Night claimed the vault of the sky as evening stars surfaced one by one from the depths of the heavens.
The beat of horse hooves fell dense as rain, the carriage wheels crunching over gravel and startling several night birds along the roadside.
A carriage departing from Bandle City was currently speeding down the road bound for the Royal Capital of Iweizer.
Inside the carriage, Link sat upright with his arms crossed, his monocle resting crookedly on the bridge of his nose.
A bruised ring of blue and black stood out starkly around his left eye socket, glowing with a faint purplish-black hue under the dim lamp of the carriage.
“Flamme, you still need to practice the [Spell to Duplicate Items] diligently.”
“Understood, Master.”
Flamme obediently voiced her agreement, though her gaze couldn’t help but drift toward the black eye on her master’s face.
The corners of her mouth began to curl upward uncontrollably, and to suppress her laughter, she turned her face toward the carriage window.
This was the very first time she had ever seen Link suffer a setback.
In the past, he was always the only one causing others to suffer.
On the other side, Link leaned against the wall of the carriage, covering his left eye socket with one hand.
His expression hovered somewhere between I’m fine and just leave me alone.
When Magni had swung that forging hammer over, his instinct had been to tank it directly with his face.
With [Adaptive Defense] protecting him, a physical attack of that level was no different from an itch.
However, reality informed him in an extremely direct manner that after transforming into an elf, the resistance bonuses from [Adaptive Defense] had to be stacked all over again.
He actually wasn’t invulnerable anymore.
Ever since Link had gotten used to being impervious to blades and spears, it had been a very long time since he had felt true pain.
A sense of crisis quietly welled up within him, and Link decided to use his peerless wisdom to figure out a solution.
Just as he was pondering, the carriage ground to a halt.
The city gates of the Royal Capital, Iweizer, were right before their eyes.
In the night, the city walls towered like sheer cliffs.
Torches snapped and crackled in the night wind, casting shifting light and shadow across the armor of the guards on watch.
A capital that usually saw few visitors actually had a queue forming at the entrance.
A sense of unease drifted through the air—it seemed something had occurred in the Royal Capital.
“What should we do, Master?” Flamme asked nervously, pulling at Link’s sleeve as she lowered her voice.
The pair of them were hardly any different from unregistered hermits living in the deep mountains; how could they possibly possess identification documents?
Link, however, remarked, “There’s no place your master can’t sneak into. Back when I used to stealth around, I could come and go from the Demon King’s Castle as I pleased.”
Hearing Link’s words, Flamme instantly grew vigilant.
“Master, killing guard soldiers is a capital offense!”
“What on earth are you thinking? Am I the kind of person who kills over every minor disagreement?” Link corrected his disciple’s mistaken impression with righteous severity.
A longsword pried open the carriage curtain, followed by the coarse, booming voice of a guard.
“Two inside! Hand over your identification documents!”
Without a trace of panic, Link reached into the inner lining of his cloak, pulled out two pieces of parchment, and handed them over.
The guard unrolled the parchment, squinting through the flickering light of the torch to scan the seals and signatures on the paper, before his eyes suddenly widened.
Within a matter of seconds, the guard’s expression underwent a total transformation from sternness to a somewhat unpracticed eagerness to please.
He stowed his weapon, neatly folded the two documents back up, and handed them back with both hands.
“My apologies, my Lord. Had you given us a head-up earlier, how could we have dared to waste your time?”
Link took the documents and casually inquired, “What happened?”
The guard hesitated, stepped half a pace closer, and lowered his voice.
“A plague suddenly broke out in several towns and villages north of the Royal Capital. There are simply too many refugees fleeing here.”
Link nodded without asking further, taking Flamme’s hand as they walked through the city gates.
“Master, you actually hold an official post?” Flamme couldn’t hold back her question after taking a few steps.
“They’re all forged by Magni. Forget an official post—even if I said I were the King himself, he could forge a document for it.”
While chatting, the two had already traversed several streets and alleys, coming to a stop before the doors of a lit restaurant.
“Flamme, go buy two bottles of wine. I’m going to see an old friend,” Link said, reaching out to hand over a few gold coins.
