Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Frog Queen in the Well
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“Elcia's Artemis bends twice in midair.”
“Twice...?”
Aira blinked.
“You mean the arrow changes its trajectory on its own?”
“Exactly.”
Lucas nodded.
“Elcia Silvarion's mana affinity is precisely divided into three branches.”
Elcia was born with three mana properties.
First, Creation Type.
A hero's innate gift to manifest her signature weapon, Artemis.
Second, Emission Type.
The ability to gather scattered mana in the air and fire it as arrows.
Third, Domination Type.
The power to command the launched Invisible Arrows to inevitably strike their target.
The issue lay in their ratios.
Creation : Emission : Domination.
2 : 4 : 4.
A middling distribution.
If she weren't a high elf, she might have been dismissed in the elven kingdom as a child with talent, but ambiguous potential.
But.
She was a high elf, and above all, born a hero.
That meant an absurd bonus applied solely to her Creation Type mana.
The result was simple.
12 : 4 : 4.
Her Creation Type surged overwhelmingly, elevating Artemis—the perfected weapon—and pulling up all other properties in its wake.
Emission Type evolved from mere mana release into cannon-grade arrow strikes.
Domination Type shifted from slightly curving trajectories into unavoidable, perfect accuracy.
Thus, Elcia's arrows bent once on their own in the air, then adjusted once more toward the target.
Fire, and it hits.
No—it must hit.
That was the Artemis of Elcia Silvarion, Hero of the Bow.
“Don't worry, though. You can handle it, Aira.”
Even after that full explanation, Lucas's face remained serene.
No impatience, no tension.
Because over the past month.
He believed that Aira, who had endured hellish trash-tier training alongside him, could surely overcome even those monstrous arrows.
Besides, he had his magic.
Pactum Mortis.
Magic that drew results through conditions, promises, and prices.
Just before Proxy Blood Fate, in the same way he'd empowered Piel in the past—he planned to reinforce Aira this time.
Not mere strengthening.
A contract that produced absurd growth rates while Proxy Blood Fate lasted.
Aira's Flawed Awakening grew stronger the more wounds she took, the more limits she shattered.
If normal muscles tore and grew denser, Aira's effect amplified that dozens, hundreds of times over.
And Lucas intended to stake his own life to push that growth even further.
“That's how my magic works. So before Proxy Blood Fate, I'll cast it on you too, Aira.”
Of course, Pactum Mortis had rules.
Consent couldn't be forced.
Before activation, the terms had to be fully disclosed to the subject, and their agreement obtained.
Lucas held out the contract.
“...Here. The condition lasts only during Proxy Blood Fate. Just sign, Aira.”
A brief silence.
Aira looked down at the contract.
“...So this is the magic Master told me about.”
Her gaze rose quietly.
“The magic where if the condition is broken or unmet, you die.”
The pen in her hand creaked, bending.
And in the next instant.
The pen compressed into a tiny metal ball, crushed in her palm.
“Lord Lucas.”
Aira lifted her head.
“I am your slave.”
“...Aira?”
“The very idea of surviving alone in a world without you is now unimaginable.”
She steadied her breath, then pulled the contract back.
Price clause—
Life of Lucas Argent
She traced the words once more, slowly, then without hesitation drew a heart beside them.
And wrote her name next to it.
Aira Silvarion.
The letters were a bit crooked, but the strength in her fingertips was unmistakable.
It wasn't calculation or impulse.
A decision with no thought of turning back.
Not a choice, but resolve—and her most honest expression of love.
Incredible.
Unbelievable.
Elcia's pride was still too sturdy to accept that the scene unfolding before her eyes was reality, not illusion.
Artemis.
She was the one who, in nearly 400 years of high elf history, had summoned that bow.
After the first Hero of the Bow and founder of the elven kingdom departed the world, in thousands of years of history, the high elves who fully awakened Artemis could be counted on one hand.
On average, one per millennium.
Yet she was born an exception among exceptions, before that cycle even turned.
A being with flawless ability, bloodline, and claim—uncontested for the throne.
How could an arrow fired by such a one fail to pierce that girl's heart?
Clang!
Clang!
Ting!
Successive metallic rings.
Each time she released the bowstring, a black dagger flashed, deflecting the trajectory.
Too fast.
Too precise.
