LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 43
Chapter 43. Impossible Challenge
“……My sincerest apologies. I, Sidarl, am deeply honored.”
Sidarl plastered on a forced smile and bowed politely.
“Who would have thought that the Saint would be subdued in such a manner…”
The Saint, hidden behind Zilbagias, sat on the floor with her bottom down, peeking out from between Zilbagias’s legs and cautiously observing the situation.
As Sidarl maintained his forced smile and met her gaze with intensity, she quickly withdrew her face in apparent fear. It seemed there was no longer a trace of her former self as a Saint. The claim of having destroyed her will appeared to be true—Sidarl felt a surge of anger inside.
Should the will be completely driven to madness, the powers of the Saint might be lost.
Although he had considered brain modification as a last resort from that perspective — Zilbagias had performed a will alteration without so much as a word of consent. It was fortunate that the miraculous power remained intact; otherwise, what would have happened?
Well, it’s fine.
The fact that the Saint had submitted and that the prospect of using her miracles was feasible was now clear.
It was an undeniable fact that it was the prince before him who had accomplished that.
However, he could not so easily relinquish the source of the “Healing Power,” the tragic desire of his clan!
“What do you think, Your Highness? If you wish, I can renovate this guest room into a private space just for you. So you can relax comfortably—of course, we will also extend the utmost hospitality to you. And at your leisure, you can enjoy the body of the Saint.”
With gestures reminiscent of a merchant, he pressed on with his proposal.
“Oh? What a surprisingly humble offer, Sidarl. You wish to keep the achievements of others for yourself while reaping the spoils, yet you want me to personally grace you with my presence. What would be the benefit of me accepting that?”
With an utterly disdainful tone, Zilbagias dismissed Sidarl’s words with a laugh.
“I’ll keep this woman with me and enjoy her whenever I desire. Isn’t that the simplest solution? No need for me to come all the way to this dreary prison. Isn’t that right?”
“Even so, Your Highness—”
Being called a dreary prison made Sidarl’s lips twitch, yet he retained his forced smile.
“This Saint’s body was most graciously bestowed upon us by His Majesty, the Demon Lord. Seven years ago, during the invasion of the Pan-Humanity Alliance, we fought valiantly and paid a heavy toll. However, you may not know this as you weren’t even born then…”
The young one. This Saint was a gift from your father, thus she is ours.
“I’ve heard. It seems quite a bit of blood was shed dealing with the Heroes. My father mentioned it made handling the remnants a bit easier. Apparently, it was clear where battles occurred in the castle, judging by the blood splatter.”
Don’t get cocky, you weaklings. You’ve merely had the leftovers from the Demon Race.
“And you’ve been delightedly dissecting and toying with the body of the Saint entrusted to you by my father… for seven years now.”
Suddenly, Zilbagias wiped the smile from his face and directed a cold glare.
“What have you been doing all these seven years?”
What lay within his gaze was an utterly cruel expression, one that perceived the Night Elves as an inferior race, filled with unparalleled arrogance.
“You say you were researching, but ultimately, you were just torturing her for fun, weren’t you? Searching for ways to utilize her blood? That’s fine. Attempting domination? That’s also fine. But perhaps you just failed to obtain the miracle you desired, which, well, can be excused. After all, not everything goes as planned in this world… I’d like to say that, but—”
Zilbagias pointed at Liliana, who was crawling on all fours at his feet.
“How do you explain this sorry state?”
In front of the best example of a fully subjugated Saint.
“How long has it been since I arrived in this room? Five minutes? Ten minutes? That was more than enough for me, Sidarl. If this isn’t proof of your incompetence, then what is?”
Zilbagias accused with the expression of a predator toying with its prey. The humiliation of being mocked by a mere five-year-old was undeniable; yet at the same time, it was an irrefutable truth. Clenching his fists in frustration, Sidarl found himself unable to retort.
“It seems you’ve misunderstood.”
Zilbagias continued with a tone as if savoring the moment.
“The Saint wasn’t merely granted to you as a toy. Considering the value of miracles, it’s apparent that my father expected certain results. In the Demon Lord Kingdom, no one knows more about the Forest Elves than the Night Elves—understanding that well, anyway. Though it seems it turned out to be quite an overestimation…”
With a sigh, Zilbagias shook his head and gently patted the head of the seated Liliana.
