Driving Back an Outer Deity

"Klein, go find the captain now. There's been another change of plans."

"But..."

Klein's gaze drifted involuntarily to Old Neil's chest.

"What about this flower?"

Their original plan had been simple and straightforward: resolve Old Neil's problem before anyone else discovered it, if possible, then contact the captain once they were sure he was back to normal.

That way, they could present the whole affair as "discovering something was wrong during a visit and stopping it in time," thereby bringing to light the possible instigator behind recent events.

But that depended on everything being resolved and Old Neil returning to normal, so that the best possible outcome could be achieved on both fronts.

Now, however, the orange-red bud remained embedded, alive and well, in Old Neil's chest, like an eye that refused to close.

"I'll take care of it."

Leon seemed to understand Klein's concerns and spoke quickly and calmly.

"Before you get back, I'll make all this look plausible. Given the situation, it's not very realistic to expect things to go as perfectly as planned. We'll have to find another way."

But this time, Klein didn't immediately do as instructed. Leon's explanation had failed to put him at ease, leaving him in a dilemma instead.

Klein wanted to say that this time was different. Old Neil was involved, and he simply couldn't muddle through it like he had last time.

One careless mistake, and the consequences would be unthinkable.

Klein always thought things over carefully when it came to taking risks like this. It had nothing to do with whether he trusted Leon.

The two of them now shared a common interest. Leon had no reason to harm Klein and himself.

After all, Klein knew that since Leon could produce medicine to suppress the corruption, he could most likely solve the remaining problem as well.

By now, he no longer wanted to say anything about why he, a Nighthawk, was ignoring the rules and acting on his own.

From the moment he had agreed to Leon's proposal and come here, he had silently offered a stick of incense to the professional ethics he had only just established.

What troubled him was this arrangement, in which he lacked information and had no choice but to follow along. It made Klein vaguely uneasy.

As an accomplice, he still knew far too little. Information was always the most important thing.

Perhaps I should take this chance to get Leon to reveal some information? Klein thought quickly.

Having made up his mind, Klein swiftly organized his words in his head.

As soon as he looked up, Klein saw that Leon was looking at him too.

Their eyes met in the lamplight, a harmless smile playing on Leon's lips.

It lasted only a few seconds.

Klein immediately swallowed the words on his tongue, turned around, and left the bedroom for the stairs without looking back, all his earlier hesitation gone.

He had seen Leon's expression, and it made him realize all at once that he had been wrong again!

This damned fellow wasn't sending him away because he didn't want to reveal his secrets, as Klein had thought.

That eager expression clearly said, "You're finally going to ask me? I've been waiting so long!"

He's deliberately withholding the details of the plan to make me curious.

Klein felt exhausted as he walked. How could he have forgotten that Leon himself was a huge source of trouble?

If he actually asked, who knew what he would be forced to go along with afterward!

Klein stopped in the entryway on the first floor, seemingly worried about Old Neil, but eventually went out.

The door closed with a soft sound.

"Ah, communicating with smart people really takes effort. He actually caught on."

Leon watched Klein avoiding trouble and gave a slight sigh.

He had intended to share some information beyond the usual scope. As companions, they ought to be a little more open with each other, though the greater reason was that his later plans might also require Klein.

But he truly hadn't expected Klein to react as though he were avoiding a venomous snake or scorpion.

Leon withdrew his gaze helplessly and turned to Old Neil.

All right, now he was alone.

Leon took a long, strangely shaped needle from his storage pouch.

It was golden and slender, seemingly woven from countless branches, and gave off a faint, cold sheen in the dim light.

Lines of text simultaneously surfaced in his mind.

[Miquella's Needle]

[One of the pure gold needles crafted by the demigod Miquella to ward away the meddling of outer gods.]

[If one has inherited the Frenzied Flame, it can be used to subdue the flame and escape the fate of becoming the Lord of Frenzied Flame.]

[The Valkyrie Malenia once used it to suppress the Scarlet Rot, lying dormant beneath the Haligtree as she awaited her brother's return.]

[However, this needle was an unfinished item. Only after being perfected by the Lord of the Stars did it truly gain the power to drive back outer deities.]

Holding the needle, Leon turned his gaze back to the orange-red bud on Old Neil's chest.

He then raised the golden needle to eye level.

The patterns on the needle flowed faintly in the lamplight, like some kind of living script, each engraved line breathing slowly.

He didn't rush to act, instead taking the opportunity to examine it. In the Lands Between, he had seen too many people consumed by Scarlet Rot.

Even demigods suffered deeply from it.

Scarlet Rot never hurried to kill its host. Instead, it guided life to ripen into decay bit by bit, until it had corrupted every nutrient and a most brilliant flower bloomed.

Then the God of Scarlet Rot would break through the restrictions and descend once more.

Old Neil was still far from that stage.

Leon crouched beside Old Neil and pressed his left hand to the old man's chest, his fingertips touching the skin around the bud.

The bud trembled faintly under his gaze, its orange-red light pulsing in time with the heartbeat.

Leon aimed the tip of the golden needle at the very center of the bud.

When the light reached its brightest, his fingers thrust forward. The instant the needle pierced the bud, a special law erupted from it.

A rule akin to a fundamental law surged along the needle and into the bud, issuing a command of expulsion to the presence hidden within.

The bud began to tremble violently.

It began to resist.

The orange-red light no longer flickered faintly like breathing. Instead, it burst forth in a frenzy.

The pair of strange eyes finally appeared again, manifesting on the ceiling overhead.

The eyes turned into unrestrained malice, striking at Leon's spirit body along with forbidden knowledge in an attempt to corrupt him.

Faced with the sudden attack, Leon not only made no attempt to defend himself, but directly removed the concealment from his spirit body, allowing the knowledge and fragmented will to rush into him.

The next second, the floating eyes seemed to suffer a heavy blow. When they reappeared, the eye on the side that had yet to be corrupted suddenly came to life.

The stream of information assaulting Leon abruptly changed direction, actually aiming at the eyes themselves.

Or, more precisely, at the corrupted side.

Light streamed out through the gaps between the bud's petals. Leon paid no attention to these interruptions, staring directly at the bud without blinking.

The roots embedded in the heart muscle began to squirm and tighten, as though desperately gripping their last foothold.

Old Neil's body suddenly arched.

His mouth opened in a silent scream.

A dark red mist rose from deep in his throat and spread through the air, carrying the sweet scent of rot.

Leon pressed his left hand firmly against the old man's chest while his right held the golden needle steady, pushing it down bit by bit.

The flowing patterns on the needle grew brighter, and with every bit it advanced, the repelling force grew stronger.

The bud's trembling turned into convulsions, and cracks began to appear in the orange-red light.

Finally, a cracking sound rang out, as though something were breaking apart from within.

Then he heard a voice, sounding directly from the depths of his consciousness.

It was like rotting petals rubbing against his eardrums, broken and intermittent, yet full of rage.

The fragmented voice was extremely distorted, but Leon still managed to roughly translate what the will was expressing.

"Traitor!"