Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.12 - Chapter Pr

Prologue

Though normally free of anything else, the hall containing Alexandria’s foundation now housed rows of boxes packed with magic tools and rejuvenation potions. The ancient spell about to be revived would cover the entire duchy. A dish-shaped rainbow feystone sat waiting with one of Erwaermen’s white branches stabbed into it.

“Let us begin,” Ferdinand called.

Rozemyne put both hands on the dish. It was empty at first but slowly came to resemble a water mirror as she channeled mana into it. Erwaermen’s white branch took on a rainbow hue, and a pillar of omni-elemental light shot toward the ceiling. From what Ferdinand could tell, it was being sucked into the feystones of each element orbiting the foundation.

“Ferdinand...” Rozemyne said. “This is...”

He turned his attention from the feystones to the water mirror sitting on the ground. Its surface traced the creation of the magic circle, showing first a group of nobles waving their lit schtappes above their heads, then the brightly lit Noble’s Quarter, and then the lower city.

It must be true, then—spells cast here take shape in the Mana Replenishment hall.

Indeed, their circle—and any other spells the aub cast in the foundation’s hall—grew from the castle outward. It explained why nobles of the past had never suspected that the foundation was actually located inside the temple. They would be told the truth during the Archduke Conference, and one could only imagine the chaos that would ensue.

Ferdinand drew his eyebrows into a frown. For all the troubles on the horizon, they had to focus on the present. Rozemyne needed to empty her mana reserves, else Ferdinand would not be able to dye her, and she would ultimately succumb to the divine power within her.

We have come too far to fail now.

Rozemyne no longer had a home in Ehrenfest, but it did not matter; she had obtained an entire duchy that she could shape as she pleased. Ferdinand, meanwhile, had taken advantage of a royal decree to go from being someone merely close to her to being her true family.

I will not allow the gods to toy with our lives and end our dreams before they can come true.

“Focus. The circle is not yet complete.”

They had managed to activate their spell—a mere imitation of the original used at the Royal Academy—but Ferdinand remained as tense as ever. Only time would tell whether it would actually reach completion.

The basis of their plan was sound, but they had not been able to practice. This was their only chance, and the risk of everything coming apart at the seams was far from small. Ferdinand worried that Rozemyne might collapse before she could expel the divine power rampaging through her. Maybe she would panic and drink a rejuvenation potion, and the human mana it contained would cause the ancient spell to fail. There was so much that could go wrong.

If she can endure the starvation, then Rozemyne should manage to expend the last of her mana. But even that is no guarantee.

“One of the knights just started praying!” Rozemyne exclaimed. “I guess Hartmut’s lessons went a little too far...”

Ferdinand took a moment to observe the girl peering into the water mirror. Though she remarked enthusiastically on the state of the border gates, he would not be deceived; she was a more capable noble than before and now knew exactly how to disguise her true emotions. He tried not to remember her voice or the look in her eyes when she had said she was too afraid of her mana regenerating to sleep.

Their plan would put Rozemyne on the very brink of death; even the slightest hiccup could mean her demise. Ferdinand continued to watch her while checking for the umpteenth time that everything he needed was within reach.

The gods truly are despicable.

A deep scowl creased his brow as he remembered the spiteful goddess who had put Rozemyne in these dire circumstances to begin with.

The transference ceremony had already begun when Mestionora once again descended. Ferdinand was glaring at her with as much hate as he could muster—and she, at him.

“Tell me what the gods did to Rozemyne, how to fully remove the sway of her divine power, and what means other than channeling mana into her will restore her lost memories. In return, I will give Erwaermen the antidote for the poison keeping him frozen.”

To punctuate his ultimatum, Ferdinand showed not only the antidote but also the silver tubes and daggers still on his person. He refused to cower even in the face of a goddess and would not hesitate to threaten her or continue to attack Erwaermen.

“Then have Eglantine administer the antidote while I explain.”

Determined not to let any more harm come to Erwaermen, Mestionora relinquished the information her adversary desired. She was much easier to persuade than the former god, who resembled a brick wall when it came to communication.

