For those who walk the road alone.

Pinkie’s prestige was threatening to eclipse her master’s, and she had an army under her command. Evan needed to curb her growing influence at once!

Of course, that was not what truly frightened him. Evan knew exactly what kind of Puffcap Pinkie was.

What disturbed him was [Favor of the Elemental Spirits]. The ability seemed to operate on rules rather than conventional power.

Even a being on the level of a Fire Elemental Lord had only managed to resist it for a moment.

When Elara had commanded those Storm Elementals in the past, or even grown close to the Frost Elemental Lord, Evan had never considered this possibility. Those elemental spirits had not seemed particularly intelligent. After Elara used a few tricks to improve their opinion of her, it made sense that they would show her goodwill.

This Fire Elemental Lord was clearly different.

Although it lacked a true soul, it was fully sentient, much like the tawny leatherbound codex.

One moment it had still been resisting and attacking; the next, it was utterly docile, as though under mind control.

Through [Soul Sense], Evan could even see that its physical core had turned pink.

In his opinion, the ability should not have been called [Favor of the Elemental Spirits]. It ought to have been called ‘Brainwashing Elemental Spirits.’

And if one rule-based ability existed, there could be others.

This one controlled elemental spirits. What if the next one controlled Puffcaps and mushrooms?

Would he be struck by it without even having the chance to resist?

Evan found it impossible to relax in the face of that possibility.

Then there was the matter of Pinkie’s bloodline.

Unfortunately, Puffcaps did not possess an ability that could analyze the components of a vial of blood. He would have to sound Sevvy out later and see what he could learn.

For now, at least, Pinkie’s successful subjugation of the Fire Elemental Lord was undoubtedly a good thing.

Well… it was probably subdued.

The Fire Elemental Lord, which had raised a colossal wave of lava moments ago in an attempt to burn everyone to ash, now kept half its body submerged beneath the churning lake. It did its utmost to diminish its overwhelming presence.

It crept toward the shore with extreme caution. After every tiny advance, it stopped to observe Elara’s reaction. Only when the presence that so captivated it showed neither discomfort nor fear did it dare move closer.

Its manner was cautious to the point of humility, as though terrified that the flames engulfing its body might burn Elara.

In truth, most of the Dwarven warriors could no longer endure the heat at this distance. The terrible temperature scorched the air until even breathing became painful, forcing them to retreat with ragged gasps.

Bardor Firebeard was in much the same state. Sweat poured from him, only to evaporate the instant it emerged from his skin, sending thin wisps of white steam curling from his body.

Even so, he remained rooted in place, gripping his warhammer and guarding against any sudden attack.

Elara, on the other hand, did not appear particularly hot.

Her composure clearly delighted the Fire Elemental Lord. It cautiously drew closer until less than thirty feet separated it from the shore.

The Fire Elemental Lord slowly raised a gigantic hand formed from condensed flame. A small cluster of pure, deep-crimson fire separated from its palm and drifted gently toward Elara, carrying no destructive intent.

It wished to bestow a blessing upon her, one that would protect her from the ravages of flame.

However, just as the warm firelight was about to touch Elara, a translucent gown woven from ice crystals materialized around her.

Frost patterns flowed across its surface as bitter cold spread outward.

[Frost Blessing]

Apparently, Elara had not endured the surrounding heat through her own resistance.

Faced with a power diametrically opposed to its own, the crystalline gown unleashed the terrifying energy within it without hesitation.

The eruption of cold not only extinguished the fire, but also blasted an Ice Ring through the sweltering chamber and across the churning lava lake.

“Gah!” Bardor Firebeard grunted as frost covered half his body. He shuddered violently and only just managed to break the ice crystals apart.

Had he been any weaker, he might have achieved the unprecedented feat of freezing to death beside a lake of lava.

Its blessing thwarted, the Fire Elemental Lord fell briefly silent.

Then it roared.

“Who? Who was it? Who dared… Who dared come before me…?!”

Confusion, disbelief, and fury shook its voice.

“Unforgivable!”

It drew even more power from within itself, transforming it into a surging torrent of searing flame that rushed recklessly toward Elara.

“Wait… Wait, calm down!” Elara urged.

The Fire Elemental Lord merely continued roaring, “Unforgivable!” Its assault did not slow in the slightest.

The crystalline gown retaliated on its own once more. Freezing winds collided violently with waves of heat, managing for a time to hold the raging fire at bay.

Yet the frost had no source from which to replenish itself inside a lava lake. The area it defended steadily contracted, and the ice crystals began to melt.

At last, the magnificent gown collapsed into a pool of water. The terrible heat instantly vaporized it with a hiss, leaving no trace behind.

In its place, a robe woven from living fire appeared around Elara. Flames surged along its surface before the radiance faded and the robe quietly vanished from sight.

[Blessing of Flame] had replaced [Frost Blessing].

Evan had not expected to witness a late-arriving suitor forcibly drive off its predecessor.

That aside, he had to admit that the fiery robe possessed no distinctive style whatsoever beyond its special effects. Unlike the crystalline gown, it did not even have decorative patterns.

Clearly, the Fire Elemental Lord’s sense of aesthetics was nowhere near the Frost Elemental Lord’s.

Knight extended a mycelial tendril and cautiously touched Elara.

The blessing’s effect seemed much the same as the crystalline gown’s. Anyone who posed no threat to Elara would feel only a gentle warmth on touching her.

Once the blessing was in place, the Fire Elemental Lord, its will thoroughly altered, finally touched Elara.

Bardor Firebeard was granted the rare privilege of witnessing a human pet the Fire Elemental Lord’s head as though it were a little dog.

