Chapter 47

“A Barrier-user... Not much help in a fight, is he?”

“Well, with that much mana, he should pull his weight even without a bloodline ability.”

As expected, revealing his bloodline ability swiftly dispelled the suspicious looks directed at Turan. There were, of course, Barrier-users among Zahar’s vassal houses, but by that reasoning, they would have to suspect a dozen or more bloodlines. No one bothered taking it that far.

With the others’ scrutiny easing, Turan felt the last of the Barrier-user bloodline’s mana vanish from his body.

‘Good. Just right. All that practice paid off.’

When he had discovered the Mimic Holy Relic’s true power, he had absorbed the mana of ten nobles in the underground labyrinth, storing the power of their bloodline abilities as well. There had been three Hunters-Pursuers, one Illusion user, one Berserker, one Healer, and finally, four Barrier-users.

Barrier-users were particularly numerous because that was the bloodline ability of the house ruling Banipel, the city where the Tomb of the Gods lay. Even their House Head had personally ventured inside to rescue Perga.

While serving as Kalamap’s Protector, Turan had conducted several experiments using the Zahar mana, which held little value since he already possessed its abilities, and his surplus of Barrier-user mana. In the process, he had made a surprising discovery: he did not have to consume an entire person’s worth of mana every time he used the Holy Relic.

To wield its full power, as he had with the Strongman bloodline, he needed to drink a whole person’s worth. But a few drops were enough for a simple trick like the one he had just performed. Even after what he had used up during his various experiments, he had about three and a half people’s worth left. If he portioned it out carefully, posing as a Barrier-user would be easy enough.

After a brief silence, Maysa stepped forward and asked,

“Is anyone still unsatisfied?”

“That is sufficient.”

“I have no objections either, my lady.”

“Mm.”

“Good. Then I’ll consider the matter settled. Everyone, to the meeting room.”

Once she had confirmed that all the nobles agreed, she led Turan and the others to a meeting room in the center of the Arabion barracks. It was fairly well furnished with tables and chairs, though their mismatched styles suggested they had been taken from other ruined towns and cities.

“We will now begin the strategy meeting. Re-create the battlefield.”

At Maysa’s command, one of the nobles extended a hand over the table. Light streamed out and took shape, projecting an exact illusion of a canyon. This was the power of the Illusion bloodline, which allowed delicate manipulation of light—the same ability stored in the Mimic Holy Relic.

‘Could I do that too, with enough practice?’

As he studied the dwarves’ refuge that would become their battlefield with that thought in mind, Maysa pointed at the illusion.

“As you can see, they’re hiding in a canyon. Last time, we suffered heavy losses because we sent too many troops into a confined space. This time, only the nobles and about a hundred skilled knights will enter.”

“Won’t we need about a hundred and fifty?”

“That would mean including those who are still injured. Against the other races, they would only be a burden.”

“Even so...”

“They lost nearly half their wraith sorcerers last time too. It will be enough.”

After a brief discussion among the nobles, they settled on sending in a hundred and twenty knights. Once they had discussed their formation as well, Maysa gave the noble with the Illusion bloodline another order.

“What we need to watch out for most are the dwarves’ weapons. The battlefield was so chaotic that some of you may not have seen them. Show them to us.”

The second illusion that appeared a moment later was something Turan had never seen in his life. It was an elongated metal contraption with several round tubes attached to its side and a long cylinder protruding from the front. At first glance, it resembled a spear, but it looked far too cumbersome to use as one.

“This is one of the dwarves’ magic tools. When they use it, smoke billows out in every direction and a lump of metal shoots out. There are large versions they drag around and smaller ones they carry, both of a similar shape. Even the small ones can mortally wound a knight if they hit a vital spot, and the large ones can do considerable damage to nobles.”

The other nobles merely nodded, apparently already familiar with all this. Turan was the only person present who had not fought in the previous battle, so the explanation might as well have been for him alone.

The meeting ended after an introduction to several more of the dwarves’ bizarre magic tools, including one that spewed sticky fire.

“We enter as soon as the gate opens in three hours. If we wait any longer, those who fell in the last battle will become wraiths and join the enemy.”

“Yes!”

“Then you’re all dismissed. Turan, come this way for a moment.”

Perhaps because she had singled him out at the end, the nobles glanced at Turan and Maysa even as they dispersed.

* * *

On the upper floor of the hastily constructed barracks was a room Maysa used as both her private quarters and office. She shut the door and surrounded the office with wind to keep sound from escaping. Then, casting aside her cold, expressionless look, she exclaimed,

“How did you use the Barrier-user bloodline’s ability just now? Don’t tell me you managed to reproduce it through practice!”

Back when they had practiced magic together at the Berg mansion, she had taught him various spells and had him try them in hopes of discovering his bloodline ability. Barrier-user magic had been among them, so Maysa knew that could not be his bloodline. Having anticipated the question, Turan answered without flinching.

“Of course not. It was a magic tool.”

“But there was no sign of anything like that...”

A tool that acted directly on the body, such as a guardian magic tool, was one thing. But when a magic tool reproduced bloodline magic that acted outside the body, it left obvious signs. A tool reproducing a Pyromaniac’s ability, for example, would produce fire from the tool rather than around the wielder’s body. Had he used a barrier-creating magic tool, the nobles would certainly have noticed.

The Mimic Holy Relic, however, showed not the slightest such unnatural sign. That was because it actually granted a bloodline ability temporarily. Despite traveling through quite a few regions, Turan had yet to hear of a power that plundered or mimicked bloodline abilities. That was how rare this object was.

“It’s a special item. It has quite a few restrictions, though, so I can’t use it entirely as I please.”

“If you were going to use something like that, why didn’t you tell me first? We could have gotten our stories straight.”

