Chapter 571 – Fleeting Comradeship

Nine victories in a row.

If it had been a ranked match of a particular AOS game, I would have been exhilarated enough to order chicken in celebration.

“The second tablet.”

We arrived at the location of the second stone tablet, guided by the temple’s directions.
Exhausted, I leaned my back against the wall. Upon my subtle gesture, Venice, a modest shrug of her shoulders, began examining the tablet.

“Can’t even read without me, can you?”
“Uh, yeah. I need you for this, please.”
“…Heh.”

Venice, satisfied with my response, smiled bashfully and nodded her head.

“You need me, huh? Hmm. At least here, in this dungeon, I’m your sole interpreter and companion, right? Hmm?”

Her coy smile was brimming with delight.
What a character.
As I playfully shoved her away with my foot for sticking her buttocks into my sitting face, the pushed-away Venice started interpreting the tablet, all the while rubbing her own rear.

“Bouncy.”
“Just interpret it.”
“My, my. Listen well, I won’t repeat myself because of a sore throat….”

=====

A beautiful girl of purest white, Abi.

She lost her parents and survived by selling plucked flowers. The child, who once survived on gruel and stale bread, was now a blossoming maiden, yet she still had to navigate through a perilous world.

By her fate, Abi was meant to be sold as a plaything for the nobility.
The body of this innocent maiden exuded a peculiar scent of freshly drawn milk. This aroma was stronger than the flowers she sold, attracting numerous customers, drawn by the milky scent permeating the streets.
And then, she caught the attention of a corrupt nobleman, and like so many beautiful women before her, was on the brink of having her purity stolen.

=====

“Why is this story inscribed here?”
“Even heroes should be praised for their looks, right? But milk….”

Venice emphasized the point by cupping her own breasts.

“Seems like this character was quite buxom, huh?”
“I’m not interested.”
“It’s common for those who grow up in rural areas to be more voluptuous, as if oozing richness. The aristocratic scoundrel probably lost weight to fit societal beauty standards.”
“Huh.”

It’s not explicitly written here. But how many men’s fantasies would the flower-selling maiden, Abi, have fueled?
Led by Venice’s wild imagination, I too found myself conjuring up images of Abi.

Hmm….
No matter how I envision her, I can’t picture her chest being large.

Perhaps it’s because I saw a namesake with a modest chest before venturing into this fairy mountain.
Abi, the Grand Sorceress and the Union Leader of the Mage Tower, was not of such a physique.

“It only mentioned the scent of milk, not that her breasts were large.”
“Obviously, it’s a metaphorical expression. The scent of milk implies that her breasts were large. Why, want to make a bet on it?”
“Do we have to bet over breasts?”
“Scared?”

“Ahh… An elf on the brink of death has gone senile and crazy.” Venice’s uncharacteristic manner of speaking rankled me, and I promptly lifted my head.

“Give it a try.”
“Will you grant my desires?”
“Do it. And continue the translation.”
“Hehehe, don’t be so hasty, the females might run away. Well, I’m the only female here, but… It could happen outside.”

You’re far too talkative.

“Fine, fine~ You insufferable chatterbox.”

Venice, who had repeatedly tested my patience, began interpreting the stone tablet again.

===

But perhaps it was fate lending a hand. The noble did not befall my father. More accurately, they couldn’t. Just before he was about to be enslaved by the night, a surge of spirits had swept in, killing the noble who sought to capture him.

He managed to protect the maiden but lost his homeland. Though he found temporary havens after that, all the loved ones around him lost their lives, either to spirits or to humans.

As my father reached adulthood, he found an occasion to visit the human city. The city was grand and vast, flourishing enough to resist an invasion of spirits. Yet, in its confines, captive spirits often suffered unjustly.

In the heart of the marketplace, my father saw a cute bird being tormented. The spirit, abandoned in a deserted place where it could barely survive, was on the brink of extinguishing its life force. My father did not hesitate to approach the bird and lend a hand.

She understood already. There was no difference between spirits and humans, and there were far too many innocents being sacrificed.

My father took great care of the bird. Touched by his tender heart, the bird transformed into a woman and said,

“You are the first of your kind I have met. My name is Elinis. I am a spirit who entered the human world to stop this war.”

This bird was a spirit who vehemently denied the longstanding war with humans. Every hardship she endured, whether camouflaged or persecuted by humans, was to assess their cruelty. In truth, her benevolent sentiments were slowly dying due to the brutal nature of humans.

Then, Elinis saw my father. His kindness made her believe that she had finally found a companion to end this war.

“Please lend me your strength.”

True power manifests only when spirits and humans join forces. My father, who had made a pact with the great spirit Elinis, was an extremely frail and timid child. Yet, knowing the horrors of war, he mustered his courage.

Above the desert, where all spirits severed ties with humans, the first Spirit Mage revealed himself once more.

===

Below, my father’s journey was recorded in detail.

His battles against cruel humans and wicked spirits, his gathering of personal power, and his confrontations with adversaries.

The records of the father’s relentless efforts to mend the broken bond between humans and spirits were distressingly vivid.

Venice, while perusing her father’s biography, clicked her tongue in a semblance of regret.

“This is no fairy tale.”

Indeed, her father’s journey was far from smooth. His companions, to whom he had entrusted his heart, perished one by one. The spirits with whom he had formed contracts during his journey also met their end. Betrayed due to his excessive trust, there were meticulous chronicles of him weeping in the solitude of the attic, burdened by the immense pain.

Does one not develop an intimate connection with the characters while reading a book? Venice found herself becoming increasingly attached to the name Abi, partly out of empathy.

