Make Dark Fantasy Great Again-Chapter 30: Bondalles (2)

To cut to the chase, it was a failure.

While trying to recreate my lucky coin and learn Enchantment, a sudden thought crossed my mind: What if I mass-produced these? Could they make me money?!

Well, I ultimately scrapped the idea. As I gained a deeper understanding of Enchantment, I realized the true nature of my lucky coin—it was a vessel of power.

It wasn’t anything as fancy as a holy relic like they called it. Figuratively speaking, it was more like heated iron. Though my power had imbued it with my Intrinsic Color, that magical property was highly unstable.

If I didn’t keep infusing it with energy, it would quickly cool down and lose its properties.

Selling such an item would be no different from a scam, where I’d say, “It was fine when I sold it. No refunds.”

So, the lucky coin business was out. It was an unrealistic venture.

Calling it a holy relic and whatnot...why’d they get my hopes up?

I felt quite bitter with the dream of duping cash evaporating. Still, it wasn’t a total loss.

I looked at the coin in my hand. While I hadn’t succeeded in imbuing it with the power of purification, mana was different.

I managed to infuse the coin with mana, successfully claiming Enchantment as my technique. Sure, I was still in the very early stages, but it was a start.

At least my magical abilities had grown. And for now, that was enough.

After hearing my story, Fienne gave me an incredulous scolding.

“Did you seriously think that could work?”

“Isn’t it free to dream?”

“Free?”

She sat beside me on the bed and began wiping the blood off my face with a warm towel.

Holding up the blood-stained towel, she continued speaking.

“Enchantment takes part of your own power and infuses it into an object. It’s like kneading bread dough, except you’re using your mental and physical strength! Do you even realize how taxing it is? And you just went ahead so recklessly—”

“But I did try to control myself. I would’ve stopped if it got really dangerous.”

“Define really dangerous. Death? Fainting? Total exhaustion? Stop spewing nonsense and just say it—say you won’t push yourself like this again.”

I understood what she was getting at. I wasn’t stupid. This training was, at its core, about self-preservation. What was the point if it ended up damaging my health?

It was just a slightly special case this time. I’d felt sure that pushing through would lead to something.

“Don’t be so hard on me. I’ll give you this.”

I handed Fienne the commemorative result of my first Enchantment.

“Oh, please. What am I supposed to do with this? Don’t tell me you think this is some kind of artifact. It’s just a coin smeared with mana. Might as well use it to hammer nails without a hammer.”

“It’s the result of my first Enchantment. Won’t it gain a premium when I become a famous Enchantment master someday?”

“Sure.”

Fienne snorted, but she pocketed the coin anyway.

Then a moment later...

“Done.”

Fienne moved back, having finished wiping my face.

“Thanks, Fienne. You really are the only one who worries about me.”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t worried at all.”

Fienne huffed and got up from the bed.

“So, what now?”

“Huh?”

“You said thanks. What do you think should come next?”

“...Want a hug?”

Thwack. She tossed the towel at my face.

Apparently, that wasn’t the right answer.

“...Did you have breakfast?”

“You dare ask if I’ve eaten after causing all this chaos at the crack of dawn? No? Of course I haven’t. Thanks so much for asking.”

“In that case, may I have the honor of buying you breakfast?”

“Ugh. What should I do with that mouth of yours.”

Grumbling, Fienne headed toward the door. She paused briefly to urge me to hurry up and get ready.

Apparently, that was the right answer.

I quickly began preparing to go out. Despite training all night, I felt remarkably refreshed thanks to Fienne’s power, so checking out didn’t take long.

“Got everything?”

As a final touch, I placed a single coin on the blood-soaked blanket before stepping out.

Just as I exited, the door to the next room opened, and a woman stepped out almost at the same time.

“...”

“...”

Given the timing, our gazes met unavoidably.

My gaze lingered on the woman’s face, drawn to the scarred, burn-like marks covering the left side...and the strange feeling she seemed to exude.

***Salana had dark red hair, a long, athletic frame, and a face dominated by a striking, hideous scar.

She didn’t like being stared at because of her scar, which marred the entire left side of her face. And it wasn’t hard to guess why—who’d enjoy having their flaws openly scrutinized?

“...”

That’s why Salana was taken aback. The man from the neighboring room was staring at her, unreservedly.

What’s with this punkass?

Normally, Salana would have long pushed past him. By the time he realized his mistake, he’d be nursing a dislocated shoulder. But she decided to hold back.

Salana unconsciously touched her face. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, her skin condition had slightly improved overnight.

Had her efforts to get better finally paid off? For the very first time?!

It had been so long since her scar stayed whole through the night. For once, she woke to find her pillow soft and dry, not smothered in pus. For once, she could look at the mirror while getting ready and actually smile.

She was in a good mood—good enough to easily overlook a moment of poor manners.

“Is there something on my face?”

Salana used a cheerful tone, playing to her public persona of a high-tier adventurer.

“Huh? Oh! I—I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to.”

The man snapped out of his daze, offering an apology.

Sometimes, Salana ran into fools who stared with thinly veiled contempt, and she had to break a few fingers to get them feeling sorry.

At least this man didn’t seem like he’d need such drastic measures.

