Something Hot and Sizzling (2)
"Senior."
Talia's honorific dropped a level.
"You told me not to bring up anything unhelpful in the first place."
"How is it unhelpful? You've heard about that degenerate from the Pembroke family, haven't you? You know, the one who—"
"The young master is not yet two years old. And you're suggesting, of all things, a top-grade source of demonic power from the Demonic Realm, without the slightest consideration for how it might interact with his Awoken Ability?"
"I wasn't being that serious about it..."
Vitten's neck retracted into his shoulders like a turtle's. Her voice was so lethal that I half-wondered if the One-Syllable Pulse belonged to her instead of me.
Though Vitten had become a star in the sky above, I had no intention of backing down. A vague premonition told me that the clue he'd left behind might hold the very answer I'd spent my entire life searching for.
"Lily."
"Yes, young master."
"What's a wava spirit?"
Talia glared at Vitten, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes said everything: You brought up useless nonsense and filled the young master's head with it. How do you intend to take responsibility?
"Young master, she means a lava spirit, you see—"
"You don't need to know that right now."
Talia cut in.
"But I wanna know what a wava spirit is! Tell me! Tell meee!"
But for all her valor as a knight, dealing with a tantrum-throwing child was an entirely different battlefield.
After an hour-long campaign of relentless siege warfare, I finally secured my prize: a thick picture book titled A Bestiary of Monsters.
"Do you see this? This is what they call a lava spirit."
Lily pointed to a massive humanoid figure composed entirely of molten rock. I had never dreamed of anything like it, not even in my wildest imagination.
So... the plan was to rip the core out of this thing?
No wonder Talia blew up. It didn't look like the type to hand over what was its own just because someone asked nicely.
But if a legendary being like this actually existed, and if I could somehow get my hands on its core...
"And this is a phoenix."
The page she turned to showed a bird wreathed in burning feathers. It was enormous—a single wing stretched the length of a mountain.
Wait a second. This thing looks exactly like a Vermilion Bird.
Different name, same bird. What she was pointing at was unmistakably the Vermilion Bird.
If I could just obtain a Vermilion Bird's lungs, I could triumph not merely over the One-Syllable Pulse but over its proverbial granddaddy as well.
Though bypassing the inner core in favor of the lungs was certainly an unconventional line of thinking.
"And this is a red dragon."
The moment I looked at the illustration, I froze.
A long, scaled body, a protruding snout, two horns rising straight upward.
...That's a dragon.
The oversized wings and plump hindquarters bothered me, but resembling a dragon this closely earned it the title of drake at the very least.
Among the legendary creatures of the Daoist school, the dragon had always ranked at the very pinnacle. One of them was said to govern an entire cardinal direction—east, west, south, or north. That alone spoke volumes.
Though the treasure Daoist masters coveted was the wish-fulfilling pearl clutched in a dragon's jaws, and this land's dragons didn't appear to carry one.
So they go for the heart instead, then?
Either way, Vitten hadn't been talking complete nonsense. If someone offered me a Vermilion Bird's lungs or a dragon's heart, I'd drop into a full kowtow before they finished the sentence.
Of course, Talia hadn't rebuked Vitten out of malice either.
Some piece of trash once told me this: treasure has its rightful owner.
No matter how magnificent the prize, without the power to claim it, it was poison all the same. An ordinary person who touched a Vermilion Bird's lungs wouldn't gain a fortuitous encounter—they'd end up a lump of charcoal.
But I had what it took.
So I resolved to seek out the creatures in this book by any means necessary—assuming, of course, that they actually existed.
Without warning, commotion broke out outside. Lily excused herself to investigate. In the meantime, I turned a few more pages.
The book was filled with fascinating creatures beyond dragons and phoenixes: a bird with a woman's torso and wings, a monster half-human and half-spider, a race of small green-skinned folk.
"Young master!"
Suddenly Lily came sprinting back as if flying—all three steps of it.
"It's—it's terrible!"
Terrible?
Had Chris brought cookies again?
"His Grace the Duke is on his way here!"
"Pardon?"
"What did you say?"
The two knights shot up from the sofa.
"It seems he heard the young master had taken ill while returning from his campaign. He's altered his route and is heading to the separate palace as we speak."
"Talia!"
Vitten let out a lion's roar.
"What is it, Senior."
"Pretend you didn't hear what I said earlier."
"You're buying me a meal. No—three meals."
"Fine, I'll buy you as many as you like."
For my part, I had a crisis of my own. I wasn't mentally prepared to face my new parents just yet.
"First, let's get you dressed!"
Lily abducted me.
The palace descended into utter chaos. By any measure of pandemonium, this outstripped even the time investigators had combed the grounds hunting for assassins.
