Chapter 11
A retro-styled scene unfolded before Aquila’s eyes.
An old yet warmly familiar story.
Then, at some point, the surrounding scenery that had felt distant suddenly rushed toward him and began to replay at his side.
“The proposal is a bit difficult to accept.”
For something he called difficult, his voice was as gentle as ever, soft and unhurried even in this moment.
“You want to send valuable priests to a place where a monster, further corroded by the Black Swamp and made even more ferocious, resides? How many people do you think would willingly volunteer?”
“I am not saying we should drive them to their deaths. That creature is currently storing nutrients in preparation for breeding. If we are not too late, we can still rescue those who were captured. When we lure it out—”
“Are you suggesting that we provoke an already ferocious creature even further? I am well aware that the two of you are strong, but to be frank, there are far too many variables.”
As Ianpel had said, there were too many risk factors to simply ask them to trust the plan unconditionally.
Even so, it was not something that could be abandoned.
‘I failed in the previous cycle, but if we save them, clearing the main scenario will be much easier.’
A way was needed to pass through the forest without having to circle around it.
To achieve that, it was necessary to gain the goodwill of those who had made the eastern forest their home.
‘Three. No, at the very least five. I will be able to save the most important person.’
Of course, it was not solely for the sake of making the scenario easier.
Save as many lives as possible.
That was something Ark Batchel always said without fail.
■■■ would have wanted to do the same, if it had been possible.
However, Ianpel spoke up before he could.
“Besides… there is already a method that is not dangerous at all, yet I do not understand why you are not even considering it.”
Ianpel tilted his head as if he genuinely did not understand.
Instead, it was everyone except Ianpel who grew puzzled.
If such a method existed, he would have mentioned it long ago.
Ark, who had been silently listening to the conversation, frowned deeply.
“…A method that is not dangerous?”
“I have heard about that monster inhabiting the eastern forest as well. Once it absorbs all of the nutrients it has stored, it falls into a long sleep for several days, does it not?”
His gentle manner of speech continued, almost as if he were singing.
“A sleep so deep, so very deep, that it will not awaken.”
Then he smiled, a smile so perfect that anyone who saw it might find it enchanting.
But Ark immediately grasped the implication hidden in Ianpel’s words, his face contorting as he glared at him.
“…Are you suggesting that we offer them up as food?”
“I am merely reminding you that this is the more certain and safer method. Dealing with it while it is sunk in a deep slumber—”
“You bastard, have you lost your mind!”
Unable to endure it any longer, Ark finally exploded in rage.
“I thought that, unlike Ark, you would have at least considered it once. You place great importance on efficiency, do you not?”
Ianpel looked at the man standing beside Ark with an expression that suggested he truly could not understand him.
At those words, Ark stepped forward.
His blue eyes burned fiercely.
“This person is not like you. Can you say those words in front of lives that are on the verge of death?”
“Ah, let us not deal in hypotheticals. The only ones before my eyes right now are you all.”
“You must know that there is a high chance they are still alive! Those who live in the eastern forest—!”
“I am well aware. Elves possess bodies more resilient than those of humans, do they not? They are certainly alive.”
Ianpel replied glibly.
“Ah! I am not speaking out of personal feelings. I neither like nor dislike them.”
The smooth smile that had been draped across his lips vanished for a moment, then returned.
“Well, of course… I do find it slightly difficult to understand. They have no faith, after all.”
Elves revere great beings, but they do not worship them.
That was why they had no temples, and why there were no priests among them who wielded healing power known as Divine Power.
“…Are you saying we should abandon lives for such a trivial reason? Because they do not believe in the god you believe in?”
“Oh my. Please do not misunderstand me. I am simply saying that I do not understand why we must take risks when there is a sure method available.”
Ark clenched his teeth, grinding out Ianpel’s name as if chewing on it.
Even so, the saint before him did not bat an eye, merely laughing softly instead.
Ianpel leaned in and whispered, as though sharing a secret.
“We do not act on goodwill alone.”
As he said that, Ianpel deliberately added, “I absolutely detest such things.”
His unwavering expression made it clear that every word he had spoken was true.
Turning his gaze, Ianpel looked straight at the man standing beside Ark, his smile still in place.
“I thought the same applied to you as well, ■■■.”
The pale lavender eyes, said to be a gift from the gods, sparkled with breathtaking beauty.
“We are of the same kind, are we not?”
***
The carriage jolted violently as it struck a stone on the road.
Startled by the impact, Aquila snapped his head up and looked around.
“You are awake? How are you feeling?”
Shen, seated across from him, sent a cautious look his way.
Aquila met those green eyes, then clutched his head.
It seemed he had dozed off briefly and dreamed.
‘…I did not dream for quite a while even in the previous cycle. Now that my body has changed, all the old dreams are coming back.’
It was not a pleasant dream.
Rather, recalling that immaculate face after so long instantly turned his stomach.
‘And he still calls himself a saint. That insane bastard.’
Cursing inwardly, Aquila grabbed his throbbing head.
After finishing an emergency communication using the crystal orb, Aquila’s party had immediately set out on the road toward Portplum.
Thanks to having packed in advance the previous day, it did not take very long to return briefly to the Reschenhardt Estate, load their belongings, and depart again.
That is, aside from a slight delay due to personnel arrangements and the tearful send-off from the servants.
According to Shen, who had taken a quick look around the estate before boarding the carriage, a rumor had spread that “Young Master Aquila has contracted an incurable disease, and if he does not visit the temple this time, he will truly die.”
That seemed to be why the maids who had come to see him off had clustered together and shed so many tears.
Aquila, however, did not pay that much attention to it.
He knew full well that rumors would spread.
More important was Celsia’s side.
