Chapter 157: Why Is He So Strong? (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 157: Why Is He So Strong? (1)
Philde, the finest mage among the Elves of Greinif, possessed an innate gift known as the Spiritual Eye. It allowed her to see the souls of all things in the world.
From the most insignificant organisms to the mightiest beings—she could see the soul that every living creature naturally possessed.
Even so, she had never paid much mind to this blessing.
Firstly, she was not a necromancer who dealt with souls or black magic. Secondly, she simply found the souls she saw to be quite uninteresting.
While souls varied slightly from person to person, the differences were rarely striking. A soul was, after all, just a soul.
She had seen unique souls in the gods and Outer Gods she encountered in her youth, but that was only because they were divine. The souls of ordinary living beings were all more or less the same.
That was why Philde could not help but be shocked when she looked upon the soul of Marquis Palatio.
It was because the Marquis’s soul itself resembled the souls of the gods she had seen long ago.
“…….”
It wasn't a blue sphere like a typical soul. Though faint, his soul was dyed a vivid, brilliant gold.
It was a sight one could never find in a mere human. For a soul to appear golden meant that the being was either close to divinity or was a god themselves.
And there was one more reason for her shock.
‘……The soul doesn’t fit.’
The soul of Marquis Palatio did not match his physical body.
Philde had never seen such a case before. As she had told Perion, every soul naturally fits its vessel.
However, while the Marquis’s soul appeared to be inside the body, it didn't actually fit.
In other words, the soul currently inhabiting the Marquis was not the original owner of that body, but someone else entirely.
As Philde realized this, a torrent of questions flooded her mind. Above all, one voice echoed most clearly: Perion’s voice, suggesting that Marquis Palatio might be the Primordial Elf.
‘……Could it really be?’
Until now, Philde hadn't put much stock in Perion’s words. Her decision to come see the Marquis was merely a brief escape from the stifling atmosphere of Greinif. She hadn't seriously considered the possibility that he was the Primordial Elf for even a second.
But now, her conviction was wavering.
The soul she saw within the Marquis was shining gold, more brilliant than any other—just like the Primordial Elf who was once revered as a god.
And that soul did not belong to that body. It was as if to proclaim that another entity had taken possession of the vessel.
As Philde stared blankly at him, a new question seized her.
‘……But if he is the Primordial Elf, why is he hiding his identity?’
From Philde’s perspective, there was no reason for the Primordial Elf to hide who he was. Even if he had possessed a human body, if he truly was the Primordial Elf, he would have countless ways to prove his identity.
‘Why?’
As she sank deeper into confusion, the next moment—
“!”
She perceived it.
‘Something’ was writhing behind Marquis Palatio.
Naturally, her gaze shifted toward the movement.
The writhing vanished as if it had never been there. However, having caught that momentary distortion, Philde immediately activated her Spiritual Eye to its full extent, opening the ‘Eye’ of a master mage to identify the entity behind the Marquis.
And what she saw was—
“Ah…?”
A black abyss—?
……No, it wasn't.
It was a pupil.
An abyssal pupil so massive it filled her entire field of vision.
And then.
[Be silent—]
At the same time a voice tore through her mind—
“Bleurgh—!!”
Philde coughed up a spray of blood.
“!? Lady Philde!”
Startled, Perion rushed to support her.
But blood continued to pour from Philde’s mouth. Not only that, blood began to stream from her eyes, nose, and ears as well.
It was the price for looking directly at something that should never be seen.
“P-Please, wake up!”
Perion tried desperately to rouse her, his face pale with urgency.
However, after vomiting an incredible amount of blood, Philde’s head slumped into the pool of her own gore.
In the moment she felt her consciousness slipping away, she realized it.
She realized why the Primordial Elf had not come to Greinif.
‘If something like that ever went near the World Tree—’
Philde recalled what she had perceived for that briefest of moments.
She didn't know what it was. She couldn't grasp even a fragment of its nature. She knew she must never even attempt to discover its identity.
But there was one thing she realized with absolute certainty—
‘Never… I must never let him go near the World Tree……!’
She felt it instinctively. That entity was far more terrifying than the beings beneath the roots that Pagade was holding back.
At the same time, Philde remembered the fact that the Primordial Elf had ultimately died in the battle against the ‘Black Things.’
As the fragments of memory surfaced, the truth began to click into place, piece by piece, in her mind.
And then.
“Pe…rion.”
“Yes……!”
“It seems… what you said… was true.”
“Does that mean—”
“……That man,” Philde whispered the truth to Perion. “He might truly be the Primordial Elf.”
“!!”
Perion’s eyes widened to their limit.
* * *
At that same time.
“Should I hit left? Or should I hit right? Here? Or here? Swish! Swish!”
[Stop messing around and just swing already!]
“Right? Left? Here I goooo!”
Whack!
[Aaaargh!!]
“Kyahahaha!”
[Again! Do it again!!!]
Alon watched Evan, who was laughing like a madman while wrapping Blackie around his hand to smack Basiliora’s head, and Basiliora, who seemed genuinely enraged as he demanded another round of Rock-Paper-Scissors (specifically, the direction-guessing game Cham-Cham-Cham).
‘……To think they can have that much fun with just a game of Cham-Cham-Cham.’
Once again, he found himself shaking his head at their… vitality.
* * *
Two weeks passed after that, marking exactly one month since Alon had arrived at the Marquis’s estate.
“……Whew.”
“You’ve worked hard, Marquis.”
As Alon deactivated his magic and let out a sigh, Penia, who was standing beside him, spoke.
