Snow Mountain's Hideout (5)
Grenville appeared right away.
"Eung!"
He emerged with his usual lively attitude, flicking out his tongue.
Glancing around, he seemed to be gathering information, as if wondering where this place was.
"Grenville."
Owen stroked the pseudo-dragon's head.
The wounds on his face and tail had already healed completely.
The tail section, having been severed and regenerated once, looked a bit different from before.
Time to use a Dragon Core soon.
Using a Dragon Core would cleanly erase even the remaining scars.
It might be good to evolve him once they returned to Bris.
Evolution required considerable preparation beforehand, so it wasn't feasible right now.
"Let's descend this cliff."
Owen took Bete, the dark elf prisoner, from her subordinates and secured her behind the saddle. Then he descended the vertical tunnel with practiced ease.
"Eung!"
It was a sheer cliff that seemed to drop away beneath them, but to Grenville, it was no different from strolling across flat ground.
Owen glanced leisurely at Arwen, who was struggling midway down the cliff.
From the middle of the vertical tunnel onward, it dipped inward with plenty of sharp rocks, making the descent difficult.
"Hey."
Owen lightly raised a hand in greeting, and Arwen's face twisted like she'd bitten into a rotten apple.
"This is cheating…."
With a dazed expression, she soon came pleading.
"Give me a ride too."
"Why didn't you say so from up top? Can't do it with a prisoner in the back."
Of course, Grenville had the strength to haul ten people up the cliff, so it was just an excuse.
"Hey! Heroicus!"
"Tsk, watch it—your subordinates can hear. What kind of tone is that for Heroicus?"
"Ugh…."
Owen brushed past Arwen, tossing out a casual remark.
"Yeah, if your head's no good, your body's gotta suffer. Keep suffering."
A few hours later, the group finally arrived at Kalania's hideout.
They'd passed through the vertical tunnel and overcome a few more obstacles, but nothing too difficult.
"This is it… A witch's lair through and through."
Owen marveled at the unnaturally verdant sight.
The cave ended in a dungeon that had been renovated into a hideout.
Breaking through the magically sealed entrance had been a hassle, but thanks to Arwen and the dark elves' hours of effort, they'd gotten in.
"Chilly…."
The interior was dark and cluttered with all sorts of trash, so Owen first stored Grenville in the Dragon Scroll.
"What's that?"
A massive egg sac-like thing hung from the ceiling.
Dozens dangled at a glance, giving it a truly grotesque vibe, but Arwen passed by nonchalantly.
"Cocoons where the witch's familiars grew. Nothing to worry about—they're all dead from neglect."
Deeper in, the corridors were lined with massive jars on both sides.
Owen opened one and grimaced.
"Urgh…."
Inside floated the corpse of some unidentified creature in green solution.
The stench was unbearable.
There were plenty of empty jars, but none of the filled ones held anything normal.
Sticky slime-like liquid, or what looked like dried poisonous mushrooms stacked neatly.
"What the hell is all this?"
"Magic reagents, obviously. Smells awful—close it."
Arwen wrinkled her nose and shut the lid on the jar Owen had left open.
According to her, these were decent but too bulky and not worth the price to haul.
"Like chicken ribs. Can't eat 'em, but too wasteful to toss."
"Ah."
Owen nodded at Arwen's explanation and suggested they prioritize gold and jewels.
Inside was the living quarters, and the group began ransacking in earnest.
"Search thoroughly. I'll allow personal keeps based on results after sorting."
At Arwen's words, the dark elves searching around redoubled their efforts.
It was a chance to score big, even setting aside gifts for the queen.
Owen worked hard too.
Soon, cheers erupted here and there as finds piled up.
"Gold bars!"
"Jewels galore!"
Knowing they could loot freely, they tore through the place for over half a day without tiring.
A few traps sprang or reagents exploded midway, but no serious injuries.
"Whew… Let's rest. Feels like I inhaled too much dust."
The open space was piled with discovered treasures.
Among them, the particularly valuable ones worth taking were as follows.
• Gold bars, gold coins.
• Jade, opal, topaz, ruby, and other jewels.
• Two robes with physical defense enchantments.
• 21 scrolls inscribed with spells.
• Ground dragon shed skin.
• 5 cores for golem creation.
• Spirit summoning altar and censer.
• Staff of low-grade spells.
• 5 mithril ingots.
• 3 pocket dimension bags.
• 34 magic tomes.
• Various rare magic reagents.
• Grimoire: Unknown Ritual Stele Inscription.
• Grimoire: Ode to the Grave Digger.
There were other items too, but they were relatively less valuable.
"More than enough for gifts."
Of course, they'd take what they needed first.
"Take this."
Arwen recommended the pocket dimension bags first.
These magical items connected to an extradimensional pocket, allowing warehouse-like storage despite their small size.
Owen was familiar with them from his past life.
"Thanks. Perfect for the gold bars. Heh heh heh."
"What? There are great magic tomes here, and you're after gold bars?"
Arwen chided him while flipping through dusty magic tomes, and Owen shot back.
"Quiet. Gold's the best. Gotta have gold to buy dragons."
Magic tomes and reagents were useless to him no matter how rare—Tanares had granted him Dragon Word Magic, a system humans could only dream of.
He'd just sell them anyway, so gold from the start was best.
The dark elves, however, favored jewels and reagents—perfect for their alchemy and shady experiments.
Knowing this, Owen proposed.
"I'll pass on the jewels and reagents. In exchange, all the gold bars, coins, and mithril ingots are mine."
