The Most Necessary Thing

As the Vice Tower Master leveled his staff, the body of the mage afflicted by the demon was engulfed in fierce flames.

"...!"

The mage, still clinging to life, twisted in agony, his whole body convulsing with pain.

Yet the Vice Tower Master did not retract the spell he had unleashed. In the end, the mage thrashed a little longer before falling still.

And even after the mage drew his final breath, the flames refused to die.

"If you meant to end his suffering, there were far kinder ways. This is simply vicious," Marcus muttered.

Elbridge answered, "It wasn't burned to kill him. It was to sever its supply of nutrients."

Marcus examined the corpse once more.

Strangely, the sprouts that had burst from the dead mage's body did not burn within the flames. They retained their vivid color perfectly.

Yet because the body had been consumed and lost nearly all its nutrients, the sprouts could no longer grow with the same ferocious speed as before.

"Had that mage not been completely incinerated, fresh flowers would have bloomed from those sprouts and scattered their pollen again. The cycle would have repeated until every person in this space lay dead."

Marcus's face twisted in revulsion.

When he had first glimpsed this demon, Marcus had thought it would be easier to handle than the distortion-type monster he'd encountered in the mountain city. A blindfolded woman seemed far less threatening than a colossal arm wielding brute force.

But that had been a grave misjudgment. Facing a demon of raw power was far more comforting than being slain without ever understanding how it happened.

At that moment, the Vice Tower Master issued orders to his mages.

"Mages. Ignite the flames."

Countless mages obeyed, chanting their incantations in unison. Flames roared to life around the white demon, coiling around ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠its form.

Yet just as the earlier fire had failed to consume the sprouts, these flames posed little threat to the white demon. The sprouts and flower buds it created endured the blaze just as stubbornly.

There was, however, one exception. The pollen vomited forth by those buds could not withstand the fire.

So they had already deduced that the pollen was the true problem, and that fire could neutralize it.

The mages could not burn the demon, and the pollen could not pierce the flames.

A delicate stalemate had formed between mage and demon.

Elbridge glanced behind him. The trio of employers had not budged from their positions.

"You should leave," he said.

Millia answered, "I still haven't met Imelda."

The unfamiliar name caught him off guard.

Only then did Elbridge realize that Millia had tracked her classmate's movements all the way here.

Yet paradoxically, she did not seem particularly concerned about her classmate at all.

The name was merely an excuse. What truly anchored Millia in place was the insatiable curiosity so characteristic of mages. She wanted to observe what manner of being this demon was and how mages might combat it.

Elbridge told her, "If you choose to remain, I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I know."

Elbridge frowned slightly and turned his gaze to Millia's older brother, Mitchell.

Mitchell, who had been the first to try fleeing the scene, now stood rooted in place as though he had never considered leaving.

"Are you staying as well, Mr. Mitchell?"

"If my only sister insists on staying, how could I possibly abandon her?"

"Then drag her out if you must."

"You may not realize it, but an older brother can never truly win against his little sister."

A joke, at a time like this? As Elbridge's frown deepened, Mitchell added one more remark.

"There's another reason, Mr. El. You have no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intention of leaving right away, do you?"

"Correct."

"Patrick and I are knights of the Magic Tower, and Millia is one of its mages. Even if our presence here is discovered, it will likely end in mere disciplinary measures. But you and Mr. Marcus are different. It won't end with a minor inconvenience. Our testimony that we brought you both here will be necessary."

"Wait somewhere safe and simply provide your testimony."

Mitchell shook his head.

"If we leave this scene now, we may find ourselves unable to testify even if we wish to."

Mitchell had no obligation to safeguard Elbridge and Marcus.

Yet here he was, declaring he would risk danger on their behalf. Of course, half of it was undoubtedly due to Millia's stubbornness.

"Mr. El. You can tell me what I ought to do. So tell me—what should I do now?"

