Grateful for the Procedure
The air froze in an instant. Be grateful for the procedure.
Whether it was at the Mage Tower or the AAU conference room, I'd felt it before. My mouth definitely came equipped with an air-conditioning function. The moment I open it to speak, the atmosphere chills!
But once the words were out, there was no graceful retreat. 'Above all, I have nothing to bow to.'
One rule of the Spacetime Salon: All hostile acts between attendees are forbidden. Of course, that didn't mean matters ended within the salon. They might demand payment for loose lips outside its bounds.
But that had nothing to do with me. Why? Unlike the other transcendents, I existed in reality, not the Arcana Continent! I couldn't go there even if I wanted to.
'No need to worry about the aftermath right now.'
So no matter how they glared, it didn't scare me one bit, Shegwin.
"……."
Shegwin, whom I'd summoned, offered no reply. Accusing him outright of knowing his sins? He'd think it utter nonsense.
But having committed the act, he had no room to back down either. I'd resolved myself.
'What happens here ends here, decisively.'
Yes, whether it became my meal or my bane. The price for loose lips had to be settled on the spot.
Even with the severed Arcana Continent and reality, rifts were a wildcard. Imagine Shegwin emerging from one with lingering grudges.
'……I don't even want to think about it. Just.'
With such tangled circumstances, I continued.
"I shall permit you to sit before me."
"……!"
Don't abbreviate so extremely, Grandfell. Just explain it kindly.
The salon was so vast and grand that proper conversation from this distance seemed impossible. Why not sit face-to-face and talk civilly? We could keep it amicable, really.
But lamenting was pointless now. She'd already started walking toward me.
Thud—
It hit me anew. Transcendents exuded an aura that was no joke. Not just Shegwin—everyone visible in the salon did.
For starters, their appearances were extraordinary. If I used terms from when Arcana was just a game, they'd be like meticulously crafted named NPCs.
Their demeanor matched. Thunk— Shegwin set her sword on the table.
At times like this, Grandfell's impeccable aesthetics irked me. 'No matter how I look, it's at least unique grade, right?'
From the ornate scabbard patterns, it screamed, "I'm no ordinary blade."
Well, as the Sword Saint and the continent's sole Grand Sword Master, her weapon was bound to be exceptional.
Of course, I knew she hadn't placed it there to boast. It was a sign of her displeasure.
But I was displeased too. Staring at the sword, I murmured.
"This blade, then."
"……?"
"The one that cleaved the Quirnburk Mechanical Tower."
Twitch! Shegwin's brow twitched.
Her eyes demanded how I knew. But listen first.
"Do you know? That the Quirnburk Mechanical Tower you toppled had slain tens of thousands of demons up to that point. And that it would have continued hunting demons until its pride was spent."
That's right, Shegwin. You were the one who smashed it. Thanks to you, tens of thousands of demons on the Arcana Continent survived. And I took a whopping level 5 loss.
Yes. Antonim mattered, but first, this tale.
Foolish Endeavor
📍 Description: Shegwin deemed demon hunting a foolish endeavor. Converse with Shegwin and discern the truth of her actions.
⊳ Meet Shegwin. (In Progress)
As I said. Depending on that truth, my—Grandfell's—judgment would differ.
Meeting Shegwin's gaze, I spoke.
"Why did you."
"……?"
"Cleavage the mechanical tower I activated?"
"!!!"
……
Thunk— Shegwin had placed her sword—practically her emblem—before the man. To probe him.
A tactic she'd often used in the Spacetime Salon to gauge foes amid its irksome rules. One she'd suffered herself.
'Bare your fangs.'
Bait revealed much. If enmity flashed on their face, they were ignorant of the salon's rules.
But if they remained impassive, like now…
'She knows the rules.'
How a first-timer knew was a mystery, but no surprise there. She hadn't retracted the bait yet.
Soon, the man's gaze fixed on the sword. Shegwin sensed puzzlement there.
'……She didn't recognize me from the sword.'
Swift Sword, Atlas Sword. Her very avatar.
Thus, thrusting Atlas Sword forward should have elicited:
—"……Who are you?"
—"Shegwin, bested by this whelp…?"
—"Never heard Shegwin had a child…?"
Rejuvenation. Few knew she'd regained her youth—even among transcendents.
Hence placing the sword upfront. No one would peg the youthful her as Shegwin.
Yet this man?
"This blade. The one that cleaved the Quirnburk Mechanical Tower."
……How did he know even that?
Was he there? She dismissed it.
'No, I'd have sensed it.'
With her prime body restored, senses sharper than ever. Strong sensed strong. She'd never miss a transcendent of this caliber…
'……Wait.'
Ruminating, Shegwin paused. An upper demon king came to mind. A being beyond measure.
The man who'd hurled one into hell. If he matched that tier…
'Am I gauging someone beyond my ken?'
His next words followed. But Shegwin barely heard, another possibility dawning.
'Only one place to witness that.'
The soaring capital, Antonim. He'd overlooked it all from there…!
In that instant, Shegwin judged.
'A blunder.'
