Chapter 53

Chapter 53

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Zain]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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Ronan lowered his sword. The middle-aged elf finally let out a relieved sigh. He picked up the fallen basket from the ground and spoke.

“I am a priest who serves Seniel. To come all the way to this rugged place, there must be an important reason.”

“Seniel?”

“Yes. The forgotten spirit. Only a very few remember that name now... I thought for sure only pilgrims who worshiped him would come.”

Seniel. It was a name Ronan had never heard before. The man began to gather the herbs and mushrooms spilled from the basket, and Ronan helped gather them too.

“Oh, thank you for helping.”

“It’s only natural after I knocked you down. But are you really going to eat all of this?”

Ronan furrowed his brow. The peculiar-looking herbs he had never seen before lay scattered around them. The man, who had gathered the strange and distant roots like devil’s beards, chuckled.

“These are precious herbs. They can only be found in places where mana gathers, like here.”

“Just looking at them, they seem like they’d grow tails on our bottoms... but now that you mention it, I am curious.”

“Come inside. I’ll make some tea or something similar. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone who isn’t a pilgrim.”

“Sure. But I have companions with me. Can I bring them along?”

“Ah, no wonder I sensed people. Of course.”

The elf man readily agreed to Ronan’s proposal. Before long, Aselle, Marya, and Braum arrived in front of the temple. They all admired the fact that a temple stood in such a rugged place and looked around in awe. The man gathered his hands and bowed at the waist.

“La Seniel. Sarante Lematyon.”

“Lematyon?”

Hearing the name Lematyon, Ronan frowned. The castle where the elven Cyril Rodollan was held captive was called Lematyon.

However, he didn’t voice any objections. It was common among the forest folk to use the names of the Mother Trees as surnames, and Lematyon was a common surname. Ronan’s group exchanged greetings as they went inside the temple.

“I’m Ronan.”

“Ah, hello... I’m Aselle.”

“Hello, Sarante. I’m Marya Carabel.”

“Hahaha! And I’m Braum!”

Sarante led the group into the temple. The rectangular interior carried the distinctive ascetic yet serene atmosphere of a temple. Marya caressed the wall with inscribed symbols and murmured.

“It’s an unfamiliar architectural style.”

Most of the structures, including chairs and tables, were made of stone. They appeared rough at first glance, but a closer look revealed intricate craftsmanship. As Ronan surveyed the temple, his gaze stopped at one particular spot.

“What’s this...?”

In the center of the temple stood an oddly-shaped stone. In other religious temples, this position was reserved for relics or important altars. Just then, Sarante’s voice came from behind.

“Ah, that’s Seniel’s idol.”

“An idol? This?”

Ronan furrowed his brow. Nowhere on the corn-like stone did he see the semblance of a deity. Its worn surface conveyed only the passage of time and effort it had endured.

It was indeed a strange religion. After a moment of contemplation, Ronan spoke. Secretly, he was also bothered by matters concerning Cyril.

“Hey, Sarante.”

“Hmm? Why the sudden formality?”

“Without asking anything, just repeat after me once.”

“‘The Arrival of the Star is the day when the end descends from the sky’.”

Sarante raised an eyebrow. Ronan was always ready to draw his sword if needed.

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you soon. Just repeat after me for now. Quickly.”

All eyes were on Sarante. Marya suddenly started cleaning her greatsword, while Braum pretended to admire the carvings on a statue as he blocked the entrance. Eventually, Sarante spoke.

“Okay then.’The Arrival of the Star is the day when the end descends from the sky’.”

“Um.”

“Now, will you tell me what it means? Is this some kind of incantation popular in the outside world these days?”

Sarante repeated Ronan’s words without changing his expression, just as he had with the insult to Ahayute.

Finally relieved, Ronan let go of the hilt of his sword. He briefly explained about the Nebula Clazier organization. Sarante chuckled and nodded.

“Throughout history, there have always been forces that confuse the world with false beliefs. Come to think of it, during the reign of Emperor Lixoda VII, there seemed to be a similar organization...”

“Lixoda...?”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. It was a name he had heard in history lessons. The kingdom that ruled the central region of the continent when the Thousand-Year Empire Barun was still just a small state. Sarante smiled as if interpreting Ronan’s silence.

“Well, it seems the rulers of this land have changed again.”

“How old are you, really?”

“I’m not sure either. I stopped counting my age a thousand years ago.”

Ronan lowered his head. Conversations with long-lived races often made him feel like his common knowledge was being shattered. Sarante had asked various questions about the current state of the continent.

