Chapter 172
Chapter 172
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 172
Chapter Title: Witch Slayer's Greeting
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Dawn fog hung over the Bellisor estuary, thick enough to be eerily ominous.
Splash, splash... From within that fog came the sound of oars striking the water's surface, and soon a single rowboat emerged at the dock.
A massive merchant ship was already anchored at the harbor, its boisterous laughter suddenly cutting off.
"Looks like they're here, Boss."
Two lightly armored female swordsmen disembarked from the rowboat, stepping onto the planks and boarding the merchant ship.
Goblin Slayer and Slime Slayer.
"What, thought you got totally smitten by some handsome goblin and ran off? Turns out you were just hiding nearby."
A tall woman seated at a makeshift table on the deck let out an amused whistle.
Her hair, tied up roughly, was the color of sun-bleached sand, and the face and neck beneath it were covered in scars from countless battles.
Exuding the relaxed aura unique to a veteran of a hundred fights, the woman offered a peculiar greeting.
"Dur-Morris, Witch Slayer. Death to all witches."
This was the infamous greeting used by the adventurer party 'Slayers' five hundred years ago, said to have spread their name instantly by addressing everyone this way.
Of course, what truly etched their name into the world was their utterly absurd skill.
And this Witch Slayer, Spierra, was unbelievably one of the members from those Slayers of five hundred years past.
"I was just about to send that guy after you if you were even a little later."
With a flamboyantly ducal bearing but a snake-like impression, Spierra smirked.
In her left hand, she spun two iron balls, producing an unsettling friction sound, while telekinetically sipping from a beer mug with an invisible force.
Above her head, the brim of her black-dyed conical hat—black and white were shrine maiden exclusives, illegal otherwise per Witch Association rules—flapped in the river breeze.
"Your sister, I mean. Demon Slayer—ring any bells faster?"
At that, Miria shoved aside the blocking thugs and lunged at Spierra, grabbing her collar roughly.
The drunken subordinates froze for a moment, gripping spears and swords, but Spierra raised her right hand to calm them.
Even in this situation, her composure was unshaken, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"What's the problem? Huh? We meet after so long—let's have a drink and chat leisurely."
"Cut the act, you bastard! I heard everything! You sent my sister to the front lines again?"
"Did I?"
"I scraped together enough money for two people across the continent and sent it to you—you promised to leave her alone! You messing with me now?"
As Miria shook Spierra's collar, her fist suddenly froze in mid-air, gripped by something.
Telekinesis.
Immediately after, invisible handprints dug deeply into Miria's throat, and her body floated lightly into the air.
"Ha, you insolent bitch—starting to repay favors with grudges? Who was it that got the Silence Brand removed first and then went AWOL?"
Telekinesis lifted Miria's top, exposing her throat. Sure enough, the magic circle branded there like a seal was gone.
The Silence Brand was a 5-star spell that inflicted excruciating pain and turned anyone trying to reveal certain truths into a vegetable.
The Slayers had used this gift from Archmage Zernix to guard their secrets, ruling the Tersh Archipelago from the shadows.
And now it was gone? That was blatant treason.
Whether by death or someone else's help.
The Slayers could check its status—and rough location—via a linked wax doll from Zernix.
Miria stammered in disbelief.
'What?'
When did this happen?
No, how?
"No, that's not... I didn't..."
The truth Miria didn't know was this:
During the <Altarius> battle, Rain Ludwig had mistaken it for Zernix's attack and erased it with Bell Quirius.
But if Miria was clueless, so were the Slayers.
"The others said you must've gotten it done by some Yuliana-type bitch, so let's just kill you and use your sister freely—but I stopped them, yeah? Hey! Didn't I? Didn't I?"
"You did, Boss!"
"Can't even say thanks—instead you grab my collar out of nowhere, you wild bitch. As if a good girl like you would scheme; I even covered for you, saying you got charmed by some bad-boy handsome goblin, and came looking myself."
The thugs burst into laughter.
Some clutched their stomachs, others bent over howling. Miria's vision blurred white.
"You rotten bastards..."
Even without that seal, Miria couldn't flee anywhere. Couldn't ask for help.
Her family was captive.
If she did, they'd die.
In her fading consciousness, tinged gray, appeared her adoptive father's face—dead protecting them from the Slayers—and her sister's, turned into an emotionless, memoryless monster because of them.
- Ah-booh!
And Aki's beaming smile, and that guy, Rain Ludwig's...
"Boss, you'll kill her at this rate."
Slime Slayer cautiously spoke up, and Spierra, as if forgetting, dramatically smacked her palm with her fist like a gavel.
Instantly, the telekinesis choking Miria's neck vanished like a lie.
Miria rolled messily across the deck, coughing painfully, vomiting undigested food, stomach acid, and tears onto it.
"Get up! Time to head back to the islands, you useless trash who can only row!"
Spiurra strode toward the helm, stepping on her back with long legs, telekinetically shaking awake the drunken sailors.
"Some bullshit went down in the Crimson Mountains—Yuliana and FakeWarrior are there. No need to get blown away by river winds. Up!"
* * *
It felt like a pleasant morning waking to the chirping of birds for the first time in ages.
Stretching languidly, Aki mimicked me, loosening her stiff body.
Giggling, I ruffled her hair wildly, then carried her downstairs with Pipi on my shoulder, ordering a simple breakfast.
"Pipi eats today too, right?"
