Chapter 48
Theodore gritted his teeth and barely managed to speak.
To be making such a request of this woman… it was unbearable.
But right now, he wasn’t in a position to be picky.
After all, there were far too many eyes watching.
He had to step back. The fact that the saint’s sexual energy drained from his own core… must not be exposed to the public.
“Without anyone else noticing…”
Catching the essence of his words with remarkable quickness, Ibin immediately sent a mental signal to Obok.
―Obok! Over here!
Obok, who had been happily beating a mimic near the twins, came scurrying over at Ibin’s call.
―What? I’m busy, Oborok!
―Can you put a concealment spell over us? Quickly, it’s urgent.
―Hmm…
Obok, frowning and staring silently at Ibin for a moment, surprisingly didn’t whine or resist as he usually did. Instead, he obediently cast the spell over the two of them.
At that moment, indiscriminate explosions rang out around the gate.
Boom!
Kukukukung!
Small fragmented spheres rained down on the mimics and the gate like dark clouds.
Divine punishment.
The god’s judgment against evil.
It was a storm of holy energy sweeping across the area.
Countless flashes of light lit up the place, each one splitting trees and filling the air with the cries of monsters and the smell of burning wood.
When the overwhelming spectacle of holy energy subsided, standing unharmed amidst the chaos was Saint Pavella.
On the ground, the shattered pieces of mimics lay strewn like ships battered by a storm.
“Is it… over?”
The orphans and their supporters, who had been pressed to the ground to avoid the blast, slowly lifted their heads as the commotion subsided.
Thanks to Theodore’s protective barrier, everyone was unharmed.
“All the box monsters are gone…?”
“Look, the gate’s gone too!”
“Wow, once again the saint has saved us from evil!”
The crowd, uplifted and overjoyed, gazed at Saint Pavella as if she were a painting of the Statue of Liberty leading the people, as if painted by Eugène Delacroix.
A face imbued with determination like that of ancient heroes.
A crowd of people from various social classes and ages in the background.
Smoke filling the scene like a battlefield.
Between the bright sky and darkened buildings, the saint shone like a beacon of hope.
Saint Pavella, with both hands outstretched, called out to those looking up at her.
“In the name of the Goddess of Light, Flula, who pities the lambs and performs the miracle of life through me, revealing her own power and glory—believe in me, the divine representative, and follow!”
The people, who had been bowing on the ground, rushed to her feet and began shouting in worship.
“Truly, the saint is the representative of the light! Saint, hurray! Hurray!”
“….”
The triplets, stunned by the sudden turn of events, looked at each other.
“What? They’re ending it this easily?”
“But why does it leave such a bad taste?”
Don muttered, frowning. Hon was also struck by the feeling.
“You too? I felt the exact same way when I accidentally walked into a rigged poker game.”
“Hey, you crazy bastard! Did you go play poker behind your father’s back again?!”
“I just—wait, that’s not even what I was gonna say!”
As the triplets bickered, the saint turned to face them.
Her face, which had been shining moments ago, now carried an expression of hostility.
“It’s you.”
“…?”
“…?”
“What?”
While the triplets looked bewildered at her words, she continued.
“You’re the ones who dragged the infernal taint all the way into the orphanage.”
At once, the crowd’s heads turned toward them.
Their gaze fell upon the triplets and a pack of werewolf skeletons standing together.
Meanwhile, outside the hall, chaos was winding down.
Slithering sounds.
Theodore was being dragged along by some force.
Already tall and broad, his weight was increased by over 30 kilograms due to full plate armor. Yet Ibin had summoned several specters to help distribute the weight and was managing to drag him along.
“Huff… huff… hey, O-Obok! Help me!”
“Nope! That guy was rude to his master! Oborok isn’t helping.”
“Please, I’ll give you marshmallows at home.”
“…sigh.”
Theodore’s consciousness returned as his armor repeatedly banged against a stone threshold—clank! crash! clank!
Lightning seemed to flash in his mind several times before his senses partially returned.
“Huff… huff… hey, listen up!”
“Ah, what do you want me to do? Just summon a few more specters or something!”
Obok’s words were echoed in agreement by the specters, as if they were too exhausted to object.
While Ibin and Obok bickered, Theodore muttered, holding his head.
“Stop…”
His breathing was ragged. Although his consciousness had returned, his body was clearly in terrible condition.
Even with her limited medical knowledge, Ibin could tell he had suffered serious internal injuries.
“What do we do…”
Then something occurred to her.
―Ibin, I brought you some holy water. Nearly died sneaking it out. But what do you need it for?
At that time, Ibin had scouted locations for cultivating a root vegetable called Drul, which was not yet known to the public, to prepare for an impending famine.
‘I had even brought a few to plant on our farm.’
Ibin opened a pocket from her extra-dimensional storage and pulled out one Drul root.
Since the Drul fruit required holy water to bear fruit, the sample she carried already contained a significant amount of it.
‘Maybe his injuries will react to the holy water.’
She cautiously brought it to Theodore’s lips.
Ibin hesitated, realizing that he probably wouldn’t simply chew and swallow a raw root without explanation.
Naturally, Theodore reacted sharply.
“What… is this?”
“Wait a moment.”
Ibin then pulled out a basic alchemy kit from her extra-dimensional pocket.
‘I had originally prepared it for an alchemy class.’
Since Ibin was advancing quickly through the standard necromancy curriculum, Master Dillon had started preparing additional lessons, including alchemy.
The neighboring Arellyn Duchy was famous for cultivating skilled artisans in various fields, including alchemy. Dillon had a personal connection with a renowned alchemist there.
Perhaps because of that friendship, the alchemist had gifted Ibin a basic kit as a small token.
―Here is the finest kit made by the continent’s greatest alchemist.
Looking forward to seeing you soon, K
Click.
Opening the leather case revealed neatly organized tools and materials: beakers and flasks, mortar and pestle, herb choppers, tweezers and pins, droppers, scales, gloves, bottles, and water containers.
“Phew… Master, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to try making a potion.”
“A potion?”
Obok flew close to Theodore’s face and made a slashing gesture across his throat.
“Potion? That’s poison!”
Ibin ignored Obok’s ominous words and filled a beaker with distilled water.
‘I’m just infusing it this time, so it should be fine.’
Her hands trembled slightly from tension.
In fact, she wasn’t particularly dexterous. She had always been clumsy with tasks requiring fine motor skills, including cooking, earning the nickname “Hands of Misfortune” in her previous life.
‘I slipped again!’ was an everyday occurrence for her.
This trait had persisted even after her possession.
