Chapter 157 - Why So Strong? (1)

Spirit sight, the innate gift possessed by Pilde, the foremost mage among Greinif's elves, allowed her to see the souls of all things in the world. From the feeblest creatures to the mightiest, she could see every soul that any living being naturally possessed.

Even so, she had never paid her blessing much attention. First, she was not a necromancer who dealt in souls or black magic. Second, the souls she saw held little interest for her.

Souls varied from person to person, but never enough for the differences to be particularly noticeable. A soul was simply a soul. The gods and Outer Gods she had seen when she was very young had possessed distinctive souls, but that was only because they were gods. The souls of ordinary living beings all looked much the same.

That was why Pilde could not help being shocked by Marquis Pallatio's soul. It was because—his soul itself resembled those of the gods she had seen so long ago.

"..."

Instead of the blue sphere of an ordinary soul, his was tinged with a faint yet vivid gold. That was something she could never have seen in an ordinary human. A golden soul meant its owner was close to a god—or was a god outright.

There was another reason for her shock.

'... The soul doesn't fit.'

Marquis Pallatio's soul did not match his body.

Pilde had never once seen anything like it. As she had told Perion, every soul fit its body. Yet although Marquis Pallatio's soul appeared to fit his, in truth it did not. In other words, the soul currently inhabiting the marquis was someone else's, not the original marquis's.

As Pilde realized this, countless questions sprang up in her mind. Above all, the first voice she recalled was Perion's, saying that Marquis Pallatio might be the primordial elf.

'... Could it really be?'

Until now, she had put little stock in Perion's words. She had only offered to come see the marquis so she could escape stifling Greinif and enjoy a brief diversion. From the outset, she had never even considered that Marquis Pallatio might be the primordial elf. Now, however, her conviction was wavering.

The marquis's soul shone with a brighter gold than anyone else's, just like the primordial elf who had been revered as a god. And that ill-fitting soul seemed to announce that someone else had taken possession of his body.

As she stared blankly at the sight, a new question suddenly seized her.

'... But if he is the primordial elf, why is he concealing his identity?'

From Pilde's perspective, Marquis Pallatio had no reason to hide his identity if he was the primordial elf. Even if he had possessed a human body, he would have more than enough ways to prove who he was.

'Why?'

As she sank deeper into bewilderment, in the next instant—

"!"

She noticed something writhing behind Marquis Pallatio.

Her gaze naturally shifted toward the movement. It vanished as though it had never been there. But having noticed that momentary distortion, Pilde immediately activated her spirit sight and opened the Eye of an accomplished mage to examine the presence behind him.

And what she saw was—

"Huh?"

A black abyss—?

... No. No, it wasn't.

It was a pupil. An abyssal pupil so enormous that it filled her entire field of vision.

And then—

["Be silent—"]

The instant that voice tore through her head—

"Bleurrrgh—!!"

Pilde vomited blood.

"!? Lady Pilde!"

Startled out of his wits, Perion caught her. Yet blood continued to pour from her mouth. It streamed from her eyes, nose, and ears as well—the price of looking directly at something she should never have seen.

"P-please, stay with me!"

Perion desperately tried to rouse her. But after vomiting blood uncontrollably, Pilde fell face-first into the pool she had made. As she helplessly slipped toward unconsciousness, she understood why the primordial elf would not come to Greinif.

'If something like that came to the World Tree—'

She recalled what she had perceived for that fleeting instant. She did not know what it was. She could not understand even the smallest fragment of it. Nor must she try to discover its identity.

But there was one thing she knew for certain—

'I must never, ever let it come near the World Tree...!'

Instinctively, she felt that it was something even worse than the beings beneath the roots that the Pagade held at bay. At the same time, she recalled that the primordial elf had ultimately died fighting the "black things."

As that fragment of memory surfaced, the truth began to fall into place in her mind, piece by piece.

And then—

"Pe...rion."

"Yes...!"

"It seems...you might have been right."

"You mean—"

"... He..."

Pilde conveyed her conclusion to Perion.

"He might really be the primordial elf."

"!!"

Perion's eyes widened as far as they could.

Meanwhile—

"Should I hit left? Should I hit right? Here? Here! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

["Quit fucking around and hit me already!"]

"Right? Left? Here I cooome!"

WHACK!

["Aaaaargh!!"]

"Bwahahaha!"

["Again! Do it again!!!"]

Alon watched Evan, with Blackie wrapped around his hand, smack Basiliora over the head and laugh like a madman, while the genuinely furious Basiliora demanded another round of the direction-guessing game.

'... To think they can have that much fun with a simple game like that.'

Once again, their energy(?) left him marveling.

####

Two weeks later, just as a full month had passed since Alon's arrival at the marquis's estate—

"... Whew—"

"Good work, my lord."

Penia spoke from beside him as he released his spell and sighed.

"How was it this time?"

"Hmm—we seem to have reached about the fourth stage."

"Encouraging."

