Chapter 77: The Saint’s Quest

Chapter 77: The Saint's Quest

Lyman's eyes lit up. Wound Transfer! For ordinary people, this ability could heal others, but it would put them at a huge disadvantage.

But for Sylen, that wasn't a problem at all! He could use Wound Transfer to shift others' injuries onto himself, then use his Indestructible Body to heal those wounds. Sylen would become an invincible healer who never lost health!

Of course, transferring others' wounds would bring Sylen immense pain. If he wasn't willing, Lyman wouldn't force him. The other option, Swift as the Wind, was also extremely useful for Sylen.

As for which one to choose... Lyman planned to leave the decision to Sylen himself.

He picked up Sylen's Apostle Card, concentrated, and conjured a vague, ethereal figure in his mind...

***

Night.

Outside the city of Wenderra, the escaped gladiators were camping in a cave. They lit a bonfire; some went to prepare food, others set up tents. Feralion, with his extensive wilderness survival experience, was guiding them on how to organize night watch rotations.

Sylen stood at the cave entrance, his back to the fire, facing the cold mountain wind, his gaze lingering over the mountains.

He reflected on what he had heard from the gladiators: a mysterious superhuman had rescued them.

He knew very few superhumans. After ruling out all other possibilities, only one answer remained.

"Is it you..." the merman youth's voice was as faint as smoke, dissipating into the wind, almost inaudible.

Suddenly, the youth's vision was engulfed by endless darkness. For a moment, he thought he had gone blind. He was about to call for Feralion, but soon realized how familiar this darkness felt.

When his life had hung by a thread, this darkness had saved him and given him hope of survival.

The darkness condensed into a vague, shifting human form, reminding Sylen of Mr. Shadow. But this dark figure was more profound, more exalted, and more expansive. If Mr. Shadow was night incarnate, then this dark figure was the universe itself made manifest.

"...Lord of the Abyss!"

Sylen's heart swelled with emotion. He immediately bowed his head devoutly, hands clasped before his chest.

It had been a long time since he had spoken directly with the Lord of the Abyss. Ever since leaving that forest where countless of his kin were buried, this was the first time...

"Sylen Moon Tide, I have witnessed your deeds."

A voice as majestic as an ancient bell resounded in Sylen's ears.

The merman youth's body trembled, on the verge of tears before such divine favor.

"I... I wouldn't presume to claim any achievements, great Lord of the Abyss. I only acted on the guidance of you and your servant. The credit belongs to Xiaoqi and Mr. Shadow."

"Humility is a virtue of yours," said the Lord of the Abyss. "An exemplary Apostle deserves a reward. Sylen, look at your hand."

Sylen looked at his hand—he was still holding the Apostle Card!

With a flash of light, a new item materialized in the Divine Casket—it was the Titan Wedge that Mr. Shadow had previously lent him!

"This is a reward for your loyalty. Take it."

Sylen trembled so violently he nearly dropped the Apostle Card.

"This is too valuable! I should give it back to Mr. Shadow!"

A soft chuckle escaped the Lord of the Abyss's lips. "Shadow has reaped enough spoils this time. Besides, this relic isn't suited to him. The best weapon should go to the one most worthy of it."

Sylen grasped the Lord of the Abyss's meaning. Indeed, his Indestructible Body was a better match for the Titan Wedge, allowing him to avoid the harm this relic might inflict.

"Furthermore, to commend you for the successful completion of your mission, I also intend to grant you another reward—a second Supernatural Ability."

A second Supernatural Ability! Sylen had never even dared to dream of such a thing! He had always believed a person could only have one supernatural ability—that was the natural order of things. The Lord of the Abyss's divine power was truly unfathomable—he could even defy the laws of nature!

"Choose for yourself: would you rather be as swift as the wind, or be able to transfer others' wounds onto yourself, bearing their pain in their stead?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Sylen answered: "I choose Wound Transfer!"

"Oh? This will cause you great suffering."

"I'm willing to endure it! With this ability, combined with my Indestructible Body, I can heal others! This would be incredibly useful for the transport station!"

Becoming swifter would certainly be nice, but Sylen now had to think not only of himself, but also of his companions and fellow warriors.

"Very well."

As the Lord of the Abyss's words faded, a stream of light suddenly burst forth from the Apostle Card, rushing into Sylen's mind like a surging river. In an instant, he was flooded with knowledge about Wound Transfer, and a new energy coursed through his limbs and bones.

"I hope you continue to strive and not betray my trust."

With that, the darkness before him dispersed like mist scattered by the wind. Sylen's vision was once more filled with the starry sky and the snow-covered mountains bathed in moonlight.

