Chapter 137: Black Magic(?)

“What did you just say…?”

What they wanted was the method by which Risir had tricked the Asking Left Hand.

But what they got was the method by which he had actually fulfilled its demand.

That absurd answer froze their thoughts like stone.

“…Right.”

Still, they were indeed heroes and their companions.

They had braved countless ordeals, and their resourcefulness always shone brightest in unforeseen crises.

Ambush. Trap. Betrayal.

To them, such things were only momentary setbacks.

They were always ready to remain calm and respond.

That was why they had inherited the title of Hero.

So, once they had steeled themselves, they asked Risir again.

“…What did you mean by a companion?”

But of course, nothing had changed.

Because this wasn’t a matter of mental readiness.

Changing perspective doesn’t suddenly make a stone look like food.

Their very minds refused to accept it.

The sentence Risir had spoken, and the fact it implied.

Naturally so.

—The wielder of a Holy Sword, companions with a Devil…?

Who in the world could accept such nonsense?

It wasn’t even about common sense; no sane person could.

“Ah~ so that’s what it was.”

“Now it makes sense.”

“?”

Suddenly, the High Noble and the Archmage accepted such ludicrous statement.

The others were dumbfounded.

What exactly are they understanding?

“By chance, one of my companions is a Devil, so I was able to learn black magic.”

That had been Risir’s previous answer.

A line that brought only more questions, not clarity.

They could swear it was harder to parse than the Left Hand’s own metaphorical demands.

What sort of mental framework let you hear that sentence and understand something?

“Sigh…”

Then Verlotta, the scholar of Jane’s party, sighed tiredly, lost in thought.

And they understood that reaction.

Verlotta’s scholarship and insight were vast, so vast even Pochena, the Sword of Insight, was sometimes astonished.

Every scholar Drey and Pallarg had contacted to identify the fluid’s nature had fallen short of her.

Verlotta was the most unshakably rational and intelligent among them.

How absurd must Risir’s words, and the others’ acceptance, have seemed to her?

No wonder she looked on the verge of a headache.

Reliable!

That was the sudden feeling both hero parties shared.

Surely Verlotta, with her reason, would set this crooked situation straight.

They looked at her expectantly.

At last, Verlotta came back to herself and spoke to Risir.

“So, one of your companions is a Devil. Fine.”

Yes, yes.

Like Verlotta said, they could accept that one of his companions was—

“…Wait, Verlotta.”

Felix cut her off with a raised finger.

—Why are you so quick to accept that?

Pochena followed up.

—He’s the wielder of a Holy Sword. How could it be ‘fine’ for him to have a Devil as a companion? No, from the start, how could—

Pochena stopped herself.

There was no end to the questions if she pursued them one by one.

Even so, Verlotta’s reaction was far beyond their expectations.

“Why? Because—”

Verlotta looked back at them as though baffled by their confusion.

Her face all but said, Why are you making such a fuss over nothing?

“What?”

Then suddenly, her expression shifted, as if she’d realized something.

“…Ah.”

She pulled off her glasses and scrubbed her face with her hands.

My head must be broken.

Her deep self-reproach was written plainly on her face.

“Verlotta? Are you alright…?”

Jane cautiously asked about his fellow scholar.

Verlotta’s demeanor said everything.

This is insane. How am I supposed to explain this? Ugh, forget it.

She finally muttered, almost spitting the words:

“Risir has elementals. They were Devils once.”

“…Devils were what?”

Their hopes were dashed.

They had thought Verlotta would cut through the fog of questions, instead, she raised even more.

“Either they’re elementals, or they’re Devils. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tilla, the mage of Felix’s party, spoke carefully, worry on her face.

“Heh…”

Verlotta laughed hollowly, as though she’d expected that reaction.

Raising her hands in mock surrender, she said.

“I don’t know~ maybe that’s just how it is.”

As if it were nothing, irresponsibly.

Gone was the scholar who pursued reason and knowledge.

The others looked at her with pity.