"But from the fifth stage onward, the density is too great, and the molecules break apart. At this rate, your original idea might be a little difficult."

"Is there no way around it?"

"... I think you'll need to pour in more mana, or else adjust the density to a suitable level."

"Let's try again."

After pausing just long enough to catch his breath, Alon took his stance again.

For the past month, he had continued researching seals with Penia. Their primary focus was the changes in molecular structure and combinations produced by layering seals. The more seals they layered in the correct order, the more new structures emerged. They had even discovered a way to raise a spell's power to an absurd degree by making its molecular structure resemble that of a particular spell, though they had yet to succeed at it. Their magical research was progressing quite well.

"Ah, that was close this time."

"Was it?"

"Yes. The structure was slightly misaligned, so it failed."

"Let's stop here for today."

"Sure."

Having finished his training for the day, Alon immediately picked up a sweet potato beside him and began eating.

"You seem to like sweet potatoes, my lord...?"

Penia asked cautiously. Alon nodded.

"Well, yes."

"Don't you get tired of them?"

"Hmm—I haven't felt that way."

Honestly, even Alon did not understand why he never tired of sweet potatoes, however excessively he ate them.

'Normally, I'd be sick of anything after eating this much.'

He examined the sweet potato with fresh wonder.

'... Maybe it's because Yutia brought them. They do seem tastier.'

A month ago, Yutia had come while he was away, met Penia, and left the sweet potatoes. Thinking of the care behind that gesture, he swallowed the rest.

Returning to his office, Alon stroked Blackie, who lay sprawled asleep at one side of the desk, and sat down.

"My lord."

"What is it?"

Evan followed him in just as he took his seat.

"The kingdom's ball is in two months. Will you attend?"

"Is it that time already?"

"Yes."

Alon considered the report briefly, then nodded.

"Well, I can't keep declining forever. I'll attend."

"Then I'll keep that in mind. Oh, and didn't you say you'd be going somewhere soon?"

"Yes. I intend to leave shortly."

The time he had been waiting for had arrived.

'If I join him around now, the tutorial period should be over, and he should have gathered all his companions. I should be able to join Elivan naturally.'

Alon glanced outside. The weather was gradually moving beyond the warmth of spring and toward summer. Using the changing seasons to roughly gauge the protagonist's current circumstances, he settled his thoughts.

'Well then, shall I go get that thing?'

Exactly one day later—

"My lord, you have a visitor."

"A noble?"

"No. Apparently, he introduced himself as Elivan?"

"... Elivan?"

"Yes. He says he came to see you."

"??"

Elivan, the protagonist of Psychedelia, had come to visit.

Of his own accord.

####

On the peninsula across the sea from Laxas.

"That concludes my report."

"All right. So that's all I need to know?"

"Yes."

Having heard Yuna's report, Radan was about to rise when she continued.

"Oh, there's one more thing I need to tell you."

"?"

Her words puzzled him.

"Was there something you didn't report?"

"No, nothing like that. I have something personal to tell you."

"... What is it?"

"Well, it's about the Great Moon."

"... Someone's trying to slander the Great Moon, I take it?"

The instant that title was mentioned, Radan reflexively grabbed the trident beside him. Yuna calmed him as he leaned forward, seemingly ready to bolt.

"No, that's not it."

"It's not? Then what?"

"Well—"

Now that she had brought it up, Yuna struggled to find a way to explain. The Great Moon had sulked—no, felt hurt? She could not find an appropriate expression, but having already broached the subject, she decided to tell it as it was. She went on to explain about the Great Moon's birthday.

"... Big Brother's birthday?"

"Yes. Since the Great Moon showed no particular change in expression, he may not have minded, but Evan mentioned it—"

"Hmm—"

Radan drummed his fingers on the desk in thought, then broke into a broad smile.

"All right. When did you say his birthday was?"

"September twentieth...is what he told us."

"About four months left, then."

"Yes."

"Good."

Radan immediately rose.

"? Where are you going?"

He paused briefly.

"Where else? To get a gift worthy of the Great Moon."

"A gift worthy of the Great Moon?"

"Yes. I do have something in mind."

He left the office with an excited step.

Meanwhile, Hidan, who had heard the story about the Great Moon from Yuna, likewise relayed it to Deus.

"I see."

"Yes."

"... All right. I've decided."

"On a gift?"

"Yes. I'll give him an enormous statue worthy of the Great Moon."

"... That will cost quite a lot."

"I'll just squeeze the second prince for it."

With a perfectly serious expression, Deus began spouting unimaginable nonsense. Nonsense that made his motives painfully obvious, at that.

"... Are you sure you don't simply want to have a statue made for yourself, Violet Moon?"

"It was because you told Aega in the first place—that my statue disappeared—no, never mind."

Breaking off mid-sentence, Deus quietly let his gaze drift to one side. Hidan turned to follow it. Realizing that Deus was looking at the very spot where the statue had once stood, he was appalled all over again.

"..."

Just how serious was he about that statue...?