Chapter 75: Fleeting Beauty

  Reports from Aery City indicate that heretical cults are growing increasingly rampant there. The Church requests that personnel be dispatched to handle the situation.

  In the aftermath of the vampire incident, these bizarre occurrences cast a shadow of terror, as if hordes of skeletons, zombies, and ghosts could burst forth at any moment. All officials, especially His Majesty the Emperor, were on edge like taut strings, reacting with loud alarms at the slightest disturbance. Under such circumstances, any matter involving heresy or monsters naturally required the intervention of clergy to exorcise evil spirits.

  Naturally, this task fell to Ethan. This was due to both the Emperor's trust and Bishop Ronis's strong recommendation and maneuvering.

  Bishop Ronis immediately summoned Ethan to the Magic Academy to assign him the task.

  "After your distinguished service during the last hunt, I conveyed my intention to promote you to Archpriest to the other Archpriests. However,　　they all opposed it, especially Cuthbert, who vehemently resisted. It's understandable—they've worked tirelessly for years at the Magic Academy to earn their positions. Seeing someone so young and inexperienced suddenly elevated to their level is indeed hard to accept. I could promote you directly to Priest, but advancing to High Priest requires a joint recommendation from me and the three High Priests to the Holy See."

  "This presents a golden opportunity for you. The heretics in Aery are causing significant unrest, apparently due to disturbances in the Whispering Woods. You would be the most suitable candidate to handle this matter. Should you resolve the heretics swiftly and decisively, my recommendation for your elevation to High Priest would be irrefutable."

  Ethan frowned inwardly. Even the current position of priest felt like an immense burden; adding the prefix "High" to it was simply too much to bear.

  "Once you become High Priest, I can finally confront the elves."

  "What do those fellows have to do with it?" Ethan had nearly forgotten about them, the only one still fresh in his memory being the elven girl he'd nearly strangled.

  "The capital is likely the only city on the entire continent that hasn't issued a warrant for your　　arrest. I've　　already instructed my subordinates to retrieve your wanted posters from the Adventurers' Guild and the Thieves' Guild, and to notify them to cease accepting any further warrants for your capture." Bishop Ronis pulled out over a dozen portraits of Ethan from a drawer.

  Ethan picked up one portrait, seeing his own wanted notice for the first time. Elves had such deft hands—the lines were delicate, perfectly capturing his features. Ethan couldn't help but nod in admiration. "It's quite well done. At least it looks better than I do in real life."

  "Once your identity gains recognition from the Church, the elves' wanted notices will be worthless scraps of paper."

  The influence of the Church of Light compared to the elves was like a giant beast versus a little rabbit. Even if the elves offered their entire pitiful fortune as a bounty to hunt down a high priest of the Church, adventurers and bounty hunters would rather go rob a bank.

  "Then I can propose again that the elves join our alliance. They won't have a choice but to accept. By nature, they despise allying with humans. But you're indispensable to them. If they can't capture you, they'll have no choice but to aid you and stand with you. With the elves joining us, our strength will grow exponentially. Then, by uniting with surrounding nations and empires to demand the Church support us against the Necromancer Guild, the Church will no longer be able to ignore us."

  "Oh, I see." Ethan nodded. Though complicated, he finally understood.

  "Because this mission is crucial, I intend to send Rodhart with you to assist in completing it."

  "Oh? He's back already?" Ethan hadn't seen him in quite some time. Though they were indeed friends and had shared life-and-death experiences, Ethan always felt they didn't quite click.

  "He's been dealing with heretics elsewhere lately and has achieved quite impressive results. He's a capable young man with a promising future. He'll be a great help to you. Oh, and while you're at it, take care of that local official and Imperial Envoy killed by heretics in Aery　　last time. That'll add another feather to your cap politically."

  Ethan studied Bishop Ronis　　impassively, recalling that he hadn't mentioned the Imperial Envoy incident. Yet the bishop seemed utterly certain this sensational, unsolved case could be resolved as easily as eating a bun. Ethan probed cautiously, "So much time has passed, and there are no leads. The killer must be nearly impossible to find, right?"

  "I'm well aware of that," Bishop Ronis replied with an enigmatic smile. "Finding the actual killer would be difficult, but you could create one. With so many heretics in that region, select a few suitable candidates, fabricate a plausible story and evidence—and voilà, another great achievement."

