In a dimly-lit hidden chamber of the Cassalanter Family estate,
Gazing at the figure before her, slathered with caked makeup, the corpulent Ammalia Cassalanter frowned deeply. In that moment, all her usual arrogance vanished, replaced with a tone of utter sycophancy: "Mr. Regolas, it's not that I don't trust you, but is it really that simple...? Would the Great Lord of the Nine Hells so easily grant power to his servants?"
She could hardly believe it. After everything she had done, all she had received in return was a pitiful hint of spellcasting abilities. Why had the archduke chosen to be so generous this time?
Standing before her, the red-skinned cambion Regolas smiled, unable to completely hide the taunting glint in his eyes.
"Of course not," he replied, making Ammalia's heart leap into her throat.
But his next words put her at ease: "What my lord values most is the fulfillment of a pact. That proves the pact-maker is someone truly honest and reliable, not a treacherous, fickle, contemptible wretch."
"Only for such people would my lord so willingly bestow great power."
As he said this, his gaze wandered to Ammalia Cassalanter's plump body. "And you, Matriarch, over the years, have proven not only your capability but also your loyal reliability as a partner. After I reported to my superiors, they unanimously agreed: you deserve this opportunity!"
Ammalia's gratification was obvious, and while Regolas secretly sneered at her, he kept his tone gentle, like the most patient life coach. "So go ahead—at this ball, rip off the mask of those who claim divine blood, and expose their pathetic, filthy hypocrisy."
"This act will surely delight the Great Lord of the Nine Hells. He'll laugh with joy as the lies of the gods of Mount Celestia are laid bare. And as the hero of the hour, you'll gain the power you've dreamed of!"
Ammalia's focus sharpened, her gaze growing resolute. In the depths of her eyes, the fire of ambition burned fiercely.
She had no idea that, on the other side of this deal, Regolas's eyes also glimmered with the spark of conspiracy.
And she certainly didn't know that Regolas could no longer remain in Liberl Port and was bent on one final act of chaos before his exit.
Leaving aside the undercurrent of intrigue among the nobles of the Mithral District, that very morning, just before sunrise in South Harbor District, Charles and a group of nuns stood at the tram stop to bid a reluctant farewell to Willo and her daughter.
Their original intent in coming to the South Harbor monastery headquarters was simply as a ceremonial refuge. At the same time, Willo would part-time as a Life Domain priestess to strengthen her healing powers.
Unexpectedly, so much had happened, and the two of them ended up staying far longer than planned.
Now, with Xanathar's Guild defeated and the new year fast approaching, it was finally time for them to return home.
Standing on the tram platform, Willo faced away from the tracks, looking up at Charles, her gaze full of longing.
She no longer masked her emotions. After accepting her true desires, she considered herself just like the other nuns, no longer feeling even a twinge of embarrassment over displaying her feelings.
Beside her, Adele didn't question this visible chemistry in the least. At that moment, she too was looking at Charles with the same reluctance, tearing her gaze away only with difficulty, silently warning herself never to step into such a bottomless abyss again.
Charles, offering a comforting smile, held Willo's wrist and spoke gently: "It's all right. I'll often go up to the mountains to visit and spend time with the Green Vines tribe. Whatever hardships the future holds, we'll get through them together."
He couldn't hide a small sigh. If only his spellcasting abilities were stronger—creating a portal between the main monastery and the branch outposts required him to reach level thirteen, and for the monastery itself to be promoted to level four.
Now, if he wanted to visit that little outpost in the hills, he still had to travel by tram, transfer, and walk; it took an entire day and was extremely inconvenient.
But these things couldn't be rushed. Upgrading the monastery required 100,000 Purification Points, and his own leveling path was blocked—Theresa's spellcasting abilities only supported him up to level ten, as the system clearly stated. Anything higher simply wasn't available right now.
So all he could do was wait, keep grinding, expand his power, and hope to accumulate enough Purification Points, one day.
In the distance, the rumbling of the tram echoed along the tracks. The departing vehicle had arrived. The moment of parting was upon them. But Willo was hardly as bold as Anno and didn't rush up to give him a passionate kiss or anything like that.
She simply nodded calmly, said, "See you after the New Year," let go, and—taking her daughter's hand—boarded the tram to find a seat and wait.
The tram soon powered up. With a heavy rumble, that massive vehicle slowly rolled away. Charles waved goodbye until they vanished in the distance and nothing could be seen.
"Well, we all have to part ways sometimes," he sighed, but he didn't dwell on it. Aware that he had more important missions ahead, he turned and returned to the monastery with the nuns.
Along the way, local amazons and government officials greeted him enthusiastically. Clearly, they all recognized this son of South Harbor District who had defeated the Abyssal Lord.
