Their new weapon, Water of Death, was complete after several rounds of trial and error. The greatest obstacle to using it was storage. To keep it and build up a supply, they would at least need containers made of something it could not dissolve.

And so they experimented with every material they could find, from wood to everyday iron and ceramic vessels.

“What about this?”

“No good.”

“Then shall we try this?”

“... Wait, you want to make a bowl out of gold?”

“It’s lying around everywhere here anyway.”

Fortunately, the Koloa region was a mining district rich in all manner of minerals. There was no shortage of materials to test. They could freely use precious metals that were treasured elsewhere.

Of course, these were still Ravista’s assets, so they could not squander them, but quietly appropriating a few pieces was easy enough. After testing all manner of materials as containers, they discovered that clear crystal and glass could withstand Water of Death.

“What do they have in common besides being transparent?”

“Maybe it dissolves color?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt that’s why.”

They compared the materials’ types, strength, and various other properties, yet found nothing in common except their transparency. Even colored glass and crystal dissolved, lending surprising plausibility to Solif’s suggestion that it dissolved things with color.

Once they had worked out how to store it, they immediately began testing it on living things: animals, plants, and even monsters. They explored every method, from splashing it on their subjects or feeding it to them, to freezing it and stabbing them with it, to vaporizing it and enveloping them in it. They concluded that the third method was the most efficient.

“... Even more than the Spirit of Fire, this is something we must never let anyone learn how to make.”

“No kidding.”

Not long ago, jungle had covered this patch of marsh. Now all that remained were the half-dissolved skeletons of trees and a thick, foul slurry of melted plants and animals. This was the result of vaporizing a large batch of Water of Death and using wind magic to blanket the forest with it. It truly was a mist of death, lethal to anything it touched.

“Never mind ordinary animals... Even most monsters would be as good as dead if they entered it.”

Of course, sufficiently powerful magical beings could withstand it. They had diluted it to varying concentrations and tried drinking it and applying it to their own bodies. Even the pure, undiluted liquid could not seriously harm nobles whose mana was in the top-ranking tier or above.

But for killing large numbers of relatively weak enemies, it could prove even deadlier than the Spirit of Fire. As a fluid, it was especially likely to be useful in conditions that made the Spirit of Fire difficult to use, such as rain.

“Let’s leave the experiments there for now. She hasn’t looked too happy with us playing around with this lately.”

“All right.”

Maysa forced herself to act unconcerned, not wanting to obstruct the development of an important weapon, but her expression darkened every time they tested Water of Death on animals. Turan suspected she would be twice as miserable if she saw him testing it on himself, so he kept that part secret.

Even as they developed their new weapon, the reclamation work continued steadily. There was a minor misstep when they tried and failed to use Water of Death to clear land—the dissolved plants and animals contaminated the soil—but with the settlers lending a hand wherever they could, the work gathered speed.

Two and a half months after they learned to make Water of Death, they finished reclaiming the final section. Spring was giving way to summer, and the area’s second rainy season was drawing to an end.

“We’re done!”

“Yes!”

Solif, who had long been complaining that he was sick of the place, was not the only one celebrating. Even Maysa, who had said she liked living this way, smiled and clapped. Finishing something one had worked so hard on naturally brought a sense of accomplishment.

When they returned to the settlement and formally announced that the work was complete, Yoz and the handful of Ravista knights and officials overseeing the settlers cheered.

“This reclamation project will truly become a legend!”

“Indeed. To finish all this vast land in only...”

“About ten months, I think?”

“Ten months. That’s absurd. I thought it would take more than a hundred years by hand.”

Before long, the entire settlement was celebrating. There was strong liquor distilled from the sugarcane so abundant in the south, treats laden with black sugar, and skewers of every kind of meat and vegetable, seasoned with spices and grilled. With food and drink spread everywhere, thousands of settlers sang traditional southern folk songs and danced. It was quite a sight.

Though Turan and his companions could not mingle with the settlers to enjoy the festivities, they watched from the seats of honor. Chewing on a spicy frog leg, Maysa spoke.

“It still doesn’t feel over at all. I feel like we’ll have to go back to work tomorrow.”

“That’s probably how most commoners feel all their lives.”

Apart from a wealthy few, were they not bound to a lifetime of labor? In a way, Turan and his companions had gotten an indirect taste of that working routine.

Across from them, Solif drained a cup of his favorite sugarcane liquor and asked Turan a question.

“So what do we do now? I really want to have some fun in a big city.”

“First, we report to Ravista that the work is done... Then perhaps we can check on the people we rescued on that island.”

“Oh, that. You really are going to do it.”

From his occasional correspondence with Asiz, it seemed the Arabion–Karmine war would not break out immediately. A discreet visit a little while ago had also confirmed that Zahar was not playing any tricks in Kalamap. With their most pressing concerns leaving them some breathing room, he intended to do things they had not had time for before. While traveling the South Sea, they could also look for the merfolk royalty said to have fled there.