A speed even her eyes struggled to track.
She saw only the results.
Unsure what she was even witnessing, Elcia instinctively stepped back—one step, then another.
When had it started?
Cold sweat trickled down her spine.
As if she were no longer the hunter in the forest, but now the hunted.
Only then did Elcia realize.
...Am I afraid?
She, Elcia Silvarion, of a mere Aira?
“Don't make me laugh...”
Elcia's voice cracked.
“You can see Artemis's trajectory? No one in elven kingdom history has ever done that!”
Her eyes flashed.
“Search the entire continent—no records exist. Not even the Hero of the Bow who fires it can see that arrow's path!”
That was Artemis.
From the moment it was loosed, only the result remained.
A power that denied even the notion of dodging.
So everyone believed.
Fire, and it hits.
But Aira had shattered that premise.
They have turned the notion that once it is fired and it will always hits into fired and it will always bounce off.
Elcia couldn't hold back and shouted.
“There's no way you could do that!!”
A moment of silence.
Then Aira tilted her head slightly.
“So?”
“...What?”
“That's why you all stayed cooped up in the forest.”
She didn't avert her gaze.
“Scared that if you ventured out, something like this might appear someday. Someone who could just deflect the arrow you thought invincible.”
A short breath.
“So you never left. Stayed in the forest. Stayed among us. Like birds in a cage.”
Her eyes held no anger, no contempt.
Only pity, as if pitying them.
A gaze that found this spectacle pathetic—them clinging to such power, tearing at each other.
Only then did Elcia understand.
Her youngest sister had gone far beyond what she'd imagined.
“Sister Elcia.”
Aira said.
“Time to end this.”
“...End it?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation in her reply.
“Unlike some, I don't enjoy tormenting family.”
“...!”
In that instant.
Thud.
Aira took a step forward.
Thud.
Another.
The dueling ground shook.
Not hyperbole—the floor itself trembled.
Elcia swallowed.
Artemis's arrows hit from any angle.
Front, above, behind—the result should be the same.
Yet.
Aira deflected them all.
Not dodging, not enduring.
Shattering them.
The air tore with a rip at each invisible arrow's impact.
The sensation of mana itself fracturing.
Elcia recoiled instinctively.
Just a year ago—before exile—even matching her eye level had been a luxury for that child.
Yet now, she approached, looking down at her.
Regret flashed.
That day, she should have ended her life instead of just ruining her eyes and mouth.
Then—
You'd still be the frog queen in the well.
“No...!”
Elcia cried out.
“I'm not a frog!!”
“Eh, Sister?”
“You're not about to use that, are you?”
In that moment, Artemis glowed.
Not light—it was absorption.
Colors drained from the surroundings as if fading away. Elcia gritted her teeth and drew the bow.
Crack.
A dull sound from her right arm. Muscles tore, unable to hold. Joints screamed.
Yet Elcia didn't stop.
“Don't make me laugh!”
A bloodied shout.
“Me, Elcia Silvarion—”
Her eyes rolled back.
“—losing to trash like you, an exiled reject?!”
“Sister—”
“Don't call me sister!!”
Elcia screamed, almost sobbing.
“I'm different from you from birth!”
With that cry, Artemis wailed in her grip.
Not a bow—but the world itself being dragged in.
This wasn't simple archery.
A legend among legends in elven kingdom lore.
A near-taboo technique even high elves who summoned Artemis saw once in a lifetime, if at all.
Only one in history.
The first Hero of the Bow, founder of the elven kingdom.
Lina Silvarion.
The god-slaying arrow said only she used, its existence erased from records.
“...No way!”
A trembling breath escaped Erdas.
“Apollo.”
Speaking the name, tears welled in the old king's eyes.
Thoughts of not killing Aira, kingly judgment—all vanished.
For in this moment, new elven history was being written before him.
Belcia and Celcia already knew.
What that technique was.
And that taking it meant the end, high elf or not.
Even if it shredded their sister's body, Apollo transcended fire and it hits.
Fire—
And die.
The world itself so judged in one strike.
Elcia had tested that power once in the past, bedridden for months after.
So she'd hidden it.
For the day she ascended the throne, her shining stage.
She never dreamed that stage would be defiled like this.
“...It's over.”
Hesitation vanished from Elcia's eyes.
“Die.”