His armor was scorching hot, and waves of burning pain radiated through his skin. Yet as he endured the discomfort, an absurd thought surfaced in his mind.

Perhaps… he could try touching it too?

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

If Elara had not intervened in time, Bardor Firebeard would have been flattened by the Fire Elemental Lord’s palm the moment he made his move.

In the end, he could only retreat farther away, muttering curses under his breath.

Activating the Binding Ring proved simple. With Pinkie handling the process, the Fire Elemental Lord showed no intention of resisting.

Before Elara, it was so docile that defiance seemed inconceivable.

However, Elara did not follow the Dwarves’ instructions exactly. Instead, she consulted the Fire Elemental Lord and made several subtle adjustments to the sequence of runes being activated.

Under any other circumstances, Evan would have warned her to be careful in case it was setting a trap.

But with the Fire Elemental Lord’s will already altered, there was no possibility of it harming Elara.

As the adjusted runes lit up one after another, the enormous ring embedded in the Fire Elemental Lord’s chest began to rotate, releasing a deep hum. The raging flames around its body, along with its colossal form, streamed continuously into the ring.

Unlike when the Dwarves had activated the seal in the past, the Binding Ring began to shrink. It eventually contracted to the size of an ordinary ring and dropped into Elara’s palm.

Sword Saint scratched his cap as he stared at the absurd sight.

He could not help wondering how much better his chances would have been during the battle of Threepeak City if Elara had already subdued this Fire Elemental Lord.

What kind of unbelievable luck did that bastard Alaric possess to father a child with a talent like this?

With the Fire Elemental Lord gone, the temperature finally dropped enough for the Dwarves to gather around again.

They stared at the tiny Binding Ring in Elara’s hand, their faces filled with shock and incredulous admiration.

There was joy as well.

This meant they could finally reclaim Moltenfire Dungeon.

However, just as everyone prepared to leave, Elara suddenly collided with an invisible force barrier.

More precisely, the barrier had stopped the Binding Ring in her hand.

[Guardians may not leave the core zone.]

Invisible force barriers had never posed much of a problem for a Hero, and this one was no exception.

Getting a mycelial tendril through the Binding Ring was rather tight, though.

Worse, the moment it left Elara’s possession, the Binding Ring began radiating intense heat and nearly burned through the tendril.

Once they had crossed the invisible boundary, Evan had no choice but to return the increasingly hot Binding Ring to Elara.

Elara’s brief pause drew the attention of several Dwarven warriors, but they clearly knew nothing about the invisible force barrier. They assumed the human had simply decided on a whim to let her Puffcap try on the ring and soon looked away.

The atmosphere on the journey back was completely different from when they had arrived.

The greatest change was Bardor Firebeard.

The Dwarven war hero strode beside Elara with his massive hammer resting on his shoulder, his voice booming through the passage.

“Hey, Pink Hair! I misjudged you before!” he admitted without the slightest embarrassment. “Standing your ground in front of a monster like that takes more than some strange talent! Anyone without iron in their bones would’ve collapsed from fear!”

He slammed a fist against his thick breastplate, producing a resounding clang.

“I, Bardor Firebeard, respect one kind of person. Someone willing to risk their life and face the enemy head-on! You’re all right!”

Elara did not feel that she needed his approval, but it was still praise, so she could only nod along.

As they continued, Bardor Firebeard began recounting his past battles again. This time, however, there was none of the competitive edge from before. He seemed to be sharing stories rather than boasting.

He also began asking detailed questions about the Battle of Dragonroar Valley. Instead of doubting their achievements, he wanted to understand their tactics and the decisions they had made when faced with certain defeat.

Elara told him some of what her father and the Puffcaps had done. Bardor Firebeard reacted with confusion at times and roared his approval at others. Overall, the conversation was surprisingly pleasant.

At least until the group finally returned to the surface.

* * *

“You may not take the Binding Ring with you.”

After learning what had happened from General Duwalin Blacksteel, the chief of the Deepforge Clan blocked Elara just as she was about to board her carriage.

Ronan, the delegation’s steward who had been waiting on the surface, immediately stepped forward.

“Chief of the Deepforge Clan, what is the meaning of this? The Fire Elemental Lord has been sealed, and the threat within Moltenfire Dungeon has been eliminated. We have fulfilled our agreement.”

The Deepforge Clan chief’s gaze settled on Elara, or more precisely, on the ring with dark-red patterns encircling her finger.

“Our original agreement was to exchange the sealing method for Elara’s assistance in controlling the dungeon’s elementals, allowing our forces to reach the Fire Elemental Lord. Nowhere in that agreement did it say that Miss Elara would be permitted to take the Fire Elemental Lord itself, along with the important magic item imprisoning it.”

Ronan argued, “But it never said she couldn’t take them, either.”

“No means no.”

The Deepforge Clan chief knew his position was difficult to justify, but pride and reputation meant little when tangible benefits were at stake.

He was not worried that giving Elara the Fire Elemental Lord would strengthen the humans.

Given the humans’ current circumstances, allowing them to grow somewhat stronger and draw more of the Empire’s attention would actually benefit the Dwarves.

The problem was that the Fire Elemental Lord directly affected the interests of the Dwarves, particularly those of the Deepforge Clan.

The Fire Elemental Lord represented far more than a powerful combatant. Even if it remained in the dungeon, it could never truly become part of the Dwarves’ military strength.

What the Dwarves wanted was to use the sealed Fire Elemental Lord to exert a degree of control over the dungeon’s countless elemental spirits.

Only then could they use cheap enslavement collars to force large numbers of low-level elemental spirits to mine and transport the dungeon’s resources. The elemental spirits themselves could even be harvested as resources.

