Chapter 178
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 178
Chapter Title: A Golden Nugget Rolls In
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Sword Masters were beings of immortality and eternal life.
Superhumans who attained eternal life simply by wielding the sword, without any mystical powers or supernatural abilities.
But put conversely, it meant there were others besides Sword Masters who had achieved near-immortal lives through mysterious powers.
At least among the absolute rulers of each era, quite a few had lived for hundreds of years.
Even Plato, the national treasure of the Free City Federation, was said to have enjoyed a lifespan approaching nearly two thousand years.
Of course, even among the absolute rulers, those who lived as long as Plato were exceedingly rare, and even rarer were those still alive.
That was why.
The reason Rimon couldn't help but wear an uncomfortable expression when facing this crimson-haired woman, who was an 'extremely rare exception.'
[...Uh, so you're saying this busty big sis is older than the team leader?]
'Shut up and stay quiet.'
[No way, that makes no sense!? Over a thousand years old with that wrinkle-free face and that body? I'm so jealous!]
"My, thank you for the compliment."
[...!]
"...I told you to shut up and stay quiet, you little chicken."
He'd only sent a private telepathic message to Rimon alone.
Yuna Kyung freaked out upon seeing the woman smile sweetly as if she'd overheard her own telepathy, while Rimon let out a sigh.
And the woman gave an intrigued look.
"A human soul in a bird's body... You're quite the interesting familiar-keeper, kid."
"Mind your own business about what pets other people keep, you hag."
"Calling a lady a hag is a bit much. If you're going to, at least infuse it with affection and call me 'big sis.'"
She even said it'd be even better if he called her 'sis.'
Rimon scowled deeply at the playfully smiling crimson-haired woman, Syr.
"Cut the nonsense and get to the point."
"What point would that be?"
"You asked me to save you. You wouldn't have waited in Orna's magic tower just to meet me on purpose if it was just a casual joke, right?"
Rimon pointed out coldly.
To real witches and wizards, a magic tower was their workshop, fortress, nest, and all.
Especially for another witch to occupy the magic tower of one from the 27 Magical Lineages—that was normally grounds for a fight to the death.
Since she'd gone through such an outrageous act, there had to be some important business.
But Syr's response was utterly nonchalant.
"Don't worry about Orna. She's already dead."
"...What?"
"Not just Orna. Eureka, Sena, Florence, Jessica... Five girls already gone like that."
"Five witches from the 27 Magical Lineages are dead?"
"Yes. All in just the past three months."
With the magic tower's owner gone, someone had to hold the fort in her place, right?
Rimon narrowed his eyes at Syr's languid words.
Her attitude toward death was too casual to bother with, but the content was utterly unexpected.
"Hag, did you kill them?"
"As if."
"If not you, then who?"
"I don't know that far. Just that someone's targeting the witches of London."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"What can I do if it's the truth?"
Syr shrugged.
When the first one or two died, she'd brushed it off, but by the time she sensed something off, five were already dead.
She explained with an utterly languid voice.
"More than anything, I have no reason to harm those girls now, of all times."
"Conversely, no reason to save them either?"
"Of course."
"...Yeah, figures."
Rimon made a displeased face but didn't argue or get angry at her words.
He'd known Syr was such a witch from the start, and he had no right to meddle in witches' affairs anyway.
"Don't sneer so much. It's not like I just sat by."
"What, then? Did some fortune-telling?"
"My, how did you know?"
"Obvious for a witch like you."
"Hee hee hee, forgot about that kid who wandered around clueless because he couldn't spot the obvious?"
"Enough chatter. So, the prophecy?"
"Still as impatient as ever."
Syr shook her head as if she couldn't help it, then lightly flicked something.
"Here, this is my prophecy."
From the hand of the woman hanging upside down from the ceiling, it spun gracefully and dropped right in front of Rimon—a single card.
A wheel pierced by a sword in the center, the [Fate] card.
Rimon narrowed his eyes at the sight.
Having seen many prophecies over his long life, he could roughly guess its meaning.
"...I see. So that's why you were waiting for me."
"What can I do? The prophecy says you're the only one who can resolve this situation."
No matter how many swords existed in the world, only Rimon's could shatter fate.
That's why she'd waited for him.
Rimon didn't dismiss Syr's leisurely recounting.
Even if she'd lost her title as the greatest prophet of the era to the White Dragon Princess, Syr had once been a renowned seer.
Not infallible, but he couldn't completely ignore her prophecies.
Thus, clicking his tongue at getting tangled in yet another hassle, Rimon suddenly brightened.
'Wait, no. Isn't this actually an opportunity?'
Rimon pondered.
He'd originally avoided meeting Syr not just because an elder was awkward, but because in the worst case, she might become an enemy.
But right now, far from an enemy, she was asking for his help.
And unlike before, the current Rimon had plenty of ways to exploit this situation.
After quickly turning it over in his mind for a moment.
Rimon, who'd been furrowing his brow just before, now quirked the corner of his mouth as if nothing had happened and spoke up.
"My services don't come cheap."
Arms crossed firmly.
A cocky attitude.
And a cold smile to top it off.
Like a thug who'd finally gotten a chance to shake down the spoiled heir of a rich family, Rimon was demanding payment with his whole body.
Syr looked at him with an expression as if she'd heard something utterly unexpected.
"You're asking for payment?"
