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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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“Well, I am rather famous! To think my reputation would spread all the way to the Eastern Continent… makes me blush.”
I narrowed my eyes at Wolfram’s carefree laughter. The fact that she was alive meant Verdandi hadn’t begun her journey as the Hero yet.
In the novel, the very first scene featuring Verdandi showed her striking down Wolfram, judging her to be evil despite the Alchemist’s attempt to welcome her with open arms.
Of course, that was just a dramatic flourish on my part. I thought it was the most effective way to shock the readers.
“Master, this Taoist priestess seems frivolous and overly fond of alcohol. It might be best to keep our distance…!”
Bi Wol tugged on my arm, pulling me away from Wolfram as she scrutinized the Alchemist. She wrinkled her nose, clearly bothered by the lingering scent of alcohol.
“Haha, and who might this sassy little lady be? Your daughter?”
“Daughter?! How dare you say such a thing!”
“…This is my disciple, Bi Wol. She’s still young and doesn’t understand proper etiquette.”
I pressed down on Bi Wol’s head, forcing her to bow her head in greeting. She stiffened her neck, resisting my attempt to make her behave.
Disrespecting the Master of a Magic Tower in a world of fantasy could have dire consequences for both of us.
Magic Towers were centers of learning and research, and their Masters were individuals of immense power, far surpassing ordinary mages.
“My name is Bing Yeon. I run a small sect in the East, teaching disciples the way of the martial arts.”
“Nice to meet you! I’m Wolfram Alchemist. Mage and Alchemist extraordinaire. I assume you’ve heard of me?”
Wolfram flipped her golden hair over her shoulder, radiating confidence. That was her character: bright and cheerful.
“Yes, I have heard rumors of the one who can turn even stones into gold.”
“Ha, you sound like an old man. Shame, you have such a handsome face.”
To my surprise, Wolfram reached out and tilted my chin up with a finger, examining my face closely.
She even hummed thoughtfully, like a jeweler appraising a precious gem.
“Are all Easterners this good-looking? I don’t think so.”
“….?”
I said nothing, allowing her to scrutinize me. A small part of me hoped that maybe, just maybe, she knew a way to cure my condition.
“Yikes! Your skin is freezing!”
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Wolfram recoiled, shivering dramatically as she felt the extreme coldness of my skin.
“Even the Master of the Gold Tower, the ‘Golden Sage’ can’t figure it out? What a shame.”
I clicked my tongue. I had a sliver of hope that a mage of her caliber might possess the knowledge to treat my Extreme Yin Body.
After all, she was the famed Master of the Gold Tower, renowned for her ability to transmute even the most mundane materials into gold.
I had visited some Magic Towers during my previous travels in the West, but as an outsider, it was difficult to gain an audience with someone as important as a Tower Master.
“Your blood vessels are clogged with something strange. Ice shards? No, something far worse…”
Wolfram rubbed her hands together, blowing on them for warmth. The fact that she could glean so much information from a single touch meant she wasn’t some charlatan pretending to be an alchemist.
“How dare she touch Master’s face… Even I barely get to touch it…”
I sighed, and that’s when I heard a low, menacing growl coming from behind me.
The source of that chilling killing intent was, of course, Bi Wol. Her red eyes glowed faintly, and the air around her crackled with energy as her hair lifted slightly off her shoulders.
‘Oh no, this is bad.’
It was the same reaction she had whenever I teased her with ghost stories, knowing full well how easily frightened she was.
In situations like this, there was only one solution.
“Bi Wol, calm down. She was just trying to help.”
I pulled her into a tight embrace, perhaps a little too forcefully.
“Eep!”
She struggled for a moment before relaxing against me, her arms circling my back.
She was a high-maintenance disciple. I could feel her exploring the contours of my back, tracing the lines of my well-defined muscles.
“This unworthy disciple failed to grasp Master’s intentions…”
Her mouth hung open slightly as she let out a soft, awed “Wow…” Her fascination with my martial arts training was understandable.
‘This is getting a bit awkward.’
Even the Infinite Sword Emperor of the Namgung Clan and the Poison Dragon of the Sichuan Tang Clan had commented on my physique.
I gently pushed Bi Wol away. She let out a sigh, clearly disappointed that the moment was over.
“…Did I almost die just now? Be honest.”
Wolfram looked at us with a bewildered grin. She was powerful enough to sense the killing intent radiating from Bi Wol.
“Huh, what a strange pair. Well, you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide.”
“…”
Instead of responding, I simply nodded towards Wolfram, silently urging her to avoid provoking Bi Wol further.
“Hehe, Master’s scent. Hehehe…”
Bi Wol practically vibrated with excitement as she buried her face in my clothes, inhaling deeply. She rubbed her cheek against my arm, like a puppy marking its territory.
Even I had to admit her attachment bordered on obsession, but to suppress the influence of the Heavenly Demon Star, a strong bond was necessary.
‘A person’s destiny can be altered by another.’
Some might call this a foolish endeavor, trying to contain a raging fire with a handful of sand.
