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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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Chapter 163 - Head Theoretical Professor Kaiden (15)
A cold wind swept across the mountaintop, stirring the hem of Lormane’s nun’s habit.
Though summer burned in the lowlands below, this place still clung to late winter.
Was it due to the altitude? Or perhaps the peculiarities of the terrain and geography?
Lormane didn’t have the expertise to know.
Summer might not arrive here for months, she thought, gazing at the snow-capped summit.
Or perhaps it will never come at all.
“Are you all right, Chief Administrator?”
The Special Operations Captain, walking a few steps ahead, turned back to check on her.
“I’m fine. It’s been a while since I’ve climbed a mountain—it’s refreshing.”
“Impressive. As expected of someone from the Demon King Slaying Special Unit. You have my utmost respect as your junior.”
“Thank you. Though, to be honest, it feels a little undeserved.”
Lormane smiled but felt a pang of discomfort in her heart.
The one who deserves respect isn’t me—it’s Dian.
Right now, I’m riding on the coattails of his achievements, receiving treatment I don’t merit. It’s not right.
The entire continent should know about Dian.
But Dian doesn’t want that.
A truly extraordinary man.
Compared to any saint enshrined in the Great Hall of the Central Cathedral, he is no less worthy.
Dian should be canonized.
Throughout history, saints have been credited with incredible miracles, but compared to Dian’s deeds, those pale in comparison.
Dian saved the continent, millions of lives, this entire world.
No saint has ever performed a salvation on such a grand scale. Not even the gods.
The gods promised to bring salvation when the time came, but Dian already delivered it.
A being nobler than a god who only threatens punishment when displeased.
Dian is god.
Lormane, one of the highest-ranking officials of the Church, revered not the gods, but Dian.
Her prayers were not directed to the divine but to Dian.
In death, she wished to return not to the gods, but to him.
While Linus, too, was a hero who slew the Demon King, he hadn’t saved her life.
And so, her god was Dian.
“Chief Administrator, from here on, please be cautious.”
The captain’s words snapped Lormane out of her thoughts.
The steep slope had eased, and before them lay a desolate field of jagged rocks.
Scattered across the rocky expanse were countless bleached bones.
Even a rough count suggested there were hundreds, if not more.
The bones were larger than those of humans, with skulls adorned with horns resembling those of mountain goats.
“These are the remains of demons. Please stay within the marked paths to avoid stepping on any bones.”
The captain led her along a trail carved out by the advance party.
As they passed through, Lormane examined the scattered remains.
“Why are there so many demon bones here? And all in one place?”
“I can’t say for certain, but my guess would be infighting.”
The captain replied, his boots crunching over smaller fragments.
“The Dark Mage collaborated with the Demon King before the war, but during the war itself, he didn’t openly appear. Even when the Security Office deployed all available agents, his whereabouts remained unknown.”
“That’s true. We were also ordered to eliminate him but failed to locate him.”
“And now, ten years later, we find this place. As you can see, the bones are in poor condition. We estimate the deaths occurred around a decade ago.”
“I see. It paints a picture of cooperation before the war, followed by conflict once it began.”
“Precisely. It’s clear there was a significant battle here. What remains to be discovered is why they turned on each other, whether the Dark Mage truly perished here, and, if so, when. Of course, those answers lie within the hideout contaminated by dark magic.”
Past the bone-strewn path, they reached a large tent serving as the command center, surrounded by heavily armed Special Operations agents.
The arrival of the renowned Chief Administrator caused murmurs among the troops, and many cast furtive glances her way.
“This way, please.”
The captain led her to an observation post set up outside the command tent.
“Anything to report?”
“Nothing unusual. The target remains unchanged.”
A soldier manning a telescope mounted on a tripod stepped aside to let Lormane take a look.
“Here. The hideout.”
Lormane peered through the lens.
Between two rocky peaks, she saw a crude stone hut.
Its walls appeared to be made from piled-up rocks scavenged from the area, with a roughly assembled wooden roof.
The windows, narrow to shield against the high-altitude winds, were draped with something indistinct.
It was bones. Though from this distance, she couldn’t discern their exact nature.
“I’ve seen enough. That thing hanging by the window is suspicious.”
“We’d like to take a closer look, but purification seems to be the next step.”
