100. Back to His Side

“Inkheart, what about Sylphid!”

Inkheart had impressive skills and remarkable reflexes to deflect her attacks, but strangely, he only defended without counterattacking. With his spirit swordsmanship, he could have demonstrated faster sword techniques, couldn’t he?

Hearing my shout, Inkheart answered.

“Sylphid is purifying the demonic energy filling the temple above.”

‘If his spirit swordsmanship is sealed, Inkheart is at a disadvantage!’

Moreover, if Sylphid remained summoned, it meant spirit power was continuously draining from him.

He fought the enemy with only half his strength. I gritted my teeth.

“I’ll use Sylraphe’s wind!”

But it was useless. The shaman controlling the monsters easily dodged, and Sylraphe’s wind headed toward Inkheart instead.

“Oh no……”

“We haven’t known each other long enough for coordinated attacks. Step back. I’ll handle this somehow.”

“Use whatever power you have on this side! Damn, why are there so many monsters like a pack of dogs! Argh, does this ever end?”

Arshama grumbled as he stabbed his sword into the head of a monster charging at him.

I followed Arshama’s wish and used Sylraphe to temporarily push back the pack of charging monsters.

“If we catch the shaman, the summoned monsters will disappear too.”

That’s how it worked with the slime-type monster Lady Ygret had summoned.

Thinking about that time made me miss Grand Duke Inkheart’s gold coin—though the real grand duke stood right beside me.

‘Did I accidentally bring one in my pocket?’

A gold coin that had burned Lady Ygret would be useful now.

‘……Huh?’

Something caught in my pocket as I rummaged through it.

A flash of inspiration crossed my mind.

“You have flint, right?”

Arshama responded as if bewildered.

“Why would you think I have that? Of course I do.”

Arshama was the best peddler I knew.

“Inkheart, Sylphid hasn’t returned yet, right? Don’t use wind! I’ll use it!”

After shouting toward Inkheart not to use wind under any circumstances, I pulled out the item from my pocket. It was the herbal pouch Inkheart had made.

Made with commonly found herbs ground into powder, mixed with a bit of Inkheart’s spirit power.

“An herbal pouch? Even if you’re injured, now isn’t the time for treatment……”

“Show me yours too. How many of these do you have?”

Combining mine and Arshama’s, we collected six herbal pouches.

“Arshama, wrap these with your whip and hit that woman.”

The shaman circled around Inkheart faster and faster, pouncing on him. For an ordinary person, it would be difficult to hit a target with something wrapped around a whip, let alone hit the target at all.

But I trusted Arshama’s skills. He handled his whip better than his own arm.

“Seriously.”

As expected. With a low grumble, he swung his whip, and one herbal pouch made of flimsy material burst with a pop as it hit the shaman’s body.

The shaman hesitated momentarily after being hit by something. Seizing the opportunity, Inkheart counterattacked without missing a beat. The shaman’s arm was torn off by the silver blade.

“Huh?”

“Keep throwing. All of them.”

“I’m making this look easy, but it’s actually really difficult, you know?”

The shaman’s arm burned from the herbal powder mixed with spirit power. However, the effect was minimal.

Since each herbal powder contained little of Inkheart’s spirit power, the wound inflicted by the six herbal pouches was less severe than the wound received when the shaman let her guard down.

“Tsk, such petty tricks from somewhere……”

“Throw the flint!”

“Think I’ll fall for it twice? Keep annoying me and I’ll kill you first!”

“Not at all, you’re the one dying now! I’ve thrown fire, everyone back away!”

Herbal powder had been sprinkled all over the shaman’s body—on her head, shoulders, and arms.

The shaman didn’t realize the significance of the small flame flying toward her. Before understanding dawned, flickering flames engulfed her.

Pop pop pop. Pop pop pop pop.

“Wh-what is this…… Aaaaargh! Aaargh!”

A series of explosion sounds followed one after another.

It was the sound of the pre-sprinkled herbal powder exploding upon meeting the flint’s spark.

Dust explosion.

When combustible materials concentrated in powder form in the air meet heat, they combust.

That’s what I aimed for from the beginning.

“Sylraphe!”

Sylraphe’s wind intensified the flames on the shaman’s body.

“Aaaaargh! Hot! Painful!”

“A petty trick indeed.”

She might have overcome the pain and risen again if it were just fire, but this fire contained spirit power. Just as small powder created large flames, the spirit power in the flames seemed amplified by the dust explosion.

“You know what? These herbs were collected and ground by the mountain tribe’s children.”