Arwen's eyes went wide at Owen's declaration.
"You're taking all this? What about gifts for the queen?"
"Thirty magic tomes alone are priceless—what need for gold bars?"
"Well, true, but… if this gets out later, won't we be in trouble?"
"No problem if it doesn't. Hey, you lot."
At Owen's call, the dark elves sorting treasure replied in unison.
"Yes, Heroicus!"
"No gold bars, coins, or mithril on the inventory from the start. Got it?"
"Of course not!"
"Heh heh heh, thanks."
They all swore silence at the great Heroicus's request.
Naturally, Owen added that they'd seen no jewels here today—for their sake.
"Gotta have perks like this in the field, right?"
"Exactly. Keh heh heh. That's why we respect Heroicus."
Vile lot, but they got along just fine.
"See?"
Owen wore a now-it's-fine look, but Arwen shook her head.
"Do what you want."
Owen claimed over 1,000 gold coins of various mints.
21 gold bars and five mithril ingots besides.
A massive haul.
His total assets now exceeded 8,000 gold coins, excluding mithril.
I'm rich now. No territory, but more cash than most nobles.
He had no plans to sell the mithril.
This precious metal was prime for weapons like Dragon Lances to pierce other dragons.
"Oh? This is here?"
Meanwhile, Arwen was picking her favorites from the magic tomes.
Despite warning him earlier, her hands were plenty busy.
They were splitting the loot, but gifts for the queen were ample.
Two grimoires in particular.
"But is it okay to give these to the queen? They reek of something sinister…."
Owen eyed the Unknown Ritual Stele Inscription and Ode to the Grave Digger with concern.
They brimmed with malevolent aura.
The human-skin covers especially evoked disgust.
Staring too long felt like getting sucked in.
What set these grimoires apart from regular magic tomes was their demonic authors.
Grimoires held immense power, coveted by many, with inestimable value.
This was part of why Owen felt fine hogging the gold bars.
"Her Majesty can handle it. She's researched grimoires for ages."
"Really?"
"Especially when she holes up in the palace. She even ordered her clans to hunt them down. She has a few even now."
Owen worried about the evil aura, but the queen seemed experienced.
Demons were worth studying anyway.
"Then it's fine."
The witch's lair raid had been a satisfying success.
But one thing was missing.
"…No sign of the key."
Bete's adjutant had come searching for the Runkana Key, no doubt important.
Yet it was nowhere.
Arwen had interrogated Bete, but no results.
"Let's search more. This bitch knows nothing."
"Yeah."
The group ransacked again.
There might be a magically hidden secret door.
While searching, Owen suddenly felt his body grow heavy, chills wracking him.
What…?
Cold sweat beaded as an icy sensation filled him.
Puzzled, Owen sat on a nearby chair.
Poison?
No, that didn't fit.
Nothing he'd ingested.
Plus, dark elf poison experts abounded—they'd have noticed.
But his body worsened.
The surroundings blurred, consciousness sinking somewhere.
"Ar…."
He tried calling Arwen, but words failed.
Simultaneously, something malevolent writhed closer.
Invisible to the eye, it soon crawled up his body.
Goosebumps rose; he wanted to scream, but his mouth wouldn't open.
Then, something slimy as a slug and cold as ice slithered to his nape and whispered.
[O seeker…]
A voice like scraping metal.
Eerily hellish timbre.
Owen, mouth still sealed, asked inwardly.
—Who are you?
[Come hither… I shall grant what you seek.]
It held a hypnotic allure.
Owen resisted, but curiosity drew him toward the voice.
[This way… Yes. Grope the floor there…]
The voice revealed a secret door.
Opening it exposed stairs downward.
Owen hesitated briefly.
He wanted to call Arwen and the dark elves, but feared the voice would vanish.
He decided to go alone for now.
Descending revealed an unseen area.
The voice guided him through twists and turns to an altar.
Atop it lay the Runkana Key he'd sought.
Owen hefted the heavy key, inspecting it.
A sinister item of dark hue.
He wondered why the Black Briar Grand Matron coveted it.
[O seeker… Bring the key hither. I shall bless thee.]
The voice emanated from a passage beyond the altar.
Owen approached cautiously, key in hand.
At the corridor's end stood a door.
Sturdy-looking, with a keyhole.
[Unlock it… And receive darkness's blessing.]
But Owen had no intention of doing so.
Clearly, it led to a sealed zone—seal-related magic circles densely covered the door.
—No thanks. Who even are you?
His blunt refusal drew a retort from the eerie voice.
[What…?]
—I said no, you creepy bastard.
[…….]
The unknown entity fell silent, then sounded astonished.
[Not enthralled…? You came of your own will!]
It could hypnotize victims with its voice.
Legendary witch Kalania had resisted, but others couldn't.
It assumed Owen enthralled—turns out, no.
Even the dark power around him was dissipating over time.
To Owen, the unpleasant chill was fading.
"Mm… Hm."
He realized his voice was returning.
Desperate, the entity unleashed greater power, unwilling to lose him.
[O seeker… Yield thy soul to me.]
A wicked spell to seize souls outright.
Sealed, its power was limited, but ample against a human.
Yet it failed again.
Invisible tentacles shot out hastily, only to rebound off some force.
Truly shocking.
[Why can't I seize the soul…? 'Tis merely human?]
Confused, it demanded.
[…What art thou?]
Owen replied indifferently.
—And what are you? Creepy bastard.