  "Oh, I see," Ethan nodded.

  "You're not really suited to handle these matters. I'll speak with Rodhart and have him make proper arrangements." Bishop Ronis furrowed his brow, looking at Ethan. "What's wrong? I notice you seem distracted."

  "Nothing... probably just a bit tired. Anyway, you and Rodhart can discuss　　the details. I have some business to attend to and will take my leave."

  After leaving Bishop Ronis, Ethan headed straight to the library's archives. Compared to the bishop's plans, what truly interested him lay here.

  But from noon until afternoon, his shoulders aching from the strain of searching, Ethan found only three instances of the name "Vedenina Te Grafenhardt"　　among the thick files and records.

  This proved little. All three instances were identical entries in the Magic Academy's student registry. The name sat inconspicuously among countless others, merely confirming the person's existence at the academy. No records detailing her activities or experiences there could be found.

  Regardless, someone who　　had been a　　once-honored Magic Academy student only to later become a Lich could not have been obscure. It likely meant most of her records at the academy had been purged. A student turning into a Necromancer was hardly a commemorative event.

  Ethan closed the dusty tome, shaking his stiff neck and arms. He had come to the library archives hoping to uncover what kind of person that peculiar classmate had been, only to find nothing. The disappointment was palpable.

  Though twenty years wasn't that long ago, and surely someone must know—there were plenty of gray-haired, wrinkled faces at the Magic Academy who bowed respectfully at his sight—Ethan dared not ask indiscriminately. This might be a forbidden topic at the academy. If he asked carelessly and someone reported it to Bishop Ronis, he'd be in trouble. Anything concerning Vedenina seemed to make the Bishop exceedingly sensitive. If he learned that dangerous classmate had once interacted with him, even inviting him to join the society, the mildest consequence would be a lengthy lecture and admonishment.

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  Yet curiosity scratched and clawed at his heart like an unsettled cat. Just as this unease reached its peak, Marquis appeared in the archives. He had come to bid Bishop Ronis farewell, preparing to embark on another journey in a couple of days, and stopped by to inform Ethan as well.

  Ethan instantly recognized Marquis　　as the perfect person to ask. Twenty years ago, Marquis had been a prominent figure at the Magic Academy, and Ethan sensed he wasn't the type to snitch to the bishop.

  "How do you know that name?" Marquis asked, looking at Ethan with surprise after hearing his words.

  Ethan replied casually, "Oh, just heard it occasionally. Heard he was quite an interesting person. So I came here to look it up, but surprisingly, I couldn't find anything. Do you know anything about him? Could you help me out?"

  Marquis didn't answer, only letting out a long sigh. This expression was extremely rare for someone as vibrant and spirited as him. He walked over to the bookshelf, pulled a book from the densely packed shelves using the index, and began flipping through it.

  From the cover,　　this appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary theological text—the sort most students at the Magic Academy were required to study. The thick layer of dust covering it suggested it hadn't been opened in years. Marquis blew away the dust and turned to one of the illustrations.

  The illustration depicted a half-naked Virgin Mary. The engravers had undoubtedly poured immense effort and skill into this magnificent image, its lines exquisitely refined and beautiful. Mary's face radiated benevolence, her gentle expression vividly lifelike.

  Ethan was puzzled by the connection between　　this image of the Virgin Mary and a Lich when he saw Marquis flip the illustration over.

  The reverse side had been left blank, likely out of reverence for the Virgin, sparing her back from the imprint of lead type. Yet upon this sacred blank space lay another image. It was a portrait of a woman seen from the side, her back turned. It appeared to be a rough sketch done with pencil or charcoal, the lines not particularly delicate, the paper yellowed by age. Yet, upon seeing it, Ethan was immediately stunned.

  Compared to the sacred, intricate carving on the front, this drawing made the former seem like nothing more than a stain left by a clumsy block of wood or iron dipped in ink and pressed down.

  The black lines perfectly formed the woman's exquisite image and grace, even capturing an ethereal, spirited quality. Not a single speck of charcoal on the white paper was wasted; every trace powerfully conveyed her peerless beauty.

  Her proportions are as flawless as classical sculpture, her facial contours sharp yet imbued with a tender, watery grace. Long hair cascades loosely down her back—though rendered with coarse charcoal, one can almost feel the soft, silky sheen of each strand. These already exquisite elements were woven together with a broader, more profound harmony of beauty. Anyone who laid eyes on it could not help but be utterly captivated.

