This is a short story by the same author as Home of the Zerg that I decided to do for my birthday. So I hope you enjoy this birthday release from me.
-Addis
Chapter 8: Alphard’s Objective
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: KarateChopMonkey
Brand’s daily routine in the Mage Tower was very leisurely. The mountains in summer were cooler than the village, although he still sweated profusely when working in the midday sun; just a kilometer away, there was a small stream where he could bathe. It was convenient and fast for Brand, who had no requirements for bathing conditions and water temperature.
Although Alphard told him that incubus blood was used in exchange for semen, he didn’t provide anything else. However, after living for a few months, Brand still got a corner of the attic as his resting space. He spent an afternoon cleaning the dusty attic. There was a locked small room here, and Brand didn’t know what was behind it, but seeing that the lock was covered with thick dust, he knew that Alphard hadn’t been in there for a long time either. Thinking it might be brooms and buckets, he didn’t pay much attention, passing through the shelves to the open space at the end.
The attic was low, and Brand could touch the ceiling by standing on a stool. He pushed open the skylight, which had probably not been opened in decades, allowing the sunlight to shine directly into this area and fresh air to circulate again.
Brand cleaned the floor with a cloth, laid down soft cushions and blankets, and placed some pillows borrowed from the sofa, cheering satisfactorily.
After trying to lie down, Brand felt warm all over from the sun. He rolled around happily in his new “nest” and suddenly realized: Oh, no wonder Alphard doesn’t want this area; he doesn’t like being exposed to the sun…
Brand took the rare afternoon off, took a nap, and after waking up in a daze at night, he keenly heard human voices drifting in from the open window. He was stunned for a moment, surprised, and scrambled up — living people were actually appearing next to Alphard’s Mage Tower.
Carefully peering down from the attic window, Brand saw Alphard, wearing a hood to conceal his face and figure, talking to a middle-aged man in merchant attire with a hunched back at the door. There was also a carriage parked at the entrance to the Mage Tower, much fancier than the flatbed cart he had borrowed before.
Brand remembered Alphard saying that regular “clients” would be coming to pick up goods, who would also bring the necessary essentials for him so he could stay indoors year-round. This must be the merchant who came once every six months…
That man didn’t look like a good person. His smile was annoying. But thinking that most of the magical potions made by Alphard were related to illusions, death, and corpses, Brand thought for a moment, and the probability of a good person coming to purchase was probably low.
At this moment, Alphard was holding the blood provided by Bran. After its processing and dilution, a small bottle could achieve quite a powerful effect. His expression was starkly contrasted with the gleaming eyes of the merchant opposite, looking very dejected. If it wasn’t for the new product needing to negotiate the price in person, he definitely wouldn’t show up.
“Is this all you have? My goodness, where did you get it from?”
“Don’t pry into my privacy.”
“Oh, oh, I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean it that way… I meant, please give me all of it. Do other merchants know about this? If there are competitors, I can offer the highest price. Perhaps you don’t know, but those noble old men in the big cities want this stuff…!” The merchant laughed, “They’re even willing to study magic to summon an incubus. However, most of the time, instead of an incubus, they summon seductive demons. Although it achieves the same purpose, the contractors lose much more than they gain…”
Everyone in this world is so talkative… Alphard’s anger rose, and he said impatiently, “Only this. Take it back for testing pricing, and send me a letter. If the numbers look good, there will be more on the next pick-up day.”
“Okay, okay, Mister Archmage, don’t be angry. I promise to give you a handsome price… By the way, the goods in the carriage are for this time. Should my assistant move them in? Or, as before, should your corpses do the lifting?” The merchant rubbed his hands and asked.
The first time he saw the pale and terrifying corpses climb out of the ground to move goods, he was scared out of his wits. But after working together for a while, he got used to it. Mr. Hydras’ goods were excellent, with no flaws other than his bad temper and solitary personality — no one would have trouble dealing with money.
“Ah, Al… uh, Mr. Hydras. Do you need my help?” Brand, who stuck his head out from behind the gate, asked.
Alphard was taken aback for a moment, then quickly turned around and saw Brand with his incubus horns wrapped in a headscarf and surprisingly well-dressed… He breathed a sigh of relief.
