Paradise Bank.
This transcontinental financial institution was established by the elves of Paradise, allegedly to preserve the knowledge and legacy of short-lived races. Over time, Paradise Bank indeed conserved and passed on technologies and legacies that had naturally faded. The Magic Tower, for instance, acquired ancient essence refinement techniques through dealings with the bank.
Of course, there was always a price.
“Bank President, the shipment of mana stones refined by the Magic Tower has been completed. The impurity content is minimal. It appears they have improved the refinement process through the essence technique.”
“Ask them if they are willing to transfer that technique to us. We will determine if it holds value for Paradise’s knowledge repository and offer appropriate compensation.”
“… The Elhaz family mentioned curbing excessive outflows. Specifically, the advancements of the Magic Tower pose a considerable threat.”
“They are short-lived species after all. Knowledge tends to degrade over generations. Assure them that there’s no significant concern from our side.”
The price was negligible compared to the benevolence bestowed by Paradise Bank.
“Next is…”
“President Serenil.”
“Vice President Roen.”
The youngest elder of one of the six great families, Serenil, glanced at the intruder of the meeting.
Roen, the vice president of Paradise Bank and the de facto leader driving its business, quietly furrowed his brow.
─A young member of Eiwass has passed away. You remember E-Urel, who was handling affairs in the Renford Kingdom, correct?
─E-Urel? Sent to establish our presence in the Northern Sea. Yes, I remember. He has returned to the embrace of nature?
─The spirit he contracted has come back to me.
Roen conveyed E-Urel’s death through a unique sound wave perceptible only to elven senses, and summoned the blue wolf spirit through spirit magic.
─Is this E-Urel’s spirit?
─Yes. Would you like to see?
Serenil nodded slightly, and Roen closed his eyes, chanting in ancient Elvish. It was an elven incantation.
Hummm.
A gentle light enveloped Serenil’s retinas.
The ancient incantation allowed retrieval of the memories that nature held, and it also worked on spirits, as they are part of nature.
Though E-Urel’s level was too low for a perfectly clear memory, it was sufficient to understand the situation.
“…A barbarian from the North?”
Surprised by the unexpected nature of the brute glimpsed through the spirit’s memory, Serenil let out her query aloud and extinguished the light in her eyes.
─How many northern barbarian who crossed into the continent are strong enough to defeat an elf contracted with a spirit?
─There were about twenty of them, around three to four hundred years ago. Not many have stood out recently—oh, there is one notable individual.
Roen, who handled the practical operations of Paradise Bank, was responsible for gathering and compiling information from the bank’s branches across the continent.
Serenil, the bank president, offered final approvals and guidance on major business directions. She wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about her role.
However, Roen understood Serenil’s lack of enthusiasm. Being the youngest elder from one of the Six Families, she was appointed as the bank president for the next century. For an elf who grew up in the paradise of the elves, it was akin to torture.
“Bring me the documents on the Dragon Slayer of Argon Kingdom.”
“Understood!”
Feeling a pang of sympathy for Serenil, Roen instructed an elf subordinate to fetch information about a certain individual.
“Here are the relevant documents.”
“Good work.”
Among the numerous chaotic incidents occurring in the borderlands, this was one of the most intriguing. It involved a barbarian who had personally resolved a significant issue.
Serenil’s eyes skimmed through the soft elf-made paper, and she spoke after more than ten minutes.
─Everything written here is true?
─It’s verified information. While some details might be missing, what’s recorded is accurate, as always.
─Astonishing. To think he eradicated a revived golden dragon with a single strike…
Despite her youthful and beautiful appearance, Serenil was an ancient being for whom counting the years of life had become meaningless. Moreover, as a member of one of the Six Families, she knew many secrets unknown to the public.
─A golden dragon… If I recall correctly, the name of the dragon captured by human mages in the distant past was also Golden Dragon.
The information didn’t end there. There were claims that a single sword strike obliterated buildings and walls within the royal palace—a tale so absurd that even insiders who were on the bank’s payroll echoed the same story.
‘Perhaps it’s possible for elders contracted with ancient spirits…’
─The next section details the movements of the individual presumed to be the same barbarian now known as the Dragon Slayer of Argon.
Serenil nodded slightly and continued reading the remaining paragraphs. The more she read, the more it seemed like she was witnessing a scene from an ancient legend.
─Is Eiwass planning to send hunters?
─We plan to dispatch ten of our family’s hunters. Half of them will be elite spirit contractors.
‘Five spirit contractors…’
For the elves, a race with few offspring, sending ten hunters out of Paradise was a significant decision. Among them, spirit contractors were particularly precious. Sending five beings equivalent to the human concept of ‘superhumans’ would be a considerable force.
However, Serenil shook her head.
─This beast’s actions are troubling. Especially if the strike used against the Golden Dragon wasn’t a temporary boost from an artifact but something they can repeatedly perform.
