“A trial.”
Rekulai sat on the wooden crate, trying to make his tone sound solemn. The crate let out a reluctant creak beneath him, and he immediately straightened his back.
“I have cleansed the curse from your body,” he said. “Now, you are free.”
The girl did not answer immediately.
She stood in place, her fingertip still resting on the strand of hair by her ear, as if nailed in place by those words. After a while, she slowly raised her eyes, her voice very soft, tinged with a bit of timidity:
“…What is a curse?”
“A curse, huh—”
Rekulai opened his mouth.
Oh no.
He had just said it offhand.
The curse stuff was purely him blurting it out. In essence, it was just that he felt that state was like a curse—he didn’t even know why he had subconsciously spoken such words.
How was he supposed to follow up now? Make something up? Make it sound convincing enough so she wouldn’t catch the flaw… Hmm, indeed, if he wrapped up this accident as a hero’s story, it would be pretty cool.
He cleared his throat, cast his gaze out the window, and put on an expression of recalling ancient secrets.
“It refers to the curse placed upon you descendants of heroes,” he said slowly. “The so-called Demon Death Curse—its origin is actually a curse that demons placed upon the heroes who subjugated them.”
He spoke very slowly, each word as if dredged up from a very deep place.
“The heroes killed the demons, and before the demons died, they left their hatred in their bloodline. Generation after generation, passed down.”
The girl still did not speak.
But her hand hanging at her side couldn’t help but clench into a fist.
“You seem very surprised.” Rekulai looked at her, lowering his tone. “What I’m about to say next is surely something you already know.”
He recalled the plot content from <Chloria Fantasy Land> in his previous life. In the story’s backdrop, it was indeed the first-generation hero leading the other six heroes to subjugate the first-generation Demon King Dienekan.
After thinking for a moment, Rekulai spoke off the cuff.
“And this story I speak of is precisely the hero legend passed down by the Holy Church over these hundred years.”
“But no one speaks of the other side of this legend, and no one digs into the story behind it.”
“History was distorted at some unknown point.”
“Turning you children bearing the curse into despicable beings.”
The blonde girl trembled all over, a rage churning in her chest. She gritted her teeth and suppressed it, memories of the past surfacing in her mind over and over.
‘How can this be!’
“And the mastermind behind this is…”
‘Let me think…’
“It is…”
His tone turned cold, as if bearing some heavy responsibility. His eyes were like an iceberg, sealing away fire and corpses.
“I cannot tell you now.”
“If you knew, you would be in danger.”
Yet the elf girl said with a serious expression:
“It doesn’t matter!!”
“Just what kind of person is it!”
Rekulai was startled by the girl’s seriousness and subconsciously shifted back. The crate let out another protest.
“I see.”
At this moment, as if expending great effort, he finally spoke:
“Then I will tell you.”
His gaze became distant. “The Immaculate Society, also known as the Dienekan Cult.”
“They are a group of people attempting to resurrect the original Demon King, hoping the Demon King will grant them eternal power and make them immaculate beings.”
“Such beings would absolutely never appear before the stage.”
“My mission is to stand behind the scenes and stop these people’s conspiracies and schemes.” Rekulai said with feigned profundity, lowering his head. His eyes told the girl he was sinking into that painful memory.
Finally he clenched his fist and raised his head. Bits of purple light emerged from the ground, magical power converging into a black liquid that continuously wrapped around the youth’s body, finally transforming into a black gold-plated hooded robe. The fallen stray hair covered the upper half of the boy’s face, and in the darkness those ruby-like eyes were especially dazzling.
A ball of purple flame emerged in his palm.
“Yes, just like this.”
“You may call me—”
“Lin Ye.”
The girl recited it word by word. “Lin…. Ye….”
“Even if this path is rugged and full of obstacles, I will walk it to the end. And I must keep walking.”
“Child of heroes, one who is cursed. Do you have the resolve to walk alongside me?”
The girl lowered her head, gazing at her snow-white arm. “From the moment I was afflicted with illness, from the moment this curse was placed upon me, I had already lost everything.”
“I, who should have endured illness and rotted to death, was saved by you.”
Her gaze serious and resolute, she raised her head, her right hand placed over her chest at the position of her heart.
“So… as long as you wish it.”
“I will spare no cost, even my life.”
“And then drive out those sinners completely, leaving not one, from this world.”
Rekulai extended his hand, and the elf girl thus grasped Rekulai’s hand.
It seemed this was her decision.
Rekulai smiled, magical power converging into a black liquid that then separated bit by bit from Rekulai’s body, wrapping around the girl who had originally been entirely white from head to toe. A set of clothes identical to Rekulai’s was thus draped upon the girl.
Magical power condensed.
How convenient.
Purple light emerged from Rekulai’s hand, transmitting bit by bit into the girl’s body.
“Hmm~”
The girl let out a soft moan, her whole body tingling and numb, feeling a warm current transmitting from the other’s palm into her body, bit by bit crawling over every meridian in her body. She did not reject it, but chose to silently accept.
Through subtle observation, she discovered the other’s magical power was guiding her own magical power to resonate with its frequency, bit by bit remodeling her meridians. Following the other’s magical flow, she also controlled it with her thoughts, and found she could firmly control that power.
“I merely planted a seed within your body to stabilize that power inside you. That power is not merely a curse—if you make good use of it, it will instead become your aid.”
“This is…”
“Yes.”
“The riotous magical power brought by the curse can be controlled. Once you control it, it becomes your own magical power. Take your time to feel it.”
Before long, the girl gradually stabilized, able to control that power herself. The seed the boy had planted in her body should have dissipated, but the girl stabilized it with her magical power, burying it deep within her body.
The power the boy granted her, she could also control normally. The control over that magical robe was completely in her hands.
With a turn of her thought, the magical robe quickly shed a small piece of fabric, which transformed into a black blade following her thought.
Feeling the emergence of this power and the meridians the boy had remodeled bit by bit, the elf girl raised her head with gratitude in her heart and looked at the boy.
Rekulai spoke again.
“From now on, you shall be called Freya.”
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