As it turned out, Erwaermen had thought it best for Rozemyne to become the country’s next Zent. She had reached the foundation on her own and then supplied it with mana, so he had concluded that she was as good a candidate as any.

Problems had arisen only when Erwaermen sought to welcome Mestionora back into Rozemyne’s body. The young bookworm’s charms had prevented the goddess’s return, so the gods had intervened, assaulting Rozemyne with blessings in an attempt to overcome them. But alas, the charms had not activated, and their wearer had suddenly received more divine power than a human body could endure. Only by allowing Mestionora’s descent had she managed to survive.

“Gods, what have you done...?” Ferdinand muttered. The explanation was clear but completely unacceptable. Events he had thought existed only in myths had somehow bled through into the real world.

Not even I predicted this.

Ferdinand saw the divine light seeping from Rozemyne’s body and considered it repulsive. Most attendees of the transference ceremony had gushed that she was blessed and that they envied her, but he wanted nothing more than to free her from Mestionora’s sick clutches.

“Legends say that rash blessings from the gods can sometimes be a curse...” Ferdinand mused. “To think it would apply to Rozemyne...”

“It is because the gods did not intend for this outcome that I am here,” Mestionora replied. “I can borrow the divine instruments of the primary and the supreme gods. Nobody else can manage the powers clashing within her.”

Ferdinand recalled the legends recorded in the temple and the Royal Academy. The primary and supreme gods had given Mestionora access to their divine instruments as protection against her father, Ewigeliebe, who wished to see her dead.

A goddess who, despite being a Wind subordinate, is in tune with all elements... How troublesome.

Ferdinand was overcome with misery. The legends spoke of ways to reverse curses brought about by the gods, but there was only so much he could do against an opponent as capable as Mestionora.

“As for erasing the divine power within her,” the goddess continued, “not much can be done while it remains so dominant. One could make her compatible with it by dyeing her body with the power of a stronger god, thereby easing her pain, but she would cease to be mortal as a result.”

Ferdinand swallowed the urge to snap at Mestionora and instead adopted the most genuine-seeming smile he could muster. He wanted to free Rozemyne from the gods’ blessings, not push her closer to becoming a fully divine being.

“I wish to return her mana to that of a mortal,” he emphasized.

“If you can almost fully drain her, then I suspect you could redye her with human mana. It would not be her original mana, but it would produce the desired result. You should not have any trouble dyeing her, I assume.”

Under normal circumstances, nobles only ever dyed or poured mana into their partners or members of their family. Dyeing a complete stranger was an unpleasant and outright painful experience widely considered taboo, so any regular noble would probably have balked at the goddess’s proposal.

Ferdinand, however, was no regular noble. He had grown up a feystone in the Adalgisa villa and was not averse to regulating his mana with potions and the like. Deep down, he believed that all people were fated to become feystones and that exchanges of mana were only natural.

I am not opposed to the act of redyeing Rozemyne.

Rather, he took issue with draining her mana. It was a painful process, as he had come to learn when he was stuck in Ahrensbach’s Mana Replenishment hall. He did not want to put Rozemyne through the same torture.

“Draining her mana would put her at risk of death,” Ferdinand said. “Are there any other methods we could use?”

“If you would rather not redye her all at once, then you will need to wait for her original mana to return.”

“Is that to say the divinely dyed mana will disappear with use?”

“Of course not. It will fade somewhat but regenerate alongside her normal mana. The pain she feels will persist until the last of the gods’ power disappears, and it will not be a short process, by any means. Judging by how she has responded so far, I do not believe Myne would survive. I would advise you to redye her instead.”

Ferdinand was forced to agree. The gods’ elements were clashing with one another and causing all sorts of damage to Rozemyne’s body. There was no time to waste.

Furthermore, Rozemyne is a victim of the Devouring.

To create his replica Grutrissheit, Ferdinand had needed a portion of Rozemyne’s wisdom. Only then had he learned that those with the Devouring were unusually vulnerable to other people’s mana. He had already dyed her mana organ when her clumps had put her on the verge of death, and if the gods’ mana had an even greater sway on her than that of mere mortals, there was a chance it would not fade as one would normally expect.