Shen, who had gone to observe the situation, brought back information that one of the servants on her side had left the estate under the pretext of visiting the market, but that alone was insufficient.
‘They might be pretending to go out while contacting someone outside. I will have to be careful along the route as well.’
Still, so far, things were proceeding without any major issues.
Ianpel’s involvement had been unexpected, but at least it had saved them the trouble of having to seek him out.
The problem was that, given his nature, there was no way he would genuinely welcome others, meaning he certainly had some ulterior motive.
Aquila focused solely on how Ianpel would act going forward as he boarded the carriage.
Because of that, he brushed off the medicine Shen had insisted he take before departure.
After all, did he not currently have the blessing of the Sun God upon him?
And now.
Aquila desperately wanted to beat some sense into the version of himself from an hour ago who had not listened to Shen.
“…Young Master, are you still feeling very unwell? Shall I give you more medicine?”
His stomach churned violently, but Aquila waved his hand weakly to refuse.
He felt that if he put anything into his mouth right now, he would immediately vomit.
He clenched his vivid red hair tightly, as though he might rip it out.
‘…To think I would experience teleport sickness in my lifetime.’
Igrail was called the “Northern Fortress,” but due to its unique location, it was rather isolated.
That was because the land where Reschenhardt had taken root belonged to a region of extreme cold.
While the interior of Igrail, embraced by dragon wings, was warm, frozen winds still blew relentlessly outside.
For those who were not seasoned warriors, venturing outside Igrail without any blessing or equipment was a foolish act tantamount to willingly walking to one’s death.
Even if one used a carriage, all the horses would freeze to death.
Therefore, to leave the territory, it was necessary to use the teleportation circle located on the outskirts of Igrail.
Aquila’s group had completed the teleport about an hour ago and arrived on the opposite side of the circle connected to Igrail, beneath the Meliol Mountain Range.
The teleportation circle connected to Igrail had been installed solely for the purpose of escaping the land of extreme cold.
In other words, it was a short-range teleport.
From there, traveling by carriage to Portplum would take half a day.
“Then at least some water… Honestly! How am I supposed to handle this when you dislike taking medicine this much every single time? I told you that you must take it, did I not?”
Even as Shen muttered in a deliberately stern voice, Aquila had no grounds to argue.
He had underestimated it because he had never once experienced teleport sickness throughout the previous cycle.
‘Compared to the hangover after drinking dwarf liquor to excess… no! This is worse than when I lost so much blood that my consciousness grew hazy.’
Aquila wanted nothing more than to slam his head against something and pass out again like before.
“I cannot cure motion sickness with Divine Power… What should we do? I am sorry, Young Master.”
Yujelia examined Aquila’s deathly pale complexion with a truly apologetic expression.
He had intended to rely on the Sun God’s blessing to get through most things, but to think it would not work on teleport sickness.
Aquila wanted to lodge a complaint with the god himself, but the horrific nausea rendered him unable to speak.
“Still, we will arrive at Celteng soon, so let us rest there for a bit before continuing. It will not even take thirty minutes.”
Celteng was a small village along the road to Portplum, essentially no different from a rest stop.
Without even the strength to nod, Aquila slumped over.
All he wanted was to get off the carriage and rest, anywhere at all.
Consciously suppressing the pounding in his head, Aquila took deep breaths.
While awake, he had been steadily continuing his mana breathing, but the instability of the vessel did not subside.
Subtle tremors persisted, as if something were constantly colliding within him, making the process of layering mana atop it extremely arduous.
‘This body is extremely sensitive to mana. Perhaps that is why teleport sickness occurs…’
Teleportation involved piercing through accumulated magical power to move to the next location, so it was possible that his body was reacting to it.
Of course, knowing that did nothing to lessen the nausea.
‘…You idiot. You should have listened to Shen. You will listen properly from now on.’
Repeating the resolve several times in his mind, Aquila sank deeply into his seat, trying to keep his head as still as possible.
Not long after Aquila, who was thoroughly experiencing the agony of motion sickness, lost consciousness once more, the carriage carrying them finally reached the entrance to Celteng.
***
“His whereabouts?”
“By now, he should have arrived at Celteng.”
“How long do you think he will stay there?”
“I have heard that he stayed there for two or three hours previously, so I believe it will be around that long this time as well.”
The man asking the questions stroked his chin.
They said that the third son of House Reschenhardt had a weak constitution, but it was impossible to know how much time that would cause them to lose.
“And the grand temple?”
“It is still quiet. There seems to be some internal unrest because of Reschenhardt, but since that man appeared, it has been difficult to make any progress.”
At those words, the man clicked his tongue.
“Such an irritating bastard.”
“Shall I tell them to move anyway?”
“No. He is sharp and quick to notice. Rather than risk being caught by moving unnecessarily, it is better to lie low. If our numbers decrease any further, it will be problematic for us.”
“Yes. I will relay that.”
The one who answered hurriedly left his seat.
The man ran his palm through his neatly cropped hair, mussing it slightly.
Since that bastard, Ianpel, had appeared at the Grand Temple of Portplum, several informants they had planted had been expelled.
He did not know how much Ianpel was aware of, but he was a perceptive and agile man.
As a result, every day had become a continuous battle of nerves.
Then, Aquila Reschenhardt sent an emergency message to the Portplum temple where that viper-like man was located.
In many ways, it was an ill omen.
‘The end of the Curse of Deadly Poison is nothing but death. But if Aquila Reschenhardt knows something…’
Because he was a member of the Reschenhardt bloodline, said to be the most blessed of all, Aquila’s message could not be ignored.
Thus, in preparation for any contingency, the man was given a single mission by the guild.
To lead Aquila Reschenhardt to his death.
‘It is a necessary sacrifice for the future. That is his fate.’
The man’s sharp gaze shifted to the sword hanging at his waist.