Chapter 209 News
The return road to Asern was more leisurely than usual.
Having completed the Marquis of Esperanza's request, there was no pressing problem that needed urgent attention, and this time, Verden was not alone but had company.
There was no thought of pushing through with forced marches while only chewing on jerky.
Before long, darkness had fallen.
The heat of the day had cooled, and a pleasant, refreshing breeze blew. Verden and Karans chose a suitable spot and set up camp.
A magic circle veiled the surroundings, and at its center, a campfire blazed.
Sizzle.
The smoked meat was heated until steaming.
'The aroma is quite good.'
Of course it was, being top-quality provided by the Marquisate.
Karans, holding his utensils, swallowed nervously as he stared. When Verden lightly stirred his magic power, a faint wind began to rise.
A property distortion, imitating Edmon's way of magic.
Several wind blades appeared in the air, skewering the meat. After plating it nicely on a dish, he floated it with Telekinesis and delivered it to Karans.
"You may eat."
"Thank you, brother!"
Karans immediately shoveled the meat into his mouth.
Was it the elven race's characteristic to have such an appetite, or was Karans an exception? Verden pondered that as he picked up his own utensils.
Thus their belated dinner came to an end.
They conversed over fruit for dessert.
"By tomorrow midday, we'll reach Asern. You've not forgotten the advice I gave you, have you?"
Crunch, crunch.
Karans nodded.
"I remember, brother. First, avoid conflict with humans as much as possible. Second, when speaking, do not use the word 'human'. Third────"
"Do not reveal your true identity without my permission."
At present, Karans's appearance was different from usual.
The pointed ears, unique to elves, had turned round, and his overall appearance had transformed into that of a human. His handsome looks remained, yet it was impossible to think he was the same person.
The Face of Deception.
It was thanks to the mask Verden had given him.
Karans thumped his chest.
"Haha, you need not worry. I will never become a burden to you, brother."
It was confidence full of conviction.
But would it really be so?
After a moment's thought, Verden asked.
"Then let's suppose a situation. If a human glares at you and picks a quarrel, what will you do?"
"Glares at me...."
Karans paused, thinking.
Then, flashing his fangs, he revealed killing intent.
"First, I'll pluck out his eyes────"
"Again."
Too excessive.
"Mm, then what should I... could it be that I should just avoid him?"
"No need to go that far, just teach him a lesson and leave it at that. Asern's public order may not be good, but there's no one there who can match your strength. Even while keeping the Face of Deception active, you can easily subdue them."
"And if a dangerous human appears?"
"Then do not hide your magic power. Instead, make sure you kill him."
The existence of elves must remain concealed.
But that didn't mean Verden could lock Karans away. Nor did he ever think of killing him.
'Then I have no choice but to make him accustomed to human society.'
There likely wouldn't be any big problems.
Though he despised humans, it didn't extend to murderous intent. And, having killed a court mage with his own hand, it seemed much of his anger had already been released.
It was the conclusion Verden reached after observing him.
"Devote yourself to getting used to city life. Going around to restaurants would be good. We have plenty of money."
They had received elf support funds from the Marquis.
And Edmon had separately provided some, telling him to treat Karans to good meals. Combined, it was not a small sum.
Yet Karans's expression was not good.
"Is there a problem?"
"That... do I not have anything I should be doing?"
Karans valued his brother above himself.
He had no thought of living by leeching off another. He did not want to become a parasite, a burden, to Verden.
At his elf-like concern, Verden replied.
"No, there is something you can do."
A strong man like Karans was anything but common.
It would be a terrible waste to let such talent idle. The strength of a Guardian Elf could be of immense help to Verden.
Crunch.
Verden bit into his fruit.
***
"Oh, so this is the city...."
Karans looked around Asern as he strolled the streets.
Though he grimaced at the sight of humans everywhere, his curiosity about the scenery of the city seemed greater.
Though Verden had warned him, Karans was blending into the city far better than expected.
At that moment, they arrived at Perne's tavern.