“Haha, I get it. I’m quite the beauty, as you can see. It’s only natural for a man to lose himself staring at me.”

Her tone eased into something more relaxed.

“I’m Salana, an adventurer, ranked as high-tier.”

“Ah! I’m Risir. By the way, a high-tier adventurer...? That’s incredible.”

As far as Risir knew, the average level of high-tier adventurers corresponded to the 5th rank. Someone in their 20s achieving this rank, even with noble family support, was no small feat.

“I do agree. A high-tier adventurer at my age, and with this beauty to boot? That’s why I’m letting you off the hook. For ogling me.”

“Oh...! I apologize again.”

“Come on, no need to apologize. You just got lost admiring my looks, right? Anyway, Risir, it was nice meeting you. Let’s meet again if we have the chance.”

With that, Salana turned away to leave.

“Uh, wait a moment! Miss Salana!”

“...”

Salana inwardly frowned.

Oh for crying—why’s he being such a bother? Bloody hell.

She responded with a pleasant smile.

“What is it? Don’t tell me you’re about to ask me on a date?”

“Oh...While that’s certainly an attractive proposition—”

Of course, Risir wasn’t about to ask her out. Technically, he already had a prior engagement. He didn’t forget that Fienne was waiting for him outside the inn.

Still, there was a reason he’d stopped Salana. It was the same strange feeling he’d gotten when he first encountered Todina.

Risir sensed the possibility of purification in Salana. He was certain he could help her using his power.

A high-tier adventurer, she said.

And if he could lend a hand to someone as capable as Salana and establish a positive connection, it would surely prove greatly beneficial in the future.

Moreover, Risir had come to a realization while inspecting his power the previous night—his magical abilities had grown dramatically.

Though truthfully, realized might not be the right word. Confirmed was likely more accurate.

Risir had already suspected he’d undergone two significant bursts of growth. He even knew when and why they’d occurred.

The first was after the incident with Rona. The second, after the Todina incident.

From this, Risir deduced a single fact: purification, for reasons he couldn’t yet explain, directly contributed to an increase in his magical power.

This was why he’d stopped Salana. Meeting her was practically an opportunity.

“Well? Say something.”

“...”

Risir hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject. Moments like this always felt painfully awkward. Pointing out someone’s problem based on a power he barely understood himself, and then offering to help using that same mysterious power.

How could he possibly explain this to someone else?

The lucky coin...won’t work here.

This situation was nothing like Todina’s. With her, the problem had been obvious, and she had actively sought help. Handing over the lucky coin had been enough to convey his intention.

Salana was different.

I get that her scar is the issue, but...

She wasn’t expressing her problem, and she didn’t require any assistance.

If he suddenly offered her a lucky coin, claiming it might help with her facial scar...She’d probably challenge him to a duel rather than thank him.

“Haha, that’s weird. Did I mishear? If it’s nothing, I’ll be on my way alright?”

To hell with it. It’s now or never.

“Miss Salana?! Er...Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I need you to hear me out. Do you happen to suffer from any chronic condition?”

“Chronic condition? You mean this?”

Salana rubbed her scarred face.

“If I could possibly help cure that condition...would you believe me?”

“...”

In an instant, Salana’s demeanor shifted and Risir’s hair stood on end. The subtle change in her aura was sharp, far beyond what he expected of a high-tier adventurer.

“Well? Spit it out.”

Though she retained a smile, Salana was serious underneath.

Disrespectful fools who discriminated by appearance weren’t the only ones drawn by her scar. Many others had approached her, claiming to know a way to heal her.

Without exception, they’d all been quacks or con-artists chasing the wealth of a high-tier adventurer. And none had walked away unscathed. The Black Serpent, master of the Black Hand Assassin’s Guild, had ensured they paid the price of deceit.

Behind her back, Salana’s fingers twitched as a sinister energy gathered.

The power she wielded was colorless, odorless, and formless—a phantom poison known only to those who had mastered the art of assassination to its highest peak.

A single touch with murderous intent, and the man would succumb to an inexplicable death tonight.

“Shall we move somewhere else first?”

Salana left the inn through the back door with Risir, entering a deserted alley.

***After thinking long and hard while they walked, Risir started off with a question.

“I know this is incredibly rude, but would it be alright if I touched your face for a moment, Miss Salana?”

And that got Salana pondering: Should I just kill him?

Risir misinterpreted her expression, nodding to himself as he reached out to touch her face.

“Excuse me.”

For the briefest moment, the mask of the ‘easygoing high-tier adventurer’ Salana wore cracked. A man’s hand was now touching the very area she avoided.

Her eyes flashed with a chilling glare.

I may as well hear him out. See what sort of bull he’s got to shit.

All the quacks and con artists Salana met so far had tried to exploit her medical ignorance, to deceive and manipulate her with their smooth talk. Through those encounters, she realized one thing about them.

Three minutes. If anyone’s spiel lasted longer than that, it wasn’t worth listening to. And so, Risir had exactly three minutes.

He nodded, and slowly began to speak.

Salana commenced her mental countdown, watching closely to see how this foolish conman would squander his remaining moments.

“It’s done. Would you like to check?”

“?”

***

■Salana

Level: 61

Race: Human

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Class: Assassin

***