Damn Reincarnation - Chapter 349

Chapter 349

In the vast Southern Seas, there existed a region that could be deemed the very edge of the sea. Mysterious and foreboding, these waters were unlike other parts of the Southern Sea — they were not warm but, instead, felt like perpetual winter. No snow descended upon its surface, and scarcely any wind whispered its secrets. The mere breath would frost upon exhaling, and water would freeze upon contact with the chilly air. And yet, despite the cold, ice floes and icebergs were rare.

This place bore many names, such as the Sea of Death or the Unreachable Ocean. But to Iris, it was not unfamiliar.

Seas like the Sea of Death or the Unreachable Ocean had not been rare three hundred years ago. Every ocean and land of the Realm of Helmuth had been filled with death and inaccessibility, a time when unexplained and incongruous phenomena were the norm. Modern Helmuth was no longer so, but such was the age three hundred years prior.

Yet, this… feeling was different than mere familiarity.

It was her first time visiting this ocean. Yet, it brought about a comfort and longing reminiscent of home, a warmth akin to a cradle. Even amidst the bone-chilling air, there was an odd warmth Iris felt.

But why?

Iris was a Dark Elf. Before her fall, she had been an Elven Ranger, hailing from a dense, verdant forest. Though she had seen the sea several times, this was her first time living upon its waves.

Yet she still yearned for the sea…. Wrapped in a heavy coat, Iris stepped out of her room. Due to the lack of wind, the sound of the waves was barely audible. But Iris’ keen senses picked up the scent of salt in the frigid air — an aroma she wouldn’t find in a forest. A smell she hadn’t inhaled in over a year, yet it felt anciently familiar, a nostalgic fragrance that resonated deep within her.

Taking a deep breath, she placed a large hat on her head.

She had several reasons for venturing into the region of the Solgalta Sea. Firstly, it would serve as a base to defend against enemy raids. In the past, Iris and her pirate crew used uninhabited islands or simply roamed the sea. However, as their influence grew, they needed a solid base.

Another reason was the rumor about “something” being submerged in the depths of the Solgalta Sea. There were many tales about what might lay in the depths of the Solgalta Sea, the most popular being the lair of a dragon.

For centuries, such stories had excited many explorers, especially pirates. Countless treasure seekers and pirates ventured into these waters with hopes of extracting the dragon’s hoard. Of course, most of them not only failed to retrieve the treasure but found themselves sinking, joining the depths of the Solgalta Sea. No one truly knew if the depths hid a dragon’s lair and treasures, but by now, dozens of ships had found their watery graves there.

Treasure? Of course, she wanted it. Especially if it was a dragon’s hoard, which would be worth a fortune. Finding it would ensure a life free from financial concerns.

Yet, the real reason Iris had come to these waters differed from such clear-cut reasons. Perhaps, at first, such reasons had attracted her….Or had they? Iris herself could not be certain.

Clear evidence eluded her. She was uncertain as to even explain what she felt. Yet, deep within her heart, a thought lingered. Even if this sea wasn’t unique, devoid of strategic importance or buried treasures, she felt she would have come here.

Without any particular reason, she staunchly believed she would have eventually arrived and stayed upon these waters. From the moment she first heard its name to her journey here, the landscapes she witnessed, everything affirmed an inexplicable conviction to Iris.

“Princess.” A dark elf, who had served Iris for hundreds of years, approached as she produced a pipe from within her possessions and offered it to Iris. Noticing the remnant tears on Iris’ cheeks, the dark elf asked, “Have you dreamt again?”

Feeling the gaze of the dark elf, Iris brushed her face once more before answering, “Yes.”

“The dreams come more frequently now. Did you not dream just yesterday?” asked the dark elf.

“I take it as a sign that I’m on the right path,” responded Iris.

Drawing a pipe from her coat pocket, she placed it between her lips. The dark elf instinctively brought forth a flint and lit it for her.

Biting on the pipe, Iris said, “Always the same dream… of my father and brothers. Perhaps the remnants of my father’s Dark Power are guiding me.”

The meaning of the dream remained elusive.

Iris took a long breath from the pipe, then asked, “How is the Wise Sienna?”

“She’s yet to break away from Lionheart of Kiehl,” responded the dark elf.

“Hmph…. Do you really think so? That dreadful wizard hasn’t perished even after three hundred years. It seems age hasn’t mellowed her either,” commented Iris scornfully. Rumors of Sienna’s return had reached her ears. Wasn’t it said she tried to submerge the entirety of the Royal Palace of Aroth? Iris recalled Sienna’s visage from long ago, her face contorting in disdain. “Yet, she remained quiet right until she went into seclusion,” said Iris.

“Well, times have changed in various ways since then,” the dark elf said evenly.

“Indeed, they have changed significantly,” Iris agreed.