‘But I’m her creator. It’s my responsibility.’
I trusted Bi Wol. She was my first creation, the first final boss to emerge from the words I wrote.
If a master couldn’t trust his disciple, if an author couldn’t believe in his own writing, then what could one trust in this world?
“So, are you on your way to meet the Hero chosen by the Divine?”
“How did you know? Are Easterners known for their omniscience?”
Wolfram tilted the wine bottle back, and this time, instead of wine, a stream of orange juice poured out. Transmutation at its finest.
“Here, it’s just pure, refreshing orange juice. Let’s have a proper chat.”
With a sly grin, Wolfram started talking about Verdandi, the Hero.
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To put it bluntly, Wolfram was going to die if she continued on this path.
“The Divine has chosen a Hero, bestowed upon her the title of ‘Hero of Justice’. And I’m on my way to meet this special young lady.”
“…Is that all? What about her abilities? Anything we need to be careful of?”
“Why would there be? She’s the Hero, the one who’s going to slay the Demon King and usher in an era of peace.”
Wolfram took another swig from her bottle, letting out a contented sigh that could rival any old drunkard. The alcohol was starting to affect her.
It was true that in the world I created, most people viewed the Hero as inherently good.
The Western Continent was constantly under attack from the Demon King, and it was the duty of each generation’s Hero to stop him.
“What if she’s different? What if she’s insane? What if she starts killing everyone around her…?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s just a girl, barely old enough to have her coming-of-age ceremony. Besides, she was chosen by the Divine. How could she possibly be evil?”
The problem was, I was the one who created that so-called ‘Divine’ entity. I let out a long, weary sigh.
Verdandi was the only Hero I’d given a truly dark backstory, shaping her into a compelling final boss.
Looking back, I had simply wanted to explore a popular trope from Japanese light novels, the ‘Hero Expulsion’ trope, and put my own twist on it.
“Master, is this…”
“Yes, Bi Wol. It’s very similar to your situation before I rescued you.”
Bi Wol sipped on her orange juice, listening intently to our conversation. She seemed to enjoy it; she’d already asked for several refills.
“Listen carefully, Wolfram. Once you’ve sobered up, I want you to layer yourself with protective spells before you meet the Hero.”
“Why would I do that?”
Wolfram’s eyebrows shot up, as if I’d grown a second head.
“This is about money. If you can successfully negotiate a contract with the Hero…”
Whenever money was involved, Wolfram would start drinking, a habit she used to mask her anxiety and unease.
And…
“…You think you’ll be rolling in gold? That kind of thinking will get you chopped in half.”
Her complacency, her habits, that’s what would get her killed. She would underestimate Verdandi and pay the price.
That’s how I had written it. Even the strongest individuals could lower their guard around a seemingly harmless young girl.
“Are you challenging me right now? You’re saying the Hero chosen by the Divine is going to kill me? Don’t make me laugh. I’m the Master of the Gold Tower.”
“Should a mage utter such arrogant words? Even the Demon King falls to the Hero’s blade.”
I recited my own lore. Though in the original story, it was Verdandi who was destined to fall.
“The ruler of the Demon Realm, the commander of monsters and demons, the one who seeks to plunge the world into darkness.”
His death would eliminate any threat to the king’s authority. I had used the ‘Demon King’ as a convenient scapegoat to mask the corruption of the monarchy.
“So what? That’s just a bunch of fairy tales! The Demon King isn’t scary at all!”
“And yet, a single girl possesses the power to slay such a being. Don’t you find that odd?”
After the Demon King’s defeat, the King, fearing Verdandi’s power, would attempt to eliminate her, accusing her of treason or witchcraft.
“Are you saying…?”
And…
Verdandi, with her Scales of Justice, would judge them all to be evil.
“…Even the most righteous can fall from grace. The human mind is fragile, like glass. Once shattered, it’s difficult to put back together.”
I folded my arms, leaning back. It was simple, really. Problems caused by plot could be resolved by… more plot.
“You know that’s blasphemy, right?”
Wolfram swallowed nervously, her eyes wide with shock. We were in a secluded area below deck, away from prying eyes.
“If the one who forces an innocent girl to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders is considered a ‘god’, then I want no part in it.”
After all, I was the one who created that so-called ‘god’.
It was a common trope in other stories as well: the hidden god pulling the strings, the ultimate source of evil.
“Hahaha! You’re hilarious. The Pope would have you burned at the stake for that kind of talk.”
Wolfram burst out laughing, the scent of wine heavy on her breath.
“…And that’s what I like about you!”
The Wolfram I’d written was, to put it mildly, eccentric.
She preferred action over contemplation, revelry over solitude, and she never missed an opportunity to indulge in a good drink.
“Alright! You’re coming with me to meet the Hero!”
Wolfram Alchemist extended an invitation to both Bi Wol and me.
“I was planning on it anyway. I have business with the Hero as well.”
I accepted her offer with a nod, taking her outstretched hand.
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