Chapter 36 The Poet and Swordsman Under Twilight
The afterglow of the setting sun cast a dim twilight, dyeing the clouds a hazy yellow that obscured the sky. Even the golden branches of the World Tree were rendered in the dim twilight hues.
Dim light scattered onto the ground. Besser, the golden elf like a puddle of mud, lay on his side on the bed. A faint breeze caressed him, and the searing pain, far more excruciating than any blade, caused Besser to gasp for air. However, the air he inhaled felt like a burning brand, searing his lungs.
“Damn commoner…”
Amidst his weak groans of pain, Besser’s inner hatred for Ig was immeasurable. Thinking of Ig’s indifferent yet mocking gaze made Besser hate him even more. He clenched his fist, but the intense pain made him let out another wail.
After Ig struck him with that demonic power, Besser was transported back home by several people in a carriage. Despite the treatment from the Life Priest, Besser was filled with dread. The demonic power that Ig had infused into his body was still incessantly corroding his life from within.
As punishment, he had lost his “tool” as a complete man. Furthermore, that devil-like demonic power had shattered all his bones. Besser couldn’t even feel any trace of demonic power or his own golden elf bloodline.
This meant that even if his injuries healed, he would be crippled, a useless person.
This was something Besser would rather die than experience.
“Despicable commoner, to use the power of a demon to harm a noble golden noble… Goddess Princess, please send your noble envoy to punish this sinful commoner for your people.”
Besser groaned in pain, praying venomously in his heart.
Suddenly, light footsteps landed on the twilight dusk.
“You lowly servant, get out!” Besser yelled hatefully.
After the treatment from the Life Priest, Besser should have had servants attending to him. However, he was ill-tempered and deeply humiliated, quickly driving them all away, leaving him to lie alone on the bed.
The footsteps did not stop.
Besser felt something was wrong. He was in a courtyard, and only their family’s servants would pass through. But what kind of arrogant servant would defy the anger of a golden elf?
A trace of fear spread in his heart, but Besser couldn’t get up.
Ignoring the pain, he shouted loudly. However, no one in the entire courtyard responded. He could only hear the approaching footsteps.
The dim twilight seemed to shroud the entire land, isolating him from the outside world. Only when the footsteps stopped did Besser laboriously lift his eyes.
A beautiful melody reached his ears.
“Look! The noble golden people, he should have been as brilliant as gold and as dazzling as the sun. The world sighs, in the preface of twilight scattering over the night, sorrowful desires devour him, such a fall, such baseness.”
Slender and fair fingers plucked a harp. The poet raised his masked face, and though the mask obscured most of his features, a faint smile could be seen as he recited a short poem.
Besser’s gaze froze as he stared at the bard who had appeared before him.
“The power of ‘Lust’ and ‘Pride,’ how terrifying. If the world’s sins were only sloth, Lord Holdia, would it not be a beautiful dream?”
The poet smiled, his melodious voice weaving through the music.
“However, it was you who brought him this misfortune.” A hoarse and deep voice sounded. Behind the bard stood a figure in a black cloak, but his imposing physique could not be concealed. The two greatswords on his back emanated an aura of darkness.
“A towering tree that has grown, the seeds of sin were already there. How can you blame the farmer who watered and fertilized it?”
The bard complained indignantly. “Moreover, I merely allowed this noble lord to face the desires within his heart!”
Besser suddenly felt like he was trapped in a nightmare.
Besser remembered that he had seen this poet yesterday. He had also recited poems with a kind smile… Ever since then, he had inexplicably lost his mind and dared to provoke a Star!
A sliver of fear crept into his heart, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
“‘Sloth,’ I do not believe that the Saintess sent you here merely for such trivial actions,” the black-robed youth with two swords said indifferently.
“Trivial? Of course not. As the incarnation of ‘Original Sin,’ I should observe all kinds of burgeoning sins.”
The poet, addressed as ‘Sloth,’ smiled and said, “Lord Holdia, you have only recently joined the Saintess’s side, perhaps you are not aware…”
“The Saintess and I are merely cooperating.”
The bard’s speech was coldly interrupted. The swordsman’s pupils flashed with icy color. “Hmph, so-called followers of the Abyss – I never agree with your views.”
“Cough, cough…”
Choked by the direct retort, the poet’s face showed embarrassment, and he coughed a few times. “But, at least we are companions.”
“And Lord Holdia, didn’t you also see that this noble golden elf had the fortune to meet that esteemed Highness, and that young man.”
A glint flashed in the black swordsman’s icy eyes.
“You people—who are you!” Besser’s eyes were filled with fear as he finally managed to speak.
“Noble lord, weren’t you just praying to the Goddess, expecting her envoy to punish Mr. Ig, who offended you?”
The poet turned his face. He gently removed his mask, revealing a handsome face with a flowing smile. The dim light fell into his pupils, yet it was as if a deep abyss had descended. “Perhaps, the humble me can act as your envoy.”
The bard’s faint laughter scattered across the twilight-filled land.
—
Far in the past, in Rubiel City, a noble youth named Rols coveted Dofiraia’s beauty but was ultimately instigated by the ‘Jealousy’ witch, who went by the alias ‘Verodia.’
Eventually, before the night of blood began, Rols died by Verafia’s sword.
Although the situation of this golden elf, Besser, was not entirely the same, Verafia couldn’t help but think of the Abyss when it was mentioned.
Understanding the girl’s intent, Ig prepared to go find Besser alone. However, Verafia grabbed his hand and strongly insisted on going with him.
Ig hesitated for a moment before nodding.
He was indeed concerned for the girl’s safety. However, although Verafia in his arms was still small, her magic level was not low. Even if her young age meant she couldn’t fully unleash her power, holding Mistetinn’s Staff wouldn’t necessarily be more dangerous than leaving her alone.