“Woof! Woof!”
Looking up at Zilbagias with sparkling blue eyes, Liliana seemed eager to wag her tail if she had one.
“Good girl, so cute… You all were way out of your league with this woman. I, who have achieved control in just a few minutes, am much more deserving as her owner than all of you who wasted seven years. Instead, all of that research that you had—”
Zilbagias clearly laughed derisively.
“You’ve spared the time and effort that would have been wasted. I’m always open to words of praise and thanks.”
“…If you’ll allow me to speak, Your Highness—”
Unable to help himself, Sidarl finally spoke up.
“Go ahead. Though you are lesser, I’m generous enough to allow rebuttals.”
Zilbagias prodded him without delay. Next to the strained smile of Sidarl, Viene was overcome with overwhelming discomfort. Could this truly be Zilbagias? His hostile and excessively arrogant remarks were far too disconnected from his usual demeanor.
However, speaking up now would be a terrifying act for Viene. The only option was to silently witness this debate’s outcome—a discussion that would likely affect her own future as well.
“Your Highness, you’ve won the bet…”
While keeping an iron face, Viene could barely contain her dissatisfaction, which Sidarl’s mask of forced politeness could no longer hide.
“However, it was a reckless gamble with no promise of victory!”
“Oh? Are you suggesting I was simply lucky?”
Zilbagias raised an eyebrow, arms crossed behind his back.
“I fear—overly altering one’s will could jeopardize the Saint’s powers. That’s why we were cautious with any modifications of the mind or memory! Those were only last resorts!”
“You could have done it whenever you wanted, you say. You were afraid of failure, and that hesitation was your downfall. A valuable lesson learned; be sure to apply it next time.”
Provided there even is a next time, he thought with a knowing smirk.
“You don’t understand how rare that Saint was to us!”
Sidarl’s shout had now turned into something akin to a scream.
“If we had failed, it would have been irretrievable! You could act so recklessly because she was not your own property!”
“So unless it’s a failure that can’t be recovered, you mean to say you shouldn’t challenge it? That’s so weak.”
“…The Saint’s Healing Power is our clan’s hope. Prince Zilbagias. Just last week, due to significant movements at the front lines, twenty of my clan members have ventured to the underworld.”
His face drained of color from frustration and anger. Poison dripped from the rhythm of Sidarl’s voice.
“With the limited frame of the Teleportation Spell allocated to us, there was simply no way to treat them in time. They passed away in agony despite our desperate efforts to save them…!”
Indeed. Treatment through the Teleportation Spell prioritizes the Demon Race. The number of Night Elves who can receive care is limited. Waiting for over a week is common, and when massive numbers of casualties occur simultaneously, it can turn into a fight for space, leaving many far too late for help.
“…Your Highness. The Night Elves have devoted our blood and loyalty to the Demon Lord Kingdom. We are prepared to risk our lives for it! However! Is it unreasonable to wish for as many warriors as possible to survive?!”
With fiery red eyes, Sidarl glared at the Saint Liliana, hiding behind Zilbagias’s legs, his gaze filled with obsession and envy.
“If that Saint’s blood power had been shared, they could have escaped as sacrificial pawns! Perhaps some would not have needed to have limbs amputated due to infections! And yet, Your Highness, you hail from the Reiju tribe!! I’ve heard that just last week, you wasted many humans during harsh training…!”
As the Night Elf warriors died before receiving treatment.
This prince had used the Teleportation Spell many times purely for the sake of training.
No matter how much the Demon Race holds the ruling class, it’s far too unreasonable!!
“You already possess the power of the [Teleportation Spell]—and now, you intend to take away the Healing Power of the Saint from us as well?!”
Bathed in the anguished cries of the Night Elf clan, Zilbagias—
“…Huh. Heh, ha ha ha ha ha!”
Broke into laughter.
Veins bulged on Sidarl’s forehead. If the opponent wasn’t a prince, he would have surely punched him and shouted, “What’s so funny!” Even Viene, who had been quietly listening with her ironed expression, was desperately trying to hide her anger.
“…No, I apologize. That was wrong. I never intended to insult the fallen warriors. It’s understandable that my actions could be perceived that way, for which I sincerely apologize. —I simply found you, Sidarl, to be tragically ridiculous.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Depending on his response, Sidarl’s glare at the prince showed that he had more to say.
