Back to the Old Profession
Raon followed Loengrin into the fourth cavern.
This place is full of corpses too.
Bodies lay scattered throughout the cavern. Judging by the wounds, they had killed one another in combat.
"Priest of Wrath."
Loengrin surveyed the cavern, then turned back.
"What you said a moment ago — was that the truth?"
"A moment ago?"
Raon asked, though he knew perfectly well what Loengrin meant.
"Is it true that the God of Wrath desires an item that can repair a dantian?"
Loengrin spoke with extreme caution, his gaze lowered.
"Of course."
Raon looked up at him and nodded, wearing a gentle smile without the slightest crease of deceit.
"How could I speak a falsehood in His name? It is the truth, naturally."
"You're doing it right now! You're lying this very instant!"
Wrath flailed both arms like a drunkard.
"This King hasn't said a single word, and you're just babbling whatever you please!"
He threw himself onto his back in midair and kicked his legs like a child in a tantrum, looking ready to lose his mind entirely.
"I cannot understand it. The one I beheld was a god in the truest sense. It was not some mere dantian — His entire being overflowed with mighty power and wrath. I cannot fathom why He would need an item to repair a dantian."
"Ah. You've misunderstood."
"Misunderstood…?"
"He is not the one who needs it."
"Pardon?"
"It is a gift meant for His servant."
Raon lowered his eyes, smiling.
"You little braaaaat!"
Wrath scrambled up onto Raon's left ear and screamed.
"Since when is that pointy-eared bastard This King's servant?! This King hasn't the slightest desire to heal that fool!"
"You served Him as well, Lord Loengrin, so you must already know."
Raon pretended to scratch his ear and shoved Wrath aside.
"How deeply the God of Wrath considers and cares for His followers."
"Of course! He granted me so much and never asked for anything in return!"
The moment Wrath entered the conversation, Loengrin's eyes lit with fervor.
Just as I thought.
It was unfolding exactly as expected.
From everything Raon had seen, Wrath always found ways to help and look after anyone labeled a servant.
He saved Dorian. He helped Runaan too.
He had warned them when Dorian was in danger, and spoken up when Runaan had nearly fallen under Syria's brainwashing again. He had even shown consideration for Yua at Habun Castle.
Loengrin would know that as well.
The fact that Wrath had told Loengrin, the moment his revenge was complete, to sever the connection and live his own life was proof enough. Wrath looked cold on the surface, but he took care of his own people without fail.
"You weasel! How far do you intend to make a fool of This King?! At least say something!"
Wrath had abandoned his royal diction entirely and was shouting like a child. His face had gone so red that an explosion could not be far off.
"Hmm…"
Raon let Wrath's fury wash past him and looked at Loengrin.
"Besides myself, there is one other priest who follows His will. He was injured in the course of his duties, and He has been deeply concerned."
"This King never—!"
Wrath whipped his head from side to side, kicking up a burst of frost.
"This King didn't want to save that pointy-eared bastard — This King wanted to beat him senseless!"
I know that perfectly well.
That outburst was the truth. Wrath had ground his teeth every time he saw Rimer lying around doing nothing. But what could he do about it? There was no one here who would listen to him.
"I came here for two reasons. To resolve Lord Loengrin's lingering regrets, and to find a way to repair the other priest's dantian."
"I see."
Loengrin clicked his tongue softly.
A sliver of doubt still remains.
Perhaps because he believed Wrath was omnipotent, the idea that Wrath could not heal a priest himself left Loengrin less than fully convinced.
I need a finishing touch.
Raon curled the corner of his mouth — not at Loengrin, but at Wrath.
What are you going to do? Your servant can only hear my words, not yours.
"Khrrk…"
Wrath's eyes rolled like a sailboat caught in a wave. Rage had flooded his head so completely he could no longer think straight.
If I asked him properly, calling him Lord Raon, he might pass along a word or two…
"GRAAAAH! I can't take this anymore, you wicked little devil!"
The moment Raon put on that sly, teasing smile he always wore when he was needling Wrath, Wrath's eyes spun clean around in his head.
A deep, bone-shaking rumble surged forth.
True to his nature as the Demon King of Wrath — a creature who had never once cared about time or place — the fury and frost Wrath detonated bored straight into Raon's mana circuits.
That's it.