“You have told me how to remove the divinity from Rozemyne’s mana,” Ferdinand said. “Now, tell me how I can restore her severed memories. There are commoners among those she has forgotten. How can she ever remember them when they cannot channel mana into her?”

Mestionora crossed her arms and let her eyes wander the space around them. Was she racking her brain or simply looking for a way to evade the question? A long moment passed before she eventually replied.

“If you know someone who shares those particular memories, they could channel their mana into her. It might repair some of the connections that were severed.”

Gods could not lie—or they dared not to, for the punishment was truly severe. Nonetheless, Ferdinand could guess from Mestionora’s body language that she had omitted something important. For her to have even humored the idea, there must have existed a way for Rozemyne to remember the commoners who had once meant so much to her.

It must not be something she favors.

Ferdinand was unsure whether he had time to pinpoint whatever method the goddess was trying to hide from him—or whether he was even capable of working it out on his own—but he had already made his resolve. He would do everything in his power to help restore Rozemyne’s memories.

Rozemyne’s experiences in the lower city had shaped her into the woman she once was. Now that she no longer remembered them, her love for her family and excitement for the future seemed to have faded. She was much colder than before and, at times, came across as completely unattached.

Though she claims I am important to her, she lacks the overwhelming enthusiasm I used to find so overbearing.

Her lack of compassion had come about not naturally but because she no longer had access to her core memories. Ferdinand resented the gods for what they had done to her and would never forgive them.

I will restore her memories.

“That is quite the frown, Quinta,” Mestionora said with a cruel chuckle. “You need only make her supply the foundation. She can survive without her memories but will meet an untimely demise if you do not redye her mana.”

Supplying the foundation would allow Rozemyne to expend a lot of mana over a short period, but Ferdinand was unconvinced. She did not intend to become the Zent, and it was inconceivable that Eglantine would manage to dye over divine mana and redraw the country’s borders in time for the upcoming Archduke Conference. Not that Mestionora cared to listen.

“I separated the divine mana inside Myne into its various elements, but this is only a temporary solution. As her mana regenerates, the divine power will grow stronger, and her pain will intensify. Be quick to expend it when she returns.”

The goddess then drifted through the air and came to rest above Erwaermen’s shoulder. Eglantine must have succeeded in applying the antidote because the former god was able to move his arms again.

To save Rozemyne’s life, I suppose a compromise must be made.

Mestionora intended to have Rozemyne fill the country’s foundation by any means necessary. Ferdinand did not know how urgently she expected them to act, but he would not waste another moment. He started piecing together a rough schedule while Eglantine made a vow to the Goddess of Light and the other gods.

In an unfortunate twist, supplying the foundation was not enough to fully expend the divine power within Rozemyne. It made matters worse that the divine power regenerated at a rapid pace.

It makes no sense... Does this mean Mestionora lied to me? Or was this an outcome that not even she managed to predict?

Ferdinand considered redyeing Rozemyne as she was, but the rebound was far more intense than before. He took her hand and tried to channel mana into her only to be blown back immediately. So intense was the rejection that Rozemyne did not even notice his attempt. She really would need to be drained almost entirely before he could dye her with mortal mana.

But will that be enough?

Unable to fully cast aside his doubts, Ferdinand made arrangements for Rozemyne to drain her mana and use the divine instruments to supply her new duchy. She returned the barren land to its former splendor, and the commoners who saw her rejoiced, further cementing her reputation as the divine avatar of a goddess. They were welcome changes, but they wore Rozemyne down and did not drain as much of her mana as anticipated. She withered more by the day.

“I poured my mana into the other divine instruments, right?” Rozemyne asked. “Anyone can use them as long as they know the prayers. We could get the others to drain the instruments for me; then I could simply refill them.”

A most worrying development. Rozemyne only thought so logically when she was backed into a corner. Convinced that her mana had changed enough to make further testing worthwhile, Ferdinand gave her a drop of synchronization potion...

Only for her to protest the taste. She claimed it was awfully bitter and stung her tongue—a far cry from the sweetness she had remarked on before. She would not be able to drink liquid mana when even a simple synchronization potion went down like poison. Ferdinand could only conclude that she was far from being out of mana.