"Stay beside Millia with Mr. Patrick. If the situation turns truly perilous, use any means necessary to escape with her. Likewise, Millia, concern yourself only with protecting the two men at your side. The three of you now hold one another's lives in your hands."

"Understood."

Marcus asked cautiously, "El, should I stick with them too?"

"...Don't talk nonsense."

"I genuinely don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Even if there's nothing specific to do, remain as close to me as possible. And spend the time endlessly considering what you can do."

In one sense, it seemed as though he was irresponsibly dragging Marcus into danger. But Elbridge had his reasons.

The God of the Sunshower was watching Marcus with great interest.

The cunning deity would never allow Marcus to die a meaningless death. Therefore, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Marcus needed to accumulate as much experience as possible from this opportunity.

There are many allies here, and my compatibility with that demon is exceptionally good. An opportunity for Marcus to observe a demon this safely will not come often.

Having reached his decision, Elbridge strode forward with measured steps. The visibly tense Marcus moved to stand at his side.

The appearance of two uninvited guests who weren't even wearing armor caused a flicker of bewilderment to cross the Vice Tower Master's face.

"I've never seen either of you before. Who are you?"

"Elbridge, High Paladin of the Rusty Shield Order, arrived from eastern Soleneon. This is Marcus of the Fox Rain Order."

Marcus went rigid as a board.

Until recently he had been nothing more than a mediocre mercenary. He could scarcely believe he now stood at the center of such a monumental event, not merely brushing against its edge but planted firmly in its heart.

It was overwhelmingly burdensome, yet at the same time, a small spark of pride kindled in his chest. Without realizing it, Marcus squared his shoulders.

The Vice Tower Master demanded, "The Magic Tower issued no invitation to you. How did you enter?"

From long experience, Elbridge knew it was better to offer detailed explanations after the matter was settled.

Thus he answered with a touch of audacity. "In Middlemarch, are only invited paladins permitted to hunt demons?"

"Hmph."

"Please lower the curtain of fire for a moment. I will carve out the demon's heart myself."

Naturally, the Vice Tower Master rejected the request.

"Across the past six incidents we have encountered two unexpected developments. There have been sacrifices, yet we have overcome them all. We will handle this ourselves, so uninvited guests should withdraw."

"A demon is no fool, and two successes do not guarantee a third."

"Is it not a far wiser choice than entrusting everyone's lives to outsiders?"

"Allow me to speak plainly. If you entrust this matter to me, I can subdue that demon without a single casualty."

"I must decline."

It was not an incomprehensible stance. From their perspective, Elbridge was simply an unidentified intruder.

Yet without the mages' cooperation, he could not seal the demon.

Elbridge took one step back and lowered his sword—an expression of respect for the Vice Tower Master's judgment.

Only then did the Vice Tower Master command his mages.

"Begin."

Seven or eight-tenths of the flames encircling the demon vanished. In their place, net-like seals began to manifest in the air, slipping through the burning fire to envelop the demon.

Watching the display, Elbridge felt a surge of genuine admiration.

The mages of old could never have done this.

Magic and divine power repelled each other, just as incompatible types of magic naturally clashed.

Yet now, differing schools of magic existed in the same space without harming one another.

And it was not merely two or three mages—it was dozens, hundreds working in harmony. How many years of relentless research had led to this moment?

He recalled Rombel's words: the paladins and knights who had lost their enemies had fallen into decline, while the mages, who required no such foes, had achieved dazzling progress.

The seals that had leaped over the flames now bound the demon tight.

A few mages, perhaps due to minor errors, vomited blood and collapsed, but the majority continued their work in stoic silence.

...At this rate, the situation might resolve itself without my intervention.

Yet there was one factor the mages, focused entirely on their spellwork, had failed to consider.

The demon's two legs, buried within the rock.

Without anyone noticing, thin roots had spread outward in every direction beneath the demon's feet.

And from those roots that had quietly risen above the ground, tiny flower buds had formed.

The first to spot them was Marcus, who had been anxiously scanning their surroundings.

