentioned heading southwest, but mail was sluggish—likely months old. Plenty of time to wrap up and return central.
But one word up front stood out oddly.
“Ordination ceremony...? For whom?”
“Me! I'm an archbishop now!”
“Wh-what?! Cough, cough!”
Lilia's sunny declaration hit like a bomb, making Maera choke.
The birth of a new archbishop was major news, disseminated to churches worldwide. But even the fastest relays had to skirt the mountains, no match for Lilia's direct flight over.
“You—you mean?”
“Yes!”
Not a shadow of deceit in Lilia's eyes. If anything, her problem had always been excessive candor.
It certainly explained rushing to Maera post-ordination, or emerging unscathed after cleaving two ogres.
Granted, one had to accept a twenty-year-old archbishop first—but Maera had watched her talent longer than most.
Finally regaining her wits, Maera let out a deep sigh.
“Oh dear, oh dear.”
She pinched Lilia's cheeks, stretching the soft flesh like dough.
“What am I to do with you.”
“Eeeeh.”
“His Holiness placed far too heavy a burden on you. Even if your faith is firm enough for the eighth miracle, an archbishop's seat can't be navigated on faith alone.”
“Not assigning a diocese yet. Said more pilgrimage's fine.”
Mumbled through squished cheeks, but Maera caught it easily. She'd scolded her this way plenty before.
“Thank goodness for that. Wait—still on pilgrimage, then... What of Lord Galen? Surely not……”
“We didn't split up?!”
Lilia bounced indignantly.
“It was urgent, so I came ahead! Oh, here he is.”
Maera followed Lilia's enthusiastic waving and turned.
Two horses plodded their way. Galen rode one; the other's saddle lay empty—Lilia's mount.
But what caught the eye were the fireballs rolling along the ground beside the horses.
“What in the world... are those?”
“Stands in for torches, I guess. He had to lead my horse too, so hands full—hence that.”
“No, but... wasn't Lord Galen a water mage?”
“Picked up fire on the side!”
“……”
“Knew a bit before, sorry. His brother asked me to keep it secret.”
“No need to apologize, but……”
Maera had figured the archbishop bombshell numbed her to further shocks, yet the human heart didn't desensitize so readily.
Galen drew near and dismounted. He bowed courteously to Maera.
“It's been too long, Your Excellency. I trust you're well.”
“Seemed passable until moments ago.”
Maera replied in a weary tone.
“Speak freely—no need for formalities. You're a Gem-rank mage now, after all.”
“That's what I'd say to you. Treat me as before. This formality discomforts me.”
“...Not on Lilia's account, by chance?”
“...I won't deny it.”
“Huh? Why me?”
“It's that sort of thing.”
“...Very well. If it suits you. But drop the 'Excellency'—that truly burdens me.”
“Understood. I'll call you appropriately, then.”
With titles renegotiated amid Galen's explosive growth over the past couple years—
“First, there's a matter needing attention. Might I ask a favor?”
“Of course. What is it?”
“If you would follow me a moment.”
Galen added in a lowered voice.
“Leave the others for now. Just in case.”
“...Somewhere remote?”
“No. That ridge there.”
Galen pointed to the mountainside. Not too close, yet not distant. For a high priestess like Maera, mere seconds away even if trouble arose.
“Lead on.”
Maera nodded.
She explained briefly to the group resting some distance off. Fresh from the ambush, they fretted naturally—but the visible destination eased their minds.
Leaving the horses, the three ascended. Once far enough that even a Silver warrior couldn't eavesdrop, Galen spoke.
“After sending Lilia ahead, I scouted the surroundings.”
“...Sending her?”
“I asked my brother! To push her with wind magic. Let me run faster in the end.”
“...Wind magic as well?”
“Not the point right now. Point is the ogre and troll horde.”
Not incorrect. Maera nodded without further nitpick.
“Yes, hardly natural.”
“Lilia tangled with a strange warlock recently—one controlling people via bells. Made me wonder if something similar puppeteered the fiends. So I searched around.”
Galen halted.
Not some deep forest recess—just a foothill overlooking the path. They arrived swiftly.
There lay a thoroughly soaked form, slumped.
The cat spirit standing guard hopped to Galen, reverting smoothly to bracelet form on his left arm.
“Meant to trap her in a water prison and knock her out, but looks like she chose suicide.”
“Pity, but better than letting her slip away. And... if it's who I suspect, live capture was pointless from the start.”
“Oh—you have an idea who?”
“We'll know once we look……”
Then let's see. Galen flicked his hand casually.
The illusory fireballs rolled forward, illuminating the area. Shadows shrouding the culprit receded.
The silhouette suggested a woman with long, curly hair.
But that was mere outline.
Under the firelight, her true nature shone plain: no human.
No human bore grayish skin or horns sprouting from their head.
“Just as I feared. Regrettably.”
“...What is this?”
“An evil ghost.”
Maera replied matter-of-factly.
“Offspring born of demons.”