The road the next morning was quieter. The initial novelty of the journey had worn off for Iris, or perhaps she sensed the shift in Kaito's purpose. Her energy was more contained, her humming softer. As they walked, Kaito found his gaze drawn to her, not with the confused attraction he'd felt in the guild, but with a clinical, analytical focus. He was trying to understand the being who was his escort, to measure her against the scale of the threat he now pursued.
Her hair, in the bright morning light, was not pink, but a deep, vibrant red, like the heart of a forge. And her form, which he had previously registered as merely "energetic," now struck him with its clear, adult perfection. She was not a girl; she was a woman, her body a testament to a peak condition preserved far beyond a mortal lifespan. The realization was another data point, separating her from the fleeting humans in the cities.
"How old are you?" The question left his lips before he could filter it, blunt and direct.
Iris stopped and turned, her sunset eyes widening in genuine surprise. Then, a brilliant, delighted grin spread across her face. "Ooh! A personal question! Nobody ever asks me that! The stuffy court ladies think it's rude, and the men are too scared." She placed a finger on her chin, pretending to think deeply. "Let's see... I was born in the Year of the Crimson Phoenix, during the reign of... oh, never mind all that. I'm one hundred and twenty-eight years old." She announced it with the same pride a young woman might announce her twenty-first birthday.
One hundred and twenty-eight. The number hung in the air. Kaito, whose entire conscious existence could be measured in weeks, tried to comprehend the weight of over a century. The kings and wars she must have seen. The lives that had bloomed and faded in the time she had remained, unchanging.
"You don't look it," he said, the closest thing to a compliment he could manage.
Iris laughed, a sound like chiming bells. "Of course not! That's the point! Reaching Half-Divine pretty much puts a stop to all that boring aging business. You get to pick your favorite version of yourself and just... stay." She did a little twirl, her red hair fanning out. "I picked this one. It's fun."
She looked at him, her gaze sharpening, seeing the calculations going on behind his eyes. "It's a long time to live, Kaito. You see patterns repeat. You see the same kinds of greed, the same kinds of fear. But you also see new things. New kinds of monsters. New kinds of... people." She gestured to him. "Like you. In all my one hundred and twenty-eight years, I've never seen anything like you."
Her age was not just a number. It was a credential. She had the long view. She had the context he so desperately lacked. She had witnessed the slow, grinding gears of history, and now she was telling him that he was an anomaly those gears had never produced before.
"You think the one creating the corruption is also Half-Divine," Kaito stated. "Someone with the long view. Someone patient."
Iris's playful expression softened into something grave and ancient. The woman of one hundred and twenty-eight years was fully present now. "It takes a certain... patience... to weave a plague. To plant seeds and wait generations for them to bear poisoned fruit. Mortals rarely have that kind of time. They want their victories now." She looked toward the horizon, towards the distant capital. "We have the time to play longer games."
We. The word was a confirmation. He was walking into a conflict among beings who measured their schemes in centuries. His own power was absolute, but it was a blunt instrument. Theirs was a scalpel, honed over lifetimes.
He looked at Iris, this ancient, powerful, childlike woman who had chosen to remain in the form of vibrant youth. She was a living paradox, just like him. And she was his only guide into a war of patient, immortal poisoners. The road ahead seemed to stretch not just for miles, but for centuries.
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CH76.5 The Long Game
The confirmation of Iris's age settled into Kaito's understanding like a stone in a pond, its ripples reaching every part of his perception. One hundred and twenty-eight years. She had been alive when the foundations of Whitepeak's keep were laid. She had seen kingdoms rise and fall. And she considered his existence unique in all that time.
Her casual use of the word "we" when speaking of long games and patience was the most significant clue yet. The enemy was not a monster or a demon lord in a traditional sense. It was a planner. A gardener of ruin, sowing seeds of corruption with a patience only an immortal could possess.
"The other Heroes," Kaito said as they walked. "The six with the King at the front lines. Are they like Kaelen? Like you?"
Iris nodded, her vibrant red hair catching the sun. "Yep! All Half-Divine. The Kingdom's sharpest blades. Kaelen is the youngest, the 'weakest' as they say, but that's only because he's newest to the power. Calling him weak is like calling a newborn lion a kitten." She said this with a hint of protective defensiveness. "The other six... they're legends. They hold the line against the Monster King's main force. If they weren't there, the war would have been lost a decade ago."
She kicked a pebble, sending it skittering ahead. "That's why all this... sickness... is so clever. It's happening here, in the heartlands, while the Kingdom's strongest defenders are tied up there. It forces the King to split his attention, to send precious resources—or strange new wardens—to deal with problems that shouldn't exist."
The strategy was now painfully clear to Kaito. He wasn't just a catalyst for biological weapons; he was a piece in a logistical trap. His very effectiveness at cleaning up the corruption made him a perfect tool to drain the Kingdom's rear-line resources. Every quest he completed, every crisis he averted, was a distraction engineered by an enemy who understood that the real war was won by stretching an opponent thin.
"They're using me to pull forces away from the front," he said, the simplicity of it almost insulting.
"Or," Iris countered, her heterochromatic eyes glinting, "they're using you to reveal forces no one knew existed. You're not pulling knights or mages away from the front, Kaito. You are the response. You're the hidden reserve the King never knew he had, and by making you move, the enemy is mapping the King's secret cupboard."
The implications were dizzying. He was a scout, probing the Kingdom's defenses not with an army, but with a trail of magical disease. And he, Kaito, was both the probe and the only possible counter-probe.
He looked at Iris, this centuries-old being in the form of a vibrant young woman. "And you? What's your role in this long game?"
Iris smiled, a genuine, warm expression that held a universe of secrets. "Me? I'm the messenger. The wild card. The one who can be in two places at once and doesn't play by the stuffy old rules." She winked. "And I deliver interesting people to my King. That's my favorite part."
She was more than a messenger. She was an observer, a gauge, and a potential weapon in her own right. Her presence at his side was a statement from the King: I am investing a precious, immortal asset in understanding you.
The weight of the journey had multiplied. He was no longer just hunting a poisoner. He was a key piece on a continental strategic board, moved by a king who saw his value, and studied by an enemy who saw him as a vulnerability to be exploited. And walking beside him was a beautiful, ancient, and deeply dangerous piece whose true role he had only begun to guess.