Raon smiled. Unlike usual, he did not stir the Ring of Fire or his aura. He simply endured Wrath's rage and frost as they were.
The rumble deepened.
The wrath Wrath had unleashed intertwined with the wrath nested in Raon's own soul, and a blue flame of fury blazed from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
"Ah!"
Loengrin's mouth fell open at the sight of the blue wrath erupting from Raon's entire body.
"Th-this wrath, this frost — it is as if He Himself stands before me!"
Raon bore the pain and offered a gentle smile.
Yes. He is standing right here.
No one else could perceive this state — but Loengrin, who had once received Wrath's fury and frost himself, could feel the colossal rage bursting from Raon's body as if it were his own.
"It seems He has sent even greater wrath and frost, telling me to finish this properly. No one in this world can match His tenderness toward His followers."
Raon endured the agony and deepened his smile.
"Ahh! Forgive this lowly servant his doubts!"
Loengrin dropped to his knees and bowed his head.
The last seed of suspicion had been torn out of his eyes by the roots.
"I accept it with gratitude. He will be pleased by your offering."
Raon returned the courtesy with a faint smile.
Done.
Having faced Wrath's genuine fury, Loengrin's voice was overflowing with trust.
"Huh?"
Wrath blinked his round eyes mid-eruption. Loengrin's reaction seemed to have snapped him back to his senses.
"W-what is this…"
Thanks to you blowing your top, Loengrin's doubts are gone completely.
Raon smiled from the heart and waved at Wrath.
Thank you, Wrath.
"Th-This King…"
Wrath's brow crumpled like a sheet of paper.
"You used This King again, you snake!"
It just sort of happened.
"Just happened? You planned the whole thing out in the open and it 'just happened'?! Grrrk!"
A roar like a beast's howl accompanied an even greater surge of wrath and frost.
"The wrath is growing stronger."
"He must place a great deal of trust in me."
"T-trust? Truuuust? More like fuck you! You are evil itself! For the sake of this world, This King shall end you right here!"
Raon circulated the Ring of Fire and Glacia, blocking Wrath's frost and fury. He had already won Loengrin's trust — there was no longer any need to endure it.
"You, of all people! For the sake of the world, you of all people—!"
It's no use.
Wrath unleashed every last drop of the wrath and frost he had stored up, but of course it could not pierce the wall of the Ring of Fire and Glacia.
You have endured Wrath's interference.
Strength has increased by 1 point.
Perhaps because the wrath and frost that had poured out were so overwhelming, the stat rose almost immediately.
"GRAAAAAAAH!"
Wrath let out a tearing scream, as if he were actually dying, and sank down.
"Wrath of this magnitude… it reminds me of the first time I beheld Him. I am almost envious."
Loengrin, unable to hear his master's screams, wore a benevolent smile — and a single tear rolled from Wrath's round eyes.
"Just kill me already…"
"Hahahaha!"
"There's a trap here. Come over it."
"Yes…"
Dorian narrowed his eyes as he watched Raon point out the trap and press onward.
What even is he?
The unchildlike speech and manner, the composure of someone who had weathered every storm imaginable, and that mind for toying with people on top of it. Dorian had known Raon long enough to be well aware that the word "ordinary" did not apply to him.
Lately it felt like Raon was using him as a wallet or a pouch, but that was not the issue right now.
Setting the past aside entirely — right now, Raon was terrifying.
"Ah. To the right."
Raon nodded at the empty air to his right and opened his mouth.
"Dorian. Come along with your hand on the right-hand wall."
He demonstrated, pressing his palm to the wall as he moved.
That! That's exactly it!
It was scary enough to die from.
That sight he had witnessed countless times today. Raon was talking to someone invisible, dodging the dungeon's traps and opening secret passages as he went.
Who is he even talking to?!
Dorian's hands trembled. He was so terrified of ghosts and spirits that every time Raon muttered to himself, goosebumps crawled up his skin.
"U-um, Young Master?"
Dorian bit his lip and called out. He was so flustered that the old form of address slipped out instead of "Vice-leader."
"Hm?"
Raon turned, his face as calm as ever.
"W-who are you talking to? You could tell me now, I think…"
"I already told you. It's our guide."
"Right, so who is this guide…"
"Ah! That's right. One moment."
He looked up into empty air and moved his lips. No sound came out, but from the shape of his mouth, he was genuinely conversing with someone.