Every piece of furniture was relocated at least once for cleaning and laundering, and anything that might displease the Duke's eye was unceremoniously evicted.
My masterwork was granted no exemption.
"We'll draw it again for you later, alright?"
Thus was my painstakingly installed Eight Gates Golden Lock Formation reduced to rubble. The sole survivor was Number Two—the thing was mere decoration whenever I wasn't actively controlling it.
Around midday, mounted knights began filing through the main gate. Just two knights arriving had been enough of a spectacle; now there were no fewer than dozens visible to the eye.
One thing was clear: why Chris wanted me dead. Anyone would turn if they thought this kind of power could be snatched away.
When Father finally entered the palace, the room filled with a tension as taut as a drawn bow.
"His Grace the Duke has arrived."
He was here.
Vitten, Talia, and Lily went out to receive him. A tall, striking figure strode in—the very man from the portrait. Dignified, robust, in full uniform: the very embodiment of a soldier.
"Your Grace."
Vitten and Lily placed their fists over their left breasts in salute. Father gave a slight nod, then came straight toward me.
I stood on tiptoe to meet his eyes.
The first impression that surfaced was steadfastness. A seasoned, valiant spirit dwelled within a frame more solid than any I had ever beheld.
"Daddy?"
I called out to him, clumsily, armed with the childlike confidence that no transgression would go unforgiven.
"...Hah."
Then something remarkable happened. The towering giant, ancient as an old-growth tree, smiled.
"Say it again."
"Daddy!"
"There we go. So you're Iden."
He reached down and scooped me up. The moment he felt the chill of the One-Syllable Pulse, his brow furrowed.
"Yes, I hear you have a rather unusual Awoken Ability."
He turned to Lily.
"Tell me in detail—what condition is my son in?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
Lily conveyed everything she knew, slowly and without omission. Father listened with grave attention, not once interrupting. Then he beckoned, this time summoning Vitten and Talia, who had been standing to the side.
"Vitten and Talia, was it?"
"That is correct."
"Yes, Your Grace!"
"I'm told there was an attempt on my son's life."
The two knights' expressions grew heavier still.
"Yes. Two weapons and signs of a struggle were discovered at the scene. The investigators are working to uncover whoever is behind it, but no clear leads have emerged yet."
Just as Talia finished her report—
"How dreadful, that such an ugly affair should occur precisely while Your Grace was away!"
"We must find the ringleader and punish them without mercy!"
The nobles who had accompanied Father cried out in unison.
At this, Father gave a dry laugh.
"How amusing. Weren't you the very people pressuring me to assemble a punitive expedition when there was no urgent need?"
"W-well, the timing was merely coincidental—"
"It must surely be villains exploiting Your Grace's absence!"
"And who was it that created that absence?"
The nobles shrank like mice before a cat, as if meeting his gaze might summon a lightning bolt.
Anyone could see they were hiding something, but I couldn't have cared less about who was behind the assassination.
What interested me right now were things like a dragon's pearl, phoenix feathers, hearts, and lungs. Once I grew strong enough, petty problems like this would resolve themselves.
"Daddy?"
"You called, Iden?"
He turned to me. On a face that had been radiating killing intent moments before, warmth settled as if by magic.
"Look at this."
I opened the book Lily had brought. The page showed a lava spirit with molten rock dripping from its form.
"Oh-ho. Want to be a hero, do you?"
"No, this!"
I pointed precisely at the core embedded in the spirit's chest.
"Young—Young Master...!"
At the same moment, a sound like a pig being slaughtered burst from Vitten's mouth.
Sorry, Vitten.
But in this life, I'd like to enjoy having parents for once. If you've never known what it's like to be sold off for less than three coppers, try to understand where I'm coming from.
"What exactly does my son want?"
Father asked.
"Well, you see..."
Just as Lily opened her mouth hesitantly—
"It came up in passing, as a bit of amusement. The young master seems to have taken an interest."
Talia stepped in with the explanation. She framed it as though fire-attribute monsters had merely come up in conversation—a light topic raised to entertain me—with no connection whatsoever to the One-Syllable Pulse.
I think that was her mistake. She should have linked it to the Severed Pulse instead.
Because this is how Father took it.
"Talon."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The tall adjutant bowed his head.
"Don't we have some byproducts of fire-attribute monsters in the vault?"
"I would need to verify the exact inventory, but I do recall a salamander's tongue being among them."
"Y-Your Grace...?"
The nobles were dumbstruck.
"You mean to give the young master a s-salamander's tongue?"
"Your Grace! I strongly advise you to reconsider!"
The nobles turned every shade of pale.
What is it? Someone let me in on it too.
Whatever it was, it seemed terribly precious.
"Bring it."
Father commanded, with an arrogance only he could carry off.
"My son says he wants it, doesn't he?"