Chapter 48

Chapter 48
## Chapter 48: The Wild Maiden’s Legacy (4)

He plunged the tip of the needle into the pool of demonic blood. Like a medical tool, the metal drank every drop, causing the needle’s starlight glow to take on a murky, crimson tint.

The priestess monitored his breathing until his gasps became shallow and rhythmic. Without warning, she drove the point into the space between his collarbone and chest.

The metal bit into muscle as dense as granite, instantly discharging the essence it held. The dark red fluid crawled over his skin like living ink, spreading into a design that mirrored wings forged from jagged blades.

“The rite is complete… Now, summon your strength.”

Kadim centered his focus.

The mark flared with a brilliant scarlet light. A surge of predatory instinct, familiar and sharp, flooded his nervous system. As a red haze clouded his vision, he unsheathed his hellfire dagger and dragged the blade across his own arm.

Whoosh!

The burnt, ruined flesh sloughed off like dead skin, while fresh muscle fibers knit together with impossible speed, sealing the wound perfectly. Even the lingering bruises from the earth giants and the lacerations on his hands vanished in a heartbeat.

There was no mistaking it; this was the exact regenerative power granted by ‘Hydra’s Blood.’

A ghost of a smile touched Kadim’s mouth.

The primary defect of his ‘Blood Berserker’ trait was the necessity of demon blood to avoid fighting empty-handed. This mark provided a nearly flawless solution to that limitation. Had this existed during his time in the game, he would never have been dismissed as a bottom-tier character. And if he had possessed it during his initial journey through this world, his path would have been far less agonizing.

Of course, the price of this power was the life force carved away from a companion. He felt no room for resentment or blame.

‘…’

However, the gift was not without its faults.

The red radiance died out almost instantly, leaving the tattoo a dull black. The violent high receded much faster than when he consumed blood directly. The shaman stepped in to clarify.

“The potency remains, but the duration is fleeting. You will require a full day of rest to restore the mark after it is spent. Furthermore, channeling the power through the skin does not grant you immunity to the madness. While the onset is more gradual than direct consumption, excessive use will eventually rot your sanity.”

“…”

The mark offered a reprieve from the frenzy, not a cure.

Even for a shaman of Fierce Eyes, gifted with supernatural sight and centuries of study, this was the pinnacle of what could be achieved. The heavy weight of the curse still sat firmly on Kadim’s shoulders.

‘…Regardless, I should be grateful the load is slightly lighter than before.’

Kadim looked away. The needle used for the branding had lost its ethereal shimmer, turning into a common piece of scrap metal. Despite this, the shaman held it as if it were a sacred relic.

“A single needle can only bind one mark. But do not be discouraged. The shaman of Fierce Eyes placed a hundred of these instruments in hidden corners of this world.”

“…”

“If you obtain the device meant to locate these sites, you could uncover the remaining ninety-nine quite swiftly. Naturally, you must survive the ordeals within and prove yourself as the ‘Great Warrior of Atala’…”

It reminded him of a dungeon crawl with pre-determined loot. Kadim gave a stoic nod. Having understood the mechanics, he moved to the question that mattered most.

He forced his dry lips to move, his voice low.

“Did Cyril inter herself in a tomb with the rest of the shamans? Or did she finish what she set out to do and find peace?”

The shaman’s eyelids fluttered shut. Her neck, long and weathered like an ancient branch, dipped slowly.

“I cannot say. I was sealed within these walls before her story ended. When I last saw her, she was enduring a great struggle. Her divine essence was fading as she constructed a hundred monuments and a hundred sanctums… If she possessed any strength at the end, she would have carved out a place to wait for your return. If her strength failed, she simply returned to the dust.”

“…”

Neither outcome felt like a kindness. Kadim lowered his head, his throat tight as he spoke again.

“Then, is there a link between the resurgence of demons across the land and Cyril’s work?”

The Hydra had claimed a former ally was responsible for his resurrection.

Even if it was the woman who had sacrificed everything for him, he had to know the truth.

The shaman, however, looked genuinely baffled.

“Demons invading the continent? I do not understand.”

“…You are unaware? They are everywhere. Even the horrors slain in the Demon Realm are walking the world again.”

“I have heard nothing of this. Not since I entered this sanctuary. While we shamans remained in our holy isolation… it appears the natural law has been utterly shattered.”

A heavy, ancient sigh escaped the woman, carrying the weariness of centuries.

