Chapter 86
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 86
Leaving the snowy fields behind and heading east, Turan first checked the Librarian’s exact condition.
He had been concerned ever since the Librarian mentioned feeling weakened, likely due to the increasing distance from the Library of Orem.
Since none of them possessed the ability to command spirits or any specialized knowledge regarding them, their methods of investigation were inevitably crude. After a series of primitive experiments—having the Librarian enter and exit the jewelry box several times—they reached a simple conclusion.
The Librarian had become a spirit completely bound to the jewelry box. In the process, they had lost most of the authorities they once wielded while connected to the Library. For instance, the ability to identify bloodlines was now gone.
“I regret that I am of so little help,” the Librarian said. Their demeanor remained detached and bored, yet they averted their gaze, subtly betraying a hint of apology.
Turan smiled and offered comfort. “It’s alright. I’ve already received so much help from you.”
That didn’t mean the Librarian was useless, however. The records of every volume that had ever existed in the Library of Orem still remained within their memory.
“—So, you’re saying the two unknown bloodlines of the Silver Sun are the Guardian and the Healer?”
“Likely. According to the records, he often referred to himself as a ‘protector,’ and there are anecdotes of him healing the wounded simply by laying his hands upon them.”
Sitting on the swing pulled by Bije, Turan analyzed the bloodlines of the old gods alongside the Librarian, who floated in the air opposite him. As Turan repeated the Librarian’s words aloud so the others could hear, Solif, sitting beside him, let out a whistle.
“And yet, I’ve never come across stories like that. I’m quite interested in history, so I’ve scoured every record in my family’s archives.”
“Then they were likely suppressed on purpose,” the Librarian noted. “To erase any clues that could lead to completing the ‘Type’—or what you call the bloodline.”
Turan could guess why. The gods likely feared the nobility completing a divine bloodline on their own. The relatively well-known Night Hunter bloodline was probably left alone only because two of its components had already gone extinct.
“So the Silver Sun’s bloodlines are the Sun—which is a combination of Pyromaniac and Illusion—plus the Guardian and the Healer… Solif, do you have any relatives with those two bloodlines?”
“I don’t think so. My grandfather was a noble of the Sun bloodline, and my grandmother was a commoner concubine. On my mother’s side, my grandfather was an Earthkeeper and my grandmother was of the Sun bloodline. I don’t know much further back than that.”
“It’s certainly a bit ambiguous.”
While there was a possibility of a hidden variable in the commoner grandmother’s lineage, as in Turan’s case, it seemed far removed from the Silver Sun’s bloodlines. Were the Guardian and Healer bloodlines meant to be replaced by the power of a god’s soul?
Then, Meisa, who had been listening quietly, spoke in a low voice.
“Compared to that, my side is a bit more certain. My father had the Storm and Strength-bearer bloodlines, and my mother had the Enchanter bloodline.”
“The name of the bloodline responsible for lightning within the Storm lineage is—”
“The Thunder Master,” the Librarian explained softly. “Though it is a name forgotten in the modern era.”
Listening to the Librarian, Turan pulled out a small notebook and a piece of charcoal to write.
He continued writing, adding the Earth Mother, whom the Earthkeeper bloodline worshipped as their progenitor, and the Lame Goddess, worshipped by the Enchanters. The list grew quite long.
Solif pointed to the section for the Thunder Lord.
“At this rate, Meisa could potentially obtain all four divine bloodlines herself. Assuming she awakens more of them like Turan did, that is.”
“Surely not.”
“Hey, you never know. Both you and I are bodies chosen by the gods… Dammit, why don’t I have anything like that?”
As Solif’s grumbling shifted from praise to self-deprecation, Meisa shook her head and looked at Turan.
“It’s a slim possibility anyway. In that regard, Turan is much better off. He’s already guaranteed four bloodlines.”
“I’m not so sure. It’s just a guess, but I think the combination is just as important as the number of bloodlines.”
According to his research so far, no member of the Frea Divine Clan possessed the same bloodlines as Turan. He still didn’t know if this specific combination was possible only because he held a god’s soul, or if it was related to obtaining all four bloodlines.
Turan considered writing down the Life Scholar next, but he decided against it, thinking that writing it might draw as much unwanted attention as speaking it. Instead, he wrote down the owner of the relic he possessed.
Seeing this, Meisa pointed to the words ‘Wave Walker.’
“Could this be referring to the Shoal bloodline?”
“Probably not. I heard from the Spirit of the Gate in the Labyrinth that one of the characteristics of the Wave Walker bloodline is exceptional physical ability.”
In contrast, the Shoal bloodline, which manipulated fluids like water, was not particularly suited for physical combat. Solif, who had gathered similar information through his own independent research, had once searched for nobles of pirate descent with high physical capabilities, such as Tasan of the Red Whale Pirates.
“Do you know anything about this, Elder?”
At Turan’s question, the Librarian pondered for a moment before shaking their head.