Without the lord’s authority keeping them under control, those elemental spirits would not only cease to be useful, but would also roam like wild monsters and interfere with the Dwarves’ mining operations.

“The Binding Ring must remain here. It has always belonged to the Dwarven Mountains.”

The Deepforge Clan chief refused to yield. General Duwalin Blacksteel hesitated for a moment before taking his place behind the clan chief.

Faced with this development, Evan began discussing their options with Sword Saint and Elara through the Mycelial Network.

Anything that reached Pinkie’s hands was as good as being inside Evan’s stomach.

And now someone wanted to pry something he had already swallowed out of his mouth?

They could dream on.

Their little group was still deciding whether to argue their case or resort to violence when a massive hammer crashed into the flagstones between the Deepforge Clan chief and General Duwalin Blacksteel.

Boom!

Shards of stone flew in every direction. If Duwalin Blacksteel had not reacted quickly and shielded the elderly clan chief with his armored forearm, the razor-sharp fragments might already have drawn blood.

“Bardor Firebeard, what are you doing?!” Duwalin Blacksteel shouted, both shocked and furious.

“What am I doing?” Bardor Firebeard wrenched his hammer out of the crater and rested it on his shoulder. His wide eyes blazed with fury. “I’m seeing justice done!”

He pointed his hammer at Elara.

“I watched her stand in front of that damned thing without taking a single step back, and I watched her bring it down! By the laws of the mountain, if someone defeats a monster alone, everything that monster owns rightfully belongs to them!”

He spat viciously toward the Deepforge Clan chief and the clan members standing behind him, whose expressions varied from anger to unease.

“She’s only taking one damned ring, yet you lot hid safely in the rear without so much as smelling the fumes off the lava lake, and now you’ve come running to steal her spoils! Have you bastards no shame?”

The Deepforge Clan chief’s face turned livid. His graying beard trembled with rage as he slammed his black iron cane against the ground.

“You fool! You have no idea how important the Binding Ring is to the Dwarves! This is no concern of yours!”

“No concern of mine?” Bardor Firebeard stared as if he had just heard the greatest joke in the world. “There’s nothing I hate more than cowards like you, who play your games of power and bark orders from safety but can’t stand the smell of blood on a battlefield! You’re trying to steal the honor a warrior risked her life to earn. That makes it every bit my concern!”

Before the last word left his mouth, his already imposing body swelled even larger. Muscles strained against his armor, making the metal creak as a violent aura swept outward like a storm.

He had activated the power of his bloodline and entered combat readiness.

“Today, I’m going to see whether you spineless bastards have the nerve to stand in my way!”

Still hurling curses, Bardor Firebeard raised his hammer, clearly prepared to force a path through them.

“Brute! Idiot!” The Deepforge Clan chief trembled from head to toe, pointing at Bardor Firebeard but finding himself unable to produce anything more coherent.

He had never imagined that the first person to oppose him would be one of their own.

General Duwalin Blacksteel’s expression was equally grim, but he and the Dwarven soldiers still raised their battle-axes and shields, bracing themselves for a fight.

Evan had not yet decided how to handle the situation, but Bardor Firebeard had already given him an excellent opening.

There was nothing left to discuss.

Sword Saint wrapped a mycelial tendril around the hilt of his sword. Knight’s form gradually faded from sight as an inconspicuous soldier within the delegation quietly cast a spell. Several illusions overlapped around Elara, ready to conceal her true body the moment chaos erupted.

Then, to the Dwarves’ horror, the Fire Elemental Lord’s frenzied and delighted voice rang out once more.

“Hahahaha! Are we going to kill these Dwarves? We should have done this long ago! We should have burned these filthy insects to death!”

Flames poured from the Binding Ring on Elara’s finger as the Fire Elemental Lord’s power slowly emerged. The temperature around them soared in an instant.

Confronted by the terrifying sight, several clan members stumbled backward in fear before finally turning and fleeing.

The Deepforge Clan chief did not run, but his aged body was clearly struggling as the temperature continued to climb.

General Duwalin Blacksteel, meanwhile, had only one thought.

He was supposed to fight the Fire Elemental Lord?

Their most important warrior, Bardor Firebeard, was even standing on the opposite side!

Duwalin Blacksteel cursed the Deepforge Clan chief and Bardor Firebeard alike in his heart, but under the circumstances, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and stand his ground.

The battle did not begin immediately.

Evan wanted the Dwarves to recognize the odds and back down, while Duwalin Blacksteel stubbornly held the line to preserve the clan’s dignity.

Just as Bardor Firebeard finally lost his patience and prepared to swing first, an envoy of the Dwarven King came running over.

Drenched in sweat, the envoy hurriedly called for both sides to stand down.

The banquet hall of Forgefire Capital was filled with long tables laden with food: whole roasted Rock Lizards, ribs glazed in honey, and, naturally, the Dwarven spirits no feast could do without.

The Dwarves tore into the meat and drank straight from great casks. To the pounding of drums, they stamped through dances modeled after a battlefield charge, their laughter loud and uninhibited.

Elara sat quietly at the center of the revelry, looking entirely out of place.

The earlier confrontation had ultimately been prevented from turning violent by the intervention of the Dwarven King’s envoy.

After they returned to Forgefire Capital, the Dwarven King had generously declared that Bardor Firebeard was correct. The Binding Ring was the rightful spoil of the victor and therefore belonged to Elara.

Had Evan not known that the envoy had been hiding nearby and observing the entire confrontation from beginning to end, he might actually have mistaken the Dwarven King for the same kind of forthright hero as Bardor Firebeard.

The boisterous banquet before them served two purposes: celebrating the reclamation of Moltenfire Dungeon and bidding farewell to the delegation.

