Not long after, in the church basement.
"Heave—"
With a soft grunt, the priest emerged slowly from the darkness, holding a treasure chest in his arms.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
He set the chest steadily in front of Yuhran and raised a hand to wipe the fine sweat from his brow.
The candlelight flickered faintly, its wavering glow illuminating the varied expressions on everyone's faces.
Yuhran's gaze was focused. Were the magic tools inside?
He had asked the priest earlier, but the answer he received was that the city had suffered too much damage—any items that had been for sale were likely lost in the chaos.
So, as a way of repaying him, the priest had offered Yuhran his personal collection.
Items he had gathered over fifty years, spanning many categories.
Yuhran quietly watched the chest, a glimmer of curiosity flashing in his eyes.
Seeing this, the priest subtly let out a breath, the corners of his mouth lifting into a relieved smile.
He raised his hand and brushed over the uneven carvings on the surface of the chest, then spoke slowly:
"My lord, before I open this chest, there is something I must explain to you first."
"At present, magic items are broadly divided into two types: magic tools and magical implements."
"The former can be used without any magic power. They're convenient, but their drawback is that if one isn't careful, even the user themselves may be affected."
"For example, bells that induce drowsiness, or potions that allow one to see in the dark…"
Such bells would also make the user themselves sleepy, while those potions, if used during the day, carried the risk of momentary blindness.
The priest paused briefly, seemingly to give Yuhran time to think, then continued:
"As for the latter—magic staves used by mages, as well as holy scriptures—they all fall into this category."
Although a holy scripture was just a book, recording stories of the mythic age and the Goddess's precepts, its written words made it something special.
Goddess magic was hidden within those words. It was precisely those words that transformed it into a special kind of magical implement.
Hearing this, Yuhran nodded thoughtfully, already having made his decision.
He inclined his head slightly toward the priest. "Please show me the magic tools."
As repayment for saving lives, he was allowed to choose two items, each worth roughly two hundred gold coins.
That was wealth even Milliarde didn't possess—an absolute windfall.
Soon, as the priest slowly opened the chest, dust billowed out, revealing several unremarkable-looking items inside.
Bells and potions were among them. Yuhran swept his eyes over them and decisively passed.
The former had too limited a range—unless it could affect an entire city, it was useless if only people nearby heard it.
As for the latter…
Yuhran's gaze skimmed across several bottles of different colors before suddenly stopping on a yellowed scroll.
"Father, what is this? A cultivation manual?"
The breathing technique he was currently using was far too painful. He'd long wanted to replace it.
The priest shook his head, his eyes going unfocused as if he'd sunk into memories of the past.
"No. It's a treasure map."
"It records the location of a dragon's lair that I stumbled upon by chance when I was young. There are quite a few treasures inside."
"Unfortunately, I lacked the strength to conquer it back then, so I could only write it down…"
"I thought I'd lost it long ago. I didn't expect it to still be here…"
Not all believers were born priests. He himself had once been a swordsman.
If not for a grievous injury during an expedition that left him unable to wield a sword, he would never have chosen to retire into seclusion.
Recalling those passionate, hot-blooded years, the priest couldn't help but let out a long sigh.
Yuhran paid little attention to the priest's past.
His eyes were fixed on the treasure map as he pressed on, "A dragon's lair? What kind of dragon?"
He turned to look at Milliarde, his gaze carrying an unmistakable note of inquiry.
If there was a chance…
Wait.
As if suddenly thinking of something, Yuhran turned back and asked:
"Father, it's been so many years. Are you sure that dragon is still there?"
"Of course," the priest nodded firmly. "Dragons have very long lifespans—generally over three hundred years."
"The one I encountered should have been a ryū, a lower-ranked monster… but even so, it was already two hundred years old."
"My lord, do you intend to choose this?"
He wasn't really recommending it. Even a ryū possessed the power to wipe out an entire village.
After so many years, no one could know whether it had produced offspring, or whether it had already moved its lair.
Compared to that, choosing ready-made magic tools seemed far safer.
Yuhran pondered for a moment, then shook his head with resolve.
Caution was good—but it depended on the situation. Milliarde had ridden dragons before; there was no reason to back down.
He turned his gaze to her and asked earnestly:
"Milliarde, what do you think? Do you think we can defeat it?"
"In the last battle, if we'd had magic tools, things would've been much easier, right?"
That was obvious. Magic tools were invented precisely to enhance one's abilities.
Milliarde's eyes darkened slightly. Her pale fingers twirled a lock of hair as she thought for a moment, then nodded.
"I'll follow your lead."
Yuhran was a little surprised by her straightforward response, but after thinking it over, he found it reasonable enough.
Since that was the case—no need to stand on ceremony.
Without further hesitation, he reached out and took the treasure map into his hand.
As for the second magic item, Yuhran rummaged through the chest for a while before finally picking up a pair of boots that allowed rapid movement.
Paired with a weapon, using weight and momentum together, his damage output could double—while the chance of him being injured would drop significantly.
—The future looked promising.
...
...
"Phew…"
Leaving the basement, fresh air rushed into his nose, making Yuhran stretch his tense limbs instinctively.
Warm sunlight fell on his face. He hopped in place a couple of times, only to realize that his body felt noticeably lighter.
This wasn't an illusion.
Magic was driven by the mind, and so were magic tools. The boots' full name was—
Boots that increase speed by controlling the wind.
The stronger the wind, the greater the speed boost. In theory, there was no upper limit.
Of course, once it reached a certain point, the boots themselves might collapse before the wearer did.
After all, their material had its limits.
Yuhran glanced down at them and thought to himself: absolutely do not use these in a storm.
Otherwise, even a body forged from iron wouldn't survive a one-hundred-meters-per-second impact.
But then he stroked his chin again.
"Though I can't use them in a storm, combined with Milliarde's magic, it should be fine."
"A light breeze doubles speed. Stronger wind—thirty meters per second… tsk, that's already one-tenth the speed of sound."
"Not bad."
A satisfied smile spread across his face.
This was a massive improvement—compared to before, it could practically be called a qualitative leap.
Against a ryū, even if he couldn't win, he should at least be able to hold his own.
Once he returned to the real world, maybe he could even dodge bullets.
Thinking of that bright future—breaking the sound barrier, pushing past the limits of the human body…
Mm.
This time, he'd definitely make it out alive.
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