“Understood. Let’s begin.”
Holy power surged from beneath Lormane’s feet, coiling upward in a radiant vortex that enveloped her entire body.
When the light dissipated—
“Ohhh!”
The soldiers gasped in awe as Lormane now glowed with a golden brilliance.
“Stay here. Contact with the dark magic could have irreversible consequences.”
“Will you be all right alone?”
“There is nothing here capable of harming me.”
Leaving the soldiers behind, Lormane walked toward the Dark Mage’s hideout.
Her golden footprints shimmered briefly before vanishing into the tainted soil.
The path to the hut was littered with more demon corpses, their remains already reeking of dark magic.
The stench of decay suggested they had succumbed to the dark magic while ascending.
Dark magic corrodes its caster’s body, taints its surroundings, and ultimately creates a lifeless wasteland of destruction.
The skeletal remains draped over the window could well be the last surviving soldier of the Demon King’s army, who tried and failed to reach the hideout.
Let’s begin purification here.
Lormane extended her holy power outward in glowing waves that swept across the ground, purging the lingering dark magic.
As the taint was cleansed, she approached the hut and confirmed that the skull hanging in the window bore horns—another demon, not the Dark Mage.
She opened the rickety wooden door and stepped inside.
The interior was dark, but her holy power illuminated the space as bright as day.
Nothing particularly noteworthy caught her eye.
A small fireplace caked with ash, a few chipped bowls, a broken chair and table, and bundles of cloth that could be mistaken for rags.
If not for the demon bones outside, this could have been any abandoned shack in the mountains.
But this wasn’t the end.
Such a crude dwelling wouldn’t have warranted an attack by such a large force, and the Dark Mage wouldn’t have fought so fiercely to protect a handful of junk.
There must be more.
Something worth defending with such desperation.
Lormane carefully examined the interior.
Everything her gaze touched seemed to glimmer faintly, outlined in gold by her holy power.
Then, on an otherwise empty wall, a rectangular outline appeared.
Though invisible to the naked eye, her holy power revealed the hidden boundary.
Lormane approached and extended her radiant hand toward it.
The air seemed to peel back like a door swinging open, revealing a dark, endless void.
She bent forward and stepped into the abyss.
While she wielded the borrowed authority of the divine, nothing could harm her.
The oppressive darkness receded under her glow, revealing a damp stone corridor lined with cell-like bars on either side.
What is this place?
Avoiding puddles of an unknown liquid, Lormane approached one of the barred cells and peered inside.
“Ah…!”
Her face turned pale as she recoiled from what she saw.
# # # # #
“Ahem.”
I cleared my throat, glancing at Linus.
But Linus showed no reaction, quietly sipping his tea.
“Ahem! AHEM!!”
“Just drink your tea.”
“That old lady… she keeps staring at me.”
“She’s staring because you’re handsome.”
“Still, her gaze is… unsettling.”
I raised the teacup to hide my face.
We were in a cozy cottage.
According to Linus, this was the home of one of the three Archmages still alive in this era.
And the Archmage—who owned this house—was a shriveled old woman whose age was impossible to guess.
She was sitting across the table, staring at me with unblinking eyes.
She looked exactly like a witch out of a storybook—like something straight out of Howl’s Moving Castle.
On her shoulder perched a crow—the same one that had guided us here.
The moment we entered, the crow had screeched, “TEAAAAA! BREW THE TEAAAAAA!” and barked orders at us.
So we made tea and were now sitting and drinking it.
Meanwhile, the old woman hadn’t spoken a word. Was she so old that she’d lost the ability to speak?
If so, this entire trip might have been a waste of time. Perhaps we should seek out another Archmage.
But what if the other Archmage turned out to be just as decrepit?
As I mulled over this, the crow suddenly spoke.
“What business do yoooouuuu haaaaaaave?! Warrior, Liiiiiiiiinussssss?!”
“It’s about Archmage Kaiden. You’re familiar with him, aren’t you?”
Linus answered the crow as if this were perfectly normal.
Is the crow speaking for her? Or is the crow the real Archmage? What even is this?
“Kaaaa! Aiden! Of course I knoooooooow!!”
The crow squawked.
“The Daaaaaark Maaaaaage! Kaideeeeeeeeen!!”
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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