Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Suddenly, everything around lit up as if it were broad daylight. Ian was pushed back by an overwhelming heat, gasping for breath.

Rumble.

The endless flames that had been erupting finally began to subside with a rumbling sound.

Ian staggered and covered his face, exclaiming, "Ah, my eyes, damn it...."

Ian couldn't shield his eyes because he was using both hands to withstand the pressure. A headache from the depletion of magic and a sense of betrayal followed. This was because of an unfriendly message on the information window; he felt tricked by the vague wording of the game's interface. He had thought that the essence bead amplified magic with its own magical power, but it was actually amplified by absorbing the wearer's magic.

I don't think it was like his in the game... Ah. Ian then realized something.

Ian then realized that he had never used the essence bead alone in the game. Thanks to the priests, who were no better than robbers, he had worn artifacts and magical armaments by the time he could afford the purification costs. Among them were items that wouldn't perform well without a magic stone or essence bead, so he never thought of using the essence bead alone.

So those items were controlling the essence bead? This was a plausible guess. Considering the game's settings often had their reasons, even if it looked unnatural.

Like the overlapping magical power inside the essence bead. Ian's brow furrowed again as he naturally picked up the essence bead. The density of the magical power inside the essence bead had significantly decreased.

I thought I could use it about 50 times when mounted on an item, thought Ian.

What a waste. Ian placed the essence bead back into the pocket dimension and looked up. His vision had somewhat returned. He blinked and focused his eyes for a moment.

“Huh...” Ian chuckled humorlessly as he observed the condition of the Twisted Ancient Tree. It was almost entirely charred. The parts of the tree pierced by the flame had turned into burning charcoal.

Whoosh.

The surrounding branches couldn’t even wriggle properly as they burned away. Only the roots, resembling anacondas, writhed on the ground, expressing their agony.

"Shouldn't have bothered bringing kerosene," Ian muttered in vain, thinking he should have started with magic in the first place.

Resigned, Ian took out a sword from the subspace. It was time to alleviate the poor creature's suffering.

***

"What the hell happened here..." Miguel murmured.

The horses were nervously stamping, and a few sliced and burned hosts lay twitching around. His gaze was fixed on the night sky beyond the forest.

About an hour ago.

Boom.

A loud noise followed by a pillar of fire lightened up the night sky. Since then, only faint glimmers of light were flickering.

"It must be Ian's doing.” Miguel couldn’t take his eyes off the scene.

"What did he do with all that oil..." Miguel mused but then froze as he heard faint footsteps approaching.

"So damn far, really..." A tired voice muttered.

Miguel who was holding his breath finally exhaled.

"Ian...? Is that you?" Miguel asked as Ian emerged from the bushes.

"Yeah," Ian replied, causing Miguel to sigh in relief, collapsing almost.

"Man, you scared me! But what were you doing over there?" Miguel, holding a torch, paused again when he saw Ian, who looked as if he'd been rolling in ashes.

"Are you... alright?"

"Does it look like I am?"

I’m already feeling dirty, damn it, thought Ian.

Ian's frown deepened at the thought of the Twisted Ancient Tree's end. When he had struck the creature's weak point, a magical explosion erupted along with a wail full of resentment.

Although it wasn't extremely dangerous, the problem was that the tree had turned into charcoal. As the charred parts fell off, the area turned into a mess, like smoke bombs had been detonated.

If you're going to die, at least do it neatly, Ian thought, stopping in his tracks.

"Water."

“...?”

"Give me water," Ian demanded.

Miguel quickly complied, and Ian took a sip from the water bottle before using the rest to wash his face and gloves, adding, "Keep watch here. If anything shows up, burn it or cut it, whatever."

"Understood...." Miguel replied, turning his head as Ian walked past him.

"Is that all? Don't you have anything else to say?" Miguel asked.

"Nothing. Except to shut up," Ian responded coldly.

Ian then approached Philip holding a torch, who had been watching him with an anxious expression since his arrival. Ian stopped to look at Mev, who was sitting at Philip's feet, leaning against a sword planted in the ground, and gasping for breath intermittently.

"What happened?" Ian inquired.

"Understood... But, what are you going to do?" Philip asked.

"Treatment," Ian replied.

"How will you do it?" Philip asked again.

Instead of answering, Ian extended his right hand over Mev's arm. The ring on his middle finger came to life, moving subtly.

