30 - Make Dark Fantasy Great Again

Dark Fantasy Chapter 30 > From BookRabbit - Web Novel Archive To cut to the chase, it was a failure. While trying to replicate the lucky coin and acquire the enchantment, an idea suddenly popped into my head. "Wouldn't it be profitable to mass-produce and sell these!?" I pondered aloud, but the plan was eventually scrapped. As I gained a deeper understanding of the act of enchanting, I came to recognize the true nature of this "lucky coin." A vessel of power in the form of an object. Contrary to what some might think, this wasn't some grand item like a 'relic' or anything exalted. To put it metaphorically, it was like 'heated iron.' It temporarily adopted the same properties due to my influence, but those properties were highly unstable. If I didn't continuously infuse it with power, it would cool down in real time and soon vanish. Such an item would be like the scams people pull in online secondhand deals, saying, "It was fine when I sold it. No refunds." Ultimately, I concluded that selling lucky coins as a business was unrealistic. 'Why did they have to get my hopes up about some sacred relic?' It stung a lot—in real terms, the dream of duplicating wealth had just flown out the window. The only consolation was that I hadn't gained nothing from it. I looked at the coin in my hand. Although I hadn't succeeded in bestowing it with purification power, mana was a different story. The coin was unmistakably imbued with the qualities of mana. I had succeeded in making the skill of enchantment my own. Admittedly, I've only just begun to crawl— 'But still!' I was satisfied with the mere fact that my magical abilities had expanded. "Did you really think that was possible?" Upon hearing my story, Fienne criticized me with disbelief. "Dreams are free, aren't they?" "Free?" At the moment, Fienne was sitting next to my bed, ready to wipe the blood off my face with a warm towel. She held up the reddened towel to show me. "Enchanting is about taking a portion of your own power and bestowing it onto an object. It's akin to kneading dough with your mental and physical strength! Just think how exhausting it is to do it in such a crude way—" "Still, I managed it somehow. I would've stopped if it felt truly dangerous." "What do you mean by truly dangerous? Death? Fainting? Exhaustion? Stop spouting nonsense and just say you won't overdo it next time." I understood what Fienne was trying to say. I'm not stupid. After all, this magical training is meant to preserve oneself, and what meaning would it have if I ruined my health? This time was just special. I felt a certainty that I would gain something if I reached the end. "Don't be so harsh. Let me give you this." I handed Fienne the first product of my enchantment efforts. "Seriously, what am I supposed to do with this? You don't think this is an artifact, do you? It's just a mana-infused coin. Perfect for hammering nails without a hammer." "It's the first result of my enchantment. Won't it have some premium if I become a famous enchantment artist someday?" "What nonsense." Fienne snorted but pocketed the coin regardless. A moment later, "All done." Fienne shifted away from me, indicating she was finished cleaning my face. "Thanks, Fienne. As expected, you're the only one who worries about me." "What are you saying? I've never worried about you." With a harrumph, Fienne raised her nose and got up from the bed. "So. What are you going to do now?" "Hm?" "You said thank you. So what's next?" "...Should I give you a hug?" Thud. A towel was thrown at my face. I must have gotten it wrong. "...Did you have breakfast?" "How can you ask that after causing such a fuss first thing in the morning? Breakfast? Of course not. Thanks so much for asking." "In that case, is it an honor to offer breakfast to Fienne?" "Ugh. What am I going to do with that mouth of yours." Fienne said this before leaving the room, leaving a message to get ready to go out. I guessed I got it right that time. I promptly prepared to head out. Even though training had left me tired, thanks to Fienne's boost, I was energetic, and it didn't take long to get ready to leave. "You've got everything, right?" Lastly, I placed a coin atop the bloodstained sheets and left the room. Just then, a woman emerged from the adjacent room simultaneously. "..." "..." Catching each other's gaze at that precise moment of timing. I couldn't help but be fixed on her face. A woman whose left side was marred as if it had suffered burns. ...And the second sense of unease about her. *** She was a woman with a strong and fit physique, fiery red-black hair— and a conspicuous scar on her face. Salana. She didn’t appreciate anyone staring fixedly at her face. It was because of the hideous mark that seemed to consume her entire left side. It wasn't hard to imagine. Who would enjoy someone staring at their imperfections? "..." Salana found herself bewildered. The man from the neighboring room, whom she had never met, was staring intently at her. 