He cried out in alarm, "Look beneath your feet!"

Countless mages lowered their gazes.

Some found flower buds beneath them. Others did not.

"...!"

Their reactions were equally varied.

The veteran mages instantly halted their spells and erected curtains of fire to protect themselves and those nearby. The less experienced ones could not immediately recall what they were supposed to do.

Luck and skill.

These two elements decided who would live and who would die.

"Careful—!"

Before the warning could even finish,

Pop.

Dozens of flower buds burst at once, releasing a cloud of pollen.

Dozens of mages clutched their throats simultaneously.

From their mucous membranes, from the smallest cuts upon their skin—unnecessary flesh and bone fragments began to grow and rupture uncontrollably.

Over-healing. That was the most terrifying ability this demon possessed.

Even mages capable of wielding hundreds of spells had no counter once they inhaled the pollen.

They thrashed desperately to support bodies that were multiplying beyond control, but every struggle proved futile.

"..."

Invisible pollen drifted through the air. It was invisible death.

The surviving mages, each wrapped in their own ring of flames, looked desperately at one another, hoping someone would offer a solution.

But no solution came.

Every mage was now trapped within their own tiny sanctuary.

With the mages' movements restricted, the white demon regained its freedom.

It sang softly, spreading its slender arms.

Buds sprouted across its pure white shoulders and arms. Vines grew and coiled around its body. Small flowers bloomed. It resembled a statue left untended for hundreds of years.

Unable to handle the unexpected development with their prepared countermeasures, the flustered Vice Tower Master shouted, "Maintain composure and distribute your mana efficiently! Hold until the Tower Master arrives!"

Yet there was no confidence in his voice.

Since they could not contact the Tower Master, there was no telling when—or if—he would appear.

If the situation dragged on, he might arrive only after they were all dead.

At that moment, Elbridge covered his nose and mouth with his left forearm and grumbled, "I told you three times wouldn't work. Honestly."

Narrowing his eyes, he announced to the Vice Tower Master, "I will take over now. If you have the capacity, please cast an acceleration spell upon me."

"With the situation in this state... you have a method?"

"I do."

Ordinarily, once events had deteriorated this far, even Elbridge would have few options. Simply escaping with his life would count as a great success.

But the current situation was exceptional.

The white demon's compatibility with the mages had been decent, yet its compatibility with Elbridge was even better—so perfect it almost seemed predestined.

Still covering his nose and mouth with his left forearm, Elbridge offered a prayer.

"Goddess. Grant me your authority."

"Goddess. Might I ask where the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss is at this moment?"

The hidden authority possessed by the Goddess of the Rusty Shield—Spring Rain and Moss Summoning Ritual.

"Please convey to the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss that I request she block every healing ability that dwells within me..."

A pillar of light suddenly erupted within the Magic Tower's underground chamber, wrapping around Elbridge.

As he received the light, Elbridge instinctively understood. The authority bestowed by the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss was protecting him.

He lowered the arm covering his nose and mouth and pointed his sword at the demon.

The mages, Marcus, and the trio of employers all recoiled in horror. Yet unlike the other victims, Elbridge remained completely unaffected.

He drew a deep breath.

Then, surrendering himself to the fury and passion he had not felt in a long time, he declared with the force of a vow:

"I will carve out your heart."

Elbridge kicked off the ground with powerful momentum and charged toward the demon.

But before he could even take two full strides, a slightly hesitant oracle descended.

Since the battle had not yet truly begun, Elbridge naturally dropped to one knee and answered, "Yes, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Goddess."

Elbridge nearly answered on reflex, Yes. None at all.

But he was a devout and considerate paladin. He understood that such a careless reply could wound his Goddess deeply.

Therefore, Elbridge offered his prayer with sincerity.

"Of course. What I need most is your heartfelt encouragement, Goddess."

The Goddess of the Rusty Shield responded in a voice bright with delight.

Elbridge rose to his feet once more and charged toward the demon.