“…Verlotta’s broken…!?”

What had she gone through on the expedition, to reduce such a rational scholar to this?

“Now, now, friends. Calm down.”

Drey spoke then, with his trademark genial smile.

“I can explain everything.”

“Oh? Then would you, Sir Drey?”

“Of course. In fact, perfect timing. I’ll even explain things Verlotta doesn’t know yet.”

“…Things I don’t know? Wow. I’m so curious.”

Verlotta feigned delight, yet her eyes spot a soulless look to them.

The hero parties felt an indescribable dread.

Was it safe to remain here at all?

“So, Risir receiving a Devil’s help is perfectly possible.”

And!

For some reason, Drey emphasized it with great enthusiasm.

“There’s nothing strange about it. Don’t let this make you doubt Risir. As your senior, that’s my advice. Best to take it to heart. Right, Lord Pallarg? Hahaha!”

“Hohoho, to think we once suspected Risir over such nonsense. Foolish indeed.”

Pochena even wondered if Verlotta had suffered some kind of mental contamination.

She tried blessing her own companions to keep them from ending up like Verlotta—

It was useless.

“Haha…”

After hearing Drey’s explanation, they, too, became like Verlotta.

“…Created a pseudo-limit break enhancement in just days…?”

“…Sword Aura, at his age…?”

“…Overload…”

Drey smiled at the stunned heroes like a senior watching beloved juniors.

“A natural reaction. I understand. But don’t worry. Open your hearts, accept it, and you’ll get used to it… like us.”

Pat, pat.

He patted their shoulders encouragingly.

Then turned to Risir.

“By the way, you said you learned black magic?”

“That’s right.”

“Unbelievable. Even with a Devil nearby, mastering it so quickly? What else did you do?”

With the ease of long experience, Drey asked in a way that invited any answer.

Pallarg leaned in as well, attentive.

“I didn’t expect it to be so simple either. But Dan’Galeon  said I had talent. Knowing the Daronan tongue helped a lot.”

Daronan tongue or Daronish.

The root language of many magical systems, especially black magic.

A dead, ancient knowledge, accessible only through deep immersion in black magic.

And Risir knew it casually.

Yet Pallarg and Drey, like veterans, took it in stride.

They nodded in understanding.

“To know the Daronish… remarkable. And praised by a Devil, clearly not shallow knowledge. Tell me, Risir, where did you learn it? Even I have never laid eyes on such knowledge.”

“At a library I used to frequent. There was a book in Daronish.”

“A book in Daronish? Such a rare tome, just lying in a library? Must’ve been a remarkable library.”

“Not really. Just a regular library. The annex, actually, where they kept volumes deemed too low in value for the main collection.”

“…To think such a treasure was shelved in such a place. It’s a miracle you read it before someone stole it.”

“I think so too.”

“Do you recall the title?”

“Yes. I believe it was [Book of Inheritance: Daronan].”

“…?”

Even Drey and Pallarg doubted their ears.

—Book of Inheritance…? Surely not one of Yel Canuer’s Seven Book of Inheritances…?

Elysia, the Holy Sword, spoke with a trembling voice.

The Seven Book of Inheritances, created by the ancient mage Yel Canuer, imprinted themselves upon whoever opened them.

No one could read them.

For the moment you did, you became the Text.

“Yes. I was lucky.”

He’d read one.

How fortunate indeed.

That simple line pounded their minds flat.

And they finally felt they understood Risir completely.

They exchanged glances with Drey and Pallarg.

The two nodded back.

A bond was formed in an instant.

Then Risir continued, tying up his explanation.

“At first, I couldn’t grasp Dan’Galeon’s power. Then he suggested I use the Daronan tongue. And when I did, the incomprehensible spells forming his power translated themselves in my mind into words I knew. After that, well, you know the rest. That’s how I mastered black magic so quickly.”

When he finished—

“So you’re saying…”

Tilla asked, her voice trembling.