  This beauty represented the pinnacle of the mortal world, powerful enough to make any man bow in adoration and intoxication, while women could only suppress their jealousy beneath layers of admiration and awe. The painting did not depict the woman's full face, yet this single profile was sufficient to captivate every viewer.

  "This was painted twenty years ago, when I was young," the Marquis said, his eyes glowing with youthful radiance as he reminisced with emotion.

  "Absolutely stunning," Ethan murmured in awe. He marveled both at the woman's beauty and at the Marquis's skill in capturing such grace. Though he admitted to knowing nothing about art or painting, the painting struck him instantly, though with a hint of regret. "But why not paint her full face? Now we can't see her features."

  "My hands, corrupted by wine and worldly pleasures, could never capture her peerless beauty." Marquis gazed at this work from his youth, his voice now carrying the same intoxicated, melodious tone of a young man lost in passion.

  "Then you must have loved this woman deeply." Ethan nodded, sensing the emotion woven into every stroke of the Marquis's brush. Such a peerless beauty was indeed worthy of captivating a man of the Marquis's romantic genius.

  "I once proposed to her. I gathered every flower I could find—ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine blossoms—and arranged them into the words 'I love you' across the fields outside the royal capital." Beneath Marquis's two slender, jet-black eyebrows, his deep, handsome eyes glistened with the wine of memory, enough to intoxicate any woman daring to meet his gaze. Imagine those eyes with the faintest crow's feet erased, paired with Marquis's slightly androgynous beauty, and transported back to his youth—Ethan even suspected many men would have fallen under his spell.

  Ethan shook his head in amazement. "Every kind of flower? Ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine? Your spirit is truly remarkable."

  "I wish my spirit were stronger, so I could have completed this task entirely myself. It took nearly every gardener in the country, a month of labor, and thousands of gold coins. The letters were arranged so that one must ride a horse along the path to see them clearly. But when she saw it, she only smiled. You know, just that smile made it all worthwhile."

  Ethan was stunned by this romance worthy of legend and poetry.　　His mind drifted back twenty years, imagining the peerless　　beauty of that woman and the equally extraordinary courtship of the Marquis. After a moment of dazed contemplation, he finally remembered what he had originally come to ask. "But what does such a beauty have to do with Vedenina? Could it be...?" Could it be that his classmate, consumed by jealousy over her beauty, had harmed her—killed her, or disfigured her? Given Vedenina's status, Ethan instinctively drew this sinister, criminal conclusion.

  The Marquis's voice was gentle: "The woman in this painting is her. She was my classmate at the Magic Academy twenty years ago—the capital's, no, the world's most beautiful woman: Vedenina Te Grafenhardt."

  The muscles around his jaw went completely limp. Ethan’s mouth gaped open, unable to close, his eyes nearly popping out along with his tongue and jaw.

  Ethan felt his mind turn into the kind of hotpot stew found in Oufu City—churning, boiling, thick and muddled, intensely flavored yet slick and slippery, impossible to pin down. No amount of rational effort could reconcile these two extreme impressions. He simply couldn't connect this woman of peerless grace and beauty with that creature—not even ugly, but terrifyingly repulsive—that Lich. He had once slashed her mask in the Whispering Woods, glimpsing her skeletal, withered, revolting half-face. Yet now, the profile in this painting was breathtakingly beautiful. One was an angel of the mortal world; the other, a living demon.

  "What is it?" the Marquis asked, noticing his extreme reaction.

  Ethan summoned every ounce of self-control to steady his thoughts and voice. "What happened to her afterward? What occurred? Why have I never heard of anyone like her? Why does the Magic Academy's registry list only her name, with no records whatsoever?"

  Marquis sighed, his voice softening as he began recounting the deeds of his beloved: "She was of royal blood. But for someone like her, such status held no meaning whatsoever. In terms of magical talent, she was a prodigy seen only once in a century, rising from novice to intermediate mage in a single month. Her intellect was equally extraordinary. She never participated in theological studies or debates, yet I, a champion debater, never prevailed in private discussions with her. She claimed to have read all theological and philosophical works, finding them nothing but nonsense. Yet all this brilliance, her unique insights, and her stunning beauty—what were they compared to her grace and charm? Merely insignificant accompaniments. Every outstanding young hero in the land fell under her spell, willing to brave fire and sword for a single glance or smile. Yet she seemed solely devoted to pursuing truth and the ways of magic. Possessing a talent found in one in ten thousand, even Bishop Ronis made an exception to take her as his disciple. Barely past twenty, she was on the verge of becoming the Royal Chief Magister. Marquis's voice abruptly fell, halting these legends. "But then, suddenly, she died."

