Novel Bin
Chapter 50
Calima Joban graciously invited Ayra to stay as long as he wished, should he not have found accommodations yet. It was understandable—opportunities to recruit a magician from the Labyrinth were exceedingly rare, and the chance to bring one into their family’s service was worth the hospitality.
Of course, Ayra had no intention of ever joining the Joban family, even if Solar Estate collapsed. Becoming a noble family’s court magician sounded dreadfully dull. Outside of the Labyrinth, there were too many ethical constraints and prohibitions on magical research, restricting his studies. A temporary contract lasting a few months might be acceptable, but if he ever found himself homeless after the estate’s fall, his plan was simple—he would return to the Labyrinth.
The reason Labyrinth magicians rarely left was obvious: life in the Labyrinth was simply too comfortable and enjoyable. It was a world of its own, a separate reality. Reincarnators and transmigrators alike had recreated conveniences from their past worlds using magical artifacts. There were adorable magical beasts, loyal servants, and an endless stream of resources catering to the magicians’ every whim. Why struggle outside when paradise existed within?
Leaving the VIP lounge, Ayra strolled leisurely through the Joban estate, organizing his thoughts about his next course of action. As he worried about how to keep his estate afloat, he missed a step on the final staircase and stumbled slightly, clicking his tongue in irritation.
That’s when an unexpected chat window suddenly appeared before his eyes.
[Mysterious Man 1: That old man is still struggling.]
[Mysterious Man 2: Heh. Let’s see how much longer he can hold out.]
[Mysterious Man 1: We need to keep him alive—for now. He could be useful as a bargaining chip against the Order.]
Startled, Ayra glanced around. In the garden, he spotted two well-dressed men hunched over, whispering suspiciously. They were conspiring about something.
Curious, Ayra wandered into the garden, pretending to admire the flowers. Unlike Solar, Sobletz had a milder climate, and a few blossoms had already begun to bloom.
Noticing an unfamiliar presence, the two men immediately changed their topic of conversation, switching to a more mundane, casual discussion.
Ayra glanced down at the back of his hand. His tiny spirit companion was busy working, displaying a speech bubble that read:
"Loading......."
He idly observed the flowers, waiting for the system to process the information. Soon, a quest window popped up.
<Hidden Quest!>
[The Old Man in the Shadows]
"What the hell am I supposed to do with an old man’s favor?"
Despite his complaints, he fully intended to complete the quest. The mention of the ‘Order’ in the conversation bothered him. A kidnapped elder with ties to the Order? That was too suspicious to ignore.
After extracting about twenty tiny hearts from his spirit, Ayra finally pulled up the map window. This time, there were no server errors or connection issues—the transparent map appeared instantly, marking the quest objective’s location.
Looking at the layout, Ayra felt a twinge of nostalgia. It had been a while since he’d felt like he was playing a game.
The old man was being held on the outskirts of Sobletz, not too far away.
Feeling strangely upbeat, Ayra set off at a brisk pace. His mood seemed to rub off on his tiny companion, which began showing off by flipping in the air.
As he walked through the city streets, more quest windows popped up.
<Sub-Quest!>
[The Jeweler’s Thief]
[The Harpy Ghost]
[The Bitterness of Love]
"Why the hell are a featherless chicken and a broken turnip part of the reward?"
The walk to the quest target was quite long, but browsing the sub-quests kept Ayra entertained. Eventually, he reached the outskirts of the city, spotting his destination—a massive, dilapidated farmhouse on the verge of collapse.
Pulling his hood down to hide his silver hair, Ayra carefully tucked in any stray strands before tapping his tiny spirit.
Understanding its master’s intent, the spirit immediately displayed the Status Window.
Five stat windows appeared. Four of them had HP values of at least 5,000—significantly strong.
But the fifth one had an HP of barely 500.
"Hmm... What should I do?"
Ayra paused for a moment before making a decision.
From his subspace storage, he retrieved several cotton balls and a vial of oil.
He soaked the cotton balls in oil, set them ablaze, and, without hesitation, tossed them onto the farmhouse. The flaming cotton balls soared through the air like shooting stars before landing on the roof.
FWOOOSH!
The specially treated oil quickly spread the flames, engulfing the entire structure in moments.
Ayra clapped his hands in delight.
"Haha! I’ve never set something this big on fire before! It burns so well!"
Soon enough, four soldiers burst out of the farmhouse, screaming.
One of them was dragging an elderly man, his hands tightly bound and his mouth gagged.
The quest target.
"Cough! Cough! Fire! Fire!"
"Who the hell set this place on fire?!"
"Agh! The flames are black! This is demon fire!"
The panicked soldiers scrambled to fetch water from a nearby stream, frantically trying to douse the flames.
Meanwhile, Ayra casually picked up a handful of stones from the ground.
A few moments later, the soldiers groaned and collapsed one by one, each struck in a vital spot by a well-aimed rock.