“Besides, some of our destinations are in the east, so I’m thinking of visiting your house too. You’ll get that big city you wanted.”

At the suggestion of visiting House Baraha, Solif gaped in horror.

“... I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Aren’t we just looking for trouble?”

“You can disguise yourself with my mask, like you do now. And we’ve acquired a few ways to disguise ourselves too.”

Over the past few months, Maysa had diligently put Asiz’s enchanting lessons into practice. Among them was a technique that involved having a wizard of another bloodline imbue an object with power. While Turan and Solif were lending their strength for this, they discovered something interesting: by using the Holy Relic as a medium, Turan could help create magic tools with the powers of the Waverider and Mimic bloodlines.

Using this technique, they had recently completed a necklace that adjusted the wearer’s apparent age and a ring that changed the color of their eyes and hair. Though far inferior to a mask that transformed one’s appearance completely, they were valuable enough, given how exceedingly rare disguise tools were.

“Besides, admit it. You’re curious about how your parents are doing.”

“Hmm.”

Solif could only let out a quiet groan, unable to answer.

* * *

After the festival, when the settlers learned that Turan and his companions were leaving, they tearfully begged them to stay. It was only natural: their gods, who not only protected them with overwhelming power but healed all manner of injuries and illnesses, were departing.

Still, they could not keep the three there forever. Before they left, the settlers asked for portraits of them, saying they would erect stone statues here, pray to them, and worship and honor them for all time.

Leaving the settlement in the care of several local knights, they headed north with Yoz toward Merem, Ravista’s capital. Unlike their journey south on the lizard provided by the House Head, they had to walk, which took considerably longer. Had Solif and Turan not taken turns carrying Yoz on their backs, the journey at an ordinary knight’s pace would certainly have taken at least a month or two.

Solif dragged his foot through the muddy ground and grumbled.

“Ah, damn it. I wish we could just ride Vije.”

“I know how you feel... But I’d rather keep our mobility secret if we can.”

Everyone in the settlement knew that Vije was a monster rather than an ordinary black eagle. But no one knew that her little body could pull a steel swing carrying several people and fly swiftly for days on end. A monster as small as Vije could never display such strength and speed without mana on par with a top-ranking noble. That mobility was one of their greatest weapons, so they were better off keeping it secret whenever possible.

Besides, traveling on foot was not entirely pointless. In the villages and towns they occasionally visited, they could gather small pieces of information—specifically, how far word of their deeds had spread and what form those rumors had taken. The results were exactly as Turan had expected.

“We really are only famous around Koloa. Come just a little farther north, and hardly anyone’s heard of us...”

“Well, it’s hardly the sort of thing that would spread far. We’re not the only people reclaiming marshland.”

Turan smiled as he answered Maysa, who looked somewhat deflated.

Anyone who actually saw them reclaiming the marsh could not help but be astonished. The sight of them burning everything within hundreds of meters, sending tens of tons of water flying, and raising the earth into walls would inspire awe even in powerful nobles.

But the only witnesses to those miracles were the settlers and a handful of knights. Of those, only the commoner peddlers who came to sell goods at the settlement were likely to carry the stories beyond it. Naturally, wizards elsewhere did not take their tales of people wielding tremendous power to reclaim marshland in the south very seriously.

‘To those uncivilized commoners, any magic strong enough to reclaim a marsh must look terrifying. What an exaggeration.’

That was the common response among wizards who heard the rumors from Koloa. Who would imagine that three people whose abilities approached House Head caliber even by the standards of a great house were developing some remote wilderness? Naturally, word that Solif had spent a month or two showing his true face as Baraha’s heir had not spread widely either.

After roughly twenty days walking north at a moderate pace, they finally reached Merem again.

“Welcome back, all of you! My, you’ve all gotten such lovely tans.”

Lida greeted them by feeling their faces and forearms. Of course, a noble’s skin was not so delicate as to tan from a little sunlight; it was merely a pleasantry.

After welcoming the three, Lida immediately laid on a sumptuous banquet, praising their hard work reclaiming the remote south. Village women could hardly compare to a chef personally employed by an influential member of a great house. For the first time in ages, Turan and his companions stuffed themselves with delicious food.

“Ugh, I can’t eat another bite...”

“Don’t say that. There’s still plenty left.”

Like any grandmother with her grandchildren, Lida smiled contentedly as she pushed food into Solif’s protesting mouth.

After enduring this round of culinary torture, they arranged an audience with Osel, Ravista’s House Head, through her. Having already received Yoz’s report, Osel instructed Solif—or, more precisely, the attendant knight ‘Phil’—to join them.

Three days later, they entered his residence, as deserted as before, and found the House Head reclining at ease with the curtain drawn aside.

“You deceived me.”

Naturally, the person Osel pointed to as he reproached them was the disguised Solif. Turan smiled in rebuttal.

“As I recall, we never deceived you. We simply didn’t tell you.”

During their last meeting, Osel had never asked whether Phil was Baraha’s heir, so Turan had never lied about it. Of course, that was really just wordplay.