Bardor Firebeard had already forgotten the dispute. By now, he had eyes only for the liquor.

Whenever he drained another cup, Puff Four imitated him by pouring a cup over its cap.

Whether Puffcaps could get drunk remained uncertain, but the stool and floor were already soaked.

Half-drunk himself, Bardor Firebeard wrapped an arm around the dripping Puff Four and slurred enthusiastic praise for its “impressive tolerance.”

He also tried to share a drink with Sword Saint.

Alwyn rather liked Bardor Firebeard’s straightforward personality, but he had no interest whatsoever in pouring liquor over his own head, so he decisively moved out of reach.

With no one else willing to indulge him, Bardor Firebeard staggered over to Elara and raised his cup.

“To warriors! And may all those… hic… cowards go straight to hell!”

Several Deepforge Clan members nearby turned livid but did not dare speak.

Their silence only made Bardor Firebeard laugh harder.

Elara lightly tapped her cup against his.

When Bardor Firebeard saw that it contained juice, he shook his head and muttered regretfully, “Such a brave warrior. Shame she’s a woman who can’t drink.”

He then plucked a nutlike fruit from the mountain of food piled across the table.

“Here, try this! One of the true treasures of the Dwarven Mountains, a Lavathorn Nut!” He pressed it into Elara’s hand and urged her to taste it.

Elara cracked open the hard shell, revealing the flesh within, and placed it in her mouth. Her brows rose slightly. It really was excellent, probably comparable to [Delectable LV4].

“It’s delicious,” she said politely.

“Isn’t it? Ha!” Bardor Firebeard swayed proudly, gesturing with his cup. “I’ve tried your Delectable mushrooms too. They’re good, no question, but compared to our Lavathorn Nuts, packed with all the nourishment of the mountains, they’re still… heh, just a little short!”

At that moment, a wet mycelial tendril still dripping with liquor tapped Bardor Firebeard on the shoulder.

The Dwarf turned around in a drunken haze and found himself facing Puff Four’s cap.

Elara did not care about Bardor Firebeard’s little comparison, but Puff Four certainly did.

Puff Four picked up a table knife with one tendril and spent quite some time trying unsuccessfully to cut off a piece of another. In the end, it scurried over to Sword Saint and tried to borrow his sword.

Sword Saint flicked a mycelial tendril. No one nearby even noticed him draw his blade, but a thin layer had already been sliced from the tip of Puff Four’s tendril.

Puff Four immediately picked up the slice of fungal tissue and held it directly in front of Bardor Firebeard’s mouth.

The absurd gesture jolted him half sober.

“What… what are you doing? You want me to eat that?” He stared at the slice of fungal tissue, his face twisting with disgust.

Puff Four pushed it closer, its attitude resolute.

Under the curious gazes of the surrounding Dwarves, several of whom were struggling not to laugh, Bardor Firebeard put on the expression of a man who had eaten far worse things. He pinched the slice between two fingers and stuffed it into his mouth.

The next moment, Bardor Firebeard’s eyes bulged as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning called Delectable. His entire body went rigid, and a string of meaningless noises escaped his throat.

“Mmph! Oh! Ohoho!”

Then his foot slipped.

Before the eyes of the entire hall, the Dwarven war hero flailed backward and plunged straight into a massive barrel of spirits, sending liquor splashing everywhere.

Glug, glug…

The barrel toppled, and amber liquid gushed across the floor. Once it had drained away, Bardor Firebeard was left wedged inside with most of his body hidden and only his legs sticking out. Thunderous snores were already emerging from the barrel in a steady rhythm.

“Puki!”

Puff Four planted a fungal foot on Bardor Firebeard’s backside. Its round cap stood proudly upright, and several mycelial tendrils rested triumphantly against its waist, assuming it could be said to have one.

Nothing tasted better than a Puffcap!

Elara, who had watched the entire scene unfold, finally covered her mouth and broke into quiet laughter.

The surrounding Dwarves froze for a moment before the hall erupted in even louder laughter. At that instant, the banquet’s revelry reached a new height.

By the time Bardor Firebeard awoke from his hangover, the delegation had already departed Forgefire Capital and begun the journey home.

The visitors might have left, but the ripples of their visit had yet to settle.

All of Forgefire Capital sprang into action. Artisans and laborers from every clan busied themselves preparing for the full reclamation and redevelopment of Moltenfire Dungeon.

There was also a minor incident during this period.

The residence of the Deepforge Clan chief was robbed.

The thief did not break into the heavily guarded treasury. Instead, they stripped the reception hall and the clan chief’s private study bare.

Precious jewels, rare runic tablets, and even the clan chief’s staff, which was set with a tiny but pure S-grade Mana Crystal, all vanished without a trace.

All that remained were cabinets and shelves left in complete disarray, along with the clan chief’s face, contorted with rage.

Under ordinary circumstances, such a crime would have become the greatest scandal in the entire city.

Now, however, everyone’s attention was fixed on redeveloping the dungeon. Aside from throwing the Deepforge Clan itself into chaos, the theft attracted little genuine concern from anyone else.

* * *

Inside Elara’s carriage, traveling with the delegation.

Knight extended a mycelial tendril and pushed it into a gap where its cap joined its trunk. After rummaging around for a moment, it tossed several objects onto the cushioned seat one after another.

A finger-thick S-grade Mana Crystal, a glowpearl that cast a gentle radiance through the carriage, and two metal ingots of unknown composition that were clearly valuable at a glance.

“Where did all these things come from?” Elara asked, her eyes widening as she curiously picked up the warm, luminous glowpearl.

“Found them,” replied Evan, who had not attended the banquet.

* * *

The journey had been immensely profitable.

