Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 137

In the depths of the labyrinth, where the lingering scent of battle still clung to the air, Walm stared into the endless darkness above. The hexagram-shaped summoning sigil had vanished without a trace. Only the shadows stirred, flowing with the flicker of dying embers, as if testing the boundaries of their dominion.

“Walm, are you in pain?”

“No… I’m stable.”

“That’s good to hear. Hari, do you need water?”

“Not… right now.”

Beside Walm were Hari and Mariante, both severely wounded. Compared to Walm and Hari, who were essentially immobilized, Mariante had escaped with a dislocated shoulder and ligament damage in one knee. She could still walk with a limp. With Merrill and Yuna out scouting the perimeter, Mariante had been left in charge of caring for the others.

Thanks to an emergency procedure involving a puncture to the chest cavity, Walm’s breathing had stabilized. Hari had then used the last of his mana to seal the hole in Walm’s lung. Unfortunately, that had drained him completely, and the rest of their wounds had only received the most basic first aid. Walm and Mariante’s fractures had been set with makeshift splints, and Hari, who was covered in deep lacerations, was tightly wrapped in herb-soaked bandages. Anyone unfamiliar with the situation might have mistaken them for cursed corpses or some new kind of monster. The once most formidable party in the labyrinth now looked like a group of battered old men gathered in a nursing home.

“Hey, Mariante. Got a cigarette—”

“Don’t even joke about that. You had a hole in your chest a moment ago. I wouldn’t even laugh if smoke started coming out.”

“I don’t have one anyway… Just asking to pass the time.”

“Sigh… I thought you were one of the more serious ones, but you’re just another weirdo.”

Mariante sighed, clearly baffled. Walm looked aggrieved by her reaction, but Hari, who was just as wounded, murmured in his defense.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Mariante. Wanting a smoke after a big job… that’s only human.”

“Don’t say something sensible all of a sudden… Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

Whether she was serious or not, Walm couldn’t tell. They passed the time in idle conversation. Since entering the lower depths, they had barely had time to rest or sleep. This moment of nothingness was pure bliss for Walm.

About half an hour passed before familiar footsteps reached Walm’s ears. He wasn’t the only one waiting eagerly for their return.

“How did it go, Merrill?”

Merrill, carrying Walm’s familiar halberd on her shoulder, answered Mariante’s question.

“That familiar black hole has reappeared at the center of the groove. I can’t say for sure, but if we jump in, we should be able to return to the surface.”

“That’s a relief.”

After defeating the Undead Dragon in such an unorthodox way, Walm had been concerned that the labyrinth would reject them and trap them forever. But with a clear exit now visible, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Took some effort to find, but I also recovered your halberd, Walm.”

Merrill gave the weapon a light tap, as if to show it off. Despite being hurled away during the battle, it showed no major damage.

“That helps a lot, thanks.”

Walm had been using that halberd ever since the border war with the Mayard. He wasn’t one to claim it was irreplaceable, but it had become an extension of his body. To him, it was worth more than any amount of gold. As he reached for it, his arm trembled with pain, unable to move properly.

“I’ll set it here for you.”

Seeing his struggle, Merrill gently laid the halberd beside the stone slab Walm was using as a pillow. She and Yuna then joined the group, finally bringing everyone together in the depths of the labyrinth.

“Things seem calm for now. It might be a bit early to celebrate, but it looks like we actually conquered the labyrinth.”

There had probably never been a less triumphant conquest in history. Despite the grand title of labyrinth conqueror, Walm couldn’t even stand. He looked like a wounded soldier in a field hospital, half-asleep from exhaustion.

“…I was hoping for a bit more fanfare.”

Merrill had likely expected applause or cheering, but Walm didn’t even have the strength to celebrate. Yuna was as silent as ever, and Mariante wasn’t one to express much emotion. Normally, Hari would be clapping and throwing compliments around, but he was lying beside Walm in the same sorry state. All he could manage was some muffled mumbling through his bandages.

“If Hari and I suddenly jumped up, singing and dancing, that would be worse, wouldn’t it?”

“Worse? It’d be terrifying.”

Merrill shuddered at the mental image Walm conjured.

“Let’s wrap this up.”

Prompted by Yuna, Merrill gave a sigh, sounding slightly sulky to Walm’s ears.

“You’re all so cold. Well, I’d lie down and sleep too if I could. So let me just hit the main points. Once we get back to the surface, we probably won’t get a chance to talk things through calmly in a while.”

Merrill pulled out two magic bags. One belonged to the Three Magic Attack party, and the other was the one Walm had been given by the military god Gerald Berger during his days in Highserk.

“We gathered as many of the Undead Dragon’s fangs and claws as we could. As materials and catalysts, they’re top-tier. The guild and marquis Borgia will absolutely want to buy them. We should get a decent cut even after we sell most of it.”

Even Walm, who knew little about history or geography, had heard of the Borgia family during his time in the labyrinth city. They were powerful aristocrats who governed the city and acted as intermediaries for the mainland outside the central islands. They had gotten in power during the Unification War, according to what Walm had heard.

“We’d be in trouble without a souvenir. It’s the only way to avoid a long, drawn-out conversation with the guild.”

Mariante, perhaps recalling a similar experience, shook her head with a weary smile.

“Sounds like a pain.”

“Don’t be so dismissive. You’re not exempt either, Walm. If word spreads that someone who conquered the labyrinth only joined a party on a temporary contract and isn’t affiliated with any organization, you’re going to get swarmed. Be careful.”

“That’s… inconvenient. I’ll be on guard.”

Walm’s response prompted Merrill to continue.

“Let’s get back to it. Next up is this.”