"Thank you, great Lord of the Abyss!" The merman youth bowed his head deeply, tears welling up in his eyes. "I will never disappoint you!"

Not far away, Feralion stood on the opposite side of the bonfire, watching the youth's back. Flames flickered in his emerald-green eyes.

"Is he worshipping his god? What kind of god is that?" the elf wondered inwardly.

***

After leaving the Blade Mountains, the prisoner convoy continued through the highlands. The journey was uneventful—no bandits, no wild beast attacks.

The scholar said it was perhaps because a dragon had once roamed this area, causing both bandits and beasts to flee at the mere scent of it. They didn't yet know the dragon was dead, so the ecological niche here was now empty.

Four days later, they finally left the rugged mountain trails and returned to the flat plains.

"In about a week or so, we should reach Crowsrest Ferry."

That evening, while setting up camp, Lyman overheard Aether speaking to the guards.

"A ship will be waiting for us there. From there, we'll head north and return to the Holy City."

At this, the guards broke into cheers. They had endured so many hardships on this journey—first the prison revolt at Cape Prison, then bandits, and even a dragon... Though they'd been forced to broaden their horizons, the guards would rather have done without such experiences and simply returned safely to the Holy City.

But Lyman took note of the name Aether mentioned: "Crowsrest Town."

Before he died, Carlos had instructed him to sell the relic and give the money to his wife. She lived in Crowsrest Town, and her name was Anna Blanco.

When they reached Crowsrest Town, he would need to find that woman. As for turning the relic into money, Lyman didn't have a good way yet. Perhaps he could trade directly with Sylen, exchanging the Message Conch for some money.

Lyman quietly opened the Divine Casket and took stock of his current relics: Blade of Revelation and Shadow Play—his old companions; Grandpa Tata's Eternal Lantern; Carlos's Message Conch; the Celestial Totem obtained from the slain red dragon; and Lament of the Earth and Death's Neighbor, obtained from killing the mercenary in Wenderra City.

There were also the curios: the Light-Focusing Mirror, which had only one use left; Tove's Spirit Sight Mirror; and the Miracle Fruit gifted by Feralion.

His stash had grown considerably!

While reviewing the relic descriptions, Lyman noticed that relics with auxiliary or passive effects, such as Eternal Lantern and Death's Neighbor, had no side effects.

But relics with powerful offensive effects, like Lament of the Earth, Titan Wedge, and Blade of Revelation, often inflicted some harm on the user. For instance, Lament of the Earth and Blade of Revelation required blood, while Titan Wedge had to be driven into the body.

Unless one had a supernatural ability that happened to resist such damage, as Sylen did, relics would inevitably cause some harm to their users.

"It looks like I'll have to be more careful about how I use these from now on," Lyman thought. "Otherwise, I'll bleed out before I even take the enemy down—that'd be a real problem."

On top of that, Lyman could upgrade another Supernatural Ability! This was his reward for Sylen finishing the task.

He'd been going back and forth, not sure which one to upgrade. His current abilities were good enough for now—maybe he should just save this chance for later, when he got something stronger?

"Lyman!" Lunast's voice suddenly popped into his head. "Upgrade 'Animal Friend'—trust me!"

"Ugh..." Lyman covered his ears. "How do you even know what Supernatural Abilities I've got?"

"It's in the book, isn't it? I'm not illiterate," Lunast said, confused.

"Why Animal Friend? Why not something else?"

Lunast's voice got all sneaky: "That way, next time you run into some supernatural creature like a dragon, you can just politely ask it to leave. That way you won't have to be alone with some Inquisitor..."

"Lunast, tell me the truth," Lyman said with a sigh.

By now, he could tell when this head-only guy was full of it and when he was being serious.

"Alright. There's an old saying that's been going around: the weaker a Supernatural Ability looks, the stronger it gets after you upgrade it.

"Like, take 'Lover's Noose.' If it's a low-level Supernatural Ability, it might just control ropes or whatever. But once it becomes a top-tier relic, even legendary creatures like dragons can't escape getting strangled by it.

"As for 'Animal Friend,' it's the weakest-looking ability you've got—besides talking to animals, it's useless, and sometimes they don't even listen to you. That means it'll be crazy strong after you upgrade it."

That made sense. But the A-rank Supernatural Ability "Friend of All Things"—what you get after upgrading "Animal Friend"—only boosted natural affinity. Would it only really shine at S-rank?

Lyman pondered for a moment. Lunast might talk out of his ass, but he'd never steered him wrong. When it came to Supernatural Abilities, he had way more experience than Lyman—so this time, he'd take his advice.