“…Hah, yet you have returned amidst this turbulence. Perhaps this is the design of Atala. Do not sheath your weapon, ‘Great Warrior of Atala.’ Never doubt that your path is her path. Execute the wretched who challenge you, shatter the barricades in your way, paint the wastes red with the blood of monsters, and survive the long nights of war. The blood that follows your steps will nourish the seeds of a new age.”

It was a brutal, primal benediction befitting a servant of the god of conflict. Kadim didn’t offer thanks; instead, he tilted his head.

“Wait. Isn’t ‘Great Warrior of Atala’ a title for only one man?”

“Indeed. It is the sacred rank held only by the champion chosen by Atala to strike down high demons in her name.”

“Then explain why there is another man currently claiming to be the ‘Great Warrior of Atala.’ Can there be two?”

The shaman shook her head with absolute certainty.

“No. That is impossible. If it were possible, we would never have chosen this long silence. The ‘Great Warrior’ is the fundamental contract of our faith. Until your task is finished or you turn your back on Atala, she will never leave you. This other person is surely a fraud usurping your name.”

“…”

Kadim’s expression darkened into a scowl. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed stoked his ire. It was clearly time to hunt down ‘Agon’s Furious Horn’ or whatever the pretender called himself.

The business here was finished. It was time to leave.

The shaman was only alive because of the preservation spells of the ruin and could not step outside. She explained that once Kadim left, she would collapse the entrance and embrace death.

“My purpose is met, and so this withered husk finds its end. It would be a lie to say I have no regrets, but my life was not in vain. I have seen the will of the woman who walked in darkness finally reach the light of day…”

Her face was peaceful, as if she had finally set down a crushing weight. But Kadim found the reality of it difficult to swallow. To be used as a tool for centuries and then discarded—was that supposed to be enough?

He looked at her and asked.

“What do they call you?”

The shaman gave a quiet reply.

“…A name? To mock the gale as wandering grit is my name; to huddle in the dirt as sleeping stone is my name. Before the greatness of the wild, the name of a single speck of dust is irrelevant.”

The Great Warrior refused her answer.

“No. I promise in the name of Atala. Her champion will remember the name of that wandering grit. And I will remember that beneath a forgotten shaman, a soul endured hundreds of years of loneliness to preserve a legacy.”

Her weathered face twitched, her eyes glistening.

A soft wind blew through the stagnant chamber.

In a flash, like rain scrubbing away grime, the shadows of the ages lifted from her features, showing the woman she had been.

The Wilderness Maiden offered a brilliant smile, reminiscent of wildflowers blooming across a plain.

“Beshaka.”

“…”

“My thanks, Great Warrior of Atala. For remembering us… for remembering the shaman of Fierce Eyes, and for coming back.”

As her voice trailed off, the reality of the room fractured and dissolved.

Crackle, crackle…

The claustrophobic ritual chamber and the elderly woman vanished, replaced piece by piece by the open air of the Messen Plains. As the illusion faded, Ilenia came into view. She had been lying on the ground, frantically scribbling notes, but she scrambled to her feet the moment she saw Kadim.

“M-Mercenary! Are you alright? I was terrified when I ended up back here alone—what happened in there…?”

“…”

The storm had passed, leaving a bright sky with sunbeams piercing through the clouds. Kadim’s eyes, accustomed to the dark, stung in the sudden brilliance. He ignored Ilenia’s frantic questioning about his location and the person he had encountered.

He looked toward the horizon and spoke flatly.

“I found someone who knew an old friend. I was given a gift.”

“A gift? Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost…?”

Ilenia caught a glimpse of his haunted expression and immediately fell silent.

His eyes felt as heavy as iron. Kadim looked down. A series of accidents and a bond he couldn’t break were pulling his spirit back three centuries.

His departure had been unavoidable. He couldn’t ignore the gateway that opened after the high demon fell. He had survived that hellish war only to get back to his own world, his own home. Staying with his friends while his mind was rotting from the frenzy had never been a real choice.

But if he had known.

If he had known the sightless shaman would spend her life searching for him.

If he had known his absence would doom someone to an eternity of waiting.

He regretted that he hadn’t at least said goodbye.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Just as Kadim was about to demand the truth of her identity, the scholar spoke first.

“I have a deal for you, Mercenary.”

Kadim signaled for her to continue. Ilenia cleared her throat, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“I imagine you’re planning to use force to find out if I’m a real archaeologist, how I’ve been surviving out here, why I really hired you, and what I’m actually after. Am I close?”

