Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Chapter 13
Four years remained until the events of the original story would begin.

Concurrently, a little more than a year and a month had passed since every member of the Five Sins from the orphanage had gained their independence.

“What is Seolrang doing now?”

While reading the daily letter from Yutia, Alon found his thoughts drifting to Seolrang.

Even though Yutia’s correspondence always contained news about herself and the rest of the Five Sins, all mention of Seolrang had ceased approximately two months after she had left.

“…Surely she didn’t perish in some far-off land, did he?”

After a moment of consideration, Alon dismissed the idea with a firm shake of his head.

Based on Yutia’s earlier letters, Seolrang had successfully reached the desert nation of Colony. If she had followed the instructions in his letter precisely, it was impossible for her to have met her end that way.

The present Alon had given her would transform her into a powerful ‘Baba Yaga.’

Especially as a gladiator in the Colony, a place where the powerful could attain anything.

“It was stated in the item description. It has to be accurate, right?”

Alon, who had a habit of reading every line of an item’s description—a trait born from the developer’s practice of embedding extensive lore within them—remembered the text associated with the item Seolrang was meant to acquire.

“Had the Sin of Greed obtained it, they would have fallen and become a Sin, but she would instead become a mighty warrior… I believe that was the gist.”

Naturally, the practical effect Alon received from that item was a simple 20% boost to his critical hit rate, but it was the grand backstory accompanying it that had motivated him to reveal its location to Seolrang.

Furthermore, as a precaution in case the item’s description proved to be entirely trivial, he had also provided her with the location of a hidden treasure.

But it had been nine months since the last update.

“Perhaps I should have just quietly given her the treasure?”

As this thought crossed his mind, Alon gave a brief shake of his head.

His primary reason for sending Seolrang to the Colony was the narration that claimed she possessed a warrior’s innate talent.

Moreover, since Alon could not provide for her indefinitely, learning to be self-sufficient was a vital step.

“No, it’s better if she can support herself.”

Therefore,

‘…Given Deus’s ridiculous talent, Seolrang definitely couldn’t have died… so what in the world occurred?’

While Alon wore a puzzled look, contemplating Seolrang’s situation, a girl emerged from a desert cave located deep in the southern reaches of the desert nation, Colony.

The girl, Seolrang, appeared thoroughly unkempt.

Grime was smeared across various parts of her body, and her hair had grown so long it nearly obscured her face.

Despite her disheveled appearance, however, a broad smile was spread across Seolrang’s face.

“It’s finally done—”

She stretched her limbs with a feeling of relief, then looked down at the gloves on her hands.

The golden claws attached to them were a present granted to her by the Great Moon.

The ‘Essence of the Golden Mane Tribe.’

“How did the Great Moon know where to find this?”

Having completed the ‘trial’ and emerged, she tilted her head in curiosity as she examined the gloves.

It was a fair question—this ‘Essence of the Golden Mane Tribe’ was a mythical artifact handed down through generations of her people, the Golden Mane Tribe.

It was truly worthy of being called “legendary.”

Centuries ago, this very item had empowered the Golden Mane Tribe, elevating them to become the sovereigns of all beastmen and bestowing upon them the strength to rule as kings.

Admittedly, most of her knowledge came from stories her mother had told her in early childhood. Having grown a bit since then, Seolrang had assumed those ancient tales were somewhat embellished.

But now, in this moment, having worn the Essence and been drawn into its inner world to undergo all the trials, Seolrang understood that not a single part of those wondrous old stories was false.

Ssss—

As she gently summoned her power, her golden eyes began to emit a soft luminescence within the dark cavern.

And that was not all.

Her hair, and even her tail, started to gleam as if they were sources of light themselves.

Just like the Golden Mane Tribe from the ancient legends her mother used to recount.

Smiling at her newly acquired power, her thoughts returned once more to the Great Moon.

A multitude of questions swirled in her head.

But she soon let them go.

She knew she wasn’t the most clever, and she was fully aware that figuring out how the Great Moon knew all these things was beyond her capabilities.

Most importantly, she had grasped one straightforward, undeniable truth.

The Great Moon was her savior, the one who had rescued her from death following bio-experiments, and simultaneously, the one to whom she was indebted for granting her the power to take revenge on the ‘Black Dragon’ who had murdered her parents.

As blue electricity sparked around her, she recalled the Great Moon’s directive, but then shook her head.

Even without being particularly intelligent, she understood that becoming a simple gladiator was not the real objective of her benefactor’s plan.

Thus, Seolrang’s attention naturally returned to the gloves.

The gloves containing the power to strengthen the Golden Mane Tribe.

It was at that moment Seolrang finally comprehended the Great Moon’s true intention.

“To become a renowned gladiator, gather the dispersed members of the Golden Mane Tribe from all corners of the land, and…”

She grinned.

“…kill the Black Dragon alongside them.”

Seeing the flawless path laid out before her, Seolrang smiled.

Zap!

Blue sparks flew wildly in tune with her emotions, but she ignored them.

With a profound smile, she started walking out of the shadowy cave. The moon hung in the sky above the cave entrance, casting a blue radiance across the entire desert.

And then,

“For the sake of that one,”

uttering the phrase that had become a regular mantra by now,

“Let’s begin.”