Of course, he was not referring to the scraps of metal they had found lying around the Deepforge Clan chief’s residence.

The clan chief had only set such a tiny S-grade Mana Crystal into his staff. What a pauper!

The real prizes were the sealing method and the Fire Elemental Lord.

The Fire Elemental Lord went without saying. It had effectively become Elara’s portable combat companion, ready to be summoned at any time. She only needed to activate the Binding Ring to release a portion of it.

Once released, she could not forcibly control the Fire Elemental Lord. However, as long as Elara asked for its help, there was no chance that a creature whose physical core had turned pink would refuse her.

Granted, its indiscriminate aura of extreme heat remained a problem. Only Elara, protected by its blessing, was currently immune. They would have to carefully consider how to keep it from harming their allies in a real battle.

The other major prize was the Binding Ring’s sealing function.

Evan’s original goal for this journey had been to acquire a sealing method and use it to control the Frost Elemental Lord in the North. Otherwise, it would continue lowering the temperature and hindering Mycel Keep’s development.

Unexpectedly, the Dwarves had no sealing spell at all. They possessed only a set of instructions covering some of the Binding Ring’s functions.

Fortunately, Evan happened to have a spare Binding Ring.

The Water Elemental from Tidal Sanctuary had vanished into the Mist before Evan ever met it, leaving behind a damaged Binding Ring for him to pick up.

Only a small section of the ring was broken. Once they returned, he could compare it against the Fire Elemental Lord’s ring and attempt to repair it. After that, he could stuff the Frost Elemental Lord inside.

When that happened…

With two Elemental Lords under her command, and Sword Saint having already “fallen,” Elara might even be able to compete for the title of humanity’s strongest warrior.

Evan looked at Elara, who was cuddling a Puffcap against her cheek. Even with the Water of Life nourishing her, she had only barely reached the threshold of Diamond rank.

Put that way, humanity’s future seemed rather worrying.

* * *

A short while earlier, while Elara was still inside the dungeon.

“You’re serious?” Vera, with a Puffcap perched atop her head, gripped the adventurer’s shoulders tightly with both hands.

“I’m serious, I’m serious! I couldn’t possibly mistake an Elf that beautiful! Ow… Vera, calm down a little. You’re hurting me…”

Vera, Faye, and Fiona were currently in Oathbound City.

Their reason for coming was simple. The capital was home to the Kingdom’s finest potion makers, magic scholars, and temple priests.

Vera, meanwhile, was a patient who had suffered a severe head injury during a brutal battle.

Ever since that encounter, everything in Vera’s memory concerning a person named Cyrian Dusksong had vanished without a trace, as though it had been erased from existence.

The amnesia deeply worried the twin sisters, Faye and Fiona. They feared Vera might wake up one day to find his condition had worsened and that he had forgotten them as well.

After discussing the matter, the sisters decided to bring all their savings to the capital and seek treatment.

The three of them had worked as adventurers for years, so they had accumulated a reasonable amount of money.

After a thorough examination, a potion maker told them, “This wasn’t caused by physical trauma or residual toxins. None of my potions can help him.”

A high-ranking priest shook his head. “I sense no trace of a curse.”

Eventually, someone directed the three of them to the Relic Society.

The organization, founded by mages and historians, did not operate a clinic. However, its members had spent years studying ancient relics, strange phenomena, and supernatural incidents. When confronted with unusual conditions that conventional methods could not treat, they could often offer unexpected solutions.

They were received by a composed middle-aged man wearing dark-blue scholar’s robes.

“All memories concerning one particular person have completely vanished, while every other memory, along with his cognition and personality, remains intact?”

After Faye confirmed this, the scholar tapped his fingers lightly against the table, his expression puzzled.

“That is certainly strange. Neither physical brain damage nor conventional mental interference magic could erase memories with such precision. Either would normally cause widespread confusion or memory loss.”

The middle-aged scholar had no immediate answer. Still, he had already accepted their deposit, so he had to make a proper attempt.

“For now, let’s examine him with the Society’s Appraisal Instrument. We may discover some clue.”

Faye’s expression fell. “We had him examined at the local Adventurers’ Guild as soon as he lost his memories. They didn’t find anything.”

Fiona sighed as well. It seemed this journey would also end in failure.

Vera himself ended up comforting the sisters.

“Come on, it hasn’t gotten any worse after all this time. Maybe it isn’t that serious. We should just leave it alone. I’d like to recover my memories too, but we can’t spend all our savings on this.”

The scholar remained insistent. “We should still conduct the examination. The Appraisal Instrument at the Society’s headquarters is far more advanced than those found at Adventurers’ Guild branches. It may detect traces that the other instrument overlooked.”

They suspected he was merely trying to reassure them, but they had already paid the deposit. There was no harm in trying.

The scholar led them through a maze of corridors until they reached a chamber containing an enormous magic apparatus.

He had not exaggerated. The Relic Society’s Appraisal Instrument was far more advanced than anything they had seen in an Adventurers’ Guild.

Layer upon layer of glowing runes covered its massive metal base. Intricate copper pipes and crystal lenses formed a complex array of circuits. In sheer size alone, the instrument was three times larger than the one at their local Adventurers’ Guild branch.

The sight rekindled a faint spark of hope in Faye and Fiona.

When they arrived, however, another scholar was already operating the instrument.

Hearing them enter, the man glanced back.

“Need the instrument, Redgrave? Give me a moment. I’m almost finished.”

Not long afterward, the runes covering the enormous Appraisal Instrument gradually dimmed. A crisp click sounded, and the hemispherical hatch at its center split open.

The scholar removed a rigid data card from a slot on the side. Then he bent down and, to everyone’s surprise, lifted a round Puffcap out of the compartment.