"Do you really want to know?"
Having apparently finished the conversation, Raon turned back with a faint smile.
"Pardon?"
"I asked if you really want to know."
"Th-that's—"
"If you really want to see, he says he can show you for a moment. But you'd better think it through."
"Kh…"
The way he said it made Dorian's stomach lurch as if he were about to throw up, and saliva poured down his throat in a mad rush.
"I-I'm fine! Ignorance is bliss, right? Haha!"
Dorian laughed awkwardly and shook his head hard. He had a feeling that if he saw whatever it was, he would not sleep a wink tonight.
"That so?"
Raon snorted a quiet laugh, resumed his conversation with the empty air, and walked on.
Ugh, it's a ghost! It has to be a ghost of someone who died in here!
There was no other explanation!
Dorian pulled a desk made of sacred whitewood — said to drive away spirits — from his Belly Pouch.
He hoisted the desk over his head, waved it like a fan, and hurried after Raon.
Begone!
Spirits, begone!
Marta scowled and shoved open the restaurant door. Unit 1 of the Light Wind Squad was gathered around a large table at the very back. The moment she sat down, she scanned the swordsmen's faces. Every one of them looked like they had been chewing on something foul.
"None of you found anything, I take it."
"Yes…"
"There are elixirs that increase aura, but we've never even heard of one that repairs a dantian."
"There were no martial texts on mending a shattered dantian either."
"We didn't find anything at the artifact shops. Even if something exists, they said it would be extraordinarily rare…"
The swordsmen sighed and shook their heads.
"I figured as much."
Marta let out a cold snort.
"You think a treasure that rare just turns up because you go looking for it?"
They had ridden without sleep all the way to Water City Dydan, and still there was no sign of anything that could restore Rimer.
She had known it would be hard. But with not even a thread of a lead in sight, the anxiety was enough to make her want to be sick.
"Hah…"
"Damn it…"
The other swordsmen seemed to be thinking the same thing; thin groans slipped from their lips.
"Even so."
Marta slammed the table. The light tap of her hand made every heart in the room lurch.
A light like black pearl turned in her dark eyes.
"Right now that bastard Raon is throwing everything he has into clearing that dungeon. You all know him. He won't even notice he's getting hurt — he'll be thinking of nothing but finding an elixir."
"Mm…"
"That's exactly what he'd do."
The swordsmen pressed their lips tight and nodded.
"Compared to him, our job is lighter than breathing. Even if we have to turn this entire city upside down — and if that isn't enough, even if we have to search the whole continent — we find it."
"Yes!"
The swordsmen gripped their sword hilts and nodded.
"Ah, um…"
Yedi, the vice-leader, raised a hand briefly.
"What is it?"
"There's an auction tomorrow…"
"An auction?"
"Yes. Extremely secretive, with rare goods on offer. Apparently only distinguished guests from each organization are allowed in."
"Distinguished guests…"
Marta's brow furrowed.
"So being a squad leader of the Light Wind Squad isn't enough?"
"It might be. But looking at the caliber of the previous auction's guest list, there's a chance it won't be."
"Then what about the youngest daughter of Sage Palace Lord Denier Zieghart?"
"Ah…"
Yedi swallowed dryly and nodded.
"Th-that would work. But…"
Marta pathologically hated borrowing the name of her house, her organization — and especially her father's. She had always insisted on using only her own name, which made what she had just said all the more unexpected.
"Everyone else is working themselves to death. What good is it if I'm the only one clinging to my pride?"
Marta gave a cold laugh and stood.
"Get ready. We attend that auction tomorrow night."
She clenched her fist tight.
No matter what it takes, we have to find it.
"We will arrive at the sixth cavern shortly. That is the final cavern, and my laboratory lies directly beneath it."
Loengrin glanced back as they descended the secret passage.
"And at this moment, those who arrived first are engaged in combat within that cavern."
"I can feel it."
Raon nodded, looking down. Directly below this passage, a clash of tremendous power was underway.
"Having entered from this direction, there is no choice but to pass through that cavern."
Loengrin bowed his head as if to say there was nothing to be done.
"It doesn't matter."
Raon shook his head with a faint smile.
"If the laboratory is right underneath, it would be better to deal with them thoroughly before we go."
