The Milestone Pointed by the Full Moon - 2
In the thickly settled fog, a flower field of moonlight blossoms glittered with breathtaking beauty.
I had come to the Hill of Mist with Marianne, and now I crouched low, gently brushing my fingers across the petals.
"I never knew a place like this existed. It's the first time I've ever seen anything like it!"
"It's not exactly a well-known spot."
Even so, it was surprising. I had assumed a Saintess of her rank would have known about it, but apparently not. Had they simply never told Marianne because she was never allowed to leave? The title of Saintess was starting to feel like nothing more than empty window dressing.
"Just like you said, Bern, every single flower here is so pretty!"
"On a night when the full moon is out, you won't find a flower field more beautiful than this one."
"What about when it isn't a full moon?"
"During the day the flowers wither. At night they bloom, but they don't shine. They only glow under a full moon, as far as I know."
"How fascinating. I wonder what the principle behind it is?"
"I don't really know either. I just remember an old story about a young man who fell for the Moon Goddess and carefully cultivated these flowers for her. The goddess was terribly shy and only showed her face on nights when the full moon rose, so maybe that's why."
"How romantic!"
"Right?"
Come to think of it, stories like this were supposed to come from the mouths of elves. So why was I the one hearing tales about a bunch of deranged drug addicts from them instead? The absurdity of it all made a hollow laugh slip out of me.
Still… Marianne looks happy, so I guess that's something.
[You're really soft-hearted, you know that? The fact that you don't even flinch after hearing about the elves' hidden side says it all.]
We still don't know for sure. Maybe that powder the elves were snorting wasn't a drug at all—maybe it was some kind of muscle-enhancing supplement?
[Considering the elves' abnormal muscle mass, I suppose that possibility can't be completely ruled out.]
I sincerely hoped my guess was right. I had no desire to see this other world get any more broken than it already was. Even when I tried to understand the customs of other races, some of them were simply too hard to accept.
The snow-women and their yeti boards. The dwarves and their weapons made from ancestral bones. The elves and their magic powder. And then there were the demonkin, the beastfolk, the giants—races I hadn't even met yet. Just imagining what kind of insane customs they might have already filled me with dread.
"By the way, what do you plan to do here?"
"I thought I'd take a few of the moonlight flower petals with me."
"The petals?"
"Yeah. They make excellent medicinal ingredients."
"Don't tell me moonlight flowers also make you feel good…!"
"Absolutely not!"
Moonlight flowers were most definitely not drug material. People said painkillers could sometimes become narcotics, but moonlight flowers were closer to antibiotics. Their role was to seize the root of curses and disease inside the body. They had zero effect on the nervous system.
"No matter how finely you grind moonlight flower petals, nothing happens. So don't even think about crushing them."
"I understand."
She agreed with her words, yet she still smacked her lips with clear disappointment. It seemed she still hadn't completely abandoned her curiosity about drugs. I would have to tip off her twin sister Rosemary and make sure Marianne never wandered near this flower field at night.
"This should be about enough, right?"
I carefully selected only the healthiest flowers and peered into the sack. Neither too many nor too few—just the right amount of moonlight flower petals. I was satisfied. There would be more than enough left over even after curing Hesha's curse. Now I just had to figure out what to do with the extras.
Making some emergency medicine would probably be smart, right?
[In a pinch you'll need the power of medicine, so that would be the wise choice.]
If I prepared them in advance, my other companions could use them even without me. I decided to brew a few bottles of potion as insurance.
I picked up the sack and was just about to leave when a forgotten memory suddenly surfaced.
Strange. A pack of Mist Valley wolves should be living around here.
In the original story, those wolves had ambushed Hesha and Kang Junhyuk while they were gathering moonlight flowers. Yet I had stayed in the flower field far longer than they had, and I hadn't seen so much as a shadow of a wolf.
No wolves showing up today, huh.
[If you can't see them, isn't that a good thing?]
Not necessarily.