"That, what is that? It's not just a ring, is it?" Philip's eyes widened in astonishment.

"It's the resentment left by the Dullahan. Now, it's a familiar serving me,” Ian replied.

"A familiar... a creature of darkness?" Philip's forehead creased slowly.

"Why. Is there a problem?" Ian asked.

"Problem? Only the fallen consort with such creatures! And you're commanding it as a familiar!" said Philip.

Ian almost scoffed at this. In his view, whether a cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice, that's what matters. Yet, this narrow-minded perspective was the common belief in this world. By the standards of these dark age humans, Ian's pragmatic way of thinking was almost sacrilegious.

"If you use that on her, surely the Goddess will be wrathful," said Philip.

"Would she be more wrathful than letting an apostle die?" Ian retorted sharply.

"Uh... well, that's... I don't know..." Philip stuttered, unable to respond.

"Do I look corrupted to you?" Ian added.

"You don’t seem... corrupted," Philip replied.

"Then shut up and hold her arm. Speak one more word, and you'll learn firsthand what my wrath is like," said Ian.

Silently trembling, Philip reluctantly gripped Mev's arm. The black serpent-like entity eagerly dropped onto Mev's arm. It crawled over the pus, biting fiercely into the center of the wound. Black blood slowly spread out. As it formed a line and trickled down, Philip's eyes widened.

"Th—there's a change, sir!" said Philip.

The black marks on her arm began to fade from the edges, becoming noticeably lighter. In just a few minutes, the Swamp’s Resentment, seemingly satisfied, detached its mouth from the wound. Although its appearance didn't change much except for a shinier scale, the black marks covering Mev's arm had completely disappeared. The snake-like traces and the swollen area filled with pus, however, remained.

It seems we've passed the critical phase, thought Ian.

At least the ominous feeling that had been nagging at his instincts was gone.

"So, this creature was able to heal her..." said Philip.

That's what I've been saying, you bastard. Ian extended his hand again. With a hiss, the Swamp’s Resentment bared its fangs.

"Why, why is it doing this?!" Philip instinctively recoiled.

"Who knows." Ian calmly continued to move his hand toward the familiar's mouth. Their eyes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

Let's see you do it again. Ian slightly lifted the corners of his mouth.

The standoff was brief. As soon as Ian's fingertip touched it, the creature's mouth closed smoothly. It then crawled up his finger, reverting back to the form of a ring.

"Is that really safe...?" Philip spoke, looking uneasy.

"A creature's nature doesn’t change just because it's tamed," Ian replied.

Just like how you keep babbling no matter how much I tell you to be quiet, Ian mused.

"Hand me the dagger. Get some bandages and alcohol from the bag too," Ian ordered.

"Alcohol? For what purpose... ...Yes, sir." Philip, silenced by Ian's gaze, handed over the dagger and stood up.

Ian held the dagger blade over the torch, sterilizing it. In a sense, the real treatment was just beginning.

"I have them, sir!” Philip returned with bandages and a bottle of alcohol.

Ian opened the bottle first. The sharp, potent smell hit his nose. Luckily, it was closer to rum than beer. Ian washed his hands with the alcohol.

I don’t know if this is as effective as in the movies, but... better than doing nothing, thought Ian.

"Hold her arm tightly, Philip." Ian brought the blade of the dagger to the edge of the swollen area and whispered.

"This will hurt a bit." Ian sliced almost simultaneously, and sticky blood and pus oozed out. Ian quickly set down the dagger and gripped the swollen area with both hands, squeezing firmly.

Mev's body twitched. However, she couldn't escape the grip of Ian and Philip, who grimaced as if he was in pain. Soon, Ian picked up the bottle of alcohol. He poured it over Mev's blood- and pus-soaked forearm. Her waist bent like a bow.

"Ugh...!" Mev’s hands trembled violently.

Ian silently wiped off the remaining blood and pus and wrapped the area with a cloth. Thanks to his emergency treatment skills, the entire process looked quite professional. As Ian released his hands, Mev's body slumped weakly.

"Is this really treatment? It looked more like you were trying to harm her..." Philip asked.

The one that was trying to harm her was not me, but you. Ian chuckled to himself and looked down at Mev.

"Are you conscious?" Ian asked.

"...Thanks to you." A weak voice came from behind her face covering.