Fortunately, they were rational enough not to shriek or demand kisses or signatures. Charles enjoyed the attention, responding with smiles and waves, making his way back to the monastery's doorway amidst his group.
Just then, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind: "Priest Nigel Charles, my friend, why is your district so hard to navigate? I can't seem to find a single suitable exit."
"Could you guide me? There are some matters I'd like to discuss with you."
It was the voice of Nithilro—the Mind Flayer from the Radiant Society!
Charles's expression shifted; he quickly replied mentally, "Where are you? Wait a bit, I'll open a passage connected to the South Harbor District sewer system and let you in."
Saying so, he hurried back into the monastery to the dungeon beneath the bath chamber, opening up the sewer passage.
Their baths needed a large water supply and waste drainage, so of course the baths were connected to the South Harbor District's sewers.
Charles had set up his magic-suppressing, prisoner-holding Dungeon Construct beneath the baths for safety reasons.
As he opened the sewer gate, he kept up mental communication, guiding Nithilro to the right spot.
Soon enough, the Mind Flayer's blue-gray mage's robe appeared out of the sewer. He seemed to have some magic effect on him, since he wasn't stained at all by the foul sewer stench.
But as soon as he entered the underground cell, Nithilro winced in discomfort. "My friend, where is this place? Why do my abilities feel so suppressed?"
Charles answered frankly, "This is a safe space. Magic is dampened here, so our meeting won't be noticed by any third party."
Nithilro nodded slightly; Charles's caution only made him more at ease. Wasting no time, he got straight to business: "Priest Nigel Charles, I've come because I need your help—or, to be precise, the help of your beholder—for a vital project."
"About those chaotic creations that emerged due to Xanathar's stubbornness... I've been feeling uneasy about them."
"Their escape could trigger greater disaster, but I still don't know what kind. To make sure, I need to try creating more of these monsters, study their traits."
Charles looked knowingly at him and replied, "No need to experiment—I can just tell you what those creatures are."
Nithilro looked puzzled, but waited as Charles explained, "They're demons—their race name is 'proto-demons.' They share most of the basic qualities of demons: not too strong, but when they die, they leave pollution behind that turns everything into 'demon-soil.' Later, such places will spawn blood pools or demon trees."
"And, well, from there you probably know the process—a blood pool grows worms, and the demon tree develops a big tumor. Once it hatches, that's an abyssal chicken. These creatures prey upon each other, and after eating their fill, they lay eggs or cocoon up, giving rise to all sorts of bizarre demon breeds."
Charles spoke like it was all old news, but it left Nithilro horrified. "Really?!"
"Of course it's true," Charles replied with a chuckle. "By the time the Infinite Layers of the Abyss had all 666 layers turned into demon-soil, proto-demons had already been wiped out by these new breeds. Normally, we don't see them anymore."
"But, thanks to your and Xanathar's experiments, these guys have started polluting the material world again—starting right here in the Liberl Port sewers. Congratulations, really, well done!"
His tone was mocking, leaving Nithilro even more embarrassed. "Sorry, but—how do you know all this?"
Charles's face grew serious. "You don't need to worry about that. But if you don't believe me, how about I take you into the sewers for a good look? Seeing for yourself will convince you."
Nithilro stiffened, reluctant to accept or take on the guilt, but he replied, "Very well, let's see."
...
Somewhere deep in the sewers.
Where sanitary floors and walls used to guide wastewater, the area was now polluted by proto-demon corpses, transformed into writhing, fleshy matter.
At the center of these meat-masses, pools of dark red liquid oozed along. In their midst, a thumb-thick white worm lay chewing through everything around it.
These were the template worms. Give it a few days—once it finishes devouring everything, it will become the mother worm of the blood pool, endlessly spawning worm eggs, whose offspring prey on each other, growing, cocooning, and mutating into all kinds of new demons.
Left unchecked, this place would become a massive demon production base within months.
Wearing a mask against the rotten stench, Charles illuminated the chamber with a powerful Light spell, before turning to Nithilro: "So, do you believe me now?"
There was a mix of feelings in his heart. Finding this spot hadn't taken long; the bloody evidence was obvious, and it had been easy to convince the Mind Flayer.
But if proof was this easy to come by, things must be extremely grave in the Liberl Port sewers. Who knew how many more blood pools like this were bubbling up under the city?
This was really, really bad news...
Hearing all of this, the tall Mind Flayer lowered his head in agony, covering his face with his hands. His psychic voice trembled: "I… I've made a terrible mistake..."
Charles didn't say anything, letting him compose himself. He strode forward, summoned Montport's twin-bladed polearm, and stepped into the sticky mass. With a couple of swings, he hacked the master worm apart and used a burst of purifying energy to reduce it to ash.
