Chapter 181
In a tavern in the capital of the Troa Empire, Burtemberg.
Late at night, the door swung open, and four men stumbled out, humming merrily.
With their noses red from drinking, they were still chattering away as if the drinking party wasn’t over yet, even on their way back to their lodging.
They boasted about the profits they had made from their recent trade, while also lamenting the difficult economic situation.
The team of merchants meandered through various countries and seemed well-versed in the world’s affairs, discussing diverse topics, including stories of traveling back and forth between the Troa Empire and the Ocel Kingdom.
In the midst of this, one particularly chatty merchant suddenly clapped his hands as if he had a brilliant idea.
“Right! Have I mentioned that I recently met a great person? Lucky me, it was quite the stroke of fortune…”
“A swordsman wandering in search of romance? Spare us the details. It’s as tedious as watching grass grow. Not only is your jabbering annoying, but that dim-witted head of yours is a problem too. You keep repeating the same story over and over again after every drink…”
“Hey, listen! If it weren’t for that swordsman, I would have been mourning my own death by now!”
The man grimacing and blocking his ears didn’t want to hear any more from the chatty merchant, but the excited merchant kept yapping away.
He mentioned a merchant who had encountered a pack of wolves in the plains between the Seiman Gorge and the Troa Empire, claiming he almost ended up like them.
“I’ve never heard of wolves showing up there in my lifetime, but after listening to that swordsman, I had a bad feeling. So I took the long way around, and it turned out to be the right choice!”
The grimacing merchant waved his hand, signaling to stop talking.
“I know, I know! It was thanks to that swordsman named Han or something that I survived!”
The loquacious merchant clapped his hands again, laughing about wanting to repay the life-saving swordsman when they meet again.
Then another merchant, who had been listening to their conversation, chimed in.
“If you want to repay someone, it should be to Madelero! After all, that guild drove away the wolf pack, and they didn’t even ask for anything in return. Truly, they are one of a kind!”
“I don’t expect anything in return. Truly, they are saints that will never be seen again in this world.”
“That’s true. I haven’t seen any decent ones among those Hunter Guild brats, but Madeleoro is different. It’s a rising guild with impressive achievements.”
“Exactly what I’m saying! And this is really hot news—Madeleoro has cleared the dungeon in Seiman Gorge and killed a monster from the Goddess Church that appeared there.”
“Goddess Church…? No way, those guys showed up here? Ugh, just thinking about it scares me. I’d rather encounter a pack of wolves and get munched on. The monsters from the Goddess Church…”
The chattering merchant recoiled in horror. The intense image of the Goddess Church was enough to make him forget about his drink for a moment.
“Still, it’s a relief that a member of Madeleoro killed that monster.”
“I think his name was… Bram? Quite a remarkable person. There’s a certain romanticism to it.”
“You’re right. Oh, and also…”
The eyes of the merchants converged on one spot.
A luxury wagon was parading down the street. It was clear that someone from a prestigious family was inside. The wagon passed by them in an instant, but they stood there for a while, unable to take their eyes off where it had just passed.
“Do you think that kind of wagon has a different riding experience?”
“Don’t even think about it; you won’t ever ride in one.”
“No way, my good sir! It’s perfectly fine to imagine!”
The merchants laughed and continued on their way.
In the streets of Burtemberg, they shared stories about wandering through the world, just like them.
*
“Is the spear usable?”
Inside the wagon, I spoke while holding Bram’s spear.
Once a first-class relic, the spear had lost its original color and was now stained black. It hadn’t been reevaluated yet, but it was undoubtedly a defective item.
I heard Bram’s polite voice.
“It is more than I deserve.”
“More than you deserve? If you don’t deserve it, then who should wield that spear?”
In the original work, Bram had become the biggest hurdle until Vargan’s demise. He had followed Vargan to the very end, even when he went mad.
To capture Bram, two characters ranked in the top ten of the Hero Ranking had been mobilized, which speaks for itself.
“Now that you finally have a weapon that suits you, your missions should proceed more smoothly.”
“I will ensure there’s no disappointment.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
As we exited the dungeon, Han was already dead at the hands of Bram. The core lodged in his heart was brutally shattered by the spear.
I had thought about how to handle Han considering his usefulness, but concluded that killing him was the better option.
In the original plot, Han would go mad again because of his past.
Then, where did his belief of not wanting to be under someone disappear to? He joins the mad scientist Cardinal Jephar’s faction instead.
I have no way of knowing how he ended up under someone, but how can one understand the mad?
If we could tone down the madness, it’d be one thing, but a monster that cannot be handled is better off being destroyed. My original goal was to kill Han so he wouldn’t join Jephar’s faction anyway.
The goal, after all, was to eliminate Han, who was entering Jephar’s force.
“Transport his corpse to Rubid Village.”
I returned the spear to Bram and said, “I hope Francesca can make good use of it.”
Currently, the Spirit Summoner Francesca is living in Naias’s secret dungeon alongside Frikkanrisk.
