The Fourth Research - Drought (1)
“This is the textbook you’ll be using.”
“Whoa! Are you transferring ownership to me?”
“I’m lending it to you. For now.”
“Still, thank you! Hehe!”
The Pindish Grimoire was a tome infused with the madness of hell itself. An ordinary mage would fall into insanity the moment they read the opening chapter, and even Tellorian could only manage two pages a day before needing to ward off mental corruption.
“This is incredibly interesting, isn’t it?”
Yet Belladia licked her lips as she flipped through the pages with eager speed. Even noble ladies devouring lurid romance novels could not have shone with such hungry eyes.
Belladia had acquired the Warlock class. The most efficient way to exploit her innate trait, Slaughter Instinct, had finally been unlocked.
‘Now I can treat her as an A-rank companion.’
In Sinear RPG, companion characters carried an unspoken tier system. It wasn’t an official ranking like Hunters, but veteran players generally agreed on the classifications.
‘A-rank means they can solo a mid-boss or provide meaningful support when the protagonist fights a chapter boss.’
Belladia had always possessed an outstanding Slaughter Instinct. If raised as an Assassin or Blood Mage, she would have been a strong A-rank character. But if developed as a Warlock, she could even reach S-rank.
‘Hell magic used by Warlocks is incredibly powerful, but the drawback is that mental corruption accumulates with each level, eventually driving the user insane.’
However, Belladia already suffered from her Slaughter Instinct on a daily basis. No matter how much mental corruption hell magic generated, it would have no effect on her.
‘She can learn hell magic with zero penalty. That makes the Warlock class completely broken for her.’
That said.
Caution was still necessary.
Because there was always the chance she might stab him in the back.
“Belladia.”
Therefore.
The hierarchy must always be made crystal clear.
Especially when dealing with a wild beast.
“Yes, Master.”
“Think carefully and tell me why I permitted you to learn black magic.”
Belladia fell into thought. With her exceptional intellect (Intelligence 14), she deduced her master’s intentions, then reached a conclusion using her animalistic intuition (Instinct 18).
“Is this a new research subject?”
“You saw right through it. I want to observe whether you can suppress your instincts even after learning black magic.”
Belladia interpreted her master’s blunt tone as an indirect warning. That was exactly his intention.
“Then this is the final unboxing.”
Lucifeles’s final gift was an ornate porcelain vase from the Far East, decorated with an eastern dragon. It looked extraordinarily valuable.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“The vase? Or the soul sealed inside it?”
“Both, of course.”
Inside the porcelain was a soul of high dignity, trapped in chains. It belonged to a strong, dignified man.
“This is Harold the Iron Lord, the founder of your family.”
“So our progenitor’s lower half really was as hard as iron…”
“We may need the Iron Lord’s help later, but he has only just escaped from hell. He’ll need time to regain his senses.”
Clap, clap.
He summoned Lucifeles with a casual round of applause, as if calling for an errand-running servant.
“Take this vase to the storage room.”
“…Me?”
“Who else? Should I do it myself?”
“…Fine. Understood.”
Lucifeles smiled on the surface, but inside he seethed with humiliation as he carried the vase away. Just you wait. Just you wait. Just you wait…
…But would simply waiting really give him a chance to take revenge? What if he tried to strike the mage from behind only to fall for another one of his tricks?
‘I should just quietly obey for now.’
If he followed the mage’s orders obediently, he would eventually be recognized as a true collaborator. That would open up opportunities for him to gain benefits through cooperation.
‘…And even he will fail someday.’
No matter how extraordinary the mage was, his arrogant plan to destroy the Seven Hells was destined to fail. A human could never become stronger than the King of Devils.
‘Still, he will grow powerful enough to challenge my father. He will surely defeat the Devil Legions and reach for the throne of hell.’
Lucifeles imagined it: the ultimate archmage, master of all lore, clashing with the Devil King who ruled the Seven Hells!
‘At first, Tellorian will have the advantage.’
The ultimate archmage would rain down terrifying meteors and blanket hell in freezing blizzards, driving the King of the Seven Hells into a corner.