Montport's spirit gave a soft click. "What a waste."
Charles ignored him. Indeed, every blood pool was a precious asset for an Abyssal Lord—they meant an endless supply of new demon troops, easily shaped to your will and especially convenient for creating an ideal force.
But in essence, these pools were leeching the vitality and energy from the material world itself, so Charles could never allow their existence—they all had to be purified!
Milky white light radiated outward, covering every polluted surface. Before long, the taint was completely banished and the sewers looked as they had before—except for a few ugly craters in the floor and walls.
Charles stowed his weapon and turned back to Nithilro: "Well? Are you feeling better?"
Nithilro's facial tentacles quivered as he steadied himself, and finally he answered resolutely, "We need to inform your city's leaders, help them realize the danger."
Charles raised an eyebrow, instantly volleying the problem back: "Alright, but what do we say? 'Radiant Society Mind Mages partnered with crime lord Xanathar to perform experiments, only for the prototypes to leak out and turn the sewers into another Infinite Layers of the Abyss'?"
Nithilro was speechless. "That… that wouldn't be good. It would seriously damage the reputation of the Radiant Society."
Good—he still cared about reputation.
Charles clapped his hands. "Exactly! Other than someone as well-read as myself, who on the surface even knows that your Radiant Society is secretly devoted to fighting demon corruption as a force for good?"
"Underdark, Mind Flayer, demon pollution—put all those together in one sentence and what do you think surface-folk's impression will be? They'd be demanding your heads, right?"
He sighed. "It's just that I know you people mean well. It was only Xanathar's arrogance that made things go sideways, so I can forgive you, and even work with you. But if it was anyone else... Tsk!"
He shook his head again. "Honestly, I don't suggest you go public with this. That would be ridiculous."
Nithilro bowed his head, clearly at a loss. "Then what do you suggest I do?"
He'd seen Charles vanquish Demon Lords—he knew Charles was a true champion of justice. Instinctively, he trusted his guidance.
Charles snapped his fingers. "Simple. I have the ability to purify this kind of pollution. Sure, it's exhausting and takes effort, but for the world, I'll do it with no regrets."
Trying not to reveal his amusement, he kept a straight face. "I'm sure your Society has similar powers, right? Here's my proposal: how about we team up? You folks at the Radiant Society send in more people to survey the sewers—handle the small outbreaks yourself. When it's something big, just call me in."
"We work together for a while. Once the sewers are mostly clean, we can publicize the story and shift all the blame onto Xanathar; the credit goes to your group. Isn't that perfect?"
He fixed Nithilro with a steady gaze and spoke softly, "Because, honestly, it was your experiment that went wrong and caused all this. Don't you think so?"
Nithilro thought for a long moment, unable to refute the logic, and nodded. "Alright, Priest Nigel Charles—I trust your judgment."
Charles's lips curled in a satisfied grin. "Good. I wish for a pleasant partnership."
After a pause, he added, "Oh, and while you're surveying the sewers, be sure to draw up a full map. It'll help us keep everything marked and cover each other."
Nithilro nodded repeatedly. "Of course, we'll handle it!"
Charles gave a little nod.
Excellent! Now, there would finally be a complete, up-to-date map of these dangerous sewers!
Field District.
You could call this the only district in Liberl Port devoted to farming and ranching—in fact, some of the city's happiest people lived here.
Or, to be more precise, the landowners did.
Thanks to its geography, Field District's soil and climate were perfect for grazing. After Liberl Port became prosperous, it was only natural that major dairy companies wanted to buy up land, plant pastures, raise herds, and produce fresh milk and tasty cheese on a major scale.
Even in times of powerful magic and advanced craftsmanship, there was still no truly cheap, mass-scale refrigeration technology. For these dairy companies to turn a high profit, they had to raise cattle near a wealthy city.
According to the usual course of history, the multinationals would have steamrolled the locals. The land would have been bought for a pittance, leaving former owners as mere milking hands for life.
But as luck would have it, the believers of the Goddess of Life arrived around the same time.
Back then, the Goddess of Life had not yet fallen, and her followers walked the land, aiding the weak and saving lives. At the time, the Empire of Sein still wielded immense influence, and its bond with the Church of the Goddess of Life meant no foreign conglomerate could push people around.
So, when the pastors of the church saw the hardships facing these farmers, they moved quickly—calling the farmers to unite, help one another, and never part with their land for a pittance.
With organized resistance (and the backing of the goddess!), even the largest corporations were powerless. They couldn't resort to brutal raids, as they did in other lands, to intimidate and break the farmers' will.
In the end, they had no choice but to pay hefty rental fees for the land…and hire the locals as well-paid dairy workers.
~~~
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