The merchant was shocked to the point of dislocating his jaw, and it took him a while to stammer in surprise, “Mr. Hydras, did you hire an adventurer as a bodyguard?”
Alphard said impatiently, “Just a tall servant from the countryside.”
Brand grinned, “Moving stuff? Let me do it!”
Alphard hesitated for a moment, then nodded gently.
The merchant looked at the tall, muscular, curly-haired youth, stronger than his goods carrier, and muttered, “This is really a strong lad. Mr. Hydras, you should have hired a laborer for physical work long ago! This way, it’ll be much easier to handle potions and goods in the future. And the countryside kids ask for very little pay, and it’s quite cost-effective.”
Cost-effective…? Alphard recalled the broken walls, the destroyed crucible, the eaten stored food, the corner of the attic contributed… And the semen. He put a question mark on the word “cost-effective.”
Alphard ordered very few necessities of life and food, such as food that could be stored for a long time. Brand finished moving the goods in no time, and he happened to overhear the merchant praising him.
After the praise, he sighed and added, “…Although I know Mr. Hydras will never reveal the source of the incubus blood, I’m still curious. Did you kill an incubus? Or did you make a contract with one? Haha, I hope it’s the latter! That way, my potions won’t run out of stock.”
His companion listened with a face full of delight, imagining, “Boss, I really want to see what Incubus looks like. They must have irresistibly sexy breasts and voluptuous, soft thighs, right?”
“That’s how the legend goes…”
Brand, the “country bumpkin” standing behind Alphard, pursed his lips, awkwardly silent.
With a cold expression, Alphard listened to their musings, not revealing a hint of emotion, and abruptly changed the subject, “Don’t forget about the high-ranking priests willing to make deals.”
“Oh, Mr. Hydras, I’ve been keeping an eye out. But high-ranking clerics don’t like dealing with mages like you. They’re never short on gold. Perhaps if you could produce soul boxes using cloning magic as an exchange for resurrection spells, there might be something to discuss.”
Brand listened, puzzled. Deals? Priests? What are soul boxes… and what are resurrection spells for? He glanced at Alphard, still expressionless, realizing that despite living here for a long time, he didn’t seem to understand the other man.
Alphard wasn’t like the chatty old ladies at the village entrance who, over a meal together, would spill all about their family members and past. Now that he thought about it, Alphard had never said anything about his past.
“Sooner or later,” Alphard said calmly. He was confident in his magical talents. His tone was unusually calm, as if he wasn’t ready to resurrect anything.
The merchant knew he disliked chatting, so he shrugged and bid farewell.
Brand followed Alphard into the house, his face filled with confusion. He had many questions but didn’t know where to start or if he should even ask. Watching Alphard, as silent as ever, at the entrance, removing his hood and cloak to reveal the slender arms and body beneath, Brand was worried that asking questions might upset him.
But his curiosity was insatiable. It was as if a miniature Brand, flapping Incubus wings, was perched on his curly hair, shouting, “Hey, now that you have your bedroom here, it means you’re also part of the Mage Tower! Ask him!”
“Well…” Brand’s mind wasn’t clear yet, but his mouth moved first.
Alphard turned to look at him.
“Resurrection spells, literally speaking, are magic that can bring dead people back to life, right? Um, so, what about cloning magic and soul boxes?” Brand scratched his head and reached up to remove his headband.
Feeling liberated, he instinctively started undoing his belt under Alphard’s icy stare, allowing his tail to smoothly slide out of his pants. After staring at each other for a few seconds, he slowly clarified, “I just wanted to let my tail move freely! I didn’t mean to strip at the doorstep…”
His criminal record was extensive, and Alphard didn’t trust him.
But Alphard didn’t pursue it, instead calmly explaining, “Cloning magic involves placing a piece of flesh from a living creature into a cultivation vessel, preserving it, and growing it into another body identical to yours but without a soul. When the new body is fully grown, even if your original body dies, your soul won’t dissipate but can awaken in the empty vessel. Simply put, it’s a second life and one way to keep your body permanently young. This empty vessel is commonly referred to as a soul box.”
“Wow…” Brand, hailing from the countryside, had never heard of such a thing. No wonder some said high-ranking mages could easily find