The Hero Vermouth had made a pact with the Demon King of Incarceration three hundred years ago. But the present Hero, Eugene Lionheart, didn’t seem intent on maintaining or continuing the legacy of his lineage. Even if he wished to, he couldn’t. The Demon King of Incarceration had already forewarned the end of their agreement.

Three centuries had passed, and a new Hero had emerged. Still, two heroes from the era of war remained alive, and among them, the Wise Sienna — especially to Iris — was someone to be wary of.

“That woman isn’t even an elf, yet she deludes herself into believing she is one. I can still clearly remember those glaring eyes and the bloody tears. It still haunts me,” Iris’ tone conveyed the severity of the matter. She continued, “It wasn’t just the Calamitous Sienna. Every monster of that era was maddening and terrifying.”

They had been monsters led by Vermouth of Despair, including Hamel of Extermination, Sienna of Calamity, Molon of Terror, and Anise of Hell.

The dark elf, who had survived that era alongside Iris, shivered after recalling encounters with those five monstrous beings. No matter how one looked at it, the survival of the dark elf and Iris seemed purely due to good fortune.

The dark elf hesitated, then softly suggested, “Princess. Perhaps it’s best if you hide? The sea is vast. Although the Calamitous Sienna has returned, she would not come here right away. So why don’t we just lie low for now and assess the situation?”

“To abandon all that we have achieved?” Iris asked as if in thought.

“They are but mere pirates. With Your Highness leading the Rebels of Fury, we possess the might to rebuild at any moment,” the dark elf explained.

“Perhaps you are right.” Iris did not deny the truth of it. Even with a fleet of hundreds of pirate ships, they were just that — pirates. Numerically large, but not a formidable force. The true strength of this place lay with Iris, who possessed the Demoneye of Darkness, the dark elves who had grown in number over centuries serving her, and the beastfolk mercenaries who had joined after Jagon’s demise.

Their lifespans were incomparably longer than humans.

“I know not when the promised end spoken of by the Demon King of Incarceration will be… but with such a forewarning, a new era of war is on the horizon. When that time comes, the Calamitous Sienna will inevitably be drawn to Helmuth,” Iris said, understanding what the dark elf meant while suggesting to stay low. If Iris remained hidden, Sienna would not venture into these waters. And so, for decades even, she might lie in wait—

“No matter how powerful Sienna of Calamity is, she won’t surpass the Demon King of Incarceration,” Iris said confidently.

Even with the presence of Vermouth of Despair, the continent had failed to defeat the Demon King of Incarceration. They now had a new champion in Eugene Lionheart, but could he truly compare to Vermouth?

‘Not a chance,’ thoughtIris as she exhaled a puff of smoke from her cigar. She had faced Eugene in battle. Though she hadn’t used her full strength, she had gauged his level. He was no match for Vermouth.

And it wasn’t just Eugene. Even Carmen Lionheart, reputed to be the strongest of the Lionheart clan, had left an impression on Iris. She might have made a name for herself even three hundred years ago with her. But that was just it — only that much. The five monstrous humans, too, hadn’t surpassed the Demon King of Incarceration. Would a hero inferior to Vermouth, even if he was wielding the Holy Sword, truly make it to the gates of Babel?

‘Rumors have it that he’s improved considerably… but still lacking.’ With these thoughts, Iris became acutely aware of her own position. She might be eyeing the seat of the Demon King, but she was not yet there. What did it mean to be the Demon King anyway? Amass enough power, hold vast territories, and have countless subordinates?

Before she could think any further, a piercing pain suddenly shot through her eyes. Unconsciously, Iris clutched her eyelids, reeling from the discomfort.

“Your Highness?” the dark elf called out in concern.

“It’s nothing,” Iris said dismissively.

This wasn’t the first time. Recently, her eyes had been throbbing occasionally. And it wasn’t just the pain. Every time this sudden pain struck, Iris’ Demoneye beheld a place entirely different from where she currently was.

It was no different this time as well. In a fleeting moment of pain, Iris glimpsed the depths of the sea within her eyes. There was a darkness as profound as the night, bubbling and boiling amidst the deep ocean’s abyss.

“Where are the dwarves?” asked Iris. Drawing her coat around her, Iris began to walk with the concerned dark elf trailing behind her.

“They are at work. They should be surfacing soon,” the dark elf replied immediately.

“Are they being watched properly?” Iris inquired further.

“Of course. Every time they descend, they are always accompanied by my guards. But it seems there have been no significant findings.”

While listening to the report, Iris blinked. Suddenly, a pitch-black darkness appeared before her, crafted by the power of the Demoneye of Darkness. She stepped into it, followed by the dark elf. The darkness created by the Demoneye was interconnected, forming passageways. As they entered, the scenery changed in an instant. A pirate ship was floating amidst the vast Solgalta Sea. The resting pirates immediately stood at attention upon her appearance.

