Chapter 365: The Tin Knight and the Land of Emeralds (15)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 365: The Tin Knight and the Land of Emeralds (15)
This took place before the Tin Knight and his party submitted the eight sacred treasures to the royal family.
“…Alright. I managed to finish it just in time.”
Inside the multi-functional luxury carriage, within her own small workshop, Dorothea wiped the sweat from her brow.
On the desk before her lay eight gems, each a different color.
Sophia, who had been assisting her, expressed her admiration.
“To shave off parts of the eight sacred treasures and turn them into catalysts for necromancy… I doubt even the Heavenly Realm would have thought of this.”
“It was an idea only that fool could have come up with.”
“Well, there’s a fine line between a fool and a genius.”
Toward the end of their journey, the party had been wrestling with a dilemma: whether they should really hand over the sacred treasures to the royal family.
During their travels, they had learned that the kingdom's sacred treasures were originally the remains of the eight brave generals, and that the Kingdom of Heaven was responsible for processing them.
Considering the race to find the treasures was instigated by the Kingdom of Heaven in the first place, it was highly unlikely they would simply allow the kingdom to monopolize the treasures for itself.
The problem was, not submitting them wasn't a viable option either.
Setting aside the matter of Dorothea's graduation exam, refusing to hand over the treasures based on a mere suspicion that the Kingdom of Heaven was plotting something—without any concrete proof—would undoubtedly provoke a strong backlash, even from the good-natured King Alonso.
Even if they ignored the backlash and monopolized the treasures, they would have to remain constantly vigilant against the Kingdom of Heaven, never knowing what schemes it might deploy. No matter how powerful the party was, they had no desire to engage in a war of nerves against a nation.
It was then that the Tin Knight—whose first instinct when faced with a problem was to strike the one who posed it at a 45-degree angle—offered an opinion.
[The 'Tin Knight' asks if necromancy doesn't use parts of a corpse as a catalyst!]
“Strictly speaking, that's not the only thing that can be a catalyst, but for the most part, yes.”
[The 'Tin Knight' asks if the catalyst needs to be whole, and if a bone fragment or even bone powder would suffice!]
“That's right. If a complete corpse were needed every time, necromancy would be practically useless.”
[The 'Tin Knight' suggests that since the eight sacred treasures are basically processed corpses, why not just use them as catalysts!]
“What kind of absurd... hmm.”
Of course, it wasn't a simple matter.
According to the Tin Knight's theory, that would mean pottery mixed with cow bone powder or even a simple leather wallet could all serve as catalysts for necromancy.
Any ordinary necromancer would have scoffed at the idea as pure fantasy.
But Dorothea had grown up watching her master mass-produce undead from bare ground, who would say things like, "Isn't soil just the decomposed remains of some creature anyway?"
In other words, she knew it was merely a question of skill and difficulty; the underlying principle itself was sound.
And while her growth may not have been as dramatic as Adelaide's, Dorothea's own skill and mana had steadily increased over the course of their journey.
She carefully shaved off inconspicuous parts of the treasures, ensuring the Kingdom of Heaven wouldn't notice, and forged them with other materials. Sophia, in turn, used Dorothea's blood and mana to create the final products.
The items created this way were far from perfect.
Unlike the sacred treasures, which contained fragments of the souls themselves, the catalysts Dorothea made held none of the eight generals' souls or will.
They were also consumables, shattering after a single use.
The replica of the Chalice of Tuberose, in particular, was little more than a mana battery, perhaps because it was a substitute.
However, the true value of a tool depends on its user.
And in this very moment,
Dorothea was proving that to be true.
“Lilium.”
Crack!
With Dorothea's declaration, the green gem shattered.
Spores of a Dryad, imbued with the powers of encroachment, domination, and enhancement, spread through the air.
The spores had little effect on the emerald knights.
They were no longer living beings, but rather concentrations of holy power.
But the dragon soldiers Dorothea had resurrected were a different story.
As the spores landed on the tattered soldiers, plant stems sprouted from them, weaving into the soldiers' bodies like new muscles and skin, allowing them to overwhelm their foes.
Though the emerald knights were still superior in technique, the dragon soldiers—now with drastically enhanced physical abilities and exceptional regeneration—began to push forward, shrugging off minor attacks and breaking the enemy formation.
Ozma was momentarily stunned, but she quickly screamed at her knights.
“Hold them back!”
Though Ozma herself lacked extensive combat experience, her own stats were quite high.
Her mana detection and keen eyesight clearly perceived that the dragon soldiers' power was gradually waning.
If we can just buy time, if we can just hold on, we'll win, she concluded.
Dorothea knew this as well.
And that was why she had no intention of dragging out the fight.
“Haiden.”
As she invoked the power of the dwarf who commanded a subspace, Dorothea's hand plunged into a fissure that tore open in the air.
The subspace was extremely unstable, perhaps because its original master had perished, but thankfully, the items Dorothea had stored inside just in case were still intact.