“Buying real ones or fake ones?”
If it were a gift for anyone else, Flamme wouldn’t have asked this question.
But since it was a friend of Link’s, the answer to this question was up for debate.
The question genuinely stumped Link.
He replied thoughtfully, “If it’s a human, drinking fake wine would kill them, right?”
“Probably.”
“Then let’s buy real ones.”
“Flamme, don’t forget what you ought to do if you encounter danger,” Link instructed once more, feeling uneasy.
Flamme nodded, turning around to head toward the corner of the street.
Link entered the inn, took a seat on a chair by the window, and summoned the system panel he hadn’t seen in a long time.
The quest log had been pinging nonstop the moment they entered the Royal Capital, and now he finally had the time to investigate.
[Ding!]
[Subjugation Quest] Deadly Plague [Quest Overview] The demon from the Mythical Era, “Deadly Plague,” has awakened from its seal.
Every time it manifests in the world, it spreads death and pestilence.
Thoroughly crush it before it brings an end to this era.
[Quest Reward] Hextech Selection +1
Just from the name alone, Link knew this was another gimmick boss—the exact type he despised.
Moreover, it was an old relic from the Mythical Era, meaning it would have plenty of tricks up its sleeve.
The plague north of the Royal Capital was likely caused by this “Deadly Plague” as well.
Just as he closed the panel, the wooden door of the inn creaked open.
Flamme walked in carrying two bottles of wine, set them onto the table with a clack, and sat down opposite Link.
Taking a deep breath, she lowered her voice and said, “Master, I just heard some news in the tavern.”
She dragged her chair forward, resting both elbows on the edge of the table, her green eyes shimmering with eager excitement.
“A lot of grand nobles have come to the Royal Capital recently just for this matter, and they’re recruiting adventurers all over the place. Master, let’s go too.”
“Not going.”
Link’s rejection was sharp and decisive.
If it truly granted eternal life, it wouldn’t be called a ruin.
That kind of gimmick was something he used to trick others; no one else could hope to trick him.
Seeing the glaring disappointment on Flamme’s face, Link had no choice.
He leaned against the back of his chair, staring silently at the ceiling for a moment.
“Fine. Accompany me to the church first. Once we’re done there, we’ll go take a look at that ruin.”
“Why are we going to the church?” Flamme blinked.
“Seeing how well-behaved you’ve been since you were little, I’m really worried about how twisted your secret quirks might be. So I’m taking you to offer some prayers.”
Link spoke in a serious tone, and for a moment, Flamme actually took it seriously.
She thought it over carefully and earnestly.
“I don’t really have any quirks, do I? Does liking sweets count?”
“Of course it counts, especially for a bad kid like you who eats sweets without sharing them with her master, and even uses magic to trick him.”
“Master, you actually knew?”
“Of course. Otherwise, how could I be your master?”
While chatting, the two traversed several more streets until a magnificent, grayish-white building emerged from the night.
The primary destination of their trip, the Iweizer Cathedral, had arrived.
Under the shroud of night, the cathedral was brightly lit, candle flames burning quietly upon silver candelabras.
Melted wax slid down silently, trickling down step by step along the stairs, slowly congealing into translucent wax trails in the evening wind.
The firelight reflected upon them, resembling a lake surface ruffled by the wind, shimmering with delicate golden ripples.
The doors of the cathedral stood wide open.
There were no voices preaching, only low sobs and rustling sounds.
Flamme followed closely behind Link.
The moment she crossed the threshold, she saw a blazing fire rising from the altar deep within the cathedral.
A youth held high a burning canon of scriptures, the script upon it turning into a brilliant gold due to the flames.
Burning pages fluttered and danced through the air, looking just like a heavy snowfall of gold falling on a midsummer night.
Beneath the altar, several children stood in a row.
Dressed in white vestments and holding lit candles in their hands, they were chanting in unison, singing a mourning poem Flamme had never heard before.
How to search for the lost lamb?
Search into the depths of night, search until the stars are hidden away.
Until darkness closes your eyes.
The lamb has returned, yet the shepherd has not.
Gazing at the coffin, Link muttered to himself.
“Flamme… it seems we arrived one step too late.”