Chapter 49: The Vanished Scroll (Please Recommend and Add to Your Favorites)

Because of the delay caused by the Corruption Avenger, Sevinton had already entered its curfew phase, forcing Borne to carefully avoid both the night patrols and the watchers lurking in the shadows.

Not only had the number of patrols increased, but there were also more sentinels hidden in the darkness.

“It seems the situation with the Corruption Avenger isn’t an isolated case. If it were simply pollution, a little holy water would suffice to cleanse it. But a soul driven by hatred is doomed to complete corruption, becoming a new source of contagion, spreading further!”

Following specific signs, Borne found the temporary residence of the Lehmann Trading Company.

It was originally a warehouse; some goods still lingered in the corners, not yet moved. The space wasn’t large, but it could comfortably accommodate a hundred or two people.

Watching Lehmann skillfully direct his people, Borne nodded to himself. This fellow was increasingly taking on the air of a true merchant.

Rather than pursuing the path of a spellcaster—or even an arcanist—Lehmann seemed far more enamored with the art of commerce.

Borne had noticed it as well: Lehmann’s talent for business surpassed his magical abilities. Even with the chip’s assistance, Borne doubted he could surpass him in trade.

“Boss, what brings you here so late?”

Spotting Borne, Lehmann hurried over to greet him.

“Mm, I was uneasy, so I came to check on things. Is everything settled?” Borne asked.

“Almost. The curfew started early today; no one’s allowed out,” Lehmann complained. “Looks like we’ll have to spend the night here.”

“The city is under martial law. Pass the word: don’t provoke any of those people. If you’re taken for a suspicious person and arrested, you’ll be lucky to escape with your skin.”

Borne continued, “No one leaves before sunrise. Don’t take any shadowy paths. And make sure to prepare a month’s worth of supplies.”

“A month? That long?” Lehmann was taken aback. The loss of profit from a month’s halt made his heart ache.

“How’s the holy water coming along?”

“Boss, your method is genius. I got a whole barrel of holy water for just ten gold coins. That youth’s eyes turned red at the sight of coin—he agreed without hesitation. If I didn’t know for certain he was a priest of the Lord of Radiance, I’d have thought he worshipped the Lady of Wealth herself!”

At the mention of holy water, Lehmann’s spirits lifted, and he looked at Borne with open admiration.

“I always thought priests were wealthy, but it seems they can be poor as well. Unfortunately, that priest is only of the lowest rank—his divine spells are limited, and the holy water lasts only three days. Its effect is not as good as the official variety,” Lehmann added with a hint of regret.

“Be content! It’s not for healing injuries, just for cleansing minor corruption. No need for the best,” Borne scolded with a smile.

“You’re right—as long as it works. Not to mention, even mid-tier priest-blessed holy water is prohibitively expensive,” Lehmann agreed, nodding.

After discussing a bit more, Borne left the warehouse.

The reason for choosing a location near the Academy was twofold: the deterrent effect of the Mage Tower, and the convenience of being close to Borne’s underground laboratory—should anything happen, he could reach it at once.

Once back in his underground lab, Borne finally exhaled in relief.

Lying on his bed, he pondered. From what he knew, it was clear that the Netherese leadership and all the great temples were aware of the evil contamination.

“Another fishing expedition…” Borne thought, exasperated.

It was obvious: a high-level game, using others as pawns. Throughout human history, regardless of the era, humans always seemed to relish internal strife.

Borne could only sigh. Power struggles at the top were far beyond his reach. The truth was, he was simply too weak. Whatever faction ultimately prevailed, the true victims would be the innocent commoners.

He was no saint, nor could he protect everyone. All he could do was safeguard those within his own power.

He could only trust the information in his memory was accurate. If the upper echelons truly lost control, there should be a record of it.

Otherwise, if nearly half of Sevinton’s population were corrupted, that would be no small matter.

For the next several days, Borne secluded himself in his underground lab. Apart from a daily coded communication with Lehmann using the Resonance Bell, he devoted himself entirely to magical experiments.

After finishing the Domain Mechanisms section of the Nether Scrolls, Borne achieved a profound understanding of space.

Upon completing the entire Domain Mechanisms series for the first time, a brand new arcane spell coalesced in his mind.

Once he cast it, he would possess another original arcane spell of his own. Yet, Borne refrained from doing so.

In Netheril, nearly half of all spellcasters could be called arcanists, though most were only of the lowest rank. Few reached the intermediate level, and high-tier arcanists were exceedingly rare.

It was only thanks to the existence of the Nether Scrolls that so many entry-level arcanists formed a vast base. Any spellcaster who read even one or two volumes could typically gain a personal arcane spell—albeit only an elementary one, but still, it was a foundation for the arcanists.

Of course, this was not absolute. A high-level spellcaster, already knowledgeable in magical lore, might gain a mid-tier arcane spell upon reading the scrolls.

This was proven more than forty years ago. After more than a century and a half since the discovery of the Golden Scrolls, the Netherese finally broke free from elven magical dominance, inventing human magic and producing legendary wizards—dozens of high mages. The Netherese were rightly proud.

They even invited their close allies, the high-elven magi, to witness the scrolls, hoping to impress them. The results were astonishing: after reading the Nether Scrolls, the high-elven mage instantly gained advanced elven magic, exclaiming in disbelief.

The elven mage requested to borrow the Nether Scrolls so other spellcasters in the High Forest could review them. The Netherese leadership hadn’t anticipated this and immediately regretted their boastfulness.

But, having made the offer, it became a dilemma. Refusing to lend them would be awkward.

They could not hand over the entire treasure—the scrolls were a national treasure, and any mishap would make them infamous for all time.

Nevertheless, the elves had a reputation for honor, and the Netherese had received much aid from them in their early days. After deliberation, the leadership decided to lend only two volumes. If the elven magi found them valuable, they could come to Netheril, where all the scrolls would be available for their perusal.

The high-elven mage smiled and agreed.

But in the world of Toril, there was no such thing as a courier. Even with mysterious magic, Netheril and the High Forest were far apart, and teleportation magic couldn’t reach that distance. The scrolls had to be delivered in person.

Given the importance of the Nether Scrolls, the Netherese could not hand them over unsupervised. The elves were numerous—what if they were passed around and lost? So, a party of Netherese, including a high mage, escorted the scrolls to the High Forest, while the elven archmage returned home ahead to prepare.

The entire journey went smoothly—until, upon arrival, the scrolls were stolen!

The Netherese escort was frantic, searching desperately, disturbing every creature in the area. Even the usually gentle treants were enraged. The high mage, in his panic, even fought the treants…

The result: total annihilation of the Netherese party.

The two golden scrolls vanished.

From that moment, relations between Netheril and the elves were forever strained…

…

(P.S. Apologies for the late update, but please, I still ask for your votes! Thank you!)