‘But that will only last for a moment.’
Human mana was finite, while a devil’s mana was infinite. In the end, Tellorian would curse the limits of mortality and kneel before the power of hell.
‘But in the process of defeating Tellorian, the Devil King will also suffer considerable damage. That’s when I strike—killing both sides and absorbing their power!’
It was an excellent scheme. The imperfect parts could be slowly refined from now on. The meticulousness of devoting decades to a single conspiracy was a devil’s superiority that mortals could never comprehend!
“Hey. Cambion.”
“…Could you use a different title?”
“Stop daydreaming and carry the vase.”
“…Understood.”
Just you wait!
Damn mage!
Damn father!
‘Someday I will kill all of you and reign as the King of Hell! Then I will free Mother and grant her wealth and glory!’
…
……
Pfft.
The man sitting on the throne laughed softly.
“Azarael.”
“Speak, my lord.”
“It seems our youngest is preparing a rather cute little rebellion… How should we handle this?”
Azarael was a female devil clad in full plate armor. She was the champion representing the devil race and the archrival of Tristael, the battle angel who represented the heavens.
“If you command it, I will bring you his head.”
“Isn’t that a bit excessive as punishment for a child’s tantrum?”
“A son obeys his father. A lord obeys his king. These are the absolute rules of the Seven Hells. The Fourth Prince Lucifeles has broken two of them. He must be executed immediately.”
Tsk tsk.
The King of Hell clicked his two-pronged tongue.
“You really would have made a terrible mother.”
“A good parent teaches their child obedience above all else. Disorder must never be tolerated under any circumstances. Even a newborn baby is no exception.”
The Devil King narrowed his eyes.
“Then what about me?”
“I do not understand what you mean.”
“According to your logic, I am an irresponsible father who has allowed his son’s insolence. Yet the Diabolic Codex permits no exceptions.”
This was the Seven Hells of the devils.
Evil was virtue, and law was absolute.
“That is not for me to judge.”
“Not for you to judge?”
It was an unusual answer. When he pressed his subjects like this, the vast majority would either frantically claim it was a misunderstanding or beg forgiveness for speaking out of turn.
“I am Your Majesty’s blade.”
“And?”
“A blade does not think for itself.”
“Hmm.”
Yes.
This was how a devil should be.
“Are you not afraid of me?”
“I am afraid.”
“Then how can you be so bold?”
“Because the rules are even more terrifying.”
The King of Devils smiled with even greater satisfaction. As expected, Azarael was a talent worth nurturing. She was far superior to his disappointing sons.
“By the laws of hell’s royal authority, I command the Captain of the Royal Guard, Azarael. Ascend to the surface, locate the Fourth Prince Lucifeles’s ‘friend’, and take appropriate measures. The details of those measures are left to your discretion, but do not lose your human form.”
By your command!
Azarael vanished in a burst of flame.
“Lore Master Tellorian, was it…”
A name he had never read in the scrolls of causality. That meant the man was most likely just another insignificant mortal, not worth remembering.
“There is a slim chance he is an otherworlder summoned to shake the laws of causality. But if that were the case, my cute youngest would have noticed. The possibility is extremely low…”
Still, 0% and “infinitely close to 0%” were completely different probabilities. Therefore, following his principle of always preparing for the worst, he had dispatched Azarael.
‘This matter is no longer worth my attention. Azarael will handle it.’
The ruler of the Seven Hells had many important matters to attend to. The lofty heavens and the Council of Sages were far more threatening opponents than some nameless human mage.
‘The exalted heavens are preparing a large-scale expedition. A dimension perfect for luring those disgusting hypocrites into a trap…’
He forgot about it.
About his youngest son’s “friend.”
Time passed quickly, and Tellorian devoted himself entirely to his research. Count Iron Mace spared no expense in supporting his magical studies. The once-empty bookshelves were now filled with leather-bound volumes, while the laboratory steadily accumulated rare creatures captured from foreign lands and high-grade ores. Thanks to this, Tellorian’s research progressed at a rapid pace.