“Aaaaargh! God! Why do you just watch my suffering! Answer me, my god!”

Due to the shaman’s extraordinary power, new flesh regenerated as soon as she suffered burns.

And her repeated burning resembled roasting in hellfire.

“They say demons should burn in fire.”

“Aaaaargh!”

“Except for Inkheart’s spirit power, these are the exact herbs the mountain tribe uses daily. They’re not professional or as effective as properly refined medicine.”

The flames soared, but I remained safe. Sylraphe’s wind regulated the airflow in this underground temple so that fire caught only on the shaman’s body.

“You exploited people’s desire for healing.”

The endless monsters emerging from the split ground began to disappear. This meant the shaman had taken significant damage.

Watching all this, Arshama felt a thrill.

The enemy who had driven the mountain tribe toward destruction was dying. He couldn’t miss this opportunity to deliver the final blow to his enemy.

“Wait.”

But Anette shook her head.

“Rather than us from the future finishing the affairs of this era…”

She gestured with her eyes toward someone.

Inkheart raised his head straight and drew his sword.

“Let’s leave this era’s matters to people of this era.”

“According to the will the mountain tribe entrusted to me.”

“No, nooooo!”

“I cut you down here and now.”

“I was so close to the end. Curse you, Inkheart. As long as I live, I’ll torment your bloodline. I’ll make everyone miserable. Ah, Demon King……”

The mountain tribe’s sacred object around Inkheart’s neck emitted light. The same happened with the sacred object Arshama possessed.

“Arghhhh!”

Blood splattered.

Inkheart looked at me with blood splattered on him. At that moment, a white light enveloped Arshama and me. Sensing that everything was coming to an end, I shouted loudly.

Did my words reach him?

“……”

Those black eyes briefly met mine.

How would he interpret our sudden appearance and disappearance?

Somehow, I felt he wouldn’t be surprised.

* * *

Whoosh, thud. Time passed quickly.

Vines flourished in the temple abandoned by people, and when cold weather arrived, even the plants vanished without a trace.

Thus, the mountain tribe perished, and even the fact that a temple had existed here was forgotten.

〈So, what we needed wasn’t blood after all.〉

I thought I heard a faint sigh as we returned.

〈Our end was the wrong choice we made ourselves…….〉

“……We’re back.”

When the light receded, what appeared before our eyes was the original temple.

The ruined temple a thousand years later where Arshama and I had offered three spirits instead of humans.

“Did we change the past?”

“No, we can’t change the past that has already flowed. What we witnessed was the ‘right future’ the mountain tribe should have gone to.”

Arshama had regained his senses before me and was organizing his thoughts.

“The mountain tribe of the past committed acts they shouldn’t have, deceived by false beliefs. They thought they were making offerings to their god, but in reality, they were making offerings to a demon.”

He said.

“Inkheart once mentioned he settled here to prevent the Demon King who would resurrect someday. In the past without us, the first Inkheart would have stopped that shaman. That’s why the Demon King hasn’t appeared until now.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“The original Inkheart prevented the Demon King’s final resurrection but couldn’t stop the mountain tribe from being cursed. Too much mountain tribe blood was offered to the Demon King. Enough for the mountain tribe to lose their name and fall to become nameless foreigners.”

Arshama explained.

“Anette, you explained to people why the mountain tribe’s land dried up and why strange diseases circulated. The original Inkheart couldn’t do that. He only told them they had to leave this land but couldn’t persuade people.”

“But you said the past hasn’t changed. Then what meaning did our actions have?”

“The curse has been lifted. The curse that made the mountain tribe hated by people and made the mountain tribe itself hate people. Until now, the mountain tribe believed that Inkheart unjustly occupied the North, causing them to lose their homeland.”

I recalled Arshama’s anger when he learned Inkheart planned to eliminate the mountain tribe’s shaman with the temple knights. So that’s why he reacted that way.

“The blood of foreigners is blood that hates people and is hated by people. We are uninvited guests at a feast, travelers who barge in unexpectedly. The innocent blood of the mountain tribe gave power to the Demon King’s resurrection, resulting in the mountain tribe being hated by people. But now the curse has ended.”

“I still don’t quite understand. What exactly are you saying……”

“Many things are mixed in what happened at this temple. The lingering thoughts of the dying mountain tribe people, resentment, the resurrection ritual nearly completed by those who dreamed of the Demon King’s revival, and the mountain tribe’s faith that remained in the temple from the beginning.”

Arshama shook his head, saying I would find it difficult to understand as I wasn’t a foreigner.