“You’ve arrived.” The dark elves standing near the pirates approached Iris. She gave a slight nod in acknowledgment and then turned to look for the dwarves. “They seem to be faring well,” Iris smirked, seeing the dwarves sitting in a corner of the deck. The dwarves were gasping for breath.

The craftsmen had been abducted from Hammer Island during the last raid on Shimuin. Among them were the youngest and strongest dwarves. The dwarves trembled, their beards shaking as they stared at Iris. Then, a few voices could be heard from among them.

“Do not taunt us…. We’ve only been up for not even ten minutes.”

“Even resilient dwarves like us have limits. At this rate, our bodies won’t hold for long.”

Listening to the complaints, Iris taunted, “So? Shall we replace you with others? Shall I call upon your masters?”

“That… Please, don’t. Let us rest a little… and we’ll dive again,” the young dwarves pleaded with tears in their eyes.

Iris watched them silently for a moment, then chuckled, “Worry not. I have no intention of using the older dwarves, even if you were to perish.”

The dwarves had nothing to say to that.

“So, any progress?” Iris asked, getting down to business.

The dwarves hesitated to respond, a silence Iris found displeasing. Her eyes narrowed, and the darkness pooling around the dwarves began receding slowly.

“What are you doing!?” The dwarves cried out in panic. The receding shadow was connected to the profound depths of the sea where their comrades were laboring in cumbersome, heavy diving suits, barely able to move.

“It seems you lack a sense of urgency because of my leniency,” Iris whispered, her eyes narrowing further. To the dwarves, it was maddening and unbelievable.

Her leniency? What in the world was she talking about? In the first place, she had abducted them and was ordering them about with such an impossible task. Finally, a dwarf cried, tears streaming down his bearded face, “Wh-what… what do you want from us!?”

They had crafted the diving suit as instructed. It was designed to withstand the crushing depths, but it was, in truth, a creation unworthy of the proud craftsmanship of the dwarves. In any other circumstance, no amount of gold could convince them to proclaim such a creation ‘finished.’

Yet, in this dire moment, there was no time for the pride of craftsmanship. The makeshift suit’s sole advantage was its reduced weight, but even then, only the sturdy race of the dwarves could handle it. A human would be immobilized in it.

A dwarf couldn’t take it anymore and cried out in despair, “We’ve found the sunken ship as ordered, even readied it for recovery. Yet why do you cast us adrift in this dark abyss? What more do you want?”

“Do you truly believe, even for a moment, that a dragon’s hoard lies hidden beneath these waves?” another dwarf asked, trying to sound rational.

“Such tales are tantalizing,” Iris sneered, her gaze lost in the encroaching darkness as the shadows expanded around the dwarves, loosening their threatening grip on the pipes carrying the oxygen to the working dwarves. “Truth be told, I find that dragon hoard story hard to believe. A dragon’s hoard? What are the chances?”

“Then why, for the love of all, have you—”

Iris interrupted before the dwarf could finish, “Whether it’s a dragon’s hoard or not, there is something down here. I’m certain of it.” Iris tilted her head slightly. “And what might that be? I honestly have no idea. But, if you don’t want to die, you will have to find it.”

“This is… this is madness…” the dwarves muttered in horror.

But Iris was unfazed. “Oh, I am well aware of how cruel my words sound. The ocean is vast, and there are merely ten of you. And that’s why your mentors are tirelessly hammering away, right?” With a wicked chuckle, Iris plunged her hand into the newfound darkness. A scream echoed as she pulled an elderly dwarf’s head from the shadows before she continued in a threateningly quiet voice, “You were provided with all the materials needed. Is this all the craftsmanship the unsightly dwarf race, with nothing but their hammering skills, can manage?”

She had expected a diving suit fit for anyone, not just a dwarf.

“Is it that challenging?” Iris continued, enraged. “I even offered my own Dark Power to help. Simply infuse my Dark Power into the metal, then fashion the diving suit from it. Simple, right?”

“Hu-humans are incredibly fragile. Perhaps if it were for a dark elf…,” the elderly dwarf began explaining but was interrupted.

“You expect me to thrust my subordinates into those fathomless depths? Why should I undertake such madness?” Iris asked.

“Ve-very well, I understand. The design is ready, and a prototype is being made….” The elderly dwarf finally gave in, making no more excuses.

“You have a week. Produce at least fifty suits within that time. Fail, and these young lads will have to shoulder the work meant for fifty.” With those stern words, Iris pushed the elderly dwarf’s head back into the darkness. Then, turning to the younger dwarves, she berated, “What are you all gawking at? Surely, you’ve rested long enough. Must I kick you back to work?”