Pipi, fully recovered appetite, devoured two bowls of fried grains ravenously. Her voice would return soon enough.
"Aki?"
"Aki wan' bu'er mush' stew."
"This butter mushroom stew?"
"Yeah!"
My, how well she speaks already.
Feeding Aki her stew while I lightly ate oatmeal, I oddly waited in vain for Miria.
Then, at the restaurant entrance appeared Valensidis—or so I thought at first; he looked like someone else.
Reason: his hair.
The abyss-tainted deep blue locks were dyed an utterly ordinary light brown.
"Feeling a change of pace?"
Just the hair color alone transformed his impression so much; fascinated, I scanned him up and down.
"No, my natural color stood out too much, so I changed it."
"By the way, Valensidis, seen Miria?"
"That goblin girl? Doesn't seem to have come yet."
Valensidis told me to keep eating and went to check her room.
"Not in her room. Just a note left. Looks like she left right away at night without staying."
Soon after, he returned with a paper scrap—closer to a memo than a letter, saying only 'Bye.'
"She just left without a farewell?"
I didn't mind, but Aki followed her so well; she'd be bummed knowing she was gone.
Yeah, I didn't mind...
I'm sick of anyone connected to me dying. As long as she's living her life somewhere, that's enough.
"Not fitting for such a refreshing morning, but since we'll part soon, let me share something important."
"Hm?"
"You asked Nariduk last time who dragged Tureina into the abyss, right?"
To casually drop such a mismatched topic on a bright morning.
"Why. You know the answer?"
"You already know it too. You've met him once. His name is Zernix."
"I met someone impersonating him."
"It's the real one. He's lived a thousand years. You know I'm not the type to lie about this."
Dazed, I swallowed, and my fork slipped from my grip, rolling across the table.
"That was the real Zernix?"
One of the six Archmages, Zernix?
From a thousand years ago, my predecessor Archmage—how?
"He dragged Tureina into the abyss. Certain."
"Impossible. Zernix... that boastful loudmouth?"
"Yeah. When he learned I was Tureina's disciple, he blabbered about being her true master—but I couldn't doubt it. He had mana several times stronger than hers."
"I killed him. Burned him to death. No way that weakling was Zernix."
I muttered it, though I believed he couldn't have died so easily.
"You just took out one puppet. You're insanely strong now... but Zernix's true body matches you. Maybe even a step above."
Valensidis pushed two dishes brought by a waitress toward me.
One was a small but pricey goose roast; the other, a large, cheap catfish roast.
"This is the difference between you and Zernix. You swallowed a true dragon's soul, transcending human realm, but your power's incomplete. Zernix's soul realm is low, but he's awakened his power near transcendence—a monster."
"......!"
"That's what a thousand-year monster is."
A thousand years...
If I lived that long, I couldn't even gauge my own power.
The double-cast 4-star spell nagged at me... so was he at 6-star or 7-star level?
"I first saw his true body about four months ago... that mana, like thousands of snakes coiling around him—still gives me chills."
"Four months ago?"
"Said he finished business in the north and was heading back to Adrion Continent."
A chill ran down my spine.
The same person...?
Disrupting the barrier balance, seducing Tureina to ruin the North Republic—all truly his doing...?
"Not just Tureina. He's seducing modern greats or resurrecting past phantoms, dominating the South Republic everywhere."
"The Papal Court can't be unaware."
"The abyss power is far stronger than you think. Arkrad Continent's stabilized somewhat, but Adrion... you'd believe me if I said he has lackeys inside the Papal Court?"
Watching Valensidis pull the goose roast to himself, a suspicion rose.
"You're awfully forthcoming."
"The Black Church will hunt me, a traitor. Luzaihier was a top org right under the Three Pillars, wielding massive influence in the North Republic."
"......!"
"Betraying them means they'll kill me to silence me. Just warning you beforehand. Of course, some grace period till they realize."
"...So things escalated to this because you're helping me again."
Eyeing his left arm—sleeve flapping empty in the river breeze—I spoke. Valensidis shrugged nonchalantly.
"I'd have done it even without you. Not helping—cooperating. This job... didn't align with my beliefs."
Even saying he might die soon, Valensidis struggled to tear the goose leg with one arm.
This guy doesn't lie or exaggerate.
Long served Tureina, faced Nariduk directly, and an immense powerhouse himself—if he calls someone strong, they're monstrously so.
'Yeah, that's it...'
Unaware of Aki and Pipi looking up worriedly, I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth.
'That bastard who corrupted my pure little disciple with black magic, turned her into an emotionless shell, causing this tragedy—and he's alive, eyes bloodshot...'
And his identity is the Archmage from a thousand years ago, Zernix?
Doesn't matter who.
The enemy who ruined my beloved disciple's life... I'll make him pay. After a brief silence, I spoke.
"No place to go? Come south with me, Valensidis."
"Funny joke. Together? Didn't know we were that close."
"Not closeness. Mutual cooperation."
"Mutual cooperation?"
"You need protection—no one better than me. Right? Unless you're turning to the Papal Court."
"......!"
"And I need detailed intel on the Black Church and Zernix—no one better than you."
Valensidis opened his mouth, then fell silent. His eyes showed conviction.
Taking it as assent, I ended the talk.
"You said it yourself—this wasn't help, but cooperation. Same here. Cooperate as needed."
I speared the goose roast to hold it; Valensidis's gripped leg tore easily, juices spilling.
"Like this."