“Who penned this?”

In the end, Abi was the lone survivor. To be exact, he had Erinies by his side, but she opted to stay as the queen of the spirit realm, effectively leaving him solitary.

“After that, Abi traversed foreign lands, preaching peace, before finally settling in an eastern island nation where he embraced death. He erected a dungeon amidst a mountain where cherry blossoms bloomed, vowing to prevent history from repeating its violent wars. It must be here.”

Venice’s conjecture was accurate. The dungeon left behind by the spirit mage Abi was a place where lessons were imparted to ensure that humans and spirits would not battle again.

‘Considering his greatness, it’s not surprising that he’s regarded as divine.’

It seemed that this Spirit Mountain was initially revered as sacred grounds, only to be gradually forgotten due to the encroachment of the aristocracy.

“From what I gather, Abi must have placed great importance on the virtues of a spirit mage.”
“I think I understand, but let’s hear the story.”
“All the gates we’ve encountered so far, don’t they each elucidate the qualities required of a spirit mage?”

The first gate tested the ability to befriend spirits. The second taught how to overcome trials by integrating with spirits within the village. The third demanded mastering spirit techniques while maintaining a heart-to-heart connection with the spirits.

The spirit magic, learned gradually through each stage, was exceedingly apt for understanding the essence of a spirit mage.

“I feel the same.”

Initially, she considered merely scrambling through. However, as she overcame each gate, she found her heart syncing naturally with the spirits.

Regardless of the method, the fact that Venice remained by my side was evidence enough.

“…Hehe.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”

Venice, having read my thoughts, graced me with another radiant smile. Her grinning face, marred by dark circles reaching her cheeks, was a jarring contrast.

Venice moved away from the slab and came to sit by my side, placing her ass down. She nestled close to me and muttered,

“Well, it seems we understand the purpose of this dungeon. But it seems that even the great spirit mage couldn’t grasp the depths of human cruelty.”

The Yoshino family, and the numerous nobles who had ruled over Spirit Mountain in the preceding generations…

They didn’t clear the dungeon but merely skimmed off its spoils. Venice cast a weary glance upwards, towards the zenith of the temple.

“Look at this.”
“What?”

“This shrine appears to cease its function during the nocturnal hours.”

From a certain point, the luminescence of the shrine had extinguished, transforming it into an ample space for slumber. It appears to resume its operations come dawn.

“Initially, it must have harbored enough magical potency to sustain its activities during the night. Through the passage of countless millennia, reviving the deceased nymphs. It seems the lifespan of the dungeon is nearing its end, consumed by the process of memory obliteration.”
“Is that so?”
“It seems the cycle wasn’t infinite after all. My own recurring existence, too, must have been destined to conclude at some point.”

Venice symbolizes an entity of malfunction created by the senescence of the dungeon.

Venice, whose memory, in its initial state, should have been eradicated. Could it be attributable to the extraordinary power she possesses? Perhaps due to the immense magical energy required for her restoration, the dungeon relinquished the obliteration of Venice’s memory as its first compromise. Consequently, Venice has become a singular being that retains the memory of her cyclic existence.

“That woman probably didn’t foresee the dungeon evolving to this state.”

Venice mused with a hint of self-mockery.

“…It is indeed a lengthy process.”
“You must be wearied.”
“Exceedingly so.”

Venice, at our initial encounter, appeared on the verge of an extreme decision at any moment, seemingly wilted under the weight of fatigue. Her attire was disheveled, she exhibited a general disinterest in all things, exhibiting no inclination to venture beyond the confines of the dwelling.

However, the present circumstances could culminate at any given moment. Venice, having realized the finiteness of her life, now exuded a radiance much brighter than before.

“What about now?”

In response to my inquiry, Venice grinned slightly, her hand touching the ground.

-Hum hum!

Magical energy swirls, causing a tree to erupt from the floor. Large leaves encompass our surroundings, assuming the form of a tent.

A tent of the perfect size for two to lay down in. Venice nuzzled her ear against mine.

“Currently. I possess a friend, the one I trust most in this world.”
“Really?”

Venice continued, rubbing her elongated ear against mine.

“In your world, what gestures do friends exchange?”
“It varies from country to country.”
“Of course, I am asking about your own place of residence.”
“Hmm…”

I extended a light fist. Blinking her eyes and tilting her head, Venice’s wrist lightly grasped and aligned with my fist.

“This?”

A fist-to-fist interaction. There are typically a few additional movements incorporated here, a trend that was popular during my high school years. Some ludicrous movements are appended, but that would be a tad excessive.

“Fist…”

Venice appeared delighted.

-Thud.

“Once more.”

Venice, who had tapped my shoulder with her fist, extended her fist once again. Upon meeting her diminutive fist, the delicate elf let out a soft chuckle.

Having waited for several millennia, the first person to understand her. It isn’t surprising that she displays this level of affection.

There’s not an aspect of Venice’s demeanor that remains incomprehensible. Just as Venice comprehended me through our connection, I too can understand her.

Indeed, it was the epitome of an ideal companionship.

– Whispered.

A blanket woven from leaves enveloped us, and Venice pressed her face into its embrace. As the blanket rustled, Venice’s body ascended atop mine.

The electrifying sensation of the other’s emotions. There was no need for any crude actions.

I tenderly encircled Venice in my arms.

– Embraced.

The strength in Venice’s arms, which embraced me, intensified. As though she were a child nestled in her parents’ arms, Venice leaned into my embrace and succumbed to quiet slumber.