‘Much simpler than storming the farmhouse head-on.’
Humming a cheerful tune, Ayra strolled forward.
The old man—his entire body tightly bound and even gagged—looked up at him, petrified.
Behind them, the burning farmhouse crumbled into ash, the flames glowing a deep crimson, painting a hellish backdrop.
With a bright, innocent smile, Ayra said:
"Just a passing magician. Need some help?"
❄
<Dalrok Logia>
HP: 342
MP: ???
Physical Attack: ???
Magic Attack: ???
Favorability: 12♡
"Magician... Thank you for saving me."
Perhaps overwhelmed by the shock of being rescued, the old man rubbed his bound wrists, his voice trembling as he expressed his gratitude.
Ayra, meanwhile, was casually conjuring a misty drizzle by mixing a special reagent into the water he had drawn from the stream using magic. As the enchanted raindrops fell upon the burning farmhouse, they swiftly extinguished the flames.
With a modest smile, Ayra replied, "Oh, there's no need for thanks! It is only natural for a person to aid those in need."
"Y-Yes, that is true."
Dalrok Logia nodded, though his frail fingers still shook as he carefully dusted the ash off his tattered clothing. The man looked weak, clearly exhausted from his captivity.
Now that Ayra thought about it, Dalrok’s HP had dropped by 100 compared to before his rescue.
‘Why? My fire doesn’t harm living creatures...’
After a moment of consideration, Ayra rationalized that the mere shock of the event had been enough to drain the old man’s stamina.
‘I vaguely recall from an old research paper that the smoke produced by this special oil is several times more toxic than usual...’
Shrugging off the memory, Ayra finished dispersing the rain. The mixture of enchanted raindrops and the burning embers would turn the area into a fertile, shallow wetland for a while.
Having completely extinguished the fire, he finally pulled back his hood, letting the sunlight glisten against his silver hair and gray eyes.
Dalrok Logia's eyes widened in shock.
"You... Are you from Solar?"
The moment the question left the old man’s lips, a selection window appeared before Ayra’s eyes.
Choose Your Response:
"That’s correct... I am Ayra Sing, Lord of Solar Estate."
"Ah...! So, you are the Lord of Solar."
[Dalrok Logia's Favorability has increased by 22.]
Current Favorability: 34♡
At the mention of his title, Dalrok Logia's demeanor immediately shifted to a more respectful tone. Though surprised that the Lord of Solar had appeared here of all places, he scrutinized Ayra's face carefully, his eyes filled with cautious skepticism.
After a moment, he finally seemed to accept it, nodding to himself. A brief flicker of relief crossed his wrinkled face.
"Now that I see you up close... You truly do resemble the late Lord and Lady of Solar."
Despite his exhaustion, Dalrok Logia's gaze remained sharp, assessing Ayra from head to toe.
"Is there something you’re curious about?"
Ayra pulled a bottle of water from his subspace storage and handed it over with a polite smile.
After taking a sip to soothe his parched throat, Dalrok hesitated before cautiously asking,
"Lord of Solar... what brings you all the way here? Of course, I am deeply grateful for your rescue, but... the circumstances feel rather... peculiar."
The old man trailed off, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air—
"Did you come here knowing I was imprisoned?"
Ayra had expected this line of questioning and calmly composed his expression before explaining.
"I happened to visit my maternal family, the Joban household, today. While in their garden, I accidentally overheard a conversation between two men."
He described their appearances—one with a hooked nose, the other with a mole near his nose.
Dalrok Logia immediately recognized them, his expression twisting in anger.
Ayra continued his explanation, his face carefully arranged into an expression of righteous fury.
"I overheard them plotting—talking about how they were keeping an elderly man captive to use him as a bargaining chip against the Morunka Order."
He clenched his fists in apparent indignation.
"As a devout follower of Morunka, I simply could not stand idly by. What kind of heartless scoundrels would commit such a despicable act?"
To sell the illusion, Ayra pulled out a sacred relic, just as he had done in Dalum Village. He drew a cross in the air and let out a pained sigh, his gaze dropping pointedly to Dalrok Logia’s clothing.
The old man's robes bore a striking resemblance to those worn by the priests of Morunka’s Order whom Ayra had encountered in the slums.
However, his garments were of notably higher quality, even more ornate than those of Aterra te Act, ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) the High Priest himself.
Most notably, the silver-thread embroidery on the cuffs and collar was a luxury even Aterra’s robes lacked.
At Ayra's words, Dalrok Logia’s wary expression melted into a mix of gratitude and reverence.
"I see... Indeed, the faithful of Solar have always held a special place in our Order’s regard."
[Dalrok Logia's Favorability has increased by 21.]
Current Favorability: 55♡
"So he really is someone high up in the Order."
With that confirmed, Ayra maintained his humble expression, internally pleased with how things were unfolding.
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