From the magic bag, Merrill pulled out a half-rotted wooden box. Something inside clinked faintly, producing a soft metallic sound. Walm tried to guess what it might be.

“Gold coins?”

“Close, but much better than that.”

Inside the opened box lay a lump of unrefined metal. Even in the dim light of the labyrinth’s depths, the metal shimmered with a distinctive luster. Walm narrowed his eyes and muttered its name.

“Mithril ore.”

“Exactly. Pure, unmixed Mithril.”

Mithril revealed poisons, never corroded, and was light as a feather. On top of that, it channeled mana with ease. Demand always exceeded supply. Even Walm knew of its many uses—fine tableware for nobles, ornaments, weapons, and magic catalysts. Most equipment labeled as “Mithril” only had trace amounts of the real thing, yet even that was leagues above standard steel.

“Even split five ways… it’s more than enough,” Hari said, eyes fixed on the metal.

No one could blame him. With this much Mithril, Walm’s concept of money was beginning to unravel. They could divide it among the party and still afford to buy eye drops by the crate. It was absurd wealth.

“Well, I mean… I’m glad it was Mithril. If that box had been full of scrap iron, I’d have cried.”

Even Mariante, usually composed, was clearly flustered. Only Merrill and Yuna, having already absorbed the shock earlier, remained calm.

As the others remained fixated on the Mithril, Merrill gave Walm a light smack on the back of the head.

“Recognize this?”

In front of his eyes was a clear glass bottle. Inside it, a striking red plant was suspended. From stem to leaf, it was dyed in the deep crimson hue of blood. Its upward curling petals and protruding stamens looked like fingers reaching skyward from a pool of gore.

“That’s… the Deep Crimson Bloom.”

The legendary healing treasure, said to bloom forever, now floated in front of Walm inside a sealed container. His awestruck whisper caught the attention of the rest of the party.

“So that’s the Deep Crimson Bloom… eerie, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, but also kind of disturbing.”

Despite the dusty bottle, the flower within remained vibrant, brimming with a glossy, unnatural allure. It was easy to believe it might be an expertly crafted artificial flower. Walm could feel the unchanging nature of the plant.

“Doesn’t look like it was growing from the ground.”

“It was next to the Mithril. Thought it might be fun to surprise you.”

“That’s more than just a little surprise.”

Walm grumbled, but Merrill looked thoroughly pleased with herself. After a while, the party settled down again. Mariante, eyeing the flower, posed a question.

“So, Walm, are you just going to gulp that down right here?”

“G-gulp? Should I chew it instead?”

Walm was flustered. Was it really as simple as eating it like garnish or a salad? He had finally acquired the legendary Deep Crimson Bloom, but he had no clue how to actually use it.

“…Doesn’t look tasty.”

“You’re saying it works just by eating it?”

“What if it’s supposed to be used as a salve?”

One question led to another, and answers remained elusive. The situation threatened to spiral until Hari, deep in thought, spoke slowly.

“The Deep Crimson Bloom should be eaten. Chewing is better than swallowing whole. But ideally, you should consult an Alchemist or a Healing Mage. It’s a precious item so choose your expert wisely.”

Even amidst the confusion, Hari provided a sound, level-headed answer. As a former warrior monk, he was as capable as any high priest in offering guidance. Walm felt a renewed respect for him—until he heard a hissing breath.

The sound came from Hari, and his bandaged face was now breathing heavily.

“…Hari.”

“Don’t look at me like that, so passionate—”

“Enough. Just stop.”

Walm’s gratitude vanished in an instant. With a sharp glare, he hurled a scrap of bandage into Hari’s face. It struck cleanly, blocking his vision. Walm exhaled in relief.

As if the moment had never happened, Merrill resumed the discussion.

“So, the plan is settled. Walm, keep the Bloom sealed in your magic bag until it can be properly used.”

“If you lose it, we’re going through the labyrinth again.”

Without delay, Walm shoved the flower into his magic bag. It was already packed with Undead Dragon’s materials and resisted with a pushback that transferred up his arm. At the same time, Merrill was storing the Mithril into hers. With their loot gathered, there was no longer any reason to linger.

That said, Walm and Hari were in no condition to walk.

After much debate, they settled on a solution that now groaned in protest.

“Ugh… he’s heavy.”

“My apologies…”

Yuna staggered at the front of the line, Hari strapped to her back. Though Mariante and Merrill were carrying Hari’s gear, it was still grueling work. Hari’s burly monk physique didn’t help. Still, Yuna’s archer-strengthened frame handled the burden admirably.

Mariante followed close behind, glancing back with a mixture of pity and fatigue. Her injured knee required support, so she was using her beloved mace as a makeshift cane.

Walm, hobbling at the rear, would have loved to do the same with his halberd, but with a shattered left arm and ankle, and a damaged lung, he could barely move. Merrill, carrying a share of the gear, offered him her shoulder.

He slung his arm over the back of her neck, and she steadied it with her hand. Their bodies drew close, moving in sync. When Walm stumbled, Merrill quietly adjusted to match his pace.

Their shadows merged and swayed with every step.

“Hey, Walm.”

Her breath tickled his skin. Her voice, soft and quiet, stirred the air near his ear.

“…What is it?”

“Nothing really. I was just thinking… I’m really glad I got to team up with you.”

“That’s sudden.”

Walm lifted his face. Her bright green hair and heterochromatic eyes filled his vision. At first, he’d thought her appearance flashy, even distracting. But now, there was something calming in the contrast.

“Thank you, Walm.”

So close their cheeks nearly touched, Walm could only respond with an embarrassed look.

Translator – Lyxxna