It was clearly the limit of his patience. The Night Elves faithfully served the Demon Race not to elevate them but for the prosperity of their clan.
“You said that the Saint’s Healing Power is the unfulfilled wish of your clan.”
Ignoring Sidarl and even Viene’s sharp glares, Zilbagias again leaned down to stroke Liliana’s head.
With a grin, Zilbagias suddenly shoved his finger into the smiling Liliana’s mouth.
“…Oof?”
Liliana tilted her head in confusion, but continued to lick Zilbagias’s finger.
“This is the bodily fluid of the Saint. It’s filled with Light Magic and Healing Power.”
With a smirk, Zilbagias withdrew his saliva-covered finger.
“You should give it a try. Experience this Healing Power… Extend your arm.”
He stepped closer and thrust out his finger. The saliva of a High Elf—there was quite a bit of resistance. Beyond mere disgust, he had experienced having his skin scorched by the Light Magic every time he tried to utilize blood or bodily fluids.
But there was no choice. Reluctantly, Sidarl rolled up his jacket sleeves.
And Zilbagias smeared the saliva across Sidarl’s sickly pale Night Elf skin.
Sizz! The sound echoed like meat sizzling on a hot plate.
“Gah—!!”
Instantly, an intense pain struck Sidarl’s arm. He couldn’t help but jerk back. When he looked, his saliva appeared to boil, and his skin looked as if it were melting.
“Just as I anticipated.”
Zilbagias looked down at him now not with mockery but with pity.
While enduring the pain, Sidarl was left confused. Why? Hadn’t the Saint been placed under their control?
“This was my doing; I will take responsibility. [Teleportation].”
Suddenly, magical hands from the prince reached out, enveloping Sidarl’s arm. An unusual sensation like the wound being pulled out along with the pain—this was the Teleportation Spell.
“Ugh… this is rather heavy. I see.”
The wound on Sidarl’s arm vanished completely, only for Zilbagias’s skin to burn in its place. The prince slightly grimaced but began to smear the saliva of the Saint over his wound.
With a refreshing sound, the injury began to heal instantly—
“…Why?”
Dazed, Sidarl murmured. Why was it that the prince benefited from the blessing of miracles, but he did not?
“It’s a simple thing.”
Returning to Liliana, Zilbagias bent down and embraced her naked form. The Saint nestled her head against the prince’s chest, nuzzling against him.
“—Let’s talk about the Teleportation Spell. This spell originated with the ancestors of the Reiju tribe, who took on the wounds of their suffering children.”
As he gently combed through Liliana’s golden hair with his fingers, Zilbagias continued.
“Now it has become a powerful curse that can also harm others—but its origin, its roots, were born from a parent’s love.”
“…Love.”
The word which seemed utterly implausible to come from the arrogant Demon Race made Sidarl and Viene exchange glances.
“And—this holds true for the miracles of the Light Alliance as well.”
As Zilbagias continued in a calm tone, Sidarl felt a rush of something dreadful crawling up his spine.
An immensely uncomfortable premonition. He almost wanted to cover his ears—
“Think about it. Is there anyone who wishes to heal and save an enemy they hate to the point of wanting to kill? The root of the healing miracle is also love. Prayers are offered for those we love, and in the end, gifts are given from above—this is the miracle.”
Zilbagias’s gaze was fixed sharply on them.
“I love this woman. What a pitiful and unfortunate woman she is. I couldn’t help but reach out a hand to help. And I took away the pain and fear. That’s why she responded to my love.”
Only for those we love does the Light’s miracle bestow its blessings.
Even for those who dwell in darkness, the light of compassion will rain down.
However. For those who respond with hate rather than love, it will turn into a searing light—
“Sidarl, is there a more ludicrous tale? What was needed was love, yet you sought to obtain it through inflicting suffering in hell.”
Unwittingly, Sidarl and Viene began to step back, seeming as though they intended to escape the words of curse spinning like spiderwebs from Zilbagias.
“I told you, it’s simple. If you desire the miracles of the Saint—”
Kissing Liliana’s forehead, Zilbagias declared.
“—You must love this woman and be loved in return.”
Though it may already be too late, he chuckled.