'What is with this guy?' The usual Salana wouldn't have hesitated to shove past him. And much later, the man would realize his shoulder had been dislocated. But Salana decided to hold back. Unconsciously, she touched her face. She didn't know why, but her skin had somewhat improved overnight. Could it be her efforts, at long last, were finally! Bearing fruit for the first time? How long had it been? For the dreadful scar to not crack or ooze during the night. To wake on a pillow dry and smooth rather than soaked with ichor. To feel joy looking at a mirror and preparing herself in the morning. She felt good at that moment. Good enough to overlook such discourtesy as staring. "Is there something on my face?" Salana spoke in a cheerful tone, embodying her public persona as an upper-tier adventurer. "Oh? Ah! I-I apologize— I did it unconsciously." The man snapped back to his senses, hastily apologizing to Salana. There were those who openly ogled her with disdain. Such behavior usually warranted breaking a few fingers to elicit an appropriate reaction— But this man didn't seem to be in need of such shock therapy. "Haha. I understand. As you can see, I have quite the striking appearance, don't I? You're not the first man to be captivated." Salana said with a relaxed demeanor. "I'm Salana. I work as an adventurer. Upper tier." "Oh! I’m Risir. An upper-tier adventurer...? That's impressive—" As far as Risir knew, the average level for upper-tier adventurers was around Level 5. Salana appeared to be in her twenties—reaching Level 5 at that age was no easy feat, even for noble families with full backing. "I agree. To be an upper-tier adventurer with this beauty at my age. That's why I let it slide when people stare." "Ah...! I apologize once more." "Hey. No need to apologize. You were just mesmerized by my beauty, right? Anyway, Risir. It was nice meeting you—let's meet again sometime if we get the chance." Salana turned away from Risir, ready to leave. "Ah, wait a moment! Salana!" "..." Salana internally frowned. What a bother— So annoying. She replied with a sly smile. "What is it? Are you asking me out on a date?" "Ah—while it's certainly a tempting proposition—" Of course, it wasn't a date proposal. Not when he already had prior obligations. Risir hadn't forgotten the presence of Fienne, waiting for him outside the inn. Yet he called out to Salana because of an uncanny sensation he felt from her. It was much like with Todina. Risir sensed a 'purification' opportunity with Salana. He was convinced that his power could aid her. Risir thought with such a rationale. 'She did say she was an upper-tier adventurer.’ Providing assistance to someone like an upper-tier adventurer could surely foster a beneficial relationship that would pay dividends later on. Additionally— Risir had realized a critical truth while reorganizing his power yesterday. His abilities had experienced a dramatic growth. In fact, to say he realized it might be off; more accurately, it was a confirmation. He had vaguely surmised that his abilities had grown twice in clearly defined instances. The first was shortly after the Rona incident— The second after the Todina incident. From these, Risir deduced an essential fact. For some unknown reason— Purification directly correlated with a rise in magical power. That was his reason for stopping Salana. Meeting her represented an opportunity. "What is it? Speak up." She said with a smile that barely hid her stern demeanor. It wasn't just prejudiced onlookers drawn to her scarred face. Some approached her, claiming to know a way to heal her scars. Without exception, they were quacks or con artists eager for an upper-tier adventurer's wealth. All of them paid a price. To the master of the Black Hand Assassin Guild, the Black Serpent Five. Salana's fingers crackled with a mysterious aura behind her back. Colorless. Odourless. Formless. Leaving only consequences, undetected and without symptoms. A poison that only the true masters of assassination could wield. Had Salana resolved to harm the man before her, he would meet a mysterious death by the end of the night. "Why don't we relocate first?" Salana led Risir out the inn's back door into a secluded alley. *** "I understand it may be impudent, but could I touch Salana’s face for a moment?" Risir had spent the walk deep in thought before he finally spoke. Salana pondered for a moment. ‘Should I just kill him?’ Her eyes bore such a dilemma. Whatever Risir deciphered from her gaze, he nodded and approached to place a hand gently on her face. "Pardon me." "..." A slight crack formed in the facade of the "easygoing upper-tier adventurer" that Salana had crafted. Another man's touch on an area she was reluctant to touch herself. Salana looked at Risir with a cold, piercing gaze. Might as well hear him out now. To see what nonsense he was going to spout. The quacks and frauds Salana had encountered in the past would attempt to deceive and bewitch her with convincing words, taking advantage of her lack of expertise. From these experiences, Salana gained a simple insight. Three minutes. If their rhetoric surpassed three minutes, it wasn’t worth listening further. Thus, Risir too was afforded a mere three minutes. Risir nodded and then opened his previously sealed lips. Salana started the countdown. She decided to observe how the fool before her would spend the final three minutes of his ill-fated life. "It’s done. Would you like to see for yourself?" "? " *** ────────── ■ Salana Level: 61 Race: Human Occupation: Assassin ────────── ***