The source of the thick fog blanketing the hill was the valley where the wolves lived, and that place was a sacred domain ruled by Masetta, the Goddess of Mist. Unlike other gods, Masetta never tried to show off. She preferred a calm atmosphere. That preference happened to match perfectly with only one other god—Prihart, the god I followed.
Prihart and Masetta were the closest of friends. Even if the wolves attacked, revealing the mark that identified me as Prihart's follower would resolve everything. In fact, I might even receive an enthusiastic welcome instead of hostility. Since the valley wolves followed Masetta, their actions were essentially her will. If a follower of her dear friend appeared, they would normally greet him warmly.
But the fact that the wolves are completely silent is what's bothering me.
[Maybe they're sleeping, or the whole pack went on a trip?]
Except for a few, the Mist Valley wolves are all nocturnal. And they have such a deep attachment to the valley that gave them sanctuary that they never leave it.
[That does make it thoroughly suspicious.]
I should at least catch a glimpse of one, but I can't sense a single presence.
It was eerie. Something might have happened in Mist Valley. Not that it was any of my business, of course.
"Shall we go take a look?"
For reasons I couldn't explain, the moonlight was shining toward the valley, and my heart was being pulled in that direction.
"Yip!"
Crunch!
The man crushed the screaming wolf's skull beneath his boot. Blood sprayed outward. Some of it splattered across his face, but he paid it no mind, as if slaughter were second nature to him.
"Greg, how is the situation?"
"Suppression completed without issue. We killed the ones that resisted to instill terror in the pups."
"Good. I'll take the young ones. You recover the wolf corpses."
"Understood."
The man who appeared to be Greg's superior seized a wolf pup by the scruff of its neck and dragged it away. The sight was exactly like a dog butcher at work.
"Whine! Whine!"
The pups let out pitiful cries for help, but the parent wolves that should have protected them had already been slaughtered—every last one of them by Greg's own hand.
"To think I have to deal with these mutts…"
He was an S-rank adventurer hired by the Magic Tower. He should have been enjoying dangerous expeditions—scouting demonkin movements in monster-infested forbidden lands or cursed wastelands. Instead he was stuck here, and Greg was thoroughly dissatisfied.
"I got my hopes up because it was a named request from the Magic Tower… What a disappointment."
Even if the Mist Valley wolves received Masetta's blessing, they were no match for an S-rank like Greg. His strength had been forged through experience and enlightenment; it could not be compared to power borrowed from others. It would have been a different story if, like Marianne, someone had completely made another's power their own. But not a single wolf had fully absorbed Masetta's strength.
"Pathetic. Utterly boring."
Greg kicked the wolf corpses with the tip of his boot and clicked his tongue. There was no life in his eyes. For him, coming from a battlefield where death watched every move to a slaughterhouse like this was bound to feel hollow.
"Hup!"
He bound five wolf corpses—each averaging forty kilograms—and hoisted them onto his back. The total weight exceeded two hundred kilograms, yet his expression remained completely calm. He even seemed pleased that carrying the bodies was harder work than killing them.
"Hmm…?"
Thud—!
A head came rolling to a stop at his feet just as he was about to leave. It belonged to his superior, the one who had been carrying the wolf pups.
Greg did not panic. Instead, the corner of his mouth curled upward. His superior's death meant nothing to him. The man had only possessed the authority to issue orders for this mission; Greg's actual skill far surpassed his. Even so, the superior had not been completely negligible. His death therefore signaled the appearance of an opponent strong enough to get Greg's blood pumping.
"Excellent. This is excellent…!"
Thud—!
He dropped the wolf corpses and fixed his gaze on the direction the head had come from. The fog was so dense that even at night the surroundings looked white. Within that fog, a pair of crimson eyes gleamed.
A fleeting moment passed. The mist parted slightly, and moonlight illuminated the space between them.
A black-haired man radiating an ominous aura stood there. Within his flickering red eyes, Greg's own reflection was clearly visible.
"You've got to be kidding me. To think a monster was living even in a desolate valley like this."
Greg swallowed hard, tension flooding his mouth with saliva. In that instant he was certain—the positions of hunter and prey had been reversed.