"Yup."
"If you don't help us now, it'll be a big problem?"
"So?"
"...Kid, didn't you used to jump into these things on your own?"
"That was then. I'm tired of unpaid volunteer work now."
You have to pay the price for what you get.
More than anyone, you as a witch should know that—Rimon sneered.
Syr looked troubled for a moment, then placed one hand on her ample bosom and flashed a seductive smile.
"Then how about letting you do whatever you want with my body for about a hundred years? I can guarantee it'll be memories you won't forget for at least a millennium."
"I'm out."
"...What do you want?"
In the end, Syr raised the white flag.
She realized dragging this negotiation would only hurt her.
From the moment she'd revealed the prophecy that she absolutely needed Rimon's help, she'd already been leashed.
It was her mistake to carelessly expose a weakness, thinking only of the old Rimon who'd saved the world for free even during the Demon God War.
And thanks to that, Rimon grinned wickedly as he opened his mouth, having scored an unexpected bargain.
"Eh, nothing much. Not a full hundred years, but how about cooperating with my work for about fifty?"
"What kind of work?"
"Same as always, beating down bad guys. This time, maybe do some small business on the side."
"Business? You?"
"Yup. Figured I'd try accumulating some money and power."
"Well, that's unexpected... yet somehow expected."
Syr wore a strange expression.
Even for her, who knew humans changed eventually, the 'corruption(?)' of Rimon—who'd reigned as humanity's guardian deity for nearly a millennium—was quite impressive.
Rimon indifferently prodded her.
"Enough chatter. So, your answer?"
"Hmm... Fifty years is too much. How about ten?"
"Too short, hag."
"In exchange, how about I be your wife during that time? Looks can be deceiving—I'm a seductress by day and a temptress by night."
"No need. Already got a fiancée."
"Oh? Really?"
"Yeah, so throw in thirty years as a wedding congratulatory gift."
Syr pondered briefly, then nodded.
"If you insist that much, kid, no choice. Solve this matter well, and I'll serve as your slave for twenty years. How about compromising there?"
"I need a partner, not a slave."
"If you call me 'big sis' from now on, I could do that."
"Fine, slave it is."
Rimon nodded.
Having a witch of Syr's caliber at his disposal was like a gold nugget rolling right to him—an unexpected jackpot.
Syr had no complaints either.
To her, twenty years was a mere blink.
Just doing what he told her, without even actively helping, was no big deal.
...Of course, if she'd known who these 'bad guys' he planned to beat down were, or what this 'small business' entailed, she wouldn't have agreed so easily.
It was the kind of deed that would make Aynsha mutter, 'Birds of a feather flock together.'
'See, this is why people should live virtuously.'
But Rimon didn't care a whit.
Knowing the old him as humanity's guardian deity well, he just smirked triumphantly at how easily the naive hag had fallen for it.
What could he do? If she wanted to blame someone, blame herself for being out of touch after holing up too long.
Having thus conned the innocent hag into a fraudulent contract, Rimon immediately collected his down payment.
"Then act like a proper slave and do one job right now."
"What job?"
"Hey, Smartass."
Just called by name, Wayling promptly pulled out the case like the capable aide she was.
Rimon took it from her, opened it, and casually asked.
"Hag, know what this is?"
"Hmm?"
Syr peered at the scrap metal in the case with an intrigued expression.
She pulled a bundle of golden thread from a drawer in the table, twisted it between her fingers, and murmured with her lips.
"Luvina Fua cySin kiea, Doon."
The incantation spread through the air with a song-like rhythm and languid cadence. The moment the released golden thread took on a subtle glow in midair.
The change began.
The scrap pieces in the case started absorbing the light and regenerating on their own.
Broken shards reattached.
Mangled outlines swelled back into shape.
Tarnished surfaces regained their luster.
By the time the entire bundle of golden thread Syr had pulled out had melted away, no mere scrap remained.
Only a slender, cracked bell occupied the space.
With a flick of her finger, Syr drew the restored bell before her eyes and examined it with a sly smile.
"That familiar too, and now this—you really bring the most interesting things, kid."
"Yeah?"
"Of course. An object infused with mystery, yet neither magic tool nor item. I can't even remember the last time I saw something like this."
Researchers who'd studied the bell fragments for dozens of days without results would doubt their ears.
But Rimon didn't doubt Syr's words.
He just asked seriously.
"Then, can you fix it? Or make a magic tool with similar functions?"
"Need to look more closely. Roughly, it seems infused with a mystery that reacts to some specific object, but I don't know what that object is."
"Something called the Seven Arks."
"...What's that?"
"Hm, you don't know either."
Rimon clicked his tongue at Syr tilting her head at the name he'd thrown out on a hunch.
He'd hoped someone who'd lived longer might know something, but her reaction said otherwise.
Still, with low expectations from the start, Rimon brushed off the disappointment and pulled out the Shadowheart Violin from the box on his back.
"For now, this violin seems to be one of those Seven Arks things. What do you think?"
A remark tossed without much hope.
But precisely because of that, Rimon couldn't help but be startled himself at Syr's eyes widening the instant she saw the Shadowheart Violin.
"Kid, why do you have that violin?"
"Hag, you know what this is?"
"How could I not?"
Syr replied incredulously.
She raised one finger, pointing at the Shadowheart Violin with her purple-painted nail, and continued.
"I made it."