Under the blue moon, the Golden Mane Tribe, once known as the mightiest of beastmen and the kings of all their kind five centuries ago, commenced their resurgence.

***

Beginning around a year ago, after his return from the ball, Alon had discovered a new fascination with exploring “phrases” and had been dedicating a considerable portion of his time to it.

Unlike in the game, where chanting a phrase consumed a turn and each turn raised magical attack power by 10% to 20%, the phrases in this world genuinely altered the properties of magic, just as he had anticipated.

Consider, for instance, the phrases Alon employed several months prior in a place he visited to obtain restrictions—phrases such as “Refraction,” “Repulsion,” “Blue Light,” and “Diffraction Line.”

Refraction enhanced the instability of a finished spell, making its area of effect wider.

Repulsion warped the spell’s shape, enabling a transferred projectile to change direction.

In the case of Blue Light, it amplified spells that traveled in parallel, like lightning magic.

Finally, the Diffraction Line granted a spell either penetrating or critical qualities.

Of course, Alon’s comprehension was based solely on the data he had compiled over the past half-year, so the accuracy of these definitions was still unconfirmed, but it was evident that each phrase imparted a distinct property.

Additionally, he had deduced several unique rules concerning phrases.

“Repeating the same phrase is not allowed, using phrases that are incompatible with the spell is forbidden, and a maximum of five phrases can be applied to a single spell. Violating any of these three rules causes the spell to either fail to form or become less potent.”

A few other rules seemed to exist, but he hadn’t managed to identify them yet.

Although Alon had ample time to investigate magic, he was restricted to using magic only once per day.

“…If only a book about phrases existed.”

The phrases Alon used were, according to the world’s history, the forgotten phrases of Babel, regarded in this world as lost relics.

The locations where Alon had discovered phrases were limited to places where phrases were physically inscribed, but these inscriptions did not explain the underlying rules or phenomena.

In other words, he was forced to learn everything through hands-on experimentation, though Alon did not find this tedious.

Alon’s innate talent was sufficient to make his exploration of phrases enjoyable and to absorb him deeply in the study of magic.

Thus, after concluding his discussion with Evan, he went directly to the training hall and, as was his custom, began to cast a spell.

“Hoo—”

His hand formed the familiar sign of wisdom, the Jiquan Mudra.

Simultaneously, magic energy coalesced to shape the spell he had been testing for roughly two months, a second-tier spell known as Chain Lightning.

Guided by Alon’s will, the arranged mana formed a spherical orb, intentionally omitting a specific point to induce instability.

Zap—

The spell was complete.

With Alon’s restricted mana pool, the magic gave off a faint light.

The sole improvement from two months prior was that the imbalance caused by the lightning spell had become slightly more controlled, likely due to his increasing familiarity with it.

To phrase it positively, the spell had gained precision; to phrase it negatively, it remained a fundamentally useless spell, notable only for its accuracy.

However, by invoking phrases, even a worthless spell could be assigned a function.

“Fixation.”

The lightning that had been flickering in front of him became motionless, as if time had frozen.

“Compression.”

At his next utterance, the once-large sphere contracted into a tiny bead while remaining frozen.

“Collapse.”

Crack!

With the final phrase, the small bead lost its spherical form.

What was left was pure lightning, a fragment of mana appearing before Alon like a cluster of countless, irregular dotted lines.

And then,

“Momentary Bloom.”

As Alon spoke the last phrase and released the Jiquan Mudra he had been holding,

Zap!

—a gigantic tree of thunder materialized before him.

Shining with a brilliance brighter than the noonday sun, the blue tree stood motionless, displaying its grandeur.

It was as if a lightning bolt had struck and then been frozen in place.

Alon nodded, pleased.

“…The sequence of the phrases also affects how the spell manifests.”

He remembered how, when he had used Collapse before Fixation in a previous attempt, the magic had vanished completely, and he nodded with satisfaction.

“Even phrases that don’t naturally suit the spell can be used if a preceding phrase creates a pathway for them.”

Content with the new knowledge he had acquired, Alon watched as the thunder tree he had created slowly dissipated.

It seemed improbable he would ever find a practical application for it.

Muttering this to himself, Alon felt a twinge of disappointment as he turned around, his mana hole now fully exhausted.

His body permitted him to cast magic only once per day.

And just as he turned,

“?”

Alon saw her.

There, in the training hall of Count Palatio’s estate, stood the young lady he always preferred to avoid—Lady Kalia, the daughter of the Count of Zenonia.

Seemingly stunned by what she had witnessed, the typically dignified and polished Kalia stood with her mouth hanging open, a look of pure astonishment on her face.

“M-M-My heavens…?”

Hearing her shocked exclamation, Alon averted his gaze, missing his opportunity to question her presence.

“Origin?”

Standing beside her, a middle-aged man, his mouth also agape in shock, clutched an ornate cane as he stared at Alon with equal amazement.

And then,

“?”

Alon, bewildered by their reactions, had a sudden realization.

He had heard the man say “Origin,” a spell only castable by mages who had achieved the seventh rank, and then understood one thing.

He had inadvertently become the center of a tremendous misunderstanding.