He carried it from the room, leaving the instrument free for them to use.

Vera and the sisters exchanged bewildered looks. They had assumed another person was sitting inside, only to discover that it was a Puki!

Noticing their curiosity, the middle-aged scholar began adjusting the instrument and offered a casual explanation.

“If you remain at the Society for a few days, you’ll find this is quite common. Many scholars now consider Puffcaps a priority for research.”

As he adjusted several knobs, he suddenly looked up at Fiona.

“Your clothing suggests you’re also a mage. Forgive me for asking, but do you specialize in Mind Magic?”

Fiona shook her head.

“That’s good.”

The scholar glanced at Puff Five, who was curiously poking the instrument’s casing with a mycelial tendril. His tone grew more serious as he offered them a well-intentioned warning.

“If you have any friends who study Mind Magic, make sure they know never to cast any interactive form of Mind Magic on a Puffcap.”

“Interactive?”

“Charm, Mental Suggestion, Forced Domination, Dream Construction, and similar spells.” The scholar lowered his voice. “Puffcaps possess an almost absolute ability to counter such spells. Several serious incidents have already occurred because of it. The Society is preparing to issue a public warning.”

“Why?” Fiona lifted Puff Five, who had been clinging to her, and examined it from both sides in disbelief.

“We still don’t know. The people who might have discovered the answer… are all mindless fools now. Puffcaps hold far too many mysteries, and this is only one of them.”

He turned toward Vera and patted the now-prepared examination chamber.

“All right, Vera. Please get inside.”

Ten minutes later, the instrument emitted a low hum as its runic arrays dimmed one after another. A rigid card with faintly glowing edges popped from the slot on its side.

Redgrave stepped forward, removed the card, and placed it inside a crystal panel designed to read the results.

At first, he only skimmed the shifting runes and data. His gaze soon froze.

His body went rigid, and his fingers began trembling uncontrollably. He nearly dropped the thin card.

Faye and Fiona had been watching him intently, and their hearts leaped into their throats.

“What is it?” Faye asked, her voice tight. “Is there… something seriously wrong with him?”

The scholar abruptly looked up. Disbelief and confusion mingled in his eyes as he quickly waved his hand.

“No, no. It isn’t serious in the way you’re imagining. But…” He looked down at the crystal panel again, as if trying to make sure he had read it correctly. “This result… I don’t know whether the instrument has malfunctioned or if… Wait here. Don’t leave under any circumstances! I’m going to bring my teacher!”

Without waiting for a response, he clutched the card and rushed from the chamber so quickly that he nearly stumbled. His hurried footsteps receded down the corridor.

The door slammed shut behind him.

A stagnant silence settled over the room, making the instrument’s lingering hum sound unusually loud.

“The way he looked just now…” Fiona’s voice broke as she clutched her sister’s arm. “Do you think Vera really…”

“Don’t imagine the worst!” Faye snapped, though her own face was just as pale. “We’ll wait until his teacher arrives.”

“But… what if Vera really does become an idiot?” The more Fiona thought about it, the more frightened she became. Tears rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks.

“Hey, isn’t that a little dramatic?” Vera, the actual patient, was the calmest of them all.

He walked over to Fiona, patted her shoulder, and tried to look relaxed.

“Look at me. I’m perfectly fine right now. I can eat, sleep, and fight. I only forgot one person.”

Puff Five extended several soft mycelial tendrils from its perch on Fiona and gently pressed them against her wet cheeks, trying to wipe away her tears.

Instead, it smeared the tears across her entire face, making Fiona look even more miserable.

At that moment, the door flew open.

The middle-aged scholar, Redgrave, had returned. He stepped aside and respectfully ushered an elderly man into the room.

The newcomer wore a simple gray robe. His hair and beard were completely white, but his eyes were exceptionally clear.

The gray-robed elder immediately looked toward Vera in the center of the room.

The moment Vera and Faye saw his face, their eyes widened. They spoke almost simultaneously.

“It’s you!”

“You’re the man who saved us outside the dungeon!”

The teacher Redgrave had summoned in such haste was none other than the Vice-Chair of the Relic Society.

The Vice-Chair stared at the three of them in confusion for quite some time before finally recalling the incident.

Disbelief crossed his face.

“To think the person I happened to save that day was a Virtue bearer! Fate truly is remarkable!”

Behind him, the middle-aged scholar quietly reminded him, “Teacher, we haven’t confirmed the result yet.”

“Right, right. We should verify it first.” The Vice-Chair turned to Vera. “Young man, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to sit inside the instrument again.”

As Vera was placed back inside the enormous Appraisal Instrument, Faye and Fiona exchanged baffled looks.

“Virtue?”

Faye leaned toward the faintly glowing crystal panel, but the flowing runes and data looked like an ancient script she had never seen before. She could make no sense of any of it.

Only after the Vice-Chair personally operated the device, condensed the vast amount of examination data, and inscribed a clear conclusion onto a second blank card did Faye finally see the words.

[Virtue of Sacrifice]

Unlike Evan’s Status Panel, which included a parenthetical explanation, the card displayed nothing else. There was no description of any kind.

The existence of Sins and Virtues was no secret among the leaders and scholars of the major powers.

History had recorded several famous, or infamous, bearers whose legends survived to the present day.

For ordinary adventurers like Vera, Faye, and Fiona, however, people who had spent years immersed in quests and expeditions, this was their first true encounter with the concept.

“Master,” Faye asked, “does this mean Vera lost his memories because of the [Virtue of Sacrifice]?”

“Just call me Syren.” The gray-robed elder stroked his beard. “Judging by his current condition and the appraisal result, that is highly likely.”