  "Died? How?" Ethan pressed. Though he knew it likely wasn't death, but rather becoming a Lich and joining the Necromancer Guild.

  "Not entirely clear. I heard of her death shortly after returning from the Sanderfirth Mountains. Bishop Ronis declared she had violated the Magic Academy's taboos by conducting an unauthorized experiment with a Forbidden Spell. The experiment failed, and she perished. The consequences were catastrophic—I recall the cathedral itself was destroyed, nearly half the Magic Academy reduced to ruins, and many lives lost. Presumably to protect the reputation of the Church and the Imperial Court, Bishop Ronis and His Majesty the Emperor at the time ordered the destruction of all her records and imposed a strict ban on discussing anything related to her."

  Ethan suddenly recalled Bishop Ronis's lament about someone who had gone astray. So that person was her. But the reasons and details behind it remained unknown.

  Ethan asked, "What on earth were you doing in the Sanderfirth Mountains　　back then?"

  "I went to find the Drakethorn Bloom, a flower that blooms only there. It's the most beautiful flower on the continent. Legend says that any maiden would be moved if proposed to with this flower."

  "So you went to pick it."

  "After seeing the countless flowers I'd gathered for her, she said they were all cultivated by others' hands. Countless people had already seen them. She wanted to see the legendary Drakethorn Bloom　　herself, so I went into the Sanderfirth Mountains to find it."

  Ethan couldn't help but sigh. "Venturing into that place alone just to propose to a woman? Even I have to say you're out of your mind."

  The Sanderfirth Mountains are the most perilous region on the continent. Even compared to the Lizard Marshes, where wyverns and scale oxen roam and venomous insects infest the land, the Sanderfirth Mountains appear like a serene, picturesque landscape. Not even the most seasoned travelers and adventurers dare venture there lightly.

  "Crossing the Barbarian Highlands into the Sanderfirth Mountains and searching for it took me nearly a year. I nearly died several times along the way, but I finally found that flower. I plucked it and preserved it in ice, using frost magic to keep it frozen. Yet when I returned to the Magic Academy, I found only a pile of debris—not even her body remained. After hearing of her death, I sat in that ruin for three whole days. The flower, stripped of its icy protection and exposed to the mundane air, withered completely in my arms and vanished..." Marquis fell silent at the end of his recollection.

  Ethan fell silent alongside Marquis, half out of shared sorrow, half because a powerful thought now dominated his mind. The teleportation scroll Vedenina had left him still lay in Sandro's cabin. He wanted to go to Diya Valley to see this legendary classmate and ask her directly what could have made her abandon such peerless beauty to become an undead monster not even worthy of ugliness.

  What would Marquis's reaction be if he learned she hadn't died but had become a Lich? What might he do? Ethan couldn't help but glance at Marquis.

  Lost in recollection, Marquis's expression bore no sorrow—it had transcended sorrow into a dead, hollow void of bewilderment. After a long silence, he murmured softly, "Goodbye. I'm leaving." Then he turned and walked away.

  Watching his retreating figure, Ethan suppressed the urge to call him back and reveal the truth. Perhaps it was best for him to remain unaware.

  Back at the mansion, Ethan hesitated. He decided against retrieving the scroll for now and instead asked Sandro, "Did you know Vedenina before she became a Lich?"

  "I knew her," Sandro nodded, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "Then tell me why she came to the Necromancer Guild and became a Lich."

  Sandro's eyes suddenly lifted to meet Ethan's. There was no dazzling brilliance or imposing authority in those starkly contrasting black and white orbs, yet Ethan instinctively fell silent at that single glance.

  "You're becoming more and more annoying, kid. Why pry into other people's business?" Sandro's expression and tone weren't harsh, seemingly no different from usual, yet Ethan felt profoundly uneasy.

  "I was just curious..."

  "Some things are better left unknown," Sandro said softly, closing his eyes as he sat on his simple wooden bed.