She Professed Herself The Pupil Of The Wiseman (LN) - Volume 11 - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

THE BATTLE was fierce, though perhaps as a result of Soul Howl’s perverted love, it didn’t appear as violent as one might expect. Soul Howl simply used mud golems reinforced with the power of Resistance to slowly adapt to and nullify the miasma.

Things ended up the same way they had been before the gray woman used Resurrected’s Dying Cry.

“I’ll be done in no time,” Soul Howl said as he bound her to the floor once more. Even as she struggled, he gently put a hand on her cheek and again stabbed at the crystal inside her, then skillfully carved it out. “Take care of this for me, Elder.”

As soon as he retrieved it, he lobbed the crystal at Mira. It was a mass of magical energy that could change not just animals but even holy beasts and spiritual beasts into fiends. It was pure poison to humans.

“Don’t throw these things, fool,” Mira complained, then ordered her holy knight to crush it to pieces.

After that, Soul Howl buried a Soulstone—a fake soul created through necromancy—in the gray woman’s body. “There, there. Good girl.” What followed was his specialty. His magic slowly but surely turned the ashen fiend back into a normal corpse. 

According to Soul Howl, fiend transformation caused problematic mutations that took time to undo, so they needed to wait. To Mira, though, there was something more pressing.

“Say, is there anything you can do about…those?” Mira asked, looking toward the unworthy gods’ souls, which the woman’s dying screams had manifested. One began to cry, triggering the others to cry in unison.

“All yours,” Soul Howl replied shortly. He was focused purely on the woman whose cheek he currently caressed; his words contained absolute conviction that he couldn’t bear to waste even a moment on anything else.

“Mrgh… And what do you want me to do with them?”

Souls manifested by Resurrected’s Dying Cry didn’t disappear when the fiend itself was defeated. The pair were aware of that, and they had disposed of similar souls many times. Normally, they just fought them off without hesitation. After all, they were hostile spirits that attacked if left alone.

This time was different, though. The location was simply too special, and Mira was unsure what to do. She couldn’t bear to use force against such innocent children—but that didn’t mean she could abandon them either.

Mira racked her brain for a more peaceful way to put them to rest, and once she couldn’t bear the crying any longer, she snatched up one of the babies.

“Theeere, there. Good baby. Good baby.” She tried consoling it like a normal infant. Then she sat down in the midst of the spirits, putting a few more in her lap as she tried to console them. “Aww, what’s wrong? What are you crying about?”

Clinging to a ray of hope that the babies themselves might actually answer, she tried to think up any method she could. How could she stop them from crying? How could she calm them? 

One baby leaned close to her breast as if demanding something. Had its instincts remained in its soul?

“Hm? What? Milk? Sorry, I can’t exactly give you that.” Mira quickly realized what they wanted, but she had to confess that she couldn’t provide it.

A flash of inspiration passed through her mind, though—what if she used the effects of Resurrected’s Dying Cry to her advantage?

Manifested souls rampaged because their negative emotions were amplified. When they did, the emotions dispersed, which returned them to normal. But the babies’ innocence meant that there were no negative emotions to amplify. The fact that they were crying, though, must’ve meant some related agitation was involved. If Mira could resolve that agitation, wouldn’t they return to normal spirits? 

She couldn’t provide breast milk, so she looked for a substitute in her Item Box. She found different flavors of fruit au lait. All were delicious drinks—a perfect combination of fruit and milk. A memory resurfaced then, however—one from when her younger sister was born. At the time, she’d been proactive about caring for the new family member.

“Oh, right… Cow’s milk isn’t good for babies, is it?”

Having learned that from her mother, Mira put the beverages back in her Item Box and thought again.

Caring for creatures who couldn’t express their needs was very difficult. Recognizing how it would feel to be a parent, Mira continued to try to soothe the crying babies and happened to notice something unusual about their behavior. It seemed like the one that had faced her chest before only did so instinctively because she’d hugged it. The others, meanwhile, were all looking upward.

What did the babies truly seek? Mira knew one way to find out. When she’d touched the capsules, the Spirit King was able to unravel the emotions within. Couldn’t he do the same with the babies’ spirits? 

“Spirit King, do you have any way to read these babies’ emotions?” Mira asked.

He replied gently, “I think so. Let’s give it a try.”

The mark of his blessing reappeared on her body. Through her hands, he touched the baby’s soul.

