I Reincarnated as a Noble Bastard, So I'm Seducing All the Villainess
Chapter 46: I’m the One Who Cares About Crazy People, It’s My Flaw

Chapter 46: I’m the One Who Cares About Crazy People, It’s My Flaw

What a strange situation, let me tell you. It’s different from waiting in an emergency room, but the sensation is similar.

Right now, Leonhardt and I are outside the bathhouse, patiently waiting for something to happen inside or for an evil spirit to appear from beyond for the handsome guy next to me to kill.

The world of Sword of The Iron Maiden has a super simplified magic system, and if there are more complex things, it’s not like I’d remember, besides, I hated just reading that thing and didn’t care much for specifics of events and all that.

What’s going through my head is a combination of knowledge in this life with what I know from the original manuscript, so basically it’s this: mana is a vital energy that everyone needs to survive, and the overwhelming majority of supernatural activities require it.

Let’s say, if a cleric needs the divine power of a god, he needs to pray and connect with him through mana, thus being able to strengthen his own faith and the miracles he knows how to use. The mage, on the other hand, relies on knowledge and how good he is at handling magic circles, speaking quickly, or even gesticulating his fingers.

Witches fall into this spectrum, but a large part of their power comes from rituals, where they meet that entity they made a contract with or a spirit. Elves go through a similar situation, considering that these pointy-eared people live in nature and it’s part of the race’s culture.

Still, it’s a bit different. Witches are seen very poorly, which only makes Leonhardt’s calm attitude extremely strange to me. He’s an inquisitor, guys like him literally hunt witches, demons, and anything out of the ordinary to purge the world.

Why doesn’t he complain, or, I don’t know, try to intervene in this whole thing with another solution? It’s too convenient for my taste.

About a couple of hours later, while he and I are dying of boredom in the middle of that empty corridor, having already killed at least two assassins who tried to bleed me dry in the process, Illonar comes out of the bathhouse.

I drop my crossed-arms pose, staring directly at the elf’s face, who for some reason avoids my gaze and seems to have a somewhat frightened look. What did Ravenna do to scare this guy so much?

"So, how was it?"

My question hits him like nothing, because the answer takes longer than I like to come.

"Madam Ravenna is... unlike anything I’ve seen."

"Yeah, I know, she’s an unparalleled lunatic and very beautiful."

"It’s not about that... that young lady mastered some Elvish chants that took me decades to learn in a matter of minutes."

Hold on, is he serious? How did that girl do that so fast? Of course, not every ritual specifically requires Elvish chants, only the Silver Scar, but even so, mastering a completely different language in a matter of minutes is an exaggeration.

"And did you explain to her what was technically supposed to happen in this ritual?"

"Yes, but I believe she already had an idea. The young lady asked me to leave and wait outside, as the ritual will begin now..."

Got it, so that means the action is about to start. That worries me in a way, since I have no idea of the exact consequences or effects of this ritual, considering it never appeared in the original work. I poke the guy next to me with a sharp elbow jab right in the ribs just to be mean.

"Hey, idiot, do you know what goes on in the middle of this?"

Leonhardt doesn’t even feel the blow, gently tilting his head to the side in response.

"Witches enter a state of stupor during the ritual and connect directly with their pact, being able to renew it or demand more power from the creature with whom they made the union. As far as I know, Ravenna’s pact is with a shadow spirit, so it would be impossible to draw more power from it. I believe the only option would be to renew it..."

"Speak my language, I can’t understand a damn thing you just said."

"In other words, what happens is that the spirit will be rebuilt in a new form. Outside of divine matters and leaning more towards the spiritual side of elves or even other races besides humans, it’s like a type of ascension for these beings from another plane."

"Ah, so she’s going to kind of take the spirit and put it all back together again?"

"Not exactly, but following that line of reasoning."

I think I get the gist of it. It’s like upgrading your phone but sticking with the same brand, you finally level up, but still have the same things as before, just a bit faster. Hmmm, it still worries me...

Ravenna is a bit crazy, there’s a possibility of an explosion in there that could take out at least a third of the palace before the Libertarians even arrive. I also fear this might have a risk of death, or that she might fail and suffer a serious injury.

Still, my courage to open those doors and see what’s going on inside is nil.

A heavy silence fills the air, the kind that’s thick enough to hear everyone’s heartbeats. I wish I knew if it’s my anxiety driving me crazy or something else.

Illonar had already moved away, sitting in a corner and trying to pretend he wasn’t there, while Leonhardt, of course, remained the same: stoic and immobile, like a living armor ornament who only speaks when provoked, or a guard dog ready to fetch the ball when its owner appears.

I, on the other hand, am almost tearing off my skin from drumming my fingers against the wall, mentally repeating that this is just a magic ritual, something common for witches... but it’s not.

The Silver Scar is mentioned several times throughout Sword of The Iron Maiden, but never with a decent explanation. What could be understood was that the procedure, besides being dangerous, made witches seek it as a way to "purify" their soul or face their deepest truths.

The whole thing always seemed so pompous, full of phrases like "to wound the world with light, one must embrace its darkness". Pretty idiotic, right? But now, here, with someone who’s actually going through with it, I’m not sure how to feel.

A sound echoes from inside the room, a sudden crack that makes my body freeze for an instant.

I look at the door, then at Leonhardt, but he just stands there, treating it like the most normal situation in the world.

"Can she die?", I blurt out suddenly, before I can control my mouth.

"The chance exists. If the spirit rejects her, or if she fails to maintain consciousness, the physical body deteriorates while trying to absorb the mana used during the ritual. Sometimes, it pulverizes completely."

My teeth clench. Holy shit.

"Still, I’m impressed you allowed her to go ahead", he inquisitor continues, maintaining his serious pose. "I thought you had a rather serious relationship with Ravenna to not want to put her at risk."

"There’s no other choice. If I put it off and she gets decapitated by a certain someone, it means my mission on this earth failed."

That makes me laugh, a dry, humorless laugh.

What the hell am I talking about? Mission? I just did that so we could have sex in the end. She was destined to die anyway, I found a way to take that event out of the equation and put her exactly in this moment, where the same thing could happen at any moment.

Another crack, stronger this time. Please, stop this, my heart is going to stop beating.

A glow appears from under the crack in the door, a faint, gray light.

I approach. My body starts acting on its own, without the brazen Darius taking control and cowering from everything. This is genuine fear, a type I had long ago and that was buried deep in my memories, only to resurface at this very instant.

The light intensifies, followed by a tremor passing through the air that permeates my body and destabilizes my soul. The room door slowly creaks open, pushed from within.

Ravenna appears, standing in the doorway, naked from the waist up, covered in pulsing silver lines climbing up her back and merging with her veins, only to slowly fuse with her skin, leaving nothing but a thick color of silvery mana on the witch.

There’s no doubt, she survived, but... something is different.

Ravenna raises her face towards me, and her eyes no longer have only the grayish color from before, but a cerulean hue spinning through the irises and pupils, creating a mesmerizing shadow. It’s the same trait described in other witches.

"It’s done."

Is that all? Seriously, your sense of humor was better... I take a deep breath, my muscles are entirely tense, even the ones I use to flash a mischievous smile.

"Welcome back, little witch."