Antonim hadn't fallen to demons for one reason: this man. A being even she couldn't fathom…!
As if affirming it, he calmly asked.
"Why did you cleave the mechanical tower I activated?"
"……?!"
The active Quirnburk Mechanical Tower puzzled even transcendents. Dwarves built it; only they or their allies could operate it.
Yet dwarves, human-hating, had vanished from the continent?
Answers to those riddles stood before her.
'It all makes sense now.'
'She's been pulling the continent's strings.'
'Heh. Wrong mark, old sword coot.'
Shegwin swallowed dryly. Denying like before risked:
—"Your disposition depends on your answer."
Unpredictable in the salon. But one thing clear: he'd endured enough. His absence from the Antonim siege proved it.
'Reason unknown, but welcome for me.'
Judgment made: retreat from Antonim. Vassals' trust? Better them foes than this man.
Grinding her teeth, 'As she endured, so must I.'
Shegwin finally spoke.
"I knew not. I acknowledge my error."
When last such words? Even she felt it distant.
She'd staked much on this siege. Losing the imperial vault's artifact, Galaxy Whetstone, stung deeply.
Yet.
"And I shall withdraw from Antonim."
No life for an artifact. Nor strain this body.
'I concede. You're stronger now.'
But she'd reclaimed youth—ugly though the means. Time favored her.
Whoosh— Reaching for her sword to leave.
"Was not your aim the throne?"
Hmph. She scoffed. A transcendent—tier above—asking that? Demanding honesty.
Plans foiled, no reason to hide.
"Who wears the crown matters not to me. I merely lent power to vassals for the artifact, Galaxy Whetstone."
Revealing even that, he replied.
"I shall trust your words."
"Gracious."
"Then, the next question."
"……?"
But the follow-up clenched her fist.
'……This humiliation insufficient?'
Rage surged. But she hid it. Priority: retreat safely from Antonim without irking her.
Nodding, the next came swiftly.
"Shegwin, why do you…"
Unforeseen.
"…reek of the foul stench of demons?"
"?!"
……
One thing I knew for sure: my nose for demons never failed.
Foolish Endeavor
⊳ Meet Shegwin. (Success)
⊳ Uncover Shegwin's link to the demons. (In Progress)
Certain. Shegwin reeked of demons.
I fixed her with a steadfast gaze. Her expression was priceless.
The Sword Saint, continent's sole Grand Sword Master. She glared back.
"I know not what you mean."
Playing innocent wouldn't fool a demon hunter. Above all, I knew: time flowed swifter on Arcana Continent, impartial yet merciless.
Harcon had shared his view.
—"The Sword Saint. 'Prime' meant nothing to her."
Curious. The Shegwin I'd seen was a fresh youth. Why speak as if past her peak?
I'd wondered if I'd erred. But face-to-face, it clicked.
I spoke.
"What did you trade for that youth?"
Demon worshippers shunned admitting dealings. Karimjeba too: his goal 'true truth,' merely using demons.
Without experience, I'd miss Shegwin's link.
But experience taught: on Arcana, eternal life was the First World Tree's Blessing alone.
Elves proved it—emerging for mine.
"……No trade. An elixir. Its effect."
Elixir, eh? Pity.
No such elixir existed on Arcana.
Click— I rose.
Shegwin, whatever for youth, I cared not.
"Every human lives a day, dies a day."
Foolish Endeavor
⊳ Meet Shegwin. (Success)
⊳ Uncover Shegwin's link to the demons. (Success)
Hunt the True Demon, Shegwin
📍 Description: [Flickering quest objective]
⊳ Shegwin is no longer human. (In Progress)
Whether she realized it herself, who knew.
Natural Enemy Relationship has been activated.
"You would do well to be grateful for the salon's procedure."
No bluff. At transcendent realm, circles open, Natural Enemy's effect let me face her.
Beyond that, Grandfell's pride soared higher before mighty demons.
I spat coldly.
"For I now endure with utmost desperation."
"!!!"
"Sword Saint. Nay, fouler than any demon, mere bladesman."
……
Antonim. Endless siege.
Exhausted soldiers gazed skyward. Cursed demon eyes glared down.
"……We'd glimpsed hope."
How, in this dire continental extinction crisis, stab allies in the back?
Unable to contain fury, a soldier bellowed beyond the walls.
"You demon-worse bastards!!"
You mad fool! Arrows would rain.
Soldiers raised shields swiftly.
"……."
Yet nothing. Peeking through, clop—
Clop… Hoofbeats receding.
Then, unbelievable news from the madman.
"Hah, they're retreating!!"
"……?!"
"The enemy's pulling back!!"
The tidings reached the emperor atop the walls. Surveying the field, foes truly withdrew.
From near-fallen Antonim, tails tucked.
Tactical? Cunning ploy? He pondered all.
But words slipped out.
"……Am I dreaming?"
Inevitable. For in the upturned sky.
A lion appeared.
Precisely.
"Your Majesty! That emblem…!!"
Lion Heart Knights' symbol. Lion-emblazoned banner fluttering.
A spirit descended beneath it.