It was an exceedingly insolent way for a mere wandering noble to address the head of a great house, but none of them cared. Osel knew their strength, and unlike before, when they had needed his help, they had now completed their task and stood on equal footing.

“Never mind me. What about my cousin? You certainly deceived her.”

“We’ve already apologized for that. Fortunately, she was very understanding.”

“Hmph. You would do well not to presume on her generosity. There’s nothing I despise more than people who try to use her as they please.”

Turan had noticed it last time too, but Osel’s affection for Lida was somewhat excessive. Still, it was hardly strange for him to love the older cousin who had nursed and raised him as he would a mother. Having grumbled like a child, he resumed the bearing of a House Head.

“At any rate, Yoz has told me everything. The three of you worked hard with barely a rest and finished it all. You even gathered settlers along the way, founded a settlement, and established a steady source of revenue.”

“Yes. We were advised that it would help maintain the reclaimed land. He’s a capable man.”

“When the head of a great house makes a mere knight his confidant, there is always a reason.”

They had barely laughed at his arrogant way of praising a subordinate while elevating himself when Osel suddenly grew serious and looked at them.

“On that note, would you be willing to take another commission?”

“A commission?”

“We no longer owe each other anything, but there’s no guarantee you won’t be injured again. Last time, for my cousin’s sake, I let you pay for the treatment afterward. This time, I’m asking whether you’d like to pay in advance.”

In short, he needed their strength but either had nothing to offer immediately or did not wish to offer it. Instead, he meant to pay with free treatment that they might or might not need someday. Turan glanced at his two companions to confirm their wishes, then nodded.

“I’d like to hear the details first. Does this comply with the conditions I mentioned before?”

“Yes. Catching a thief. A perfectly righteous task.”

Catching a thief. It sounded simple enough, but if the head of a great house had to ask outsiders rather than resolve it himself, it could hardly be easy. As Turan watched him expressionlessly, Osel continued.

“A distant relative of mine, Moroz Ravistas, recently fled with an important Holy Relic belonging to the house.”

“A Holy Relic...?”

“Yes. The one my cousin told you about.”

The Holy Relic that continuously infused its owner with healing and purification—the one Lida had once promised him if he brought her a White Elf Living Spirit Sorcerer. The reward she had promised not only Turan but other promising nobles had been stolen.

“How did that happen?”

“It’s an internal family matter... Tsk. Fine. You wouldn’t accept that answer. The fellow fell in love with a knight. Apparently, he stole it to keep his lover from growing old and dying. Not that it will make any difference when their lifespan runs out.”

If Turan remembered correctly, he had been told that the Holy Relic extended a commoner’s lifespan to around a hundred and thirty. A knight might live a little longer. Perhaps even as long as a noble.

In any case, doing it for a lover was quite romantic, but stealing the house’s Holy Relic and fleeing was unquestionably a grave crime.

“How strong is this thief?”

“A little weaker than Cousin Lida.”

Somewhere in the middle of the upper tier, then? That was considerable strength, but any one of Turan’s party could defeat such a wizard without difficulty. However...

“You don’t know exactly where he is.”

“The last sighting was of him leaving on a ship heading east. We don’t know where he went beyond our territory.”

That was practically the same as saying he was somewhere in the world. The one consolation was that it lay in the direction of their next destination.

“What’s the time limit? And the reward if we find and retrieve it?”

“Unlimited.”

Turan’s eyebrow twitched at the brief reply. Osel continued solemnly.

“Bring it back whenever you can. In return, no matter whom you bring me or how badly they’re injured, I will do everything in my power to heal them. I know this task warrants that much.”

With its abundance of Healers, House Ravista had no essential need for the stolen Holy Relic. But if someone ever brought them a Living Spirit Sorcerer, they would have to hand it over as payment. Considering the likelihood that such a being would play an important role in the house’s long-cherished dream of eternal life, they needed to recover it by any means necessary.

“Very well. I can’t promise to set everything else aside to search for it, but if the opportunity arises, we’ll try to recover it.”

“Thank you. I can entrust this to you only because I trust you. You’ve already proven that you’ll fulfill a commission diligently even after receiving payment.”

Someone less trustworthy would try to keep the Holy Relic rather than return it for the reward. A Holy Relic that halted physical aging was worth that much. Aware of this, Osel casually added a warning.

“It merely grants permanent healing and purification at no cost. The healing itself is not particularly powerful, so you would still need my help for an injury like the last one.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. There is one thing I’d like to ask, though.”

“What is it?”

“May we dispose of his mana as we see fit?”

Osel gave a short, incredulous laugh at Turan’s question.

“Well, if you find him far away, bringing him back alive would be troublesome... So long as the Holy Relic is recovered, I don’t mind. It would hardly make a difference to people of your strength anyway. Do as you please.”

“Understood.”

Turan nodded, fingering the Mimic Holy Relic hanging against his chest. It seemed he would have to free up a slot when the time came.