“I wasn’t sure whether I would use it. If they’d accepted me readily, I wouldn’t have brought it out. But from their attitude, it seemed they wouldn’t accept me unless I showed them a bloodline ability.”

The pressure of having an untrustworthy ally at their backs would have a profoundly negative effect in battle. As the attacking side, they would have little use for a Barrier-user’s abilities anyway, so he had decided it was better to demonstrate them and put the others at ease. At least now they would not worry about Turan suddenly turning invisible and attacking them from behind during the battle.

As he explained, Turan noticed a faint look of relief on Maysa’s face. He could more or less guess why. During their time together at the Berg mansion, she had seemed indifferent to everything, yet when it came to magic, she had been full of competitive spirit and pride in being the best. She had even pushed herself so hard trying to cast Decay that she had passed out. She must have been shocked to think that a rival she privately considered her equal had reached the point of reproducing bloodline abilities through skill alone, then relieved to learn she had not fallen behind.

People kept coming to see her, suggesting she had plenty of duties as commander of the subjugation force. Not wanting to trouble her any further, Turan left the room and went to find Keorn. The old knight sat alone amid magic lamps so bright they were almost painful to look at.

“Elder.”

“Ah, Turan. From what I hear, your talk went well.”

“Yes.”

Unlike Maysa, he did not ask how Turan had imitated the Barrier-user bloodline’s power. It would be no surprise if someone overheard them here. So rather than discuss anything confidential, Turan simply repeated what he had just heard.

“They’re planning to attack in three hours. All the nobles will go, along with the hundred and twenty strongest knights.”

“A sound idea. From what I experienced last time, greater numbers would be of little use. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be joining you.”

“Have you been ordered to stand by?”

Keorn might have been old, but he was uninjured and possessed considerable mana. Any selection of elite fighters would surely include him. At Turan’s question, the old knight nodded gloomily.

“I wish I could fight beside you. I’m ashamed to be an old man sending the young off to battle while I stand idly by.”

“I suppose it would hurt their pride if Keorn the Hero died fighting mere Dark Elves.”

“Indeed. Until now, they’ve had me fight in relatively safe places, but that won’t be possible in this battle.”

Perhaps he was in no mood for jokes. Despite the mention of the play bearing his name, Keorn merely heaved a deep sigh rather than looking embarrassed.

“Then, since you’ll be staying here, could you look after Vije until I return?”

“You intend to leave her behind?”

“Yes. The terrain isn’t ideal, and I’m worried those dwarven magic tools might hurt her.”

They said strong turbulence blew above the canyon where the enemy hid, and its winding terrain made flying difficult even for Arabion nobles. Getting hit by a magic tool that fired lumps of metal in those conditions would surely be dangerous. Keorn was someone Turan could trust with Vije.

“I’ll guard her with my life. Come back safely.”

Turan pulled out the rod Vije was perched on and handed it to Keorn. She clicked her beak petulantly but did not throw a tantrum or refuse. Having listened to the meeting beside him, she seemed to understand that she might become a burden.

“Clever girl.”

[Come back soon!]

As he stroked her head fondly, Vije carved the words into the wooden wall.

* * *

“Move out.”

At Maysa’s brief command, a total of twenty-six nobles and a hundred and twenty knights set off. Their destination was the dwarves’ lair where the Dark Elves were hiding.

The strongest nobles, including Maysa, Kadram, and Turan, took the front. The relatively weaker nobles occupied the center, while the knights formed a long column around their flanks and rear. It was the most effective formation for breaking through a confined space.

They waited in formation before an enormous boulder for a few minutes. Then the rock split apart with a loud crack, revealing an extraordinarily deep canyon. Turan let out a quiet exclamation at the sight.

“To think I’d actually get to see this...”

Even the author of An Account of a Journey Around the World would only have heard legends of this cave’s existence, never having seen it in person. What was more, even the Mimic Holy Relic detected no sense of mana at work as the boulder moved. Had the Dark Elves not left traces while fleeing here, it probably would have remained undiscovered indefinitely.

A moment later, Arabion’s troops entered the canyon, on high alert. The reek of blood and rotting corpses, imperceptible only moments earlier, suddenly assailed them. Perhaps some mysterious property of that splitting boulder had concealed it.

Only faint traces of battle remained throughout the canyon—dried bloodstains and scorch marks—with not a single corpse left behind. The Arabion dead had probably been dragged away to be made into wraiths, while the dwarves and Dark Elves must have either eaten their own dead or held funerals for them.

As he surveyed these traces, the Holy Relic’s senses picked up presences on both sides of the canyon. The enemy seemed to have noticed their arrival and begun deploying its forces. Turan focused his senses on the shapes of the dwarves approaching from several hundred meters away.

‘That’s rather... peculiar.’

Unlike Armani, the merfolk prince he had previously observed through the Holy Relic, the dwarves’ magical structure was closer to that of the monsters he had seen in the underground labyrinth. The only real difference was that the flames around their heads seemed grotesquely tangled.

Could the dwarves be creatures made by a god as well? He had scarcely entertained the thought when his senses caught another kind of life-form. It was humanlike in shape, but its ears extended in long slits above and below, and a strange light shimmered in its brain.

‘That must be a Dark Elf.’

He had encountered them before, but this was his first time viewing them through the Mimic Holy Relic’s senses. Only twenty or so had light glowing in their brains. That was probably a distinguishing feature of wraith sorcerers.

Maysa appeared to have noticed as well. Narrowing her eyes, she raised a hand to halt the troops.

“They’re coming. Prepare for battle!”

Turan smelled intense tension and fear all around him. Having suffered heavy losses in an earlier ambush, they were surely reliving those memories.

CLANK!

With a metallic sound, openings appeared on both sides of the canyon, and dwarves crawled out.