Chapter 243: The Jackpot and the Scapegoat (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 243: The Jackpot and the Scapegoat (8)
"Your flames are as foul as your personality. I thought I was going bald for a second there," Murakan grumbled, gathering a thick layer of Spirit Energy in his palm and running it through his hair. As the energy seeped in, the singed strands miraculously returned to their original state.
"Why did you use your body to put it out instead of your Spirit Energy?"
"I know, right? What was I thinking? I guess I was just in a hurry. Dammit."
"Well… anyway, good job. You just did something that will go down in the history of magic, even if I’m the only witness."
"If anyone ever writes your biography, make sure you tell them to include this."
"I will."
The final form of the Destruction Flame Orb of the Dark Heaven.
Jin’s eyes sparkled as he held the magic tome. In his past life, he had encountered all sorts of rare magic books thanks to Valeria. In this life, he had even absorbed the tomes of Chenmi and Kidad Hall.
But the legacy of Riol Zipple was a true masterpiece. It was the magnum opus of a man who was always named when discussing the greatest mages in history, a figure who transcended being merely the strongest of his era.
As a mage, Jin could hardly imagine a more joyful moment. Though he felt a burning desire to flip through it immediately, he carefully tucked the tome into his robes for now.
Before that joy could fade, a low groan reached his ears.
"Ugh… hhh…"
"Chukon?"
Chukon Tolderer.
Unlike Susan, whose head had been cleanly severed, Chukon was somehow clinging to life. The moment the Leader’s blade had pierced him, a secret technique within his ultimate defense magic had triggered a shield, protecting his heart.
But as Jin approached to examine him, it was clear he wouldn't recover. The shield had only delayed the inevitable. His face had already turned a sickly blue; he was little more than a living corpse.
Jin spoke, offering the words a victor gives at the end of a battle.
"Chukon Tolderer. Do you have any last words?"
Cough, hack. Chukon spat out blood and foam, his eyes burning with a dark, lingering resentment. It was only natural, given he had been struck down by the very master he served, right in front of his enemy.
"My… my magic… tome…"
Those few words, squeezed out with immense effort, told Jin everything.
Like Riol, he wanted to leave a legacy. No mage wanted the unique achievements they had spent a lifetime building to simply vanish. To have his end come from betrayal, he was now desperate enough to pass his magic on to an enemy.
"Where is it?"
"Eternal… Three… Rocla… va."
The third storage room of the Eternal Warehouse. The password was Roclava.
With those final words, Chukon died. Jin reached down and closed the man's dark, unfocused eyes.
"To be in the third storage room of the Eternal Warehouse, I suppose it was valued quite highly. It was decent enough defense magic," Murakan said with a shrug.
Neither Jin nor Murakan felt any sympathy just because Chukon had left behind a magic tome. This wasn't the only experiment on commoners he had been involved in. They felt he should be grateful they even bothered to listen to his final words.
"Let's go."
They walked quickly into the crumbling castle. They had to get Mutual and the survivors back to the Holy Kingdom, wrap up the day’s events, and prepare for the next fight.
Kinzelo has discovered my identity. And I still have no clue who that 'Leader' is. Is he a demon, like Murakan said?
The ability to manifest iron.
Jin had never heard of such a power. He could accept someone creating a sword from nothing, but he had never imagined someone using it to teleport through space.
It was certain the Leader was a being who had lived for over a thousand years. No, perhaps he had existed even longer, since the era when the Pluto Tribe ruled the world.
The attempt to restore the Pluto Tribe is undoubtedly being carried out under his direction. He knows about my brothers, too. The only reason he took Jo alive must be because he's essential for the restoration process.
It also seemed certain that the Leader had some kind of relationship with Temar. Murakan's reaction to the Leader's words—"It wasn't Temar who went berserk, it was you"—was far from ordinary. He had looked dazed, like someone confronted with a past they desperately wanted to forget.
During their time together, Jin had occasionally asked Murakan why he had fought Temar. Murakan always seemed reluctant to talk about it, so Jin hadn't pressed the issue.
He'll tell me when he's ready. If there's something about Temar that I need to know, he'll tell me.
Lost in thought, they entered the inner castle. The place was far more damaged than when they had first searched it—the natural result of Murakan's relentless assault. Clearing away mountains of broken masonry, they headed toward the laboratory where Mutual had been.
In the lab where the explosion had occurred, not a single piece of equipment remained. Everything had been pulverized. Because of this, finding the door to the secret passage was no easy task.
"Mutual! Mutual Silla!"
"H-Here… we're here…!"
"Over here!"
Faint voices, not Mutual's, reached them. Jin tracked the sound, pushed aside the debris, and tore up the floor.
When the secret passage opened, the tear-stained, terror-stricken faces of the surviving subjects appeared, along with the mana injector Jin had moved earlier.
And there was Mutual, her eyes closed, her hands folded neatly over her chest.
"…The Saint saved us, and then she went to Ayula's embrace."
"Please, take the Saint's body back to our homeland."
She had squeezed out every last drop of her life force to inject mana into the subjects before she passed. She had fulfilled her duty as a Saint to the very end.