Instead of taking them out one by one, she ripped the fissure wide open, using the momentum to dump its contents onto the enemy ranks.
At first, a single, light thump.
It was immediately followed by the pitter-patter of countless ball-like objects bouncing on the ground.
Hundreds of curse bombs rained down into the heart of the melee between the knights and soldiers.
Seeing this, the color drained from Ozma's face.
Just before the bombs, reacting to the holy power and mana, detonated all at once, Dorothea used another catalyst.
“Borealis.”
Invoking the power of the fairy of spatial transfer, Dorothea's body was teleported into the air.
The moment Dorothea activated her staff's barrier to its absolute limit, a tremendous explosion erupted on the ground below.
It wasn't a gunpowder explosion, so there was no searing heatwave.
But in its place came something arguably more lethal: a shockwave of curses and mana that instantly ripped the palace grounds asunder.
Ozma, who had positioned her knights around her like a shield, avoided a direct hit, but her knights took the full force of the blast.
The bodies of the emerald knights, which had effortlessly withstood even sword energy, began to melt away upon contact with the necromantic curses.
But not the dragon soldiers.
Far from harming them, the curses strengthened them and healed their wounds.
They took damage from the shockwave just like the knights, but the amount they regenerated was greater than the damage they sustained.
The dragon soldiers charged toward Ozma through the gaps between the melting emerald knights.
“St-stay away!”
Ozma screamed in terror.
Plants sprouted at her feet, attempting to block the dragon soldiers' path.
In other words, for a brief moment, Ozma's focus had shifted away from Dorothea.
Even as she fell through the air, Dorothea reached a hand out toward Ozma.
“Dracaena.”
The power of the dragon—mana absorption and emission, a power that boasted perfect synergy with Dorothea—was unleashed.
An artificially recreated dragon's breath instantly pierced through both Ozma and the plants she had summoned.
Simultaneously, Dorothea poured all the power from the Tuberose catalysts—the ones that had failed to replicate the original's full power—into her barrier to protect herself.
KWWAAAAANG!
Though it was a greatly diminished version of the original breath, the aftershock was still terrifying.
Dorothea, still falling, was slammed into a wall by the shockwave, barrier and all. She slid down the side of the half-collapsed building before landing softly on the ground.
And then, she let out a bitter laugh.
“………Dorothy!!”
Despite taking a direct hit from the breath, degraded version or not, Ozma was not dead.
Her clothes were in tatters and parts of her skin were raw and blistered as if from a severe burn, but that was the extent of it.
Dorothea knew why.
Holy power.
An overflowing abundance of holy power was protecting Ozma's body like a suit of armor.
However, it had not come without a price.
Behind Ozma, the throne—the very core of the barrier—was fading and crumbling to dust.
It was the consequence of Ozma instinctively realizing her own holy power was insufficient and drawing upon every last drop stored within the throne.
Ozma herself had survived, but she had failed in her duty as its guardian.
“You... how could you do this to me! Are you really trying to kill me!? Huh!?”
“…”
“Say something!”
Ozma shrieked.
It was a childish tantrum, but at the same time, a highly calculated move.
From the intact emerald structures far beyond the area melted by Dorothea's curses, an emerald aura was slowly converging on Ozma's position.
Dorothea realized that the moment that aura reached her, Ozma would regain her power and be restored.
“Dorothy!!”
Ozma's voice was laced with killing intent.
It was a killing intent born of vicious anger and resentment, mixed with possessiveness and obsession.
And so, Dorothea once again reached her hand toward Ozma.
Ozma was startled for a moment, but a sneer quickly formed in her eyes.
This was the same Ozma who had withstood the Tin Knight's all-out assault for a considerable time.
Barring an attack on the scale of Dracaena's breath, it was impossible to penetrate her defenses.
And the Dracaena catalyst had already been used—
“—Huh?”
Once again.
A massive amount of mana gathered before Dorothea's hand.
Stunned by the impossible phenomenon, Ozma's eyes widened in realization.
That Dorothea had one more way to unleash a blow of that magnitude.
“Dichondra.”
The name of the doppelganger, possessor of the power of replication and reproduction, escaped Dorothea's lips.
The all-destroying fury of the dragon descended once more, this time as a perfect imitation.
Ozma no longer had any means to stop it.
“———!!”
Ozma screamed something.
Dorothea did not answer.
From the moment Ozma had invoked her master's name, she had resolved not to show her former friend even a shred of mercy.
A flash of light erupted.
The black-haired girl's beautiful face, her dreams, her obsessions—all of it was swallowed by the light, leaving nothing behind.
“…In the end, I couldn't use this one either.”
Muttering that it was an awkward item to use, whether as the original or a catalyst, Dorothea tucked the Opium catalyst back into her clothes.
Dorothea stared for a moment at the empty space where Ozma had been, then turned and walked away, as if without a single shred of lingering attachment.
Her figure, passing judgment on the old friend who had betrayed her without offering the slightest chance for repentance, was unmistakably that of a witch.