“Why can’t you be certain? Didn’t you say the Society has records concerning Virtues?”

Vice-Chair Syren shook his head.

“A Virtue’s effects are not fixed. Even when different individuals bear a Virtue of the same name, their powers may share a common foundation while differing in their precise manifestation, activation conditions, and even the price they demand.”

“The last clearly documented bearer of the [Virtue of Sacrifice] lived roughly two hundred and thirty years ago. He was a Dwarven warrior. His Virtue allowed him to sacrifice parts of his body in exchange for brief bursts of extraordinary strength. Those sacrifices were permanent. The parts he surrendered could not regenerate, and neither Healing Potions nor magic could restore them.”

“Unfortunately, he lived in a chaotic age and left few detailed records behind. During one particularly brutal battle, he remained behind to cover the retreat of his clan’s women, children, and artisans. Faced with an army of Demonkind, he invoked the [Virtue of Sacrifice] in its entirety. According to the scattered accounts written after the battle, he vanished from the battlefield. Nothing remained except his cracked armor and weapons.”

“So…” Fiona’s voice trembled as all color drained from her face. She seemed to envision Vera leaving behind nothing but empty clothes and armor as his body scattered into the wind. “Will Vera eventually… disappear too?”

“No, child. Don’t leap to the worst possible conclusion.” Syren quickly raised a hand to calm the sisters. “Judging by Vera’s current condition, what he sacrifices is most likely part of his memory. The worst possible outcome may be that his body survives while his memories are wiped completely clean, leaving him with no recollection of his past.”

“Wouldn’t that make him an idiot?!” Fiona covered her face and burst into tears.

Faye remained somewhat calmer. She looked at Syren and asked the crucial question.

“You said this is the price required by the [Virtue of Sacrifice]. Does that mean Vera won’t lose any more memories as long as he never uses its power again?”

Syren nodded.

“In theory, yes. The problem is that the power of a Virtue is often closely connected to its bearer’s will, emotions, and circumstances. There may come a moment when he has no choice but to use it, especially given the current state of the continent…”

Before he could finish, Faye lunged toward Vera and seized him by the collar, forcing him to bend down and meet her eyes. Anger and fear burned in her gaze, and her voice came out as a low growl.

“Did you hear that? You’re not allowed to use it! I forbid you from using that [Virtue of Sacrifice]! And you are absolutely not allowed to use it and then forget us… forget everything! Do you understand me?!”

Vera stumbled as she yanked him forward. He quickly raised both hands in surrender and pleaded with a strained smile.

“Calm down! Faye, calm down! I swear I never meant to use it! I still don’t know how I acquired it or what triggered it last time! Honestly, I don’t even know where this thing came from or how I somehow activated it last time!”

Syren and Vera carefully reconstructed the events of his previous ordeal. They eventually determined that Vera had activated the [Virtue of Sacrifice] during his life-and-death battle against the cultists, most likely at the moment he counterattacked and killed the cult leader wielding the staff, reversing the course of the battle.

Determining when he had acquired the Virtue was far more difficult.

It might have happened while he was inside the Mist, or perhaps even earlier. Syren even considered the possibility that the young man had already possessed the Virtue when he rescued their group, with neither side aware of it at the time.

Vera calmly recounted the dangers and difficult choices he had faced throughout his journey, while Faye and Fiona occasionally supplied missing details. As Syren listened, the appreciation in his gaze steadily deepened.

He did not question the truth of Vera’s account. Receiving the [Virtue of Sacrifice] was itself tantamount to the world acknowledging Vera’s character.

It might not have been the [Virtue of Honesty], but Vera was still far less likely to lie than most people.

Once he understood the situation, Syren handed the recorded information to Redgrave, his middle-aged disciple.

Then he personally escorted Vera and the sisters to accommodations within the Relic Society.

Vera never expected to meet yet another important figure the following day.

Duke Lorenzo had been overseeing the construction of new defensive lines along the border. Yet upon learning that a bearer of the [Virtue of Sacrifice] had appeared, he set aside his mountain of official duties and personally returned to Oathbound City.

Fifteen accompanied him with Puff Nine atop his head. The duke’s second son came as well.

Before either party could exchange a word, Puff Nine and Puff Five leaped down from their respective mounts. They bumped caps in greeting.

Puff Nine then wrapped a familiar mycelial tendril around Puff Five and began excitedly recounting its recent exploits.

It described how it and Fifteen had ventured into perilous lands, fought bitter battles against cultists, and exterminated mountain bandits.

Naturally, Puff Nine’s version cast itself as the hero who had slaughtered enemies in every direction. Fifteen was merely a barely acceptable mount who followed behind, picking off stragglers and helping with minor tasks.

Puff Five’s hyphae trembled as it listened. Simply imagining those bloody scenes made it uneasy.

Syren’s gaze happened to pass over Puff Five, and a thoughtful look flickered through his eyes.

Vera, Faye, and Fiona had learned something about the [Virtue of Sacrifice] the previous day, but they still had not expected the Kingdom’s leading figures to place such importance on it.

Under ordinary circumstances, meeting someone as important as Vice-Chair Syren would already have been a rare privilege. Now such figures were appearing one after another.

Duke Lorenzo went without saying. Even Fifteen, Sword Saint’s disciple, qualified as an important figure in their eyes.

What surprised them even more was Duke Lorenzo’s intention to grant Vera a noble title.

“A viscount? Me?” Vera stared at him in astonishment, almost convinced that he had misheard. After his initial shock passed, he shook his head and refused. “Granting me a title solely because I possess a Virtue… that isn’t right.”

