Adopt 202

Episode 202

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Several years ago, there was an estate that seemed to be cursed, suffering from consecutive years of poor harvest.

As if that weren’t enough, an epidemic broke out, and the people’s despair and anger turned toward their ineffectual lord.

The young baron tried to gather the family’s remaining wealth to buy grain, but the neighboring lords, as if in agreement, refused to deal with the boy at all.

The day the boy, too young even for his coming-of-age ceremony, wept in helplessness over his own inability, the knight who had served him for many years awakened a power that could make a single wheat seed sprout.

But a single grain of wheat could not stave off the hunger of all the estate’s people.

It was then someone calling themselves the Seeker approached the knight.

“Would you like me to share a black magic circle that will grant your lord’s estate prosperity?”

“Investigate your water sources. Someone has poisoned them, making the land and people ill. I’m sure you can guess who the culprit is.”

The Seeker seemed almost prophetic.

Normally, the knight would never have trusted a person with their face concealed, but at the time she was far too desperate.

In the end, she used the black magic circle the Seeker provided to bring abundance to the estate, and in doing so, was able to take revenge on her lord’s uncle, who had polluted the water.

But in return for her fields turning gold with ripening grain, and for remaining by her lord’s side, she had to pay a price: she could never return.

Now, she was a black magician.

“Remain disguised as a mercenary, and do not reveal your name until I require your help.”

To the knight’s promise of repaying her debt, the Seeker spoke as if gazing far into the future.

Two years passed.

In the port city of Valico, six companions gathered at the Seeker’s summons.

The original plan had been to complete their business quietly during the typhoon, but after it had passed, only three remained alive.

No… perhaps soon there would be only two.

The woman, once a loyal knight, watched over the man struggling between life and death on the inn’s bed.

The alchemist—whose real face she’d never seen, always hidden behind a mask—was now horribly burned, his face ruined by the explosion of a magical device set off at close range.

Just as she drew near the alchemist’s side, unwilling to let him die alone, the door to their shabby inn room burst open and a small, slight figure rushed in.

“Ah, thank goodness. I’m not too late.”

The reason she didn’t leap to restrain the intruder was because she recognized the pure white mask the woman wore.

“Seeker…”

Since their first meeting, all contact had occurred through written letters.

The Seeker, breathless from running so far, hurried over to the bedside, knelt, and clasped the alchemist’s hand.

At first, the knight thought she merely wished to be by his side at the very end.

Until, from the Seeker’s joined hands with the alchemist, a holy light began to emanate.

“…!”

The startled knight instinctively reached for her weapon. The silent assassin did the same.

It was only natural; from the Seeker’s hand, there radiated sacred power.

In an instant, the Seeker healed the alchemist, then turned to the knight and the assassin.

She hesitated at the wary looks on their faces, then slowly brought a hand to her mask and murmured,

“Oh, I should have introduced myself first. Forgive me—the circumstances are urgent.”

She removed the mask, revealing her face at last.

Hair shining like everlasting snow under the sun, and eyes the color of ripe, golden peaches.

“The Saint… how…!”

It was none other than Saintess Ophelia.

“This makes no sense. How… how can you be a black magician?”

The assassin’s shock was something the knight could completely understand.

For the Seeker to be the Saintess herself—on top of that, not even a trace of black magic could be seen on Ophelia.

Yet she possessed knowledge of black magic even more extensive than the Red Tower Lord himself.

At the assassin’s question, Ophelia offered a slightly troubled smile.

“Hmm. Would it make sense if I said that, in my previous life, I was a black magician? Thanks to that, I have the knowledge, but since I haven’t actually performed any black arts in this life, there are no traces.”

Ophelia’s answer did little to resolve their confusion.

But rather than explain further, she simply traced a gentle hand over the alchemist’s cheek, erasing even the faintest remaining scars from the burns.

Watching, the knight spoke.

“Please, just answer me this—was your intention from the beginning to eliminate the Red Tower Lord?”

Ophelia opened her eyes wide, nodding as if pleased by the question.

“What I need are reliable companions who will help me prevent the world’s destruction six years from now. That circle doesn’t include merchants who act for their own profit, or priests whose blind devotion dulls their judgment. There’s no need to mention mages who seek only knowledge.”

Though, I suppose they served their own purposes.

In the end, it meant that the immortality spell Ophelia supplied was, from the start, a trap meant for the Red Tower Lord’s elimination.

“Ah, though I do wish the Red Tower Lord had at least taken the High Priest’s life as well.”

Ophelia murmured lightly and then rose with unhurried composure, turning to face them all.

“As I told you before, the end will come in six years, and all people of this world will meet their deaths. But you, chosen by fate, might be the only ones able to escape that end.”

Such arrogant words about being chosen by fate, her preposterous warning of the world’s end in six years, all sounded like wicked jokes.

But spoken by Ophelia—whose manner suggested she possessed the wisdom of prophecy—the claims were impossible to dismiss.

“I’ll reveal the truths of the world hidden behind the veil. And, of course, I’ll tell you how to protect your loved ones from disaster.”

Ophelia smiled faintly as she looked at her speechless companions.

“If you cannot stop disaster, then you must survive by becoming the disaster itself.”

Those chosen by the Seeker and spared from death each had something they wished to protect.

There was no one who would refuse her.