Besides, Lyman was scared of running into another legendary creature down the road. This time, with Inquisitor Aether around, they'd managed to take down a dragon. Next time, they might not get so lucky.

"Alright. Book of the Evil God, I want to upgrade 'Animal Friend'!"

As soon as he thought it, a brilliant stream of light surged out of the pages and poured into his mind. His memory was suddenly packed with knowledge about the upgraded ability.

He could now easily command weaker creatures, calm down frenzied animals, and, to some extent, win over powerful beasts and legendary creatures when he faced them.

At the same time, the plants of nature—and even nature itself—started treating him better. Plants would always clear a path for him, and even block his enemies.

"Ugh, one step closer to being a Disney princess..." Lyman thought with a wry smile.

He wondered if Friend of All Things could go even higher. Would there ever be a day when he could command all legendary creatures, dragons included?

Lyman put away the Book of the Evil God and went to check on the animals. Maybe because of the upgrade, the way the animals looked at him had changed.

"Honored Lord Lyman, welcome to your loyal stable!" Red Lightning raised his head the moment he saw him, speaking solemnly.

Lyman: "..."

Dude, that's way over the top.

He took off the horses' saddles and led them to a lush patch of grass, letting them have an all-you-can-eat buffet. A flock of little birds landed on nearby branches and started singing, and squirrels popped out of their holes, darting around him.

Yeah, definitely getting more Disney princess vibes.

Just as Lyman was roasting himself internally, a familiar voice blasted in his ears:

"Great Patron, I call for your help!"

It was Captain Dorian's voice.

Weird—wasn't he performing in Duskveil? Why was he suddenly begging for help? Did the show go badly? Was the church coming after him?

It was a pain not having a Supernatural Ability. Should he just pick the least terrible of those three useless abilities and hand it over?

Following the prayer, Lyman sent his consciousness over to where Dorian was.

What came into view was a wall of towering flames.

This seemed to be a village. Scorching winds howled, carrying the smell of smoke and the sound of people screaming. The sky was lit up red by the fire, like doomsday was right around the corner.

***

Ten days earlier

The Verdant Court, Sacred Tree Council Chamber.

"Lady Saint, you're saying you want to leave the Verdant Court for a while?"

The council chamber was built inside a majestic giant tree, blending seamlessly with the ancient trunk and branches thanks to the exquisite craftsmanship of the ancient elven ancestors.

The chamber was round, with sunlight streaming through bright floor-to-ceiling windows and falling naturally onto thirteen seats arranged in a circle.

Twelve of those seats belonged to the Holy Councilors, and one belonged to the Holy Son or Holy Daughter. All major matters of the elven kingdom were decided here.

At this moment, the chamber was full—all twelve Holy Councilors were present. The Holy Daughter Sylvira sat upright in her seat, calmly basking in the Councilors' skeptical gazes.

Her back was straight as a poplar standing firm against the wind. In contrast, though the Councilors were more lavishly dressed, their presence seemed diminished before hers, like humble shrubs beneath a great tree.

"Indeed, respected Councilors. I must leave the forest and journey to the human realm. But this trip won't be long—if all goes well, I should return in about half a month to twenty days."

A female Councilor frowned: "This is a turbulent time. The issue of humans attacking our villages remains unresolved, yet you wish to leave..."

"Utterly irresponsible!" Another male Councilor slammed his fist on the table. "You are the Holy Daughter of the elven race—you should remain in the Verdant Court! How can you run off like the previous Holy Son, always wandering outside?"

At the mention of the previous Holy Son, the Councilors began murmuring among themselves, their tones tinged with displeasure.

Sylvira swept her gaze across them, her green eyes bright as gems, radiant and piercing.

"It is precisely for the elven race that I must leave," she said. "To be honest, a few days ago I discovered a journal left by the previous Holy Son, Lord Feralion. It contains information that may save the elven race."

"Oh?" Councilor Lanmano leaned forward with keen interest. "Lord Feralion had such a journal? Why didn't we know?"

"I found it by chance," Sylvira said. "The journal was tucked inside an old book in the library. Had I not happened to borrow that book, I wouldn't have known it existed."

To be precise, it was her young attendant Leen who had borrowed the book from the library on her behalf, Sylvira thought.

She continued: "I compared the handwriting in the journal with other notes by Lord Feralion—it's indeed his own. The journal records his travels in the outside world, mostly travelogues and musings, but one entry caught my attention."