Even though Eiwass was willing to incur significant losses to handle this, there was no need for an elder of Isha to intervene. Yet, Serenil’s unease about this mysterious barbarian prompted her to act.
─Bring the short-lived alchemist we recently acquired.
Roen flinched significantly at Serenil’s decision. The term ‘short-lived alchemist’ was what caused Roen’s reaction.
─That individual… Very well, I’ll bring them.
He initially seemed hesitant but ultimately agreed with Serenil’s decision. After all, there was no need to cut into their own resources unnecessarily.
It took quite some time before Roen returned after heading off somewhere. However, for Serenil, who had lived an exceedingly long life, it wasn’t particularly long.
Especially knowing that the short-lived one they were bringing back was likely in a drugged stupor, some time was necessary.
“…She consumed several times the lethal dose. I managed to wake her just enough for a conversation.”
“Very well.”
Roen, with a faintly irritated expression, dragged the woman across the floor and dropped her in front of Serenil. Flaming red hair spilled over the marble floor.
“Uhuhuh. Why did you call me this time? Finally decided to have some fun with me, pretty pointy-eared one?”
The red-haired woman, lying on the floor and giggling to herself, pushed herself up, only to stagger and catch herself on the ground.
A typical behavior of a drug addict. Yet, Serenil and Roen were evidently tense in the presence of this woman. Elven ancients who had lived for centuries.
“Aah.. My body feels stiff. This batch was pretty strong. It was great; next time, make it even stronger, okay?”
“If it’s any stronger, no matter how resilient your body is, you’ll end up damaged.”
“Don’t worry, pointy-eared one. That’s for me to decide. I’m already pissed off because I was woken up halfway through.”
An eerie chill filled the room.
The woman righted herself shakily, her physique imposing. She stood about a head taller than an average human woman, with broad shoulders and visible, well-defined muscles on her partly exposed body.
But the most unsettling aspect was her eyes. After a day of soaking in the concoctions of elven secret potions, her green eyes gleamed with murderous intent. Eyes that looked nothing like those of someone high on an overdose of drugs.
“…In any case, you won’t need to soak in the potion for a while. We have a task for you, as promised.”
“A task?”
“You barged in here demanding our elven potions, threatening us. Surely, you haven’t forgotten what we asked from you in return.”
“Oh—”
The red-haired woman scratched the back of her head roughly, sweeping her fingers through her bangs. Revealing a face that, despite being associated with a drug addict, was remarkably healthy and beautiful.
“Right, I remember now. If someone as high and mighty as you is asking me for help, the enemy must be quite something.”
Her words showed no regard for the fact that she was speaking to the bank president and elder of one of the six great families. But Serenil remained stoically unreactive.
“Such a letdown. Here I thought you finally decided to roll in the hay with me, pointy ears. But let me be clear. Don’t ask anything that will endanger me. Even though that old coot trapped in the Great Demonic Realm rarely checks in on me, I don’t want to end up dead.”
“Your target is someone with no ties to you. A barbarian from the North.”
“A barbarian? From Hoarfrost Gorge?”
For an instant, a glint appeared in the red-haired woman’s green eyes.
“What did that barbarian do?”
“The next elder of Paradise. You might recognize the face. E-Urel was killed by that barbarian, and we want revenge.”
“You want to use my blade for something like this?”
“It’s not just something like this, Roen.”
The vice president, Roen, handed over the information he had transcribed in the Imperial language to the woman, who then broke into a broad smile.
“This does sound interesting. Ha, is this person even human?”
“Currently, he is crossing the Northern Sea on a scheduled ship from the Renford Kingdom, heading towards a port city in Northland.”
“What? Doesn’t that mean it’s already too late?”
“We have dwarven ships at our disposal. Using them, you should be able to catch up.”
“In that case— I leave the preparations to you. Just make sure to stock my bag well with the necessary drugs.”
Leaving those words behind, the red-haired woman glided out of the room.
‘A barbarian who attracts incidents…’
Her gait, which had been staggering up until she left Serenil and Roen’s sight, suddenly became firm and assured.
With a physique that had surpassed the human limits through endless training and a mental fortitude honed by pushing herself to the brink daily, she shook off the drug’s effects in no time.
Of course, not just anyone could achieve this. It was possible because she was a rare genius, having one of the strongest swordsmen in the Empire as her master.
‘It’s nice to enjoy my newfound freedom, but I can’t ignore something as intriguing as this—’
Furthermore, the quarry aligned perfectly with her master’s directive to investigate significant events beyond the Sword Mountain. A barbarian who was practically a living calamity, causing turmoil wherever he went.
Thus, Leniyar, the second disciple of the Empire’s greatest swordsman and the inheritor of ancient swordsmanship, set off to Northland to follow Khan and his party.
TL’s Corner:
New party member?