Chapter 123: An Invitation from an Old Party
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 123: An Invitation from an Old Party
Sanfriel, the God of Sacrifice and Challenge.
He is a being who always challenges problems by betting his own life, finding answers through self-sacrifice.
The priests who serve him consider the spirit of sacrifice and challenge their highest values, and through Sanfriel's power, they throw their lives at their enemies.
Rococo was a former cardinal of that temple.
“Do you know why I say ‘former’?”
The cardinal in charge of interrogating the White Lion pulled up a chair and sat before the monster.
“The West, where I lived, was a place of ceaseless power struggles and wars, both large and small, between minor local factions. People like me would occasionally get requests to interrogate prisoners.”
Rococo swiped a knife across his palm. After letting the blood drip down, he wet the captured White Lion’s forehead with it.
“They call it an interrogation, but really, it’s torture.”
The monster, trapped in a prison of permafrost, could barely move its head thanks to Nimue’s magic.
“Have you heard of a spell called Conversation with the Dead?”
Rococo intended to kill the White Lion.
“Normally, when a living being dies, its soul departs immediately. But a trace of the soul remains in the corpse for a short while. It’s similar to how a snail leaves a trail of slime behind.”
Information could be extracted from that soul trace, much like using psychometry to read the information left on an object.
“I plan to kill you and interrogate the traces of your soul.”
Rococo was fond of this method.
“If I ask you directly, you could deliberately omit important information, evade questions, or lie.”
Of course, a request to use lie-detection magic would be granted, but such spells could be easily resisted with a little mental focus.
“A bastard like you would never cooperate willingly, would he?”
“So you’ll just kill me and read my soul’s traces… You think that will be easy?”
The White Lion scoffed.
Conversation with the Dead was a spell for investigating crime scenes, not for interrogating prisoners.
That was because the “conversation” conducted through the spell consisted of a jumbled, incoherent string of words, and even that would end after just a few exchanges. The traces of a soul were highly volatile and dissipated quickly.
“I found a better way, demon.”
But Rococo was a specialist in torture.
“Soul Chain.”
The former cardinal activated an 8th-tier Sanfriel spell.
Originally, the spell was meant to bind the target’s soul to one’s own, automatically preserving it if one of them died.
It was similar to the Soul Preservation service offered at the Temple of Nathaniel, but with a few key differences.
Stab!
Rococo plunged the dagger into the White Lion’s neck.
Saw! Saw! Saw!
He moved the blade up and down as if sawing, tearing the monster’s throat half open.
“Guhk…!”
Though it was a monster powerful enough to evade the Deep Layer members and overwhelm Dalstream, it was completely helpless, utterly subdued and exposed to such an attack.
A torrent of blood poured from the demon’s neck.
“So you do feel pain and fear.”
Looking into its eyes, Rococo gave a faint smile.
The White Lion stopped breathing.
And its soul…
“Smaller than I thought.”
…was bound by the magical Soul Chain. Holding the chain, Rococo cast another spell on the White Lion’s corpse.
“Conversation with the Dead.”
A faint, lantern-like light flickered to life within the corpse, signaling it was ready for conversation.
Rococo held up a list of questions and began asking them one by one.
“Why did you try to kill Professor Dalstream?”
The lantern-like light flickered inside the White Lion’s body.
“I… know… the Labyrinth… Master’s… plan… The Master’s… enemies…”
“Do you know who murdered Professor Dalstream?”
“…Probably… the Labyrinth…”
“Who was the Labyrinth colleague you said would come to rescue you?”
“A… raptor… eagle… with… a dagger…”
“Who were you disguised as at the magic university?”
“The… Dean’s… office… The… Dean…”
The light in the White Lion’s eyes went out.
Rococo lifted the chain.
This was the biggest difference from Soul Preservation.
It didn’t require those absurdly expensive resurrection scrolls.
A former cardinal of Sanfriel could resurrect a soul bound to his own through self-sacrifice.
“I will bear it all.”
The cardinal recited the incantation for the Soul Chain’s linked spell. Like an ethereal lake taking on various forms, it was a second spell that could be activated using the chain.
It transferred all the damage the target had sustained to his own body.
Bang!
Suddenly, Rococo’s right arm was blown off, and his throat was torn open.
He couldn’t transfer the ‘Permafrost’s Freeze,’ but his body temperature began to plummet from the immense cold.
“Keuk!”
Rococo collapsed, and the White Lion’s eyes snapped open.
But…
“You… you crazy bastard…”
Even the White Lion was at a loss for words at the insane spectacle.
Rococo’s body was regenerating. He had cast powerful tissue regeneration and healing spells on himself beforehand.
The former cardinal of Sanfriel was counted among the top five healers in all of Sohen.
“That was a close one.”
The cardinal wasn’t dead. His torn throat healed in an instant, and his right arm had already grown back halfway.
“This spell is originally used to protect the party’s most vital vanguard. In the Deep Layer, you never know what might happen, so the life of the one at the front is always in danger. You know that well, don't you?”
“…”
“I’ve saved Krom with this spell several times. The Temple of Nathaniel’s ‘Soul Preservation’ is useless. The resurrection scrolls themselves are so rare and limited in quantity, what good are they?”
Rococo wiped away the blood and chugged a healing potion.
“Over the next two hours, you will die about thirty times. I will ‘almost’ die.”
“What kind of monster are you…”
“Stick your neck out so it’s easier to cut.”
The mad cardinal brought the dagger back.