"So this is where your comrade is, brother."
Comrade.
Not an incorrect word.
Verden stepped inside, and Karans followed behind. A moment later, sensing a presence, Perne appeared.
"Ah, Asher-nim! Just in time, I have good news... oh?"
Shimmer.
From Karans's robe, a familiar sparkle leapt forth.
A blue light that entered her vision.
It was Blue, the spirit who had spent the past several months with her.
"Blue!"
Perne, who had felt lonely in the absence of the spirit, smiled uncontrollably at the unexpected reunion as she embraced it.
Karans whispered to Verden.
"A human with a spirit's companionship... of all the humans I have seen, she seems the most decent. Surely, there is a reason you keep her close, brother."
By elven standards, if a human was close to spirits, they were considered good.
Well, either way.
"I'll speak with Perne for a moment."
"I'll wait over there."
Karans took a seat in the corner of the tavern.
Perne, sneaking glances at the unfamiliar man, approached Verden with Blue.
"I thought I'd never see Blue again... it seems the matter of that request has been resolved well. More importantly, who is that man? I've never seen him before."
"I'll introduce you later. But what's this good news you spoke of?"
"Ah, that. It's not something to discuss out here, please come inside."
Following Perne, he entered the inner room of the tavern.
The door closed tightly.
She handed him a document.
"Asher-nim, regarding the request you gave me, I've succeeded in tracking down the whereabouts of Oesu. The last place he disappeared seven years ago, was none other than Roafra. And it coincided with the time when the underworld auction was held that year."
"..."
"I think... it may be connected to Vintert. The reason of him being a master craftsman alone is sufficient. If so, it means he is not dead, but is likely imprisoned somewhere, mass-producing magic items."
Perne flipped through the document.
The information that supported her conjecture appeared before his eyes. Point by point, she explained, displaying the skill of a true information dealer.
However.
"I already found him."
"...Pardon?"
Perne's pupils trembled.
***
"I worked so hard for this...."
After hearing the whole story, Perne's face crumpled in despair.
Soon she slumped over the table, her voice breaking as if on the verge of tears. It was pitiful, but what could be done?
That was simply how the situation had turned out.
"And you killed a court mage? That too, Brick Medwor of the Fourth Seat? After the Third Prince and the First Prince, now even the King of Estiria's direct mage... You're not planning to start a rebellion, are you?"
"..."
Perne kept muttering.
Considering the results Verden had piled up, her worries were not entirely unreasonable. Still, in the end, he wanted to say it was groundless.
'The only matter left for me in the Kingdom is the Demon King's Tomb.'
The ancient trial granted by the Ark.
Once he completed that, there would be no further business in the Kingdom. Which meant, there would be no rebellion. Surely, the Kingdom would not be turned upside down in just a few months.
"...Hm?"
At that moment, his eyes fell upon a newspaper lying to the side.
The format was familiar.
But it wasn't one published in this region. When he drew it in with Telekinesis, the title came into view.
[Arnak Empire]
Verden's eyes widened slightly at the name.
"...Why is a Western Continent paper here?"
"Because I'm a capable information dealer, of course. I make it a point to collect information from overseas whenever possible."
Perne straightened herself.
"But that paper was printed only three weeks ago in the Empire. The fact it's already here in the Kingdom means it was delivered through long-distance spatial teleportation."
To use spatial teleportation just to spread a newspaper.
That could only mean the contents were something the world must react to.
"I read it earlier... and I guarantee, even you will be shocked, Asher-nim. Truly, I can promise that."
"What does it say?"
"Well..."
Perne lowered her voice.
"They say two transcendents clashed."
What?
Verden immediately unfolded the Empire's paper.
The moment he turned past the first page, three sentences stretched across both pages filled his vision.
[Tower Master of Bohemirn, the Omnipotent Balrog Bessias]
[Leader of Black Hour, Dark Moon Dahit Wethroel]
[Two Transcendents, Clash at the Cliff of Eternity]
***
Dozens of spells rained down from the sky.
