WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Order
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ I Became the Dark Knight in the Game World ◈
Chapter 61: In Search of the Lost Heirloom (4)
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[Argh!]
Orisin, who had been about to follow that up with, “You crazy bastard!” froze. Orisin knew Kriel possessed an ability to detect the Abyss, something Orisin could never reproduce.
Orisin even had a rough idea where that ability had originated. If Kriel was so adamant about smashing someone else’s family heirloom, it surely meant the thing had been corrupted by the Abyss.
‘Still, that doesn’t make this okay!’
At the Gabi Family estate, he had attacked an old man the instant he saw Mazhar’s father. Now he was pulling the “This heirloom is mine now” move? Did he instinctively reach for anything connected to the Abyss?
From Nawiden’s perspective, it was even more baffling than someone stealing the heirloom. He could have understood if Kriel coveted it, but Kriel had tried to smash it the instant he saw it.
Orisin turned to Nawiden.
Even gentle Nawiden could not handle such an unexpected situation. He stared at Kriel, utterly bewildered.
[…Hey! What are you going to do? Clean this up, quick!]
“Ah. I acted without thinking.”
[At least say something!]
Kriel had given Mazhar Gabi, who had said the exact same thing, only one reply: “Something.” Then he had beaten Tushkin Gabi senseless.
Still, unlike his two swords, Kriel was a socially adept, upright young man. At least, that was what he believed. So he did not attempt to explain the whole story right then and there.
“I imagine this sudden incident must have caused you considerable alarm. My apologies.”
Nawiden had no idea how to respond. If he knew, should he not have avoided doing this in the first place?
“Still, please look at the Truth Cup. It is both my excuse and my reason.”
The Truth Cup lay shattered beyond recognition. It was a pitiful end for an artifact handed down for centuries, ever since the Lir Family’s days as a prestigious Ancient Elves house.
Just as Nawiden was about to let out a long sigh, he paused.
‘Hm?’
He looked at the Truth Cup again. It was not something that should have broken so easily.
Nawiden approached its remains and picked up a fragment. It gleamed silver and even carried a faintly sacred feeling.
Yet this was not the Truth Cup. The metal that made up the Truth Cup was not ordinary silver. It was a special metal called elfsilver, forged through an Ancient Elves secret art.
It was not something that could be broken so easily.
Nawiden realized that an extremely subtle spell had been cast on the fragments of the Truth Cup. It was, in a sense, the power of imitation. A cup of similar shape made from another material had been imbued with Imitation Magic to mimic the original Truth Cup.
A bead of cold sweat ran down Nawiden’s forehead. The Truth Cup had been switched.
Who, why, and when? The questions raced through Nawiden’s mind. Kriel continued calmly.
“After the Truth Cup was confiscated from Alberic, did anyone enter the storeroom?”
“…I would have to check the visitor records to be certain, but probably not. After we recovered the Truth Cup from Alberic and returned it to its proper place, we should be the first ones to have visited the storeroom.”
“Then it is likely the cup was already a counterfeit at that point.”
Kriel pieced together the circumstances. Whoever had stolen the Truth Cup had exploited Alberic’s public image as a reckless prodigal.
“Shortly after stealing the Truth Cup, they must have been cornered by the sudden arrival of Advisor Luwain’s letter. Security around the storeroom was tightened, leaving them unable to return the cup to its place. That must have led them to use Alberic to put a counterfeit in place of the original.”
“Then there is something that does not add up. If they had placed the counterfeit there from the beginning, it would have been a more perfect crime.”
Kriel recalled the nature of the Abyss. It liked to operate in secret for a long time, hiding traps where no one would notice them. The Abyss did not seek ordinary destruction. It sought the fall of the world.
Sometimes, even the most devout could fall. Just as renowned holy knights fell into the Abyss and became Dark Knights.
Kriel frowned as he recalled the moment he had first seen the Truth Cup. No, the Deceit Cup.
Seeing his expression, Nawiden asked, “What is it?”
Kriel shook his head as if it were nothing.
“I was just considering something. Do you remember the Poison Ring I brought here initially?”
“Of course. You suffered greatly because of it.”
“The Truth Cup and the Poison Ring have something in common. Their purposes differ, but both alter water.”
Kriel believed contaminating a water source with the Poison Ring had been a kind of experiment. How would humans who drank water carrying the poisonous energy of the Abyss change? How would the affected natural environment mutate?
It had only ended with ordinary symptoms such as stomachaches, vomiting, and diarrhea because Kriel had intervened early. What if someone had inspected the water source by ordinary means, said, “There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the water,” and searched elsewhere for the cause while it was left unchecked for a long time?
The village corrupted by the Abyss might have become a breeding ground for Monsters. Worse still, an Abyssal Domain might have descended upon it. Nawiden had served in the Demon King War. He had witnessed countless regions collapse in that manner.