Lore of the Elements acquired!
Lore of the Arcane acquired!
Lore of Monsters acquired!
Lore of Mythology acquired!
Experience +40
Lore Points +4
Level up!
30/100 until Level 15
Lore Points: 13
“This time I built a new structure.”
“…What is this?”
“You mentioned it not long ago, didn’t you? That it would be nice to have a workshop dedicated purely to alchemy.”
It had been a passing comment made during the count’s birthday banquet. The count had persistently asked whether the magic tower lacked anything, so Tellorian had answered honestly.
“You saved my life.”
“…”
“Moreover, you saved the 300-year-old Harrington family and its 500,000 territories. Therefore, you fully deserve the very best treatment.”
An alchemy workshop was extraordinarily expensive. Its size rivaled a luxurious mansion, yet its construction cost was comparable to that of a medium-sized fortress. In other words, Count Iron Mace had diverted the budget meant for building a border fortress to sponsor this gift.
“…To be honest, it’s quite a burdensome present. But it’s far too late to say that now.”
Tellorian had not expected the count to provide this level of support so early. The Count Iron Mace he remembered had never been someone who opened his coffers easily.
‘His mindset has changed.’
Originally, Count Iron Mace had been in an extremely difficult position. He was approaching old age, yet his only daughter was obsessed with collecting handsome men’s heads. There were no close relatives or collateral branches he could entrust with guardianship over his mad daughter.
‘That’s why he was obsessed with building a strong army and filling his treasury. He believed that was the only power that could protect his daughter after he was gone.’
But now his daughter had changed dramatically.
…He lifted his quill and crossed out the sentence.
[But his daughter now appeared to have changed dramatically.]
Precision was the lifeblood of a research journal.
Simple-minded knights might not notice the difference, but he did.
‘In any case… to others, Belladia now appears perfectly normal. She is a rare heroine who simultaneously fulfills the roles of both knight and lady.’
In Sinear RPG, each class had an appropriate personality that suited it. Aggressive people found it easier to raise Warrior levels, while those with delicate sensibilities found it easier to raise Lady levels. Conversely, raising a class that opposed one’s natural temperament was far more difficult.
‘Someone with a scholarly personality like me gains bonuses when leveling Mage, but suffers penalties when trying to raise barbaric classes like Savage Warrior or Martial Artist.’
Yet Belladia received bonuses no matter what kind of class she raised—so long as it involved a means of harming others.
‘The old Belladia understood the need to raise Warrior, but before I taught her, she had no idea why she should raise Court Noble.’
A lady’s tongue was as lethal a weapon as a knight’s lance. That was why Belladia had diligently studied the accomplishments of a lady—so she could satisfy her Slaughter Instinct through words. In other words, she had learned the civilized method of combat permitted in noble society.
“Hahaha!”
Thanks to that, Count Iron Mace—who had always carried a heavy heart—was now laughing heartily. Seeing someone’s face brighten because of his actions felt surprisingly good.
“Thank you for accepting the gift, Teacher Tellorian.”
“I should be the one thanking you for the gift.”
“I look forward to your continued guidance.”
Squeeze.
Count Iron Mace grasped both of Tellorian’s hands.
“…My lord?”
“…I truly cannot thank you enough.”
And then,
he bowed his head.
“…You mustn’t do this.”
“I am well aware of a count’s duties. A Harrington Count is a high lord who need only bow his head to the King of Essil.”
The Count Iron Mace that Tellorian remembered was a man who would not bend his pride even before the king. But as the world line had changed, so too had the count.
“…However, it is only natural for a father to bow his head to his daughter’s savior. I truly thank you, Teacher Tellorian. Even in death, I will never forget the grace you have bestowed upon us.”
…Seeing the count’s tearful expression stirred something in Tellorian as well. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had changed. To feel pity for someone his modern ethics would normally never forgive—
‘With this, I have completely secured my position as the Harrington family’s court mage. From now on, I can move the count and reorganize the political landscape of Heartland.’
The problem was the summer that was fast approaching.
Because not a single drop of rain would fall.