A magical bombardment that engulfed the entire area.
The once lush forest was reduced to scorched wasteland, flames spread in every direction scattering ash, a sight nothing short of horrific.
"Huff, huff...!"
A man, his whole body scorched, was fleeing.
He tried to counter with magic, but the sheer number of enemies overwhelmed him.
A blazing ray of flame shot forward in a straight line.
The fire was so red it conjured images of blood.
Its power was unlike that of any ordinary fire spell. Failing to completely neutralize the impact, the man was hurled far away.
"Ghhhk...."
Groaning, he forced himself back to his feet.
A glance to the side showed the bottomless Cliff of Eternity.
If he tried flight, the wind magic would instantly claim his life.
There was no escape.
Before him appeared a group of mages. At their head stood a red-haired woman.
Seeing her, the man gave a weak laugh.
"Stronger than the rumors. I wondered how a mere Fourth Circle could enter as the Tower Master's disciple... so it was the peculiar trait, after all."
"Why did Black Hour attack Bohemirn Magic Tower?"
Flames rose in the woman's hand.
Feeling the intense killing intent, the man—the Black Hour branch leader—broke into cold sweat.
But he did not stop speaking.
"What, are you going to burn me alive if I don't answer? Hah, so the rumors were true. They say every enemy you meet you burn to death. That's why they call you Rovellin of the Pyre, isn't it?"
"Why did Black Hour attack Bohemirn Magic Tower?"
It was her second question.
The Tower's execution squad, led by Rovellin, swallowed hard.
The Tower Master's fourth disciple, Rovellin.
She never gave a third chance.
Those who ignored their chance, she burned without exception. Painfully, as if executing them.
The mere thought brought back the screams of the past.
The branch leader spoke.
"Why we attacked... what if I told you we didn't?"
No more chances remained.
Flames roared up from Rovellin's hand.
The heat began scorching the branch leader's skin. The pain so great he could barely utter sound. But still, he kept a smile.
"You've bitten the bait."
"What?"
────!
A sensation beyond description suddenly swept over them.
Everyone, including Rovellin, instinctively turned their eyes forward.
In the space where nothing had been just moments ago, a man now stood.
"Th-that man...!"
One mage breathed the words.
But even without them, all knew.
Dark gray hair and eyes, a short beard, a robe of unbroken black, a metallic staff. And an aura rivaling that of a Tower Master.
There was no one here who failed to recognize his identity.
"Dahit Wethroel...."
"Your words are too short."
Dahit stepped forward.
No one dared move. No, they struggled not to.
It was obvious—if he so much as flicked his hand, they would all be annihilated.
Dahit fixed his gaze upon Rovellin.
"Hmm, so you're Bessias's fourth disciple. Emotional magic power, but powerful because of it... peculiar traits are always interesting."
"..."
Cold sweat formed at Rovellin's chin.
Yet still, she did not withdraw her hostile gaze.
Enduring the crushing pressure, she forced her lips to part.
"Why did you attack the Tower...!"
She was desperate, but couldn't finish the sentence.
Standing before a transcendent, this was her limit.
"Hostility, in front of me? That Bessias took a fine disciple indeed. Which means, I should cut the bud here, before it grows troublesome."
At Dahit's fingertip, black flames bloomed.
Flames of the Way of Magic, unlike Rovellin's, annihilating existence itself.
They surged toward her, ready to erase her in an instant.
But then, Dahit froze.
"...So, it was I who bit the bait."
...What?
For the briefest moment, doubt flickered in her mind.
Dahit raised his arm.
The black fire shot into the sky.
A massive explosion followed, consuming part of the heavens.
When the nearby clouds were burned away, a human silhouette appeared against the sky.
"Isn't it unsightly for a Tower Master to cower like a rat, Bessias?"
"Hmph. Seems age has sharpened your perception, Wethroel."
Balrog Bessias.
The master of the Tower turned his gaze downward.