“I know nothing. I only know the knowledge contained within the books that once entered the Library.”
It seemed records of that particular god had never reached the city of Orem. Clicking his tongue in disappointment, Turan continued organizing the divine bloodlines when a thought suddenly occurred to him.
“By the way, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but aren’t the names of the bloodlines a bit all over the place?”
“In what way?”
“Even among the Great Families, they sometimes group two bloodlines together under names like Storm or Sun, and sometimes they don’t. Some bloodlines are named after a phenomenon, while others are named after the person using the power…”
The Pyromaniac and Illusion bloodlines that made up the Sun lineage were prime examples. The former referred to a person who enjoyed setting fires, while the latter referred to the ability itself. He had felt this inconsistency when he first learned from Keorn and had asked about it, but the old knight had simply said that was how he had been taught and didn't know the origin of the names.
Meisa and Solif looked at each other, appearing equally puzzled.
“Is that… so?”
“I just figured that’s what everyone calls them, so that’s what they are.”
Unlike Turan, the two of them didn’t seem to feel any sense of dissonance regarding the naming conventions. As Turan tilted his head at the strange sense of incongruity, the Librarian offered a brief explanation.
“In the past, the Pyromaniac was sometimes called the Flame bloodline, and Illusion was called the Illusionist bloodline. I do not know how certain titles became established over others… Hmm, I think it is time for me to return. I have grown tired.”
The Librarian let out a light yawn and, before anyone could respond, dissolved into mist and seeped back into the jewelry box. This was another change that had occurred since the Librarian became bound to the box: they now felt fatigue after being active outside for long periods.
Turan looked down at the box where the Librarian had vanished, then looked up at Bije, who was flying through the sky. He could feel a deep sense of exhaustion through the soul tether; Bije’s wingbeats were losing their strength.
“Let’s head down and rest. We’re well past the Nagin family’s territory, so we should be safe enough.”
*
After landing in a small hilly area in the northern Dakein Plains, Bije fell into a deep, almost comatose sleep from sheer exhaustion.
It had been a grueling forced march. They had flown for hours to Orem, rested for half a day, then flown north for a day and a half, rested briefly, and then flown for another full day. It would have been one thing if Bije were flying alone, but she had been carrying a large metal swing and three people.
If Bije hadn’t possessed mana comparable to a high-ranking noble, and if Turan and Meisa hadn’t taken turns assisting her flight with wind magic, it would have been an impossible feat.
After setting up camp and staying the night, the group moved east on foot, taking turns carrying the exhausted Bije. Fortunately, they used tracking magic to detect and avoid any signs of people, so they didn't encounter anyone.
After two days of steady rest and good food, Bije was fully recovered. Instead of taking out the swing immediately, Turan tied a letter to Bije’s ankle and sent her off.
An hour later, she returned with a new letter tied to her leg.
[I’m just spending my time watching plays as usual. Are you all doing well? It’s a bit lonely being by myself...]
The letter went on to detail recent events and ended with a wish to see them again. After reading and folding it, Turan summarized the contents for the others in a single sentence.
“Asiz seems to be doing well.”
Before leaving, he and Asiz had exchanged codes for their correspondence. The mention of a ‘play’ in the first paragraph meant the letter had not been written under surveillance.
“Bije, did you move as I told you?”
[Yup! I flew in a big circle before meeting Asiz! And when I left, too!]
Though he had sent her at dusk to avoid notice, Turan had instructed Bije to fly in a wide arc and approach from the south instead of flying directly to the Berk estate, just in case someone saw her and guessed their location. He had her do the same on the return trip. Given Bije’s speed when flying unburdened, it was unlikely anyone could have followed her.
“That’s a relief...”
“I’m glad he’s doing well. I’d love to go back there for a drink sometime. I liked the food, too.”
Meisa, a close relative, was naturally relieved, and Solif also seemed at ease. Having stayed at the Berk estate for quite some time and being treated well, he had grown somewhat attached.
After flying for another half-day on Bije, they finally crossed out of Arabion’s jurisdiction.
“Phew...”
Meisa let out a sigh of relief as she watched the Dakein Plains recede behind them. Though she hadn't shown it over the past few days, staying within Arabion territory had clearly been a source of great pressure for her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I feel like I can breathe now. While we were there, it felt like something was constantly pressing down on my chest.”
The source of that pressure was likely the Arabion main house, which had weighed on her for years, and her father, Badal, the vessel of the Thunder Lord.
Solif chimed in, questioning her relief. “But is it really okay to be relieved? I heard there’s a god over in Carmine territory who’s actually in league with the other races.”
“We don’t have any conflicting interests with them yet. I’m not certain, but we might even be able to make them an ally.”
Based on his past encounter with the Mermaid Prince Armani, Turan felt that merfolk were at least more reasonable than dark elves or dwarves. Above all, the god of the Carmines likely didn't even suspect their existence, so there was no need for extreme caution.