Recalling the journal's contents, Sylvira said: "Lord Feralion wrote that he had hidden an important item in a village north of the great forest. If the elven race ever fell into crisis, the Holy Daughter or Holy Son could travel to that village and retrieve the item.

"I think fate may have guided me to read this journal at this time. I plan to investigate that village mentioned in the journal. I trust Lord Feralion."

"And that's it?" A female Councilor frowned, looking disdainful. "It's been hundreds, even thousands of years since the previous Holy Son wrote that journal, hasn't it? How do you know the item is still in that village? Maybe even the village itself has vanished!"

Another Councilor agreed: "Exactly! For such a vague rumor, you'd abandon the elven race and head to the human realm—that's reckless!"

"Can't we send an envoy? It's not like the elven race has no people."

"Perhaps it was just a jest from Lord Feralion. As everyone knows, he was never very serious. Oh, the Lady Saint wouldn't know his character—you weren't born yet back then!"

The councilors chimed in one after another, every word dripping with opposition to Sylvira.

The Saint's shoulders slumped. She could hear their sarcasm. At a moment like this, logic said she really ought to be holding down the Verdant Court, and their objections were not without merit.

But Feralion's journal was crystal clear, even telling his descendants to make sure they went to that village if trouble ever came up. If she didn't at least give it a shot, Sylvira felt she'd be letting the former Saint down.

She was about to argue further when she heard a soft yet firm cough.

"Ahem, esteemed colleagues," said Councilor Lanmano.

He was the oldest of the Holy Councilors, with the noblest blood and the most distinguished family, which put him at the top of the pecking order. The moment he spoke, though his voice was quiet, everyone else fell silent in unison.

The council chamber was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"My fellow kin, I'd like to say something."

"Please, Lord Lamanor," the female councilor said, looking smug. "Go on, persuade the Saint not to follow her predecessor's bad example."

Lanmano glanced at her and smiled. "Quite the opposite, my esteemed kin. I fully support the Lady Saint's mission."

"What?!" the female councilor gasped. "You—how can you..."

Sylvira regarded Councilor Lanmano with great surprise. This councilor had always loved butting heads with her—what had gotten into him today?

Councilor Lanmano spoke deliberately. "Right now, we're at a loss against the human raids. Maybe that 'sacred relic' Lord Feralion left behind is exactly what we need to turn the tide. I say we let the Lady Saint go find that item. With us holding down the fort at the Verdant Court, I doubt anything major will happen in the meantime. Unless, of course, my fellow kin don't trust themselves?"

He looked at the female councilor. Her eyes darted nervously before she looked away. "We can certainly protect the Verdant Court, even if the Lady Saint isn't here."

Even within the Council of the Holy Descendants, not every councilor's words carried equal weight. Lanmano's words were like a weather vane, instantly shifting the mood of the meeting.

"Come to think of it, Councilor Lanmano makes a good point. Since it was left by Saint Feralion, it must be some kind of precious treasure."

"We can't let an elven relic stay lost out there; we ought to bring it back."

"Only the Lady Saint is up to such a big responsibility..."

Sylvira's heart filled with joy. For her proposals, the Holy Council had always been more opposed than supportive; she'd braced herself for a verbal battle, even getting ready to sneak out of the Verdant Court to that little village. She never expected Councilor Lanmano to actually back her up.

Without stopping to think it over, she quickly said, "In that case, I shall set out today and strive to return as soon as possible."

"That'd be perfect. Please take some guards with you. The human world is a mess—the Lady Saint absolutely can't get hurt," Lanmano advised.

With the most venerable councilor having spoken thus, the others dared not raise further objections. Once the plan was settled, the meeting concluded. Sylvira rose eagerly from her seat and departed through the private passage reserved for the Saint.

Erowen stood stiff at the base of the great tree, as still as a statue on the stone path.

The young attendant Leen sat cross-legged beneath the tree, carving a block of wood with a knife. Most elves excelled at craftsmanship, and it was clear the block was taking the shape of a deer.

Seeing Sylvira descend the spiral staircase, Erowen and Leen both stepped forward to meet her.

The joy on Sylvira's face told them the meeting had ended to her great satisfaction.

"They agreed?" Erowen asked in disbelief.

"Yes. Strangely enough, Lanmano even spoke in my favor," Sylvira remarked.

"That strutting peacock!" Erowen muttered. "He's never up to any good. If you ask me, you shouldn't go to that blasted human village at all."

Sylvira smiled at him, and Erowen suddenly felt his entire vision brighten.

"Even so, I must go," she said gently. "The relic left by the former Saint is vital to our people—I must retrieve it no matter what. Though I don't quite understand why he chose to entrust it to a human village..."