“The culprit’s goal was likely not to steal the heirloom for monetary gain. Rather, they intended to corrupt the Truth Cup into a source of contamination, like the Poison Ring, and return it to its original place.”
Such a plan would normally have needed to be carried out swiftly, before anyone noticed. Yet before the corruption could be completed, security at the storeroom had tightened, and the theft was discovered.
“…They intended to use our heirloom to make a baptismal font for the Abyss?”
[A baptismal font. How old-fashioned. Just what I’d expect from an elf.]
Each religion had its own formal initiation rites, but the most common involved water, such as pouring holy water over one’s head or soaking one’s body in it. The implication was that water washed away the filth of the secular world.
A baptismal font was a vessel that held the holy water used for such baptisms. If the Truth Cup became corrupted, its power would no longer purify but instead cause those who used it to fall into the Abyss. Nawiden’s comparison struck at the heart of the matter.
“That is my belief. Still, this deduction only holds if there is some connection between the maker of the Poison Ring and the thief who stole the Truth Cup.”
With a grim expression, Nawiden gathered the shattered fragments. Their magic was dispersing now that they had been destroyed, but they were still evidence.
“I wish to convene a family council. Would you be willing to provide testimony?”
Kriel nodded.
* * *
“Young master.”
Oife called to Alberic through the bars.
Alberic turned toward Oife with a lazy grin.
“So? How did it go?”
“Nothing. There are no clues at all. The only testimony we found was that you were loitering near the storeroom that day.”
“That wasn’t me. Why would I be crazy enough to steal the heirloom?”
Oife was about to tease the young master as usual, but she shook her head when she saw his unusually serious expression. Until recently, the Truth Cup had been used to keep Lady Fand alive.
It prevented the scars of the Abyss, buried deep in her marrow, from consuming her body. It could not provide a fundamental cure, but it could keep the wounds from spreading. It had become an old story after Lady Fand chose to stop the life-prolonging treatment and prepare for death.
Alberic wanted his mother to live even one day longer. He swore he had never intended to sell the Truth Cup, which would be used if Lady Fand ever changed her mind.
“But listen. You said you got drunk and blacked out somewhere that day too. You do not even know where you were, so discussing whether a Doppelganger exists based on your testimony alone is…”
“I have no intention of discussing it openly with the family. Whatever impersonated me cannot find out that we noticed. Isn’t that why I called you here?”
Oife sighed at the young master. He was still her friend, and when Elder Nawiden entered eternal rest, he would become her lord.
“Fine. I will keep looking. Do not expect too much.”
Just as she turned to leave the underground prison, someone called out.
“Senior! Senior!”
“Hm? Niam?”
“Senior, we’re yeot!”
“What is yeot?”
“Hm? Ah, you do not know? As expected, you are only half-formed elves. Yeot is a dessert made with rice and barley.”
Alberic added his explanation. Was it some strange plant-based food unique to the World Tree Elves? Oife clutched her head.
“Fine. I can roughly tell from the tone. What happened?”
“They say the Truth Cup was smashed! No, it’s completely gone!”
“What?”
Oife looked at Alberic. Alberic grinned.
“See? I told you it wasn’t me.”
* * *
It took quite some time to convene the family council. In the meantime, Kriel checked his clothes in the guest room he had been shown to.
“Master. Come here. If your looks cannot be helped, your clothes should at least be good.”
“…I’m not ugly, am I?”
“You are not ugly. But you look strange.”
Tuon cornered Kriel with a harmless attack. What she meant by “strange” was the overall sense of alienness given off by Kriel’s appearance, combined with the ominous aura unique to a Dark Knight. He had a cold impression, like someone standing on the boundary between the living and the dead. Kriel gave up on arguing.
“Do you have anything other than light travel clothes? A knight must carry himself with dignity befitting his station.”
Kriel opened his mouth confidently, about to answer that armor was a knight’s formal attire. The moment Tuon saw his lips form the word “armor,” she crushed his ambitions.
“If you want to insist, ‘I brought a ring from the Abyss and wear extremely suspicious armor, but I am not a Dark Knight,’ I will not stop you.”
Rather than argue that the armor was not made by the Abyss, but holy armor crafted by the Saintess of Eve Kaha, Kriel quietly accepted Tuon’s opinion.
“There should be something if you look through the bag.”
After combing Kriel’s hair and finishing his hairstyle, Tuon began searching through the bag. Orisin whispered to Kriel.
[Didn’t you have the formal uniform Morgina gave you? It would be perfect for a formal gathering.]
It was a luxurious black uniform made from night-raven silk. Kriel shook his head.
“It has the symbol of Eve Kaha on it. Why reveal that I am a Champion for no reason?”
[If this is connected to the Abyss, I think you will end up bringing up that identity anyway…]
“I figured I should hide it for the time being.”
[Why?]
“The moment I saw the counterfeit Truth Cup, I heard, ‘You and I share the same goal…’”
Footnotes:
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