Chapter 59 Friends
"What is this? An evil formula from some 'Son of Life'?" Orel cast a few identification spells quickly to make sure the piece of letter was not cast under any spell. Then he carefully picked it up with his fingers and lifted it up, keeping as far away from it as possible.
The "Sons of Life" are a small group of extremist believers who claim to resurrect Badar, the god of life and joy. They firmly believe that living life, especially human life, is great and has the power to change everything. Many notorious cases of mass human sacrifice and the creation of magical tools made from human tissue are linked to them, leading the Silver Iris Empire to officially label them "heretics."
"Ore." The savior looked at him calmly.
"Shut up, I was just kidding." The assassin leader shook the paper in disdain, squinting his eyes as he read word for word: "... Dipterocarp seeds, peregrine falcon wings, a specimen of an adult male Hercules beetle... Three silver coins and fifteen copper coins? What the hell is this?"
"Your compensation list." The man's light golden eyelashes were stained with a thin layer of mist, half-obscuring his brilliant blue eyes. He looked surprisingly innocent and gentle—but unfortunately, the moment he opened his mouth, his flawless disguise was completely destroyed. "After all, if you damage someone else's property, you have to pay compensation. I think you should understand these principles."
After all, when they were at St. Bartolomeo's School of Warlocks, they often damaged public property in fights and were forced to work everywhere to earn compensation.
"……ha?"
Ole's eyes widened in disbelief. He opened and closed his mouth several times, about to repeat the tyrant's heinous crimes, but was lightly blocked by the other party: "The 'tyrant' you are talking about is still just a weak, innocent theology professor who has never killed anyone. He has no memory of being a 'tyrant'. 'Blood Shadow' Ole shouldn't bully an ordinary person and do something shameful like defaulting on a debt, right?"
"Nonsense, I wouldn't bother doing such a thing." Orel sneered reflexively. He pulled out a bag of gold coins and tossed it into his friend's arms.
"Here." He raised his chin and snorted coldly, "Let's be fair. Here are fifty gold coins, enough to buy that guy's entire room."
"Do you think these things can be bought on the market?" The other man caught the purse, tossed it up and weighed it, looking at him with a smile.
"How should I know?" Ole tutted irritably. "It looks like a 'collectible' some country kid found in the mud. What kind of quirk is that guy, picking up junk and bugs everywhere... Wait, aren't you afraid of bugs?"
He suddenly realized what was happening, squinting maliciously at his friend, who remained nonchalant, and nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, technically, we did this together. Why should I be the only one to pay for it? You weren't just throwing it to me because you were afraid of the dead bugs, were you?"
"…Who do you think cleaned up afterward? Who persuaded the victim not to tear you to pieces? You know he could do it—and who cleaned up all that stupid shit you did in Graybridge Harbor? It wasn't pretty, if I'd ask you. You ruined the fun of my revenge." The man stared at him expressionlessly, his tone soft and emphasizing, "And it was disgust, not fear. I think we've already established that."
With fists, of course.
"Sorry, it's disgusting," the assassin leader said in a sarcastic and provocative tone, "Our brave princess is not afraid of..."
"...Don't make me beat you up again, Ole."
The two looked at each other for a while, and suddenly they laughed together like teenagers of their physical age. The slight barrier between them since they met disappeared without a trace at this moment.
"Take it back. I'll help you collect all these things." The friend tossed the bag of gold coins back, his voice so gentle and soft that Ole's eyebrows jumped instinctively. "But in exchange, I want you to do something for me."
You should know that the more someone calculates others, the more gentle and amiable his attitude will be.
"What's the matter?" He stared at the other person warily. "You want me to help you get your 'Breath of Storm' back?"
Breath of the Storm was the sword of Utoska, the Storm God, and also a treasure of King Corentin. Before his departure, he left it to those of his tribe who refused to follow him. Aside from the man before him, no one could wield the legendary sword, said to summon a devastating storm. In Orel's hands, it was nothing more than a firewood stick. He didn't mind a small favor, though it would be a little troublesome for his so-called father.
Tsk, I get upset whenever I think of that damn old man. I’ll find a chance to kill him one day.
Azuka was silent for a moment: "...Thank you, that's the second thing."
Tsk, I feel sick when I think of the previous owner of that sword. I’ll find a chance to smash it one day.
He said slowly, "I want you to help me monitor the movements of an Etilo virgin."