“Ah, how surprising that the dragon Orségogo has fallen. Mortals’ power has become quite remarkable.”

“The war between the former emperor and Orségogo is now the stuff of fairy tales.”

/helscans

Ronan furrowed his brows, and Sarante noticed his expression, chuckling.

“Hmm? Is there something bothering you?”

“No... I just heard something about special meat yesterday, and your expression seemed suspicious. Looks like I misunderstood.”

“Heh... What did you think?”

“Yes. I was sure one of us would end up on the dinner table.”

“Oh... I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Having esteemed guests like you visit after such a long time got me a bit too excited.”

Sarante scratched his head, appearing somewhat embarrassed. That evening, the deer meat appeared on the dining table. True to its status as special meat, its taste was exquisite. Ronan nodded as he finished devouring one of the hind legs.

“I was being too sensitive.”

By now, he had to admit it. Sarante was just a kind old man. Ronan suddenly wondered who might have destroyed the temple where such a good soul lived.

“But it doesn’t seem like an act of vengeance.”

Comparing the temple’s current state and the sense of age from the ruins, Ronan concluded that the series of destructive acts had likely happened relatively recently.

Starting to recall the runescape, Ronan began to sort out candidates who could have caused the temple’s condition. Approximately three potential culprits emerged, one of which might be unavoidable, but the other two could possibly be dealt with.

“Well, it worked out well. My body was itching for some action anyway.”

That night, Ronan gathered his party in the absence of Sarante. Yawning, Marya woke up and asked, “Wha... What’s happening in the middle of the night?”

“I suddenly had a good idea.”

“A good idea...?”

“Before we leave here, let’s clear out the nearby orc settlements. And maybe find a Curse eye while we’re at it.”

“What?”

The eyes of the party, including Marya, widened. They were taken aback by the sudden suggestion. Ronan spoke with a cigarette in his mouth.

“We’re just indebted to that old elf. If we’ve eaten, we should do some work.”

“Well, that’s true, but...”

“And there’s nothing like practical experience to improve your skills. Right, Aselle?”

“Hiihiik!”

Aselle took a step back. Ronan was suppressing a laugh, much like when he proposed stealing Lunar Goblin’s treasure.

“Everyone, come with me.”

Ronan led the party up to the mountaintop in a haphazard manner. The panoramic view of the vast Baydian Mountains spread before them. Pointing out distant flickering lights, Ronan spoke.

“Those are all damn orc settlements. Imagine each one having around a hundred to three hundred in population.”

“Th-Three hundred...!”

“We’re going to wipe all of them out today or tomorrow. I’m pretty sure it’ll be quite a valuable experience.”

It didn’t take long for them to realize that Ronan wasn’t joking. The party’s faces turned pale.

“All... all of them?”

There seemed to be at least six settlements. Even if individual orcs were formidable, their sheer numbers were overwhelming. Reading his companions’ minds, Ronan continued.

“I know what you’re thinking. But it’s probably going to take a damn long time, right?”

“Frankly, yes. Even if we fight well, our stamina will have its limits!”

Braum spoke with a serious expression. A moment of exhaustion could lead to being overwhelmed by orcs. Ronan exhaled smoke and spoke.

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll only have to face a few when we really start swinging our swords.”

“Huh?”

Smirking, Ronan looked at the orc settlements. Six of them were located along the base of the mountains, near curving rivers. He turned to Aselle as if reading his thoughts.

“Do you know what I mean? Don’t you feel like we’re in for quite a fight?”

“Um...”

Ronan’s eyes twinkled as he looked at the orc settlements. Four out of the six settlements were situated along the foothills of the mountains. Without a doubt, the numbers were too much for them to handle. Ronan continued, as if reading the minds of his companions.

“I know what you’re thinking. But don’t worry. We’ll only have to face a few of them when we really start fighting.”

“Hmm?”

Ronan chuckled, looking at the orc settlements. Four of the six were positioned along the base of the mountains, and his gaze shifted to Aselle as if anticipating his thoughts.

“Do you see what I’m getting at? Doesn’t it feel like we’re in for a challenging battle?”

“Um...”

Ronan smiled as he looked at the settlements. Four of the six orc settlements were nestled along the mountain base. He turned to Aselle, sensing his thoughts.

“You get it, right?

It’s not like we’ll be dealing with all of them at once.”

“Hmm?”

Ronan chuckled, looking at the orc settlements. Four out of the six were positioned along the base of the mountains, near curving rivers. He turned to the visibly nervous Aselle and continued,

“Engaging in a fight and actually killing are two entirely different things.”

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Zain]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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Read ahead on our /helscans

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