Solif grunted in thought and nodded in response.
They continued traveling for about an hour. As the sun began to set, Turan looked at the surrounding landscape and realized the terrain was familiar.
“Let’s rest at the village over there today.”
“Already? I think we can go a bit further.”
“I’m for it. This little one just finished a long haul, and I’m starting to crave a good meal and a real bed.”
Meisa seemed to want to put more distance between them and the Dakein Plains, but she nodded in agreement after hearing Solif. Since she was relying on Turan for food, it was difficult to ignore a companion’s request for a decent meal. It would have made her seem indifferent since she didn't need to eat anyway.
A short while later, they entered a village situated on a hill. A man carrying a hoe, seemingly returning from the fields, spotted them and approached.
“I don’t recognize your faces. Where are you from—gah!”
Initially wary of the strangers, the man’s eyes widened when he saw Turan’s face. He dropped his hoe and fell to his knees.
Solif and Meisa looked at Turan.
“What did you do here to make him react like that?”
“Did you kill someone?”
“Hardly. I saved them. I’ve come to see if the child I left here is doing well.”
“Ah... O-Of course! She is doing very well, sir! Very well indeed!”
“Lead the way.”
This was the village where Turan had left the sole survivor of the village destroyed by Orvil the Fire-burner. A moment later, Turan was reunited with the girl after a year.
“Th-Thank you for saving me...”
“Have the villagers been mistreating you?”
“Not at all. Everyone is very kind to me!”
Turan could sense no signs of coercion in the girl’s voice or scent. There were no visible marks of abuse, either. Her hands were a bit rough, but that was to be expected for a commoner who had to learn to work for a living.
Satisfied, Turan called over the anxious village elder and placed several gold coins directly into his hand.
“Oh, this is too much...”
“This is for our stay tonight.”
The elder wasn't foolish enough to miss that this was also a reward for faithfully following Turan’s instructions.
While staying in the best house in the village, Turan explained to his companions what had happened in the area. Since they had already heard about Orvil, both were impressed to realize this was the place.
“You’re probably the only person who would actually stop by after saying you would. If it were me, I would’ve forgotten and just passed by.”
“If I give my word, I keep it.”
“You have a kind side to you at times like this.”
Turan felt a wave of discomfort at Meisa’s bright smile and turned his head away. It was the same feeling he’d had when Keorn once called him a good person.
“It was simply something that needed to be done.”
His desire to look after the girl was strictly out of a sense of responsibility. For a brief moment, she had come under his protection, making her a lamb for whom he, the Shepherd, was responsible. Turan felt a similar responsibility toward the citizens of Kalamaf and the people he had rescued from the island in the Southern Sea. He intended to check on how they were living and was prepared to retaliate if any harm had come to them.
Solif shook his head as if exasperated. “We’ve been together for quite a while now, but I still can’t figure you out. On one hand, you’re cold-blooded, and on the other, you’re a total softie...”
“In any case, we both benefited from that side of him, didn't we?”
“Well, that’s true.”
As Meisa spoke with a wistful expression, Solif raised his hands in surrender, having nothing more to say.
*
After staying the night in the village, Turan’s group didn't head straight for the North Sea. Instead, they moved in a zigzag pattern, scouring the hilly region between the Arabion and Carmine territories.
The Librarian had mentioned records of a mythic-grade magical beast that had disappeared in this vicinity about 500 years ago. However, contrary to their expectations, the beasts they encountered were all so weak they weren't even worth hunting.
After several days of wandering and only eliminating the overly aggressive ones, Solif suggested they give up.
“Well, it makes sense if you think about it. If something that strong had been living here all this time, it would’ve been hunted down long ago. Unless it’s something being raised here, like that monkey...”
“Wait.”
Turan cut Solif off and closed his eyes, focusing on his sense of smell. Meisa, seeing this, asked, “What is it?”
“I smell something strange. Something is burning...”
The acrid scent of smoke reaching his nose triggered a strange sense of déjà vu. It was a pungent smell, as if a forest fire had broken out. A moment later, he recalled the aftermath of Orvil the Fire-burner’s handiwork.
“Bije, that way!”
Though he generally made it a rule not to show Bije to others, Turan broke it and had her fly directly toward the scent. A short while later, they arrived at a place filled with the sound of crackling flames and screams.
“Save me! Please, save me—!”
“Please! Please stop!”
It was a small slash-and-burn village nestled in the forest. The villagers, who had likely lived in isolation, were tied to pillars, burning one by one as they waited for their turn.
And in the center of the square stood a woman with her arms spread wide, catching the falling ash. Her back was turned, so her face wasn't visible, but Turan knew who she was.
Leaping from the swing, Turan immediately called out her name.
“Bisen.”
“Who’s calling me... Oh, Lord Turan?”
Bisen Carmine, the leader of the group of young nobles who had once hunted Orvil alongside him, turned her head. Her eyes shone with an eerily clear light.