Is that why she asked me so desperately to wait? Because she knew she would have to die to save them?
The reason Mutual, a Saint and not just an ordinary healer, had to die to save them was clear. Traces of the experiments scarred their bodies. One had their Heart of Light protruding from their chest, another had an arm that was turning into a golem, and some even had tails. They were in a precarious state, no longer fully human. To save them, she had no choice but to pour all of her life force into the mana injector.
"She urged us to give this to you. She said it must be delivered to His Majesty the Holy King…"
As Jin took off his robe to wrap her body, one of the survivors held out a book and a pendant. It was Mutual's pendant. The book was a diary. After becoming a spy for the Dark Magic Association under the Holy King's orders, she had risked her life every day to record the reality of this place.
"Go outside. We're all going home."
*
It was the final day of the Advent Festival.
As if Ayula herself were bestowing a blessing, the capital of Vankella was bathed in brilliant sunlight. In the middle of a square so crowded there was no room to move, a massive, pure white carriage stood tall.
The fake Miklan and Rani could be seen atop the carriage, waving to the people. The sight of thirty Golden Shield Society paladins surrounding the carriage, followed by a procession of Saints, was a grand spectacle for all who had come to the Holy Kingdom for the festival.
The square was packed. Subjects who had gathered to receive the Holy King's consecration, commoners from various countries, and nobles alike were all waiting for the ceremony to begin.
"His Majesty the Holy King!"
"Your Majesty!"
Many subjects were moved to tears, shouting at the mere sight of the Holy King. Most were lower-class citizens suffering from severe illnesses. For the sick and the poor, the Holy King's Consecration Ceremony was a source of great hope, a chance to prolong their lives. Receiving the consecration could cure their ailments.
However, since the Holy King's divine power had its limits, only a lucky few received it during the Advent Festival each year. About fifty people would receive the "true consecration," where they were infused directly with his divine power. The rest received a simple blessing of words. The latter had no real effect on one's fate or physical condition, yet countless people were desperate just to exchange a few words with the Holy King.
Soon, the Holy King lowered his waving hand, and the noisy square fell into an instant silence.
"My dear children of Ayula, and all of you who have come from across the world to see me, I first wish to express my gratitude. I am Holy King Miklan."
Waaaaah!
"As is the case every year, my precious daughter, Rani Salome, will read the blessing in my aging stead. I ask for a round of applause for my daughter, who will surely have a hoarse voice by tomorrow."
The fake Holy King showed his affection by patting his daughter's shoulder. Rani wore a bright smile as she linked arms with him. The imposter was perfectly mimicking the real Miklan, who was known for his humble speech and profound love for his daughter.
Clap, clap, clap, clap!
Once the applause died down, Rani unfurled the blessing scroll.
"We shall begin His Majesty the Holy King's Consecration Ceremony. Once the carriage begins to move, please follow in an orderly fashion so that no one is injured."
As was custom, the people who would receive the "true consecration" had already been chosen. Not many of the common folk knew this. The carriage moved forward, stopping where the pre-selected candidates were waiting. Each time, the Holy King would descend, kiss their foreheads to bestow the consecration, and Rani would read the blessing.
"May the will, heart, and love of Ayula be with you…"
In this manner, the true consecration was smoothly bestowed upon about forty subjects. Those with crippled legs began to walk, and those with failing eyes saw new light. While the moved onlookers were wiping away tears, a group of robed subjects who were not among the chosen candidates broke through the crowd and blocked the carriage's path.
"Your Majesty!"
"Your Majesty! Please, hear our story!"
Jeers erupted from the surrounding crowd. However, such intrusions were common during the ceremony every year, so most people didn't think much of it.
The Holy King gave the intruders a benevolent smile, and Rani whispered into his ear.
"Consecrate them, Father. Last year, you willingly stepped down from the carriage for those who interrupted, didn't you?"
The fake Holy King nodded. He and Zipple had concluded that Rani had given up and was now playing along. They believed this was the result of the mental torture she had endured while imprisoned by Vitura.
The Holy King descended from the carriage to greet them.
"Yes, children of Ayula. What pain has brought you to seek me? Tell me your story."
The robed subjects raised their bowed heads.
"Your Majesty, we are…"
As they looked up and threw off their robes, their hideously transformed bodies, scarred by biological experiments, were revealed to all.
"My God, what on earth is that?"
"Eek!"
Gasps of horror and screams erupted from the onlookers.
Only then did the fake Holy King flinch, realizing something had gone terribly wrong. Rani bit her lower lip and turned her gaze away. She looked toward Vitura, who stood far off in front of the escorting paladins, watching her with a stoic expression.
The thirty Golden Shield Society knights surrounding the carriage also gritted their teeth, their glares fixed on Vitura.
"We were forcibly dragged to a laboratory and turned into these monstrosities…"
"Wh-who did this to you?" the fake Holy King asked, trying his best to remain calm. Panicking now would be a complete disaster.
The subjects replied in unison:
"Paladin Captain Vitura. He sold us to Zipple's laboratory! He is the one who made us like this!"
"Silence!"
Shring!
Vitura shouted as he drew his sword.
Rani, unable to take her eyes off him, was barely holding back tears.