"...What the hell?" Ole turned to look at him in shock, suspecting he had misheard. "You've always been such a mysophobe that you're so harsh and cold even in relationships. How come you're suddenly interested in Etilo's virginity—"
You know, just based on this face, if he wanted, all kinds of lovers would line up from the Royal City to Gray Bridge Port, regardless of gender. But this person's heart is like a stone from the abyss, cold, hard, and terrifyingly black.
When he was weak, the slave traders attracted by his face and all kinds of crazy suitors who tried to stage a "you chase me and I run away from you in the small dark room play" constituted an important spice of their chaotic daily life; after he became powerful, this guy was forced to unilaterally owe a lot of "love debts", and many people were heartbroken because of his indifference that seemed to come from the unmelting ice deep in the Assachi Snow Mountain, which made Orel both gloating and puzzled.
Are they blind? Can't they see that this guy is a jerk with a pretty face but a black heart and lungs?
He looked at his friend's half-smile and pulled his lips together: "Okay, I'm just talking nonsense, you continue."
Azuka said slowly, "She calls herself Apatella, her real name is Nivena Yuri Makian. She's been active near the royal city lately, visiting various temples of love, hiding her identity and sneaking into the temples to serve as a divine prostitute."
He had been doing a lot of things on his own during this time, and the professor hadn't said a word about it. However, Azuka guessed that the professor had probably noticed a lot, but just didn't bother to care.
"Makian...royal blood? Why don't I remember him?" The assassin leader raised his eyebrows slightly.
You have to know that believers of the god of love are not considered decent in the eyes of the nobles and the royal family. A princess who becomes a divine prostitute?
"She's a princess whose identity is concealed by the royal family. She's the illegitimate daughter of the late king and the half-sister of Cassius II. Almost no one knows about this." Azuka explained casually, "It's not convenient for me to leave White Tower Town. If she behaves in any unusual way, please inform me—especially if it involves the gods."
"...What on earth are you doing?" Ole's expression turned serious. "I have a feeling it's something extremely dangerous. Don't go crazy again."
Although it sounds incredible, the savior who seems to be cautious and scheming is sometimes a complete madman, which makes them hold each other. Ole has seen this man smiling gently and calmly going crazy - to be honest, it's scary.
"It's very dangerous," the friend said calmly, "so I don't want to involve you. You might die."
The dark-haired, brown-skinned assassin fell silent, his lips tightly pursed. His blue eyes, a similar shade but darker in color, flashed with a sharp, cold light. His stern expression instantly made him appear cold and aggressive, irritable and fierce.
"...What nonsense are you talking about? We've been through so many hardships together, and you've screwed me so many times, you bastard, and now you start to think we're a burden?" He said coldly, "You really should let Marcylin hear this. She'll definitely punch you in the face the first thing she does, and I'm going to break your legs, and then break them again after they heal."
The threatened person actually chuckled, his eyes as gentle and calm as the gently undulating sea water, beneath which was an unfathomable abyss.
"That's what the professor said." He enunciated the word with a soft and strange articulation, licking it from the tip of his teeth. "...It's strange, that even my nemesis, who doesn't understand human nature, could see through it, yet I chose to be such an arrogant and foolish coward."
"You finally realize how much of a jerk you are?" Ole snorted rudely, then glared at him angrily when he realized what was happening. "Wait, why did you even tell that guy something like this?!"
This person is rarely so open and honest even with them. It is too strange that he is acting just to gain trust.
"But it's still not enough." The other party sighed with an emotion that Ole couldn't understand, but made him even more terrified. "He wants my complete loyalty in exchange, but I want..."
He swallowed the last few words, but Orel inexplicably felt that the guy who was about to be in trouble was not his friend who looked gentle and harmless, but was actually crazy and dangerous.
And what the hell did he want, the tyrant's submission? Or the tyrant's head?
...Maybe it's an illusion, Orel thought. How could a tyrant - even a naive tyrant - suffer a loss in a game with others?
"Never mind, back to the point." He clapped his hands and stood up from the grass, lowering his head to straighten his messy blond hair. The small portion of his face that was exposed had a soft, divine glow, making him incredibly beautiful. He hadn't braided the coral and turquoise beads into his hair, and Ole was a little distracted. Perhaps they were too conspicuous?
The next second, the other party smiled nonchalantly and dropped a bombshell: "I want to capture a god."
The wind blew those bright and soft golden hair, and the blue eyes that passed through them were calm. He kept a calm smile on his face, and his tone was as if he was saying, I want to go to the basement to catch a mouse.
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