Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 150

Chapter 150

Read it only at Utoon.net!
Discord         

The first person Turan encountered upon entering the jewel box was the librarian who occupied the space near the entrance as his library.

This elderly spirit, who had been deeply engrossed in absorbing new knowledge from various ancient books throughout the gray zone since the establishment of the Parsha family, addressed Turan gruffly after not seeing him for quite some time.

“Have you brought another one to torture?”

“If the conversation goes well, there might be no need for torture.”

“Just don’t make too much noise.”

Despite his words, the librarian had silently encouraged Turan in the past when he had been frustrated by his inability to extract information from Kadram.

In response, Turan smiled awkwardly and bowed his head.

After passing through the library section and moving past Kadram’s prison where he still remained unresponsive like a corpse, Turan finally reached the large prison where Lesion was confined.

“You…”

The spirit form of Lesion Baraha, the Baraha family head, was bound tightly with long, thick gray chains.

These were the restraint magical devices that the Baraha nobles had once used to confine Solif, which Turan had taken after killing them—now recreated exactly as he imagined them.

Facing Lesion, whose appearance remained inhuman, Turan asked:

“How do you speak without a mouth?”

“Is that what you’re most curious about?”

“There are many other things too, but right now, that’s what I’m most interested in. What exactly are you?”

“I am Lesion Baraha, the head of Baraha. Or more precisely, I was. Now I’m just a ghost, having died.”

At Lesion’s self-deprecating remark, Turan snickered before his face hardened.

His face, which already looked somewhat sinister when not smiling, appeared even more cruel with the spirit form’s characteristic vertical slit pupils and aggressive expression.

“First, let me make one thing clear: I know you have a technique to feign unconsciousness by abandoning consciousness.”

“And?”

“The moment you try to escape that way, I will completely shred your soul into pieces. To such an extent that no method could ever restore it. This is advice for your own good. If you’re waiting for your companions to rescue you, don’t bother.”

The soul is immortal.

This teaching from the soul magic book was both true and false.

The spirit form itself, constituting the true self, can never be destroyed by any means, but it can certainly be disturbed and confused.

In other words, even if Turan deliberately tore Lesion’s spirit form into pieces as small as those soul fragments, or even smaller, it would still technically be Lesion.

But there would be no meaning to a name attached to a spirit form that could no longer think like its original self.

Unfortunately, it was difficult to judge whether Lesion felt fear upon hearing these words.

Since both were in spirit form, reading emotions through scent was difficult, and his inhuman facial features made visual analysis challenging.

Fortunately, Lesion’s subsequent response was positive.

“…If I cooperate, what do I get in return? A life as a perpetual prisoner in this jail?”

“Whether existence as a soul can be called ‘life’ is debatable, but I can guarantee better treatment depending on the value of the information you provide.”

As Turan spoke, he lightly flicked his finger, instantly transforming the prison environment.

A warmly burning fireplace, an armchair, bookshelves lining one wall filled with well-finished books, honey-glazed cod and pork stew so tender that the meat fell off the bone.

As the box’s owner, he could manifest anything he had directly experienced within this space.

“A life of living in a good place, eating delicious food, and seeing interesting things. Perhaps these are excessively materialistic pleasures… but better than being torn to pieces or trapped forever in an empty prison, right? Though I wonder if you can eat with that mouth of yours.”

With another flick of his finger, everything vanished as if it had been an illusion, and the interior returned to a cold prison.

Though nothing had tangibly changed, the absence of the fireplace’s warmth made the air feel much colder than before.

“And, this is just hypothetical, but if our situation outside becomes unfavorable, I might temporarily release you. As a combat asset.”

From past experience, Turan knew that these god vessels, though with individual differences, often displayed powers several levels beyond their bodies’ original capabilities, even when possessing mid-to-upper-rank nobles.

Lesion, who had once been Baraha’s family head, would certainly be no less powerful, if not more so.

He would be quite valuable as a combat asset in emergencies.

Of course, since the body he would possess would essentially have its personality eradicated, they would need to choose among terrible criminals…

If the situation became dire enough, “conscripting” Lesion in such a manner was a viable option.

“Of course, for that to happen, you’d need to tell me many things. Like how to create a soul anchor, or how to enter Baraha’s anchor location here…”

“Haven’t you found it yet?”

“We’ve only just entered the Temple of the Sun.”

In reality, they had thoroughly searched the temple until nightfall without finding any traces, but Turan was deliberately bluffing.

He assumed Lesion wouldn’t be particularly sensitive to the passage of time while confined in this prison.

After a moment of silence, Lesion spoke quietly:

“Very well. But I hope you keep your promises. I hope you respect me as much as I respect you, Turan Parsha.”