Is her stamina going to last long enough for us to drain her completely?

Rozemyne’s mana would regenerate—causing her divine power to grow and putting her through more pain—even if she did nothing but sleep. She had started resting only in short bursts as a result and was now reluctant to climb into bed.

A report from Lieseleta had explained that Rozemyne was hungry but could not eat. Assuming her hunger was the result of her largely depleted mana, Rozemyne would soon endure greater agony than she could ever imagine.

We have even less time than I expected.

As tensions rose, Rozemyne’s retinue started draining the divine instruments so that their lady could devote her full attention to replenishing them. It worked well, and she eventually lost enough mana to sense Ferdinand.

But her divine power is still much too great. I cannot sense her mana at all.

On the bright side, Rozemyne’s divine power soon dropped enough that she could stomach the synchronization potion. Holding on to that faint hope, Ferdinand concluded that he might soon be able to dye her mana.

Returning his attention to the present, Ferdinand realized that his hopes would soon be dashed. He kept a careful eye on Rozemyne as she responded to his observation.

“Mm... That sounds tough. I don’t want him to be miserable, but I plan to devote all my time to overseeing my library and reading books. Um, all my time not spent carrying out my duties, of course.” She spoke as casually as always, but she looked pale as a sheet.

Having sensed the gravity of their situation, Ferdinand went to grab a rejuvenation potion.

“We’re nearly done,” Rozemyne said, the intensity in her golden eyes screaming that she refused to restore her mana.

Ferdinand put his arm back down, his teeth gritted. No matter how much he thought she needed it, he could not force her to drink it against her will.

The water mirror went from showing Frenbeltag’s border gate to the one near Ehrenfest. Ferdinand made a few pleasant remarks in an attempt to lighten Rozemyne’s mood, but she could no longer speak; only a few labored gasps came out in response. She had stopped trying to disguise her anguish and clung to the feystone plate with trembling hands.

“Don’t worry...” Ferdinand discerned among the wheezing.

“Just a little longer, Rozemyne,” he said, trying to encourage her, but the journey from their most recent border gate back to the castle was anything but short. He glared impatiently at the dark ocean that had appeared in the water mirror.

Is the circle not yet complete? How much longer will this take?

Rozemyne’s head started to droop. Her strength was leaving her, and she found it unusually hard to keep touching the plate. Ferdinand wrapped an arm around her and rested a hand atop hers, keeping them pressed against the feystone.

“Rozemyne, lean against me if you must. Just keep your hands on the plate.”

Ferdinand continued to support Rozemyne, who was now only partially conscious, and channeled mana into her hands. He noticed some rebound, but she did not react.

Not long now!

No sooner had she slumped over, completely out of stamina, than the castle came into view. The magic circle was complete. Ferdinand channeled more mana into her hands and wasted no time chanting a prayer.

“O Goddess of Water Flutrane, bringer of healing and change. O twelve goddesses who serve by her side. Please hear my prayer and lend me your divine strength...”

In the same breath, he tried to sit Rozemyne upright so that she could drink. He reached for a nearby utensil that already contained synchronization potion and continued to pray.

“Dye the mortal realm your divine color.”

In no time at all, the water mirror turned a green hue. The large-scale spell was complete, but it was too early to celebrate; Ferdinand wrenched open Rozemyne’s mouth and put the utensil in place, allowing the synchronization potion to pour down her throat. His liquid mana would come next. Dyeing her now would prevent the divine power from regenerating with her regular mana.

Be calm. You have done this countless times before.

His every movement served a purpose as he gave Rozemyne a string of potions to consume. He seemed entirely calm—as her head doctor, he was used to medicating her while she slept—but fought an intense battle in his mind. There was far too much at stake.

Time was of the essence. Ferdinand needed to dye Rozemyne before she died of mana starvation or the divine power within her started to return. It was much easier to dye her while her mana was low, but tarrying too long before administering a rejuvenation potion would mean her demise.

Hurry. Do not pause.

Ferdinand squeezed Rozemyne’s hand and channeled more mana into her. He found it hard to breathe, and the pounding in his chest grew so loud that he could no longer measure her heartbeat. The synchronization potion must have been working because her resistance to his mana continued to weaken. He considered the time to be right and poured a rejuvenation potion down Rozemyne’s throat.