The dwarves staggered to their feet. As they donned the diving suits set aside, Iris snickered at their timid actions and mocked, “Worry not. I’ll ensure you have plenty of ale, just as promised.”

***

On Larupa Island of Shimuin.

When Gondor Ironhammer entered the Lionheart mansion, his eyes widened in surprise. Before him stood barrels upon barrels, each one seemingly filled to the brim. He stared at them for a moment, trying to make sense of the sight.

“What in the world is this?” Gondor asked, genuinely not able to comprehend the situation before him.

He had indeed entered the mansion of Lionheart as desired. While he had hoped to visit the main house of the Lionheart clan in Kiehl and perhaps even see its treasure vault, that could wait for another time.

No, but in the first place, if the actual Eugene Lionheart resided in this mansion, there would be no need to journey to distant Kiehl. After all, how many artifacts did he possess?

“It’s ale,” Sienna responded while knocking on one of the oak barrels with a grin. “A bit of hush money.”

“Hush… what?” Gondor asked, sure he had misheard the lady.

“Silencing gold. Not enough? If you wish, I can offer more ale,” Sienna elaborated further.

“No…. I don’t quite…,” Gondor hesitated to reply.

“Didn’t Carmen inform you in advance? Our presence in this mansion must remain a secret,” said Sienna.

Gondor nodded, saying, “I did sign a confidentiality agreement…”

“Not just that, there will be a magical contract too. But a contract alone feels rather impersonal, don’t you think?” Sienna cleared her throat, stopping herself from uttering a potentially derogatory statement. “Dwarf. Although we brought you here because of your earnest wish, I, the Wise Sienna, am not so heartless as to forcibly try and shut your mouth. Thus, I prepared this.”

The price for his silence was ale, carefully chosen by Anise, even if reluctantly.

“Surely, this much ale will keep you silent?” asked Sienna.

The dwarf didn’t know how to respond.

“Why so quiet? Surely, this isn’t insufficient for you? Such a greedy dwarf!” Sienna crossed her arms while staring at the Gondor, who remained silent.

“Lady Sienna, it seems he dislikes the ale,” Eugene, who had been quietly standing beside them, voiced his concern, fearing the “Wise Sienna” might be labeled a fierce bigot among the dwarves.

“Nonsense! There isn’t a dwarf alive who dislikes ale. Even three hundred years ago, they’d work for a mere mug of it instead of gold,” Sienna dismissed Eugene’s suggestion as if it was the most obvious thing to do. She shot Eugene a glance, questioning his knowledge. However, in Eugene’s opinion, Sienna’s perception was problematic. Raised among elves, she had inherited the widespread elven prejudice against dwarves. In the times of Helmuth three hundred years ago, gold wasn’t as valued as it was now. Back then, items like drinkable spirits, food, and tools were more treasured.

“What exactly do you think of dwarves?” Angered by the deep-rooted prejudiced remark, Gondor questioned Sienna fiercely.

In an era long gone, who would utter such antiquated words? Had it been another human, he might have struck the speaker down at once….

But Sienna could not comprehend Gondor’s anger. From the start, she wasn’t even aware that her words bore the weight of racial prejudice, thus remarking further, “Dwarves will be dwarves, after all….”

When she was young, her elder brother, Signard, often regaled her with ancient tales of the elven kind. In these stories, the dwarves were more frequently referred to not by their name but by derogatory terms, like smelly, shorty poopbags.

However, Sienna refrained from using such names. To her, a dwarf was just a dwarf. And this alone made her believe that she was quite progressive in terms of racial equality.

“To think that such words would come from the Wise Sienna! You’re offering me a ton of ale to keep a secret? Are you suggesting that the beer pouring into my mouth weighs more than a contract I personally penned and stamped?” Gondor shouted, unable to control his anger.

“Oh, come on, don’t twist my words. I trust the contract, of course, but I thought adding the ale you love would be a nice touch,” retorted Sienna.

“Well, then—” Gondor began,

Only to be interrupted as Sienna’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t you want it?”

Gondor just stared at Sienna, trying to control his rage.

“Don’t you?” Sienna asked dangerously.

Under the gaze of the legendary Archwizard, Gondor trembled before responding, “It’s a thoughtful gift.”

“Hmm.” Sienna continued to look at Gondor.

Gondor gulped, then continued, “Perfectly suited for a dwarf’s taste… I’m grateful. Thank you.”

The task of expressing racial indignation seemed too perilous under the intensity of Sienna’s gaze. Moreover, his desire for the artifacts of the Lionheart clan was too overwhelming.

Finally, Gondor mustered a weak smile. In return, Sienna flashed a triumphant grin at Eugene.

That’s when Eugene acknowledged something inside his heart.

This ill-tempered woman was hailed as the Wise Sienna only because she had penned it herself in a fairy tale.