“W-Wait! Stop! If you have questions, just ask! I’ll answer what I can…”
“Shh.”
Rococo held the blade to the White Lion’s lips, as if to silence it.
“I don’t like noise.”
Then, the cardinal stabbed the White Lion through the cheek.
“Gak…”
Inside, he twisted the dagger, sawing away to sever its tongue.
“Rapid Tissue Regeneration.”
He had already cast a healing spell on his own mouth.
The followers of Nathaniel sometimes heard this from adventurers:
You’re all crazy fanatics.
The followers of Nathaniel would then protest their innocence.
The real madmen are all gathered at the Temple of Sanfriel.
*
“That’s how they interrogate people?”
Hearing the story from Isilof left me a bit dumbfounded.
Even I had never done something that crazy in the game… actually, on second thought, I have.
I tried it as an experiment early on while trying to master the game’s difficulty settings. I was curious what would happen if I kept repeating Conversation with the Dead.
But the supply of resurrection scrolls was limited, which restricted my experiments. I did try something similar using the Sanfriel spell, Soul Chain.
But I never imagined someone would be crazy enough to do it in real life. No, this is actually pretty terrifying.
“In any case, we’ve already gathered a lot of information thanks to him. For example…”
“The fact that the White Lion was the university’s Dean?”
“Correct.”
We were currently in a meeting of Sohen’s leadership.
Literally, the representatives of each organization leading Sohen had gathered for a conference: the Mayor of Sohen, the Labyrinth Guild Master, the Sohen branch manager of the Adventurer’s Guild, the Cardinal of Nathaniel, the Chief Inspector of the Public Security Headquarters, the representative of Blackdog, and so on.
The university Dean was among them, but that position was now vacant.
So Meldini was sitting in the representative’s seat instead.
“And the Chief Inspector’s seat is also vacant.”
From the circumstances, it seemed he had been murdered by the White Lion.
So, in the Chief Inspector’s place sat Consul Peterson.
“It’s a shame the Chief Inspector went down like that. He may have been retired, but he was still a former Deep Layer adventurer.”
The Mayor sat at the head of the conference table. Sohen was a democratic, self-governing city.
The mayor, elected by the votes of free citizens, was, at least nominally, the representative of the entire city.
“He probably visited disguised as the Dean. If it was a surprise attack, there was nothing he could have done.”
The university professors flinched at the Consul’s words, feeling a sense of collective guilt as people from the same institution.
“We never could have imagined such a thing either,” Meldini said, expressing her regret.
“Who could have known?” the Cardinal of Nathaniel added, defending them.
“I knew. Not that he was the Dean, but still,” Krom sneered.
“I’m telling you, half of you bastards at the magic university are shady as hell. How many times have I said it, huh?”
“Krom!” Meldini’s eyes flashed.
Krom glared right back.
“No, seriously. Can you honestly say there aren’t any of that lion bastard’s minions in this very room right now?”
“Ahem… Don’t worry! We’ve checked everyone with lie-detection magic!”
It was true.
Me, Meldini, even Isilof who hated lie-detection magic, and Professor Hailey—all four of us attending the meeting had sworn, “I am not an ally of the White Lion,” under the spell.
It was a good thing Isel didn’t come.
The magic was too tricky to use on the entire university staff, but for now, the members present here could be trusted. At least, the ones from the university.
Which meant…
“The Labyrinth Eruption twelve years ago might not have been Henry’s fault.”
I left out the part about the possessor village for now, but based on Henry’s actions twelve years ago…
He had holed himself up at home, rarely going out, and was always tense and wary of his surroundings, as if terrified of something. And…
“He went to the Foggy Cliffs with Lilweed.”
“What’s there?”
“Would you like to come with me?”
*
I had sent a message to Bisan and Mugol beforehand.
I asked if they were still at the Foggy Cliffs. If they had found the elevator. If there was a user ledger left by Lilweed or Ingelam. If they had eliminated all the data they needed to.
To get straight to the point, they had everything.
“Well, I’ll be. There really was a simple elevator out here.”
“Neko had been searching all over for this place.”
While Meldini and the Consul exclaimed in surprise, Bisan handed over a ledger.
“An incredible number of names have been erased. The destinations and dates, too.”
The Consul’s eyebrows furrowed with suspicion as he examined the ledger.
“We only erased information that was important to us. There was nothing criminal about it,” Mugol said.
“I don’t trust you.”
Consul Peterson stared intently at Mugol. They were not the kind of people who were easy to get along with.
“You’ve already attacked Caleb in Sohen before.”
“As I understand it, that matter was settled with Caleb’s agreement.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
The Consul toyed with the hilt of his sword.
“So why are you handing this information over to us?”
To be honest, I was wondering the same thing. I had sent the message beforehand because I was worried they might have destroyed everything, but I hadn’t expected them to be waiting so obligingly with the ledger.
It was also strange that they had left the elevator intact.
Of course, I considered that it probably led to a space between the walls of one of the basement floors—B1, B2, B3, or B4—and that the possessor village, the Inter-floor Village, would be quite a distance from there, making it difficult to find even if someone secured the elevator.
Still, wouldn't it be better to just destroy it?
It’s not like they’re going to use that elevator again, are they…?
“There’s a place we’d like to take Caleb, using this elevator.”
So they did have a plan for it.
“Will you come with us, Caleb?” Bisan asked, waving her fan.
“Your old lover wants to see you. To be honest, I only came out to meet you because I couldn’t stand her nagging.”
Don’t tell me… is it Hyedam?