Perhaps considering himself a negotiation partner, Lesion had reverted to the elegant speech pattern he had used initially, abandoning his earlier casual tone.

Turan nodded with an expressionless face at this disgusting display of putting on a mask.

“Good. Then let me ask first: What is your identity? Why does your spirit form look so different from a human’s?”

“What’s the payment for this question?”

Instead of answering Lesion’s counter-question, Turan lightly flicked his finger, causing the chains to tighten.

With a crushing sound, suppressed groans echoed through the prison.

“Starting with tricks already. You seem to be misunderstanding—this isn’t an information exchange. It’s an interrogation of a prisoner.”

“Ugh… your hand is quite harsh.”

Lesion attempted to appear composed as before, but the pain evident in each syllable undermined his efforts.

When Turan temporarily loosened the chains’ restraint, Lesion muttered in a somewhat resigned tone:

“Fine, I am… human. Or at least, I think of myself as human. Though in reality, I might be a white elf.”

“…White elf?”

Turan couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at this unexpected statement.

Why would that suddenly come up here?

Actually, after hearing it, it did make some sense.

The pure white skin and those tentacle-like ears would satisfy the typical characteristic of elves—”ears longer than humans.”

But wasn’t his appearance too alien to be considered an elf?

“The dark elves I saw before didn’t look much different from humans except for their ears.”

“I too, or rather… white elves too don’t look much different from humans in physical form except for the ears. They only appear this way when viewed as spirit forms.”

“I see. So, what exactly does it mean that you think of yourself as human but might actually be a white elf?”

Lesion hesitated momentarily at Turan’s question.

When Turan slightly moved the chains, Lesion flinched before continuing:

“Long ago, Lesion… or rather, the one nicknamed ‘The Mechanic,’ was terrified by the sudden deaths of his companions.”

Listening to Lesion’s tale, Turan realized it referred to the distant ancient era when the Freya gods’ lifespans had ended and the old empire collapsed, and his eyes widened.

Finally, he was hearing about that era which even the librarian hadn’t known properly, having been trapped in the library.

“At that time, the Mechanic and a few surviving friends learned after many sacrifices that the problem was related to souls and age, but unfortunately, they weren’t particularly well-versed in soul magic. That field was almost monopolized by the Puppetmaster of the west.”

“Puppetmaster?”

“Yes. Well, he seems to have the ability to detect when information related to him is mentioned. It would be better not to discuss him outside.”

From Lesion’s words, Turan realized that the Puppetmaster he referred to was the leader of the Arabion-Nagin faction, the Biologist.

It made more sense to assume they were the same person with different names, rather than two separate individuals with such abilities.

‘Puppetmaster…’

Recalling the Dominator and Beast Handler bloodlines of Nagin, Turan thought it was a fitting name.

After all, both abilities involved dominating or spiritually influencing beings other than oneself.

“Anyway, they already had poor feelings toward the Puppetmaster and sought white elf spirit mages as an alternative. Since spirit magic itself was considered a threatening ability and subject to eradication, this wasn’t easy, but they managed to gather a few.”

“Did they use them to attempt body transference through spirit magic?”

“Correct. However, the white elves had no intention of readily helping the Freya gods who had driven them to extinction… They attempted to interfere during the soul transference using spirit magic. To inhabit the human bodies that the gods were trying to claim.”

“No way.”

Turan finally grasped the meaning behind Lesion’s earlier words.

“That’s right. I think of myself as one of the Freya gods… players who came to this world in the distant past, but I also think of myself as Aplesoiya, a white elf born on this land. With memories of being born and growing up as both beings, it’s difficult to define my identity as either. You could call me a spiritual hybrid.”

To think that the false rumor Turan had spread about white elves occupying Arabion’s upper echelon was actually true here?

No, strictly speaking, the entity before him wasn’t just a white elf since he was also a fallen ancient god.

“You seem quite surprised.”

“To be honest, quite. So all of the Baraha faction are half white elves?”

“Yes. Not just us, but Ruban as well.”

Turan recalled the Ruban heir he had seen recently.

The idea of a fallen ancient god possessing his body was already disgusting, but learning that it was half another species intensified his revulsion.

Since relations with Ruban had already deteriorated through this conflict, perhaps they should address them next when the opportunity arose…

“What about Zahar and the others?”

“I don’t know for certain, but I believe not. They seem to have a method to wield stronger power through human bodies.”

“Then they wouldn’t know your true identity either.”

“Had they known, we would have been eradicated long ago. Their dislike for us is well-known. It’s fortunate that we can at least maintain interactions by posing as gods, having retained some of the original memories, however imperfectly.”

