Chapter 39:
I Did Pick It Up, But…
THE SCARY STONE’S OWNER went silent as soon as Cale alighted in the field.
“Isn’t this just a field?” Hong asked, still invisible.
Cale approached the quietest spot in the estate. “No, this is the place.”
‹There’re no magic devices!›
He could move without hesitation because Raon had confirmed this in advance.
Cale had acquired as much information as he could concerning the Guardian Knight household of Seca. That was how he’d learned of this spot—and he immediately recognized the “field” he’d read about.
The man who became the first duke of the Seca line, as well as the first Guardian Knight, had set up a front garden, a rear garden, and a small field in this corner of his property. In his old age, he maintained the field himself, personally handling the fertilizing, watering, and pest control duties to keep his wide selection of vegetables healthy.
His diligence in caring for his little field evoked such an impression of simplicity and modesty that people associated those traits with the man himself. Thus, the Seca family continued to cultivate the field even after his death.
As the years passed, the number of people tending to the field diminished. In the end, it served only as a historical landmark, neatly maintained but no longer in use. Still, the fact that they’d preserved this useless field for its historical value was praiseworthy.
“This is nice,” Cale said, noting the field’s decent condition as he passed through.
‹Are we gonna dig, human?›
Ignoring Raon, Cale focused on the Sound of the Wind.
Hwoosh.
Cale scanned his surroundings. He could pick out the rear garden, as well as the bright glow of the buildings. In contrast to the hectic plaza, these areas remained peaceful—though the people inside probably couldn’t sleep. His eyes passed over the field before coming to rest on a small shed nearby. It was an old, compact structure.
“This must be it.”
Grinning, he made a beeline for the shed. The building was so cramped, he’d have to crouch to enter. Choi Han watched Cale scrutinize the shed for a moment before positioning himself in the field to stand guard.
Tap. Tap. Feeling something prod his shoe, Choi Han looked down. There was nothing there.
“Meow.”
With Ohn’s cry, mist materialized and blanketed the area. Choi Han extended a hand to his reliable, unseen ally, and Ohn climbed up his arm to perch on his shoulder.
Cale paid no heed to the dark and murky environment as he stooped down in front of the shed. Spotting a rusty door, he tried with all his might to pry it open.
Creak, creak!
Even when he was grunting from the effort, the door didn’t budge. It appeared to be rusted shut. Raon sighed in tandem with Hong’s meow of disbelief, but Cale overlooked it.
Letting go of the knob, he called out, “Raon.”
‹I’ve got this, weak human. I don’t even need to use magic on this—my front paws are enough.›
Cale was intrigued. Could the dragon really open doors with those stubby paws of his?
Crack!
Evidently, he could.
A pair of imprints shaped like Raon’s paws appeared on the door as it popped open—or rather, broke. Cale watched as it dangled on its hinges.
“We should erase those pawprints.”
‹All right.›
Crack, crack, bang!
Raon grabbed the door and pummeled it a few more times. Soon, a gaping hole replaced the imprints. No one would ever believe this was the work of a dragon’s paws; it looked more like someone used a mana orb to bust the door down.
“I could’ve melted it with poison.”
Cale snubbed Hong’s laments and left the two children behind, entering the shed. He couldn’t even stand up straight inside.
“Raon, light.”
A tiny, luminescent orb appeared, bathing the shed in its glow.
Cale made a face. “Farming tools?”
As far as he could see, the shed only contained farming implements: a shovel that looked reasonably new, a hoe with a few years of wear, and a pickaxe that was well past its prime, along with a heap of other miscellaneous tools. He picked up the hoe, though he already had one in his magic bag. As much as he wished that this old hoe was the divine artifact, the wind pointed to the corner.
Cale stared at the hodgepodge of objects piled up there. With a heavy sigh, he squatted to clear the area. He became absorbed in his task, looking far from elegant as he shuffled the old tools aside. Before long, a wrinkle formed in his brow.
“Time to earn your meal ticket.”
Hong padded over to help. “Meow.”
“Human, let’s just blow it away with the wind! Or will the shed fly away too if we do that?”
“Yes, it will.”
“Okay! But there’s something weird here!”
Weird how? Tossing a copper plate to the side, Cale looked at Raon. The black dragon’s feelings had led them to the divine artifacts last time.
“What’s weird?”
“Anger! Destruction!” Raon answered happily.
What?
“And a grudge!”
Now there’s a grudge?
“Those are the impressions I’m getting!”
The tongs in Cale’s hand clattered to the floor—he’d just found the object the Sound of the Wind was nudging.
“Yes! That’s the source, human! It’s oozing resentment as cold as winter! It feels like the revenge of the snow! Ooh, that’s a good name: the Snow’s Revenge!”
Shit.
Cale examined the item Raon was calling “the Snow’s Revenge.” It was a blue watering can. It looked like any other watering can, albeit with an outdated design that betrayed its age.
He covered his face with both hands. This didn’t seem to be the divine artifact he sought. Anger? Resentment? That sounded more in line with “God’s Rage” than “God’s Tears.”
“Huh?” Cale lowered his hands. There was no reason to assume the entire legend was factual. “Wait a second.”
Cale looked at Raon. The black dragon blinked his round eyes a few times, then appeared to catch on to Cale’s train of thought. “Oh! I don’t think it means us any harm! It’s not getting mad at us!”
With Raon’s reassurance, Cale wasted no time in picking up the watering can. He inspected it thoroughly, finding nothing on the outside, the bottom, or the top of the can—no markings whatsoever. He didn’t see any writing.
“Was I wrong?”
He had expected to find words scrawled on the object, as he had in the God of Death’s book. Then again, there were cases like the God of Sun’s divine artifact, where he couldn’t see anything.
Cale lifted the watering can’s lid with a click, and his heart sank. There was nothing inside. Is there really nothing here? He closed the lid with a sigh.
“Oh?”
He opened it again and flipped the lid over. A snicker slipped past his lips, and then he burst out laughing. There was an ultra-faint line of text underneath the lid; it almost looked like a lacework trim.
Pointing to the words, Cale asked Raon, “Can you enlarge this with magic?”
“Of course I can! I am great and mighty!” Raon peered at the design on the lid. “They’re words!”
“Read it,” Cale said promptly.
Raon slowly started to read. “The same thing keeps repeating over and over! It must be here at least a hundred times!”
The contents of this tiny text, hidden within a decorative pattern, sparked Cale’s curiosity.
“‘Life ends with nothing.’” Raon’s voice reverberated throughout the small shed. “‘Even if you build a dam, the water will eventually overflow. I created a river for this frozen land, but you stemmed its flow.’”
Cale realized he’d been operating on a false assumption from the beginning. The Lake of God’s Tears wasn’t actually a lake at all. It was a river.
“‘For all of you who chased away my precious child to satisfy your greed, there will be only one conclusion.’”
Precious child? According to the legends, the god had left the Guardian Knight behind.
Raon read the final line. “‘Just as the river shall flow once more, so too shall all things return to normal.’” His task completed, the dragon peered up at Cale.
“What kind of letters do you see?”
“It’s a runic language!”
“Really?”
The runic letters Raon had read were similar to those in the God of Death’s book. The fact that this runic message had appeared on a nonmagical item suggested it was truth—the truth from the god’s perspective, at any rate.
Cale considered the facts of the tale one at a time.
In the beginning, the god created a river for the frozen north. Yet the land’s inhabitants wished to hoard the water for themselves, so they chased away the god’s precious child and dammed up the river to form a lake. Their actions enraged the god, who left this divine artifact behind. If all this was true, the modern version of the legend had been altered a great deal.