“These are remnants of the fiend’s power… A quick detour, and…” The situation made things tricky, but the Spirit King was no slouch. Before long, he reached the infant’s heart. “I’ve figured it out, Miss Mira.” After that confirmation, he declared that the powerful emotion in the baby’s heart was longing.

“Hrmm… Longing, you say? In that case, they’re looking up for…”

If the emotion amplified in these beings who’d died before attaining godhood was longing, then Mira might return their souls to normal if she relieved that yearning. She wondered how she could do that, though. 

At least it was clear who the unworthy gods admired. The object of their yearning was far, far above—indeed, it was Fenrir. The babies were crying over their longing for that god.

If they meet Fenrir, maybe that’ll do it… But they also caused his erosion…

The ritual should’ve solved that problem, but Mira worried there might be no turning back if the unworthy gods met Fenrir in person.

Just then, Martel’s voice came through. “Mira, Fenrir would like you to summon him there. He wants to meet them, talk to them, and pray for them in person.” No doubt she’d explained this situation to Fenrir as well, and the pup resolved to step into the place that had driven him mad.

“Very well. If that’s what he wants, I’ll trust him.” 

Mira couldn’t shake her worry, but she respected Fenrir’s wishes, quickly preparing a summoning circle. With the Bound Arcana positioned in a four-corner formation, she sublimated them into the Mark of the Rosary and began incanting her spell.

Mana overflowing with power energized the summoning circle, creating a guiding gate to link spaces. A current of power rushed through the cultivation room, causing a rumble, until the power finally condensed in one place and became a key that opened the large gate.

“Thanks, Miss Mira,” Fenrir said after appearing from the magic circle.

“I should be the one to thank you. I was just hoping to ask for your aid,” Mira replied.

Immediately, she witnessed the results of his presence. Seeing the object of their yearning had an enormous effect on the babies. As Fenrir approached, they suddenly stopped crying. More than that, they started smiling.

“You’re a hit, friend,” Mira chuckled.

One baby started crawling toward Fenrir. Once it was close enough, it hugged him tight—but it was so clumsy it fell over.

“Whoops. Careful, now.” Fenrir didn’t miss the opportunity; he got under the baby to catch it, sitting down on the spot, which left the baby straddling him. Apparently comfortable there, the baby sank into Fenrir’s fur and fell asleep. Its face was blissful, eliciting warm smiles from those who watched.

I’m certain this was for the best, Mira thought.

The babies’ souls would normally have returned to where they belonged—the Celestial Shrine of Nirvana—but everything that had happened finally gave them the chance to meet Fenrir, their idol. No doubt that was what truly soothed their lingering regrets. 

Leaving aside the question of whether this would restore them, Mira was certain it was the right thing to do. While she watched emotionally, an unexpected sound reached her ears: babies crying.

“What?! What happened?!” She whipped around to see. The source of the sobs was clear at a glance; they came from the babies still too young to crawl. “This is where I step in.” Mira entrusted the baby in her arms to Fenrir, then diligently picked up the others to bring to him.

Once she’d brought them all to Fenrir’s side, the crying finally ceased. Cheerful laughter gradually replaced it.

Though Fenrir was subjected to the full range of baby behaviors—hugging, plunging, playing, petting, hitting, putting things in their mouths—he laughed as he played with the failed gods. “Babies are curious little things, huh?”

The sight of Fenrir—basically a giant puppy—playing with children was so heartwarming, it would fit right into a picture book. One couldn’t help smiling at it.

Perhaps Mira’s feelings got through to the babies too, or perhaps they felt motherly warmth from her, for some of them took a liking to her as well.

“Indeed they are. I can’t take my eyes off them,” Mira agreed, cradling a baby and remembering her little sister. Though she’d been a handful, her growth was wonderful to witness.

After lots of playing with Mira and Fenrir, the babies got tired and relaxed, falling asleep contentedly one by one. Their sleeping faces were innocent, adorable, and peaceful.

Fenrir caught the sleeping infants and said, as if praying, “Rest well, children.”

“May you all have sweet dreams,” Mira wished, hugging the babies falling asleep in her arms. Had the failed gods let go of their longing? Had their dream come true? 

Eventually, the babies turned into faint light and returned to their original existence as souls. The shimmering particles they left behind gently enveloped Mira and Fenrir before dispersing.

All that remained were soft warmth and the sense of accomplishment that came with a good deed.