“…In your head right now are the core spells of demonic power, rendered into a language we can understand…?”

Both hero parties.

Even Drey and Pallarg.

They all gazed at Risir with shining eyes, unable to hide their curiosity.

“Risir. If it’s alright… could you show us this black magic?”

Verlotta couldn’t restrain her scholarly urge.

“No reason not to.”

Risir lifted his palm.

A pale flame bloomed there.

“This… is a Devil’s power…?”

The white flame flickered in their eyes.

Was it truly demonic power?

Was it really black magic?

Its aura was far too pure to be called that.

And alien besides.

Perhaps it was black magic, yet not black magic.

Neither dark nor light, just like that flame.

A mysterious, overwhelming force unlike anything they had ever seen.

And it entranced them all at once.

To be captivated by black magic…

Unthinkable.

Yet already, the flame was no longer black magic to them.

Risir’s state proved it.

He was untouched by corruption.

Unbound by demonic will.

Free of every curse black magic should have carried.

This power, something new, born of stripping away every impure aspect of black magic.

—Aaaaah!!! Such ecstasy!!! Mastah! Your flame is beautiful as ever! Might I humbly suggest naming it ‘Risir’s Sacred Flame’? Each time you wield it, you could proclaim, ‘Receive the purifying Sacred Flame of Risir!’! I, Dan’Galeon , shudder with joy at the thought!!!

“…I shudder too. Just in another sense. Gives me goosebumps. Really.”

Like that elemental(?) said.

—What are you, some kind of filter…

Zarak muttered in exasperation, having witnessed it all.

The next day.

After they were all well rested, they gathered again.

“After all that, we’d better get a proper reward.”

Felix spoke firmly.

They had fulfilled every demand.

Now it was time to state their own.

“Tilla?”

She nodded and approached the Asking Left Hand, beginning the awakening ritual again.

Crack. Crack.

Its joints creaked as it stirred.

Then fell still.

“…?”

Felix frowned.

Unlike before, it didn’t speak right away.

So he went first.

“We’ve done everything you asked. Now it’s your turn to grant ours.”

—…You cannot make a demand.

“What?”

—I received no price.

“What kind of bull—!?”

Camilla the elf voiced everyone’s frustration in her sharp tone.

—So the fear has become reality.

Pochena added, her words heavy.

“Pochena?”

Felix glanced down at his sword.

—To complete the magical contract powering it, perhaps what’s needed isn’t fulfilling demands, but failing them.

“What do you mean?”

—When the user fails, it exacts a price from them. That’s what completes the contract’s power. We should have failed to meet its demands, and been consumed by its power. Become its sustenance.

“Wait… then it has no power left to grant us anything?”

Like finding a dungeon chest empty after risking your life.

Felix cried out in dismay.

“No.”

Tilla shook her head.

“As Pochena said, its power’s diminished because it got no price. But it still has vast strength. I felt it during the ritual. No doubt.”

“Then why!?”

“Simple. It’s sulking. It destroyed a city and got nothing in return. So until it does, it won’t give us anything.”

“…You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Shing.

Jane leveled Elysia, his Holy Sword, at the Left Hand.

“Want me to soothe its mood a bit?”

The sword glimmered softly, more than capable of destroying a relic.

“Useless.”

Pallarg, who had been watching silently, spoke up.

“It’s no elemental with a will. It’s a device, like a golem. Even if destroyed, it won’t act outside its rules.”

Indeed, the Left Hand didn’t flinch even with a Holy Sword aimed at it.

“Damn it!”

Like a dungeon cleared for nothing, Felix shouted in frustration.

Then—

Fwoosh.

Risir conjured a pale flame.

“Then should we destroy it before it plays more tricks?”

—Wait.

The Left Hand spoke at once.

—You. Would you pay a price?

“Nope.”

—…Very well. I shall grant your demand.

“Oh?”

They all turned to Pallarg.

Didn’t you say it was like a golem?

Pallarg looked indignant.

“…It was supposed to be…”