Even if they could slip through the cavern unnoticed, the laboratory was directly below — there was every chance of being interrupted.
This was not simply a matter of collecting items. He also had to resolve Loengrin's lingering regrets, which meant driving the enemies out for good was the wiser course.
"Is there a way to see who is inside the cavern before we enter?"
"Hmm. I have little power remaining, but that much should be possible."
Loengrin traced a circle in the air with his finger. A round orb blossomed into being and reflected the interior of the cavern.
Raon stepped in close and studied the image. The orb was rotating, so every direction was visible.
Them, of course.
Familiar faces. The mages of the Balkar Kingdom he had met in the Neutral City of Forban. Morell, commander of the Salamanders, was there, along with his disciple Inild — the same Inild Raon had beaten senseless.
Naturally.
Balkar's main force was not its knights but its mages. As one of the two factions among the Six Kings with the greatest interest in magic, of course they had come.
The bratty princess is here too.
Princess Jayna — this would be the third time they had met — and Zatis, the only knight in her retinue who had ever made a decent impression.
And those to the side look like a coalition of mid-sized factions.
To the mages' left, warriors from what appeared to be an alliance of several organizations were bunched together in a loose circle. From the look of it, they were not opposed to Balkar.
And opposite them…
Facing Balkar, a tall, slit-eyed, long-haired man of middle years stood at a lazy slant. Four orbs were embroidered on his snow-white coat. The Fourth Apostle of the White Blood Cult.
An Apostle, just as I thought.
The one guarding the first cavern had been a Bishop, so he had expected an Apostle further down.
And is that an Archbishop beside him?
A gray-haired old woman stood next to the Apostle, leaning on a staff. Her presence was no ordinary thing. The martial force radiating from her was not the least bit inferior to the Archbishops he had encountered in Forban.
And then…
Last of all, Raon turned the orb toward the space beside the White Blood Cult. Assassins in black leather armor and masks came into view.
I didn't expect to see them here again.
The Shadows.
The moment he saw those emotionless eyes behind the masks, a dry breath escaped him. Derus Robert. That greedy bastard must have dispatched the Shadows from a nearby branch the instant he learned of this place.
A two-versus-two, then.
From the look of things, Balkar and the smaller factions had joined forces, while the White Blood Cult and the Shadows had formed a temporary alliance of their own.
The balance isn't even, of course.
The Apostle and Morell were evenly matched, but the White Blood Cultists and the Shadows outnumbered the other side, so overall Balkar was being pushed back.
Even now, the people on the smaller coalition's side were falling one by one, and the scales of the battle were tipping steadily toward the White Blood Cult.
A low, resonant wail rose from below.
The Requiem Sword sensed the Apostle's energy surging up from beneath them and let out a fierce, keening cry.
Telling me to keep my promise, are you?
He remembered what he had said — that next time, he would let it taste an Apostle's blood.
Here, it might just be possible…
Raon slowly unclenched his hands. Glacia's frost lay over the entire dungeon.
If he used that energy to conceal his presence, and overlaid his own killing intent upon the enemy's, assassination should be possible.
But before that…
There was something he needed to confirm.
"Is there a way to bind the people in that cavern?"
Raon pointed at the cavern reflected in the orb.
"I installed a rather fine trap. It would only need to be activated — but as I am now, I haven't the power to operate it. Maintaining this place is all I can manage. I am sorry."
"Then I will give it to you."
"Y-you would give me frost?"
"We serve the same god. We're like brothers, aren't we?"
Raon turned a benevolent gaze on the startled Loengrin.
"A god? Did you just say god?"
Wrath, who had been lying exhausted after screaming himself hoarse, shot upright.
"Have you ever once treated This King like a person?! A god? This King would be grateful if you didn't treat him like a lunatic! You will be struck down by heaven itself!"
His voice cracked as he raged.
"Haha. To hear you say such a thing — I am nothing but grateful."
Loengrin, oblivious to Wrath's inner turmoil, was delighted at the prospect of feeling His true frost again after so long.
"Grrrk! Four-Eyes! Don't fall for it! That bastard is a leech who uses This King!"
Be quiet for a bit.
Raon listened to Wrath's squawking screams, and the light in his eyes went still. A dark gleam seeped into those vivid red irises, as if storm clouds had swallowed the sun.
Shall I return to my old profession after so long?