Now, I need only wait for her to regain consciousness.

Ferdinand waited, but nothing happened. Even when Rozemyne returned to having a healthy amount of mana, she remained slumped against him. Cold sweat ran down his back. His throat became so dry that it hurt to swallow.

“Rozemyne! Wake up! Rozemyne!”

Ferdinand increased the amount of mana he was pouring into her. He forced it through her system to prevent any death-induced clumps from forming. There was enough resistance to cause her pain or at least discomfort, but she remained completely motionless. Each breath she took seemed more feeble than the last, and when Ferdinand tried to check her pulse, he found it was concerningly weak.

“Were we too late...?”

They had done absolutely everything they could to remove the divine power putting Rozemyne’s life at risk. Had that still not been enough? Should he have administered the rejuvenation potion sooner? It might have made more sense to force upon her the same kind of stamina rejuvenation potion he had tossed to Gervasio. Despair and regret dug their sharp talons into his mind as his thoughts ran rampant.

But it was not over yet.

Ferdinand put a hand to Rozemyne’s mouth, checking her breathing once again. Then he looked up. How many times had he been brought to the verge of death? How many times had he thought his life was over? He had sincerely believed when he was trapped in Ahrensbach’s Mana Replenishment hall that he was going to die.

Even then, when he had completely lost the will to fight, Rozemyne had pressed on. She had done everything in her power to save him, and it stood to reason that he should do exactly the same for her. He would resort to anything—even dubious records from ancient, untrustworthy sources—to wake her up again.

The gods can have their curse back.

Ferdinand made his schtappe into a pen and continued to gaze upward. “O gods, hear my cry. The Goddess of Wisdom deceived me. Rozemyne’s divine power did not fade even after she supplied Yurgenschmidt’s foundation. Is this the outcome you desire?”

Mixing in words of resentment, Ferdinand took the most wonderful magic circle he had ever seen and drew it mirrored. It was a cruel corruption of the circle that existed only to bless others—the same one Rozemyne had once used on him.

“Rozemyne has prayed to the gods more than anyone else. She, of all people, deserves to live. If you must curse someone, then curse me instead. I shall return the blessings I received. Take back the torment you have thrust upon her and grant her the blessing she deserves.”

According to the ancient records, to break the curse of a god, one needed the blessing of a god of a superior rank. To protest a curse from a subordinate, one prayed to a primary. To protest a curse from the Eternal Five, one prayed to the supreme gods. Rozemyne’s curse had many sources, so Ferdinand prayed to all elements.

To dispel a divine curse, the victim also needed a blessing they had granted another to be freely returned to them. Ferdinand would return that which Rozemyne had given him, though it would nullify only as much as he had received.

I shall use the blessing Rozemyne gave me for her sake.

“O mighty King and Queen of the endless skies. O mighty Eternal Five who rule the mortal realm. O Goddess of Water Flutrane, O God of Fire Leidenschaft, O Goddess of Wind Schutzaria, O Goddess of Earth Geduldh, O God of Life Ewigeliebe. Hear my call and correct your mistake. I return to you the blessing I received so that a true one might be granted.”

The magic circle responded to his prayer, and the blessing he had once received from Rozemyne appeared on his body as light. It moved into the various feystones above the foundation, causing each one to shine in turn.

Ignoring the spectacle, Ferdinand picked up the memory-searching magic tools that would allow him to see straight into Rozemyne’s thoughts. He had intended to use them when she was conscious and well again but no longer saw a reason to wait. He would intertwine their mana, their memories, their minds, and their lives.

Once the tools were in place, Ferdinand touched their feystones together. Mana surged, and their minds synchronized. The rainbow light of the returned blessing drifted through the air, contained within the ivory walls of the foundation, and was slowly absorbed.

Only when the last of the light had vanished did it rain down anew, returning entirely to Rozemyne. Its faint yellow glow resembled the last blessing a certain apprentice shrine maiden bestowed upon Ferdinand, though the synchronization kept him from recognizing it.