Fortunately, white elf spirit magic wasn’t limited to physical manifestation but was a kind of spiritual technique, allowing them to continue reincarnation as they did now even while inhabiting human bodies.

Apparently, this operated on a somewhat different principle than how the gods of the west reincarnated.

“Good. Then where are your companions? I’ll pay an appropriate price for this question.”

As Turan spoke, he flicked his finger, causing the chains binding Lesion’s body to loosen automatically.

Of course, even without the chains’ restraint, Lesion couldn’t do anything in this place, but just being able to move his limbs freely would provide considerable relief.

“You’re releasing me before even hearing my answer?”

“Naturally, if your answer isn’t satisfactory, you’ll be chained again.”

Turan paid this reward in advance to let Lesion experience the refreshing feeling of being freed from the chains.

After tasting this, he wouldn’t want to return to his previous tightly bound state.

“For your information, I already know they’re somewhere underground. I’m asking you just to avoid the hassle.”

Despite his casual tone, Turan considered finding and restraining these Baraha gods quite important.

Though unlikely, if they managed to escape from their soul repository on their own and possess bodies again, it would require considerable effort to find and eliminate them.

Lesion hesitated for a long time, sighing repeatedly, apparently reluctant to betray his companions.

Eventually, he nodded, either convinced by Turan’s bluff about already knowing they were underground or persuaded by the threatening rattling of the chains.

After all, he was a prisoner in Turan’s grasp, unable to enjoy even minimal peace, let alone freedom, if he didn’t comply.

“In the study next to the bedroom, stand before the second bookshelf and recite an incantation. Say ‘Om amogha vairochana mahamudra mani padma jvala pravartaya hum.’ Use the same method to close the door.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s from a novel I enjoyed reading long ago, so I’m not sure. It might be some kind of Buddhist mantra.”

Though Buddhism and mantras were unfamiliar terms, Turan didn’t react to every such detail.

By now, he was accustomed to these godlike beings mentioning concepts from worldviews he didn’t understand.

“Good, let’s first verify this and then continue our conversation.”

“Mm.”

Anyone with sense would understand that lying would result in even more terrible consequences.

Judging by his calm attitude, the method he had just revealed was likely not entirely false.

* * *

After concluding the negotiation and leaving the jewel box, Turan relayed his conversation with Lesion to the two people waiting outside.

Both were shocked, but Solif, being more directly concerned, showed greater astonishment.

“Lesion… a white elf? No, all the gods of our family!?”

“It’s somewhat ambiguous to call them exactly white elves, but roughly, yes.”

With a stunned Solif beside him, Turan recited the incantation in front of the study as instructed.

Immediately, a doorway formed in space with a humming sound.

“This is…”

Hadn’t the entrance to the underground labyrinth in the Tomb of the Gods looked exactly like this when they visited in the past?

Apparently, these beings could also use spatial abilities to a limited extent, and Turan made a mental note to ask how they had created this later.

With that thought, he stepped through the doorway with the other two.

Just as when they had crossed through Armani’s Jade Mirror, the comfortable air of the study instantly vanished, replaced by a cold atmosphere.

“A cave?”

“No, I think it’s underground. Judging by the presences I sense far above.”

Turan could feel living beings moving about hundreds of meters above.

This place seemed to be somewhere beneath Helio City, as he had guessed.

After all, he had previously seen spirit forms seeping into the ground, so this matched his expectations.

The surroundings resembled a well-organized study or secret mansion, similar to what they had seen beyond the door.

Luxurious furniture was arranged throughout the cavern, which had been smoothly finished to serve as walls.

Though relatively well-maintained, dust had settled on everything, and some living utensils had fallen to the floor.

It felt more like a poorly maintained vacation home than the headquarters of a secret organization.

Understandably, whether gods or white elves, if this place was accessible only to the highest-ranking individuals in the family, it would naturally be poorly cleaned.

They couldn’t bring in ordinary cleaners, and the users themselves weren’t the type to properly clean up after themselves.

This was separate from the fact that, as top-tier mages, they could easily tidy up with a simple gesture.

“Now, let’s search…”

“No need to look. That’s obviously it over there.”

Turan let out a soft exclamation as he looked in the direction Solif was pointing.

On one side of the cavern stood a massive stone tablet, approximately three meters tall, positioned vertically.

As he approached and awakened his spiritual perception, he could see spirits swirling inside.

Unlike Lesion whom he had seen earlier, some appeared more alien, while others had spirit forms relatively similar to humans.

The rulers of Baraha were trapped in this single stone tablet, awaiting his judgment.

“Greetings, friends.”

Time to bring them out and move them to a better place, Turan muttered with a sinister expression as he reached out his hand.