“What a rare young man!” Rather than taking offense, Duke Lorenzo smiled with approval. “Rest assured, you are not being granted a title without cause. Even setting aside your many contributions in occupied territory, preventing the Mist from consuming the civilians who had not yet evacuated Goldvale City is an achievement more than worthy of this honor.”

The duke’s second son quietly interjected, “Father, their claim that they repelled the Mist is currently supported only by their own account. It has not yet undergone formal verification…”

He held no particular grievance against Vera. He was merely pointing out the proper procedure.

Unexpectedly, Lorenzo immediately smacked him hard on the back of the head, making the young man stagger.

“You idiot! If you can produce a Virtue for your father too, I’ll believe anything you say!”

His second son rubbed his head and closed his mouth in embarrassment.

Vera spoke again, his manner still sincere.

“Your Grace, repelling the Mist… was most likely the work of our missing Elf companion. The rest of us were merely fortunate enough to survive.”

Lorenzo dismissed the objection with a broad wave.

“You were the one who willingly led your companions into danger in an attempt to stop the Mist. That willingness to accept responsibility is itself worthy of recognition.”

His attitude remained resolute. He clearly had no intention of leaving until Vera accepted the noble title.

After several rounds of refusal and persuasion, Vera ultimately failed to overcome the powerful duke’s determination. At last, he relented and accepted the unexpected elevation.

* * *

Deep beneath the Relic Society, inside a secret chamber shielded from all observation.

“Whew! What a character. I tried to hand him a noble title, and he nearly refused to take it. What sort of business is that?” Duke Lorenzo undid the top button of his collar and complained in frustration, his voice unusually clear within the sealed stone chamber.

“The young man is a Virtue bearer, not one of the Seven Sins. It is only natural that he should possess principles,” Vice-Chair Syren calmly explained.

“I know, I know. I was only complaining.” Lorenzo waved a hand, then grew serious. “Back to the matter at hand. Did you notice the Puffcap beside him?”

Syren nodded. “I noticed it during our first meeting.”

Lorenzo considered his next words.

“Among the Elves, the former Captain of the Guard is also accompanied by a member of the Puffcap Kindred. Now, whenever an important individual appears or a major event reaches a critical stage, these creatures seem to be nearby. I doubt that is a coincidence.”

“They are consciously integrating themselves among the various races on a vast scale,” Syren said gravely. “We simply do not know whether their presence is a blessing or a curse.”

“Whatever they are, we have little freedom to choose now.” Lorenzo sighed. “There has been no news of the Hero. If the worst has truly happened… then we may have no choice but to pray that the Puffcaps ultimately stand with humanity.”

“Our choices are limited, but we are not entirely without options.”

Syren looked down at the floor beneath them. An enormous and extraordinarily intricate magic circle had been carved into the stone. A dim, flowing mana glow traveled slowly through its channels.

“I only hope… we are never forced to make that choice.”

His gaze finally settled on the center of the magic circle.

A massive pale-blue crystal floated there, flawless and translucent.

Inside it slept an elderly man with snow-white hair and a peaceful face.

He was one of humanity’s seven supreme combatants. His vitality had declined to its limit with age, forcing him to seal himself away in this manner to preserve what life remained.

The Chair of the Relic Society.

At a time like this, elevating a newly distinguished noble held special significance for public morale, so the story was naturally publicized throughout the Kingdom.

Of course, the official account mentioned only the heroism of Vera’s squad, who had stepped forward in a moment of crisis and successfully prevented the Mist from consuming Goldvale City. The truth that he possessed a Virtue remained strictly confidential.

It took little imagination to realize that if Vera’s Virtue became public knowledge, the Demonkind would undoubtedly try to kill him before he could reach his full potential.

Despite receiving a noble title that countless others could only dream of, Vera and the sisters were nowhere near as delighted as outsiders imagined.

Vera felt that he had not earned the honor and remained deeply uneasy.

Faye and Fiona were more concerned about Vera himself.

Faye even began to suspect, somewhat irrationally, that Duke Lorenzo harbored sinister intentions. Perhaps he merely wanted to place a heavy burden of responsibility on Vera so that he could pressure him into using the [Virtue of Sacrifice] at a critical moment.

From a certain perspective, Faye’s suspicions were not entirely unfounded.

Lorenzo, however, viewed the matter from the perspective of the Kingdom of Concord’s survival and humanity’s future.

Allowing a promising Virtue bearer to squander his potential on aimless expeditions through the wilderness would have been the true mistake.

While the three of them struggled with their respective worries, an old adventuring companion arrived to congratulate them and brought news none of them had expected.

Cyrian Dusksong was alive!

“I’m absolutely certain! I saw him with my own eyes at the Puffcap Hearth in Mushroom Metropolis a few days ago! I wondered why your squad had split up. So you were separated after encountering the Mist!”

Vera’s group had posted requests seeking information about Cyrian Dusksong. However, in an age when information still spread through public notices and word of mouth, such news could never reach most people unless the resources of an entire nation were brought to bear.

At the very least, their adventurer friend clearly knew nothing about what Vera’s squad had endured or their subsequent search.

The unexpected news filled all three of them with joy.

Faye and Fiona remembered every part of their adventures with Cyrian Dusksong. It was also thanks to him that they had survived the Mist.

Although they had countless questions, they were unquestionably overjoyed to hear that he was safe.

Vera no longer remembered the Elf, but he had heard many stories about him from Faye and Fiona. As a result, he had formed an excellent impression of the Druid who had once been their companion.

More importantly, however faint the hope might be, Vera wondered if meeting Cyrian Dusksong would restore some of his memories.

Unfortunately, the investiture ceremony was imminent. The three of them could not leave Oathbound City to search for him just yet. They could only ask their acquaintances to pass along a message if they encountered Cyrian Dusksong, arranging to reunite