“How was it this time?”
“Hmm—I think we reached about Stage 4.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“However, from Stage 5 onwards, the density becomes too high and the molecules break apart. If it stays like this, what you originally envisioned might be difficult to achieve.”
“Is there no other way?”
“……In my opinion, we either need to pour in significantly more mana, or we need to adjust the density appropriately.”
“Let’s try one more time.”
After taking a brief moment to catch his breath, Alon resumed his stance.
For the past month, he had been continuing his research into ‘Hand Seals’ with Penia. The primary focus was the structural changes and combinations of molecular forms resulting from the overlapping of Hand Seals.
The more Hand Seals were layered in the correct sequence, the more new types of structures were formed.
They hadn't succeeded yet, but they had even found a way to make the molecular structure of magic resemble specific spells, potentially boosting their power to an absurd degree.
The magic research was progressing quite successfully.
“Ah, that was close.”
“Was it?”
“Yes, the structure was slightly misaligned, so it failed.”
“Let’s call it a day.”
“Understood.”
Having finished his training for the day, Alon immediately picked up a sweet potato that was sitting nearby and took a bite.
“You seem to really like sweet potatoes, Marquis……?” Penia asked cautiously.
Alon nodded. “Well, yes.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of them?”
“Hmm—I haven't felt that way yet.”
To be honest, Alon himself couldn't understand why he never grew tired of sweet potatoes, no matter how many he ate.
‘Usually, anyone would be sick of them by now.’
Alon looked at the sweet potato with a renewed sense of wonder.
‘……Maybe it’s because Yutia brought them that they taste even better.’
A month ago, while Alon was away, Yutia had visited, met Penia, and left the sweet potatoes behind. Thinking of her kindness, he finished the rest of the potato.
Returning to his office, Alon gave Blackie—who was sprawled out asleep on a corner of the desk—a quick pat before taking his seat.
“Marquis.”
“What is it?”
Evan had followed him in as soon as he sat down.
“The Kingdom Ball is in two months. Will you be attending?”
“Has it been that long already?”
“Yes.”
At his report, Alon pondered for a moment before nodding.
“Well, it wouldn't be right to keep skipping it. I’ll attend.”
“I’ll make the arrangements then. Oh, and didn't you say you were planning to go somewhere soon?”
“Right. I intend to move shortly.”
The time he had been waiting for had arrived.
‘If I join up now, the tutorial period should be over and the party members should all be gathered. I’ll be able to join Elivan naturally.’
Alon turned his gaze toward the window. The weather was gradually shifting from the warmth of spring toward the heat of summer.
Estimating the protagonist’s current situation based on the flow of the seasons, Alon thought:
‘Now then, shall I go and obtain that thing?’
Exactly one day after he had organized his thoughts.
“Marquis, someone has come to see you.”
“A noble?”
“No. He introduced himself as Elivan.”
“……Elivan?”
“Yes, he said he wished to have an audience with you.”
“??”
Elivan, the protagonist of Psychedelia, had come to find him.
Of his own accord.
* * *
On the peninsula across the sea from Laxas.
“That is the end of the report.”
“Understood. So that’s all I need to know for now?”
“Yes.”
Ladan, who was about to stand up after hearing Yuna’s report, paused.
“Ah, and there is one more thing I should mention.”
“?”
He looked puzzled at her follow-up.
“Is there something you missed in the report?”
“No, it’s not that, but I have something to tell you personally.”
“……What is it?”
“Well, it’s about the Great Moon.”
“……Is someone slandering the Great Moon?”
The moment that name was mentioned, Ladan reflexively grabbed the trident leaning beside him. Yuna quickly calmed him down as he leaned forward as if ready to charge out.
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
“It’s not? Then what is it?”
“The thing is—”
Yuna found it difficult to decide how to phrase it now that she was about to speak.
The Great Moon was sulking—no, he felt neglected?
She couldn't think of a perfect expression, but since she had already started, she decided to tell it exactly as it was. She proceeded to tell him about the Great Moon’s birthday.
“……Brother’s birthday?”
“Yes. The Great Moon himself didn't show much of a reaction, so he might not even care, but Evan mentioned it—”
“Hmm—”
Ladan tapped the desk in thought, a broad grin eventually spreading across his face.
“Good. When did you say the birthday was?”
“September 20th…… is what I was told.”
“That’s about four months away.”
“Yes.”
“Perfect.”
Ladan stood up immediately.
“? Where are you going?”
He paused for a moment.
“Where else? I’m going to find a gift worthy of the Great Moon.”
“A gift worthy of the Great Moon?”
“Yeah. I know of one.”
He marched out of the office with an excited stride.
Meanwhile, Hidan, who had heard the story of the ‘Great Moon’ from Yuna, relayed the information to Deus.
“I see.”
“Yes.”
“……Very well, I’ve decided.”
“On a gift?”
“Indeed. I shall gift him a massive statue, one truly worthy of the Great Moon.”
“……That will cost quite a lot of money.”
“I’ll just squeeze it out of the 2nd Prince.”
Deus began to spout absolute nonsense with a dead-serious expression. It was nonsense that was incredibly transparent.
“……Isn't it just that you want to have the Purple Moon make one?”
“If you hadn't told Agathon in the first place—my statue wouldn't have disappeared—no, never mind.”
Deus cut himself off and quietly shifted his gaze to the side.
Hidan followed his gaze and realized it was directed toward the spot where the statue had once stood.
“…….”
Hidan was once again appalled.
Just how obsessed with statues is this man……? he wondered.