After discovering that her father, Niklas, had actually been manipulated by the Goddess Church, she found new meaning in her life.
The overthrow of the Goddess Church.
The driving force behind it is Han and rage, but if she can use it, there isn’t much better out there.
She is deeply engrossed in necromancy, handling numerous test subjects.
The test subjects are provided by Maderelo, and she has been producing visible results.
“Since I’ve succeeded in summoning a priest-level Altife, perhaps…”
Of course, the circumstances are different for sentient beings above the bishop level, but for now, she managed to resurrect and control a priest-level.
Initially, the power displayed was far less than half of what it was in life, making the Altife’s summoning utterly useless.
However, Francesca’s research, fueled by her anger towards the Goddess Church, has progressed rapidly, and now she can nearly replicate the original strength. All in just a few weeks.
Of course, this is alchemy. If the Church finds out, it would mean an immediate death sentence.
Yet, where could there be a better form of recycling? Instead of the church clumsily incinerating or dissecting Altife’s corpse, they ought to find practical ways to reuse it like this.
“Han is the strongest entity among the bishops, so it’s close to impossible. Still, even if it fails, it would at least add to Francesca’s experience, so it’s not bad.”
Honestly speaking, the limit for reviving and controlling in pristine condition would be weak entities among the bishops.
Even if one somehow pierced through astronomical odds to resurrect Han, it wouldn’t yield the original power.
But still, that’s something. The value of continuing the research is sufficient.
“……”
Bram’s serene gaze is fixed on me.
It seems like he’s trying to gauge my expression.
Knowing he was attempting to read some emotion from my face, I shook my head.
“There’s no need to worry. I’m not overly concerned.”
“Lady Erica will wake up safely.”
“…Yeah.”
It’s been several days since we left the dungeon.
Yet Erica still remains in her slumber.
When I checked the flow of mana, I thought she would wake up soon, but that hasn’t happened.
I began to wonder if there’s a problem I hadn’t noticed, so I called in doctors and experts on sleep, dungeons, and consciousness to check, but they all came to the same conclusion I did.
There’s no danger to her life. Her bodily functions and the flow of mana are both normal.
Everything seems fine, and she is simply in a deep sleep.
Which makes it all the more strange.
“……”
“Are you feeling anxious?”
“Not at all. If the dungeon’s reward were to plunge her into eternal sleep, that wouldn’t make any sense. I suspect… perhaps Erica is still processing the message the dungeon is showing her.”
“It seems like the message is still being received.”
What kind of shape is it showing?
Considering the characteristics of the Seiman Gorge Dungeon, it seems to be showing the Memory of the Past… but I can’t say for sure.
‘The dungeon helped Han recover the memories he wanted back. It gave me the Wings of Seiman I coveted during the Combat… then…’
…it’s true that it gives me an ominous feeling.
However, it’s different from the anxiety that Erica might never wake up.
It’s a worst-case scenario that worries me.
—Clatter.
The wagon has stopped.
I shook off my distractions and stood up.
“Then I’ll see you later. I’ll hear about any additional results in the report.”
“Understood.”
I stepped off, leaving a polite Bram behind.
As the wagon carrying Bram left, I turned my gaze.
In front of the Luxury Inn.
I took a moment to catch my breath and stabilize my Mana.
No matter how much I tried to shake it off, the negative hypotheses clung to me like leeches, hindering my ability to think clearly.
I need to release my emotions.
I must observe the phenomena objectively and accurately.
As I stabilized the faint, trembling flow of Mana, I felt my head clear. I then walked out, checking on Erica’s Mana, who was likely fast asleep in the room.
There shouldn’t be a problem, but I should check just in case…
“……!”
Erica’s Mana inside the inn is unstable.
No, it’s not just unstable.
It’s thrashing like a sailboat caught in a furious wave. It feels like she’ll be swept away and disappear at any moment, it’s alarming and dangerous.
I hurriedly dashed down the hallway.
In an instant, I arrived at the door to the guest room and inserted the key into the doorknob.
Perhaps due to my urgency, it didn’t go in easily. The doorknob felt cumbersome, so I smashed it and flung the door open.
The inside of the room is pitch black. Not even a lantern is lit.
I quickly moved to open the door to the room where Erica had been asleep.
Then.
“…Schugenharz.”
There she is.
Her eyes and the area around them are red from crying. She sits on the bed, looking somewhat overwhelmed by it.
Her tears flow down her pale cheeks.
The subtle light of the night coming in through the window reflects off the droplets.
Her hair is a tangled mess.
The sheets and blankets on the bed are also wrinkled.
Her soft voice breaks through.
“Why didn’t you say anything… why until now… why…”
“……”
Her voice sounds like she is blaming me. But the target of her resentment is not me.
In her distorted eyes lies an indescribable pain.
That pain carries a sense of sympathy for me. It’s a mix of love and hate directed at me. There’s also resentment towards herself for not realizing it.
She blames herself.
“Why did you do that…?”
Erica cries out loud.
It feels like she’s returned to her childhood.
Her cries are clear, yet endlessly mournful.
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