“…”

Kadim gave her a cold stare, offering no confirmation. Ilenia bit her lip and made a frustrated sound.

“Fine, I’m an open book… but it doesn’t matter what I tell you, you won’t believe a word of it anyway, right?”

“…”

“So, in addition to what I’m paying you, I’ll give you this. In exchange, can we just skip the interrogation?”

She held out the item for the trade.

It was the stone slab used to locate the ‘ruins.’

Kadim’s scowl deepened. If anything, this made him more wary.

“Weren’t you obsessed with the Wilderness Maidens and their tombs? How do you plan to find them without this?”

“Well, sure, but I couldn’t get inside that place no matter what I tried. Today, because of you, I finally saw one. Isn’t it better to hand this over to someone who can actually use it?”

“…”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not quitting my research! I’ll leave the tomb-raiding to you and find another angle. Just do me a favor—visit the other sites, and when you’re done, find me in Galenta or at the university and tell me what’s inside!”

On the surface, it sounded logical. He definitely needed the slab. But the more he thought about it, the more orchestrated it felt.

‘I just happen to be in Messen, I happen to meet her, the guide happens to get sick, I happen to find a ruin, I get a tattoo, and then I’m handed a way to find more?’

He narrowed his eyes. There were too many coincidences. It felt like a scripted series of events, one quest leading directly into the next…

‘…!’

Kadim realized he had felt this suspicion once before.

But before he could pin down the memory, he had to focus on the present.

A bag of gold, the stone slab, and a solitary silver coin sat on the grass at his feet. Ilenia was already a considerable distance away. Even the limp she’d had during their first meeting was gone—she was moving like a professional scout. There wasn’t an honest bone in her body.

He considered throwing his axe to pin her down, but he hesitated. She was fast; he might miss, or worse, kill her. Instead, he snatched up the silver coin and yelled after her.

“What is this silver for?”

“Oh! That! That’s for the little guy with the goat beard! He listened to my rambling for half your fee!”

“…”

“Anyway, the trip was a blast! See you around, Mercenary!”

With those words, Ilenia disappeared into the thicket like a ghost.

Kadim looked at the coin. It bore a strange emblem: a palm covering an eye, with a second eye etched onto the back of the hand. It wasn’t a standard 100 Luden piece. He thought it might be local scrip from the Free City Alliance.

But he was wrong. Later, at the inn in Messen, even Duncan was stumped by it.

“Sir! Where did you go all day…? Wait, what is that?”

“The archaeologist gave it to you. A fee for your time.”

“Ah, that lady. I thought she was just talking nonsense, but she actually paid… That’s odd… Why such a strange mark on the silver…?”

“You don’t recognize it as Alliance money?”

“No, I’ve never seen anything like it. The silver is high quality, but the stamp…”

If a merchant who had traded every coin under the sun didn’t know it, it wasn’t common tender. It could be a private minting or currency from a kingdom that had long since vanished.

Then, Duncan’s eyes popped wide in shock.

“M-My Lord! This symbol—I know it!”

“…What?”

“Back in the cellar of Molden Castle! The box that held your throwing axe! The mark on that chest was identical to this!!”

“…!”

Kadim grabbed the coin back and scrutinized the two eyes staring from the hand. His fingers drifted to the grip of ‘Salmon.’

Her involvement wasn’t a coincidence.

‘…We’re going to have a long talk if I ever find that woman again.’

He made a mental note to tie her up next time to ensure she couldn’t run away.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Ilenia—or whoever she truly was—slid through the pitch-black woods. Her body was a blur of motion, her yellow eyes glowing like polished gems in the dark. She stopped abruptly at the entrance of a hidden cavern.

A man with one eye, sitting on a crate and holding a vigil at the entrance, called out.

“Mission over? Did you pull it off?”

“…”

The woman gave him a haughty look. She gestured for him to step aside without saying a word. The man spat on the ground and held out his hand.

“Come on, even you have to follow the rules. No ID, no entry.”

Ting!

She tossed a silver coin his way with a flick of her wrist. He caught it, but his face twisted into a snarl.

“Are you kidding me? You think I’m asking for a tip? I want the marker—the ‘Silver of the Fallen Kingdom’ relic, not some spare change!”

The woman began patting her pockets, her confusion turning into visible alarm.

“…Wait, what?”