“It’s like the story of Olrol and Chalis.”
The tale Sedam summarized was almost the same story as the earthly myth of Theseus and the Minotaur.
A warrior named Olrol went into the underworld to kill a monster.
Chalis, his lover, gave him a thread so he wouldn’t get lost in the underworld.
Olrol made it deep into the underworld and killed the monster, then followed the thread to return to the world.
“I see. It really is similar.”
“I perform the ritual in the way that the first generation and the sage taught me, but this is the first time I’ve heard about that myth,” the mystic murmured, nodding as she stared down at the spool in her hand. I didn’t volunteer the extra nuance that I found it similar not just to Sedian myth, but tales of ancient Greece.
I wondered if it meant that even in different worlds, human societies tended to resemble one other. Anyway, the important detail was that I had to make sure that I didn’t drop this thread or let it get cut off.
“Reyha, I’m counting on you. Hold on tight, will you? Don’t ever let go of me,” I asked her again.
“Chalis… I am Chalis… Er, yes. Of course, my lord!”
She wasn’t just acting. I started to feel a little weak, but I shook it off.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Now I’m really ready.”
“Are you sure?”
I cast a number of defensive spells on both myself and the mystic. She probably didn’t realize it, but in D&B, these spells could defend even against epic-level enemies and their mental attacks.
“I-I will be waiting here the whole time,” Reyha assured me.
The mystic and I entered the cave while Reyha cried desperately, holding tightly to the end of the red thread.
✦ ✦ ✦
The cave was so narrow that we couldn’t walk side by side. Soon, we could no longer hear Reyha’s voice or see the light of the entrance.
“What’s this…?” No sooner had I started thinking about using my light spell than I realized that I could see faintly inside the cave. There was some sort of floating presence in the space, emitting a faint glow.
The two red strings from the spools were also glowing faintly.
A red light stretching from the entrance into the abyss. There was something romantic and whimsical about it.
“It’s the light of pure mana.”
“This is mana? Am I able to perceive it now? No, it’s not quite the same…”
“The mana in this place is especially potent, enough to see with the naked eye,” the mystic told me.
“I see…” I wondered if the land here had always been like that, or if this was something the warrior clan had done to it. In any case, this was a valuable experience.
We continued down into the quiet, dark, narrow cave. It was like diving deep into the sea. Wait…this whole descent was probably part of the ritual, a physical way of emulating the process of touching the daemon’s consciousness.
It felt like less than ten minutes had passed, but I couldn’t really tell. We reached the end before I felt tired.
The space was about the size of a small classroom. In the center lay an eerie object.
“This is the cornerstone.”
What the mystic called the cornerstone was, in fact, the torso of some ancient daemon that had undergone mummification or a similar process. Its head—which was far too large for the torso—was covered in horns and strange, tactile organs. The torso was covered in cuts.
It was supported not by its two broken arms, but stakes that pierced its shoulders, back, sides and other places. There were also stakes surrounding the torso, closing it in. They seemed to be wooden, but they were all illuminated by a pale light, which contrasted starkly with the jet-back daemon flesh.
The stakes were all connected with a net draped over the thing’s remains, as if trapping the daemon in. Clearly, it had somehow been sealed away.
“We will now use the cornerstone to carry out the prophetic ritual,” the mystic told me quietly. There was something odd about her figure against the pale light emitted from the stakes.
“These stakes…are they wards or something?”
“Yes. These are branches from the sacred tree. They seal in the spirit of the daemon and connect me to that spirit.”
According to the mystic’s explanation, the sacred tree was a source of mana, and that mana worked as a medium to connect spiritual wavelengths.
“This is only possible because I am a true elf, a species that has handled mana across the ages.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t plan on conducting the same ritual as you. Instead, I would like to use this. What do you think?”
She looked at me, confused.
I showed her the ESP Medal. The prophetic ritual was what connected the mystic to the daemon. In that case, if she were to touch the ESP Medal in the middle of that ritual, I would probably be able to get a look into the daemon’s spirit, too.
“That is…totally unexpected.”
This response to my request was the first time I’d ever heard the elf maiden use a dumbfounded voice. “Perhaps it’s impossible?”
“Not quite… Honestly, I have no idea. But from what I’ve heard, I think it might be possible…”
“I know it’s rude to look into someone’s heart. But could you help me try this?” I bowed to her as I asked this favor, flustered.
“I can’t refuse. But if it looks like you are in danger, I will end the ritual immediately.”
“I understand. I’ll be in your debt.”
The mystic took a package from her bosom. When she removed the wrapping, there was an item within—a number of small bells connected together. It looked exactly like the kagura bells that Shinto shrine maidens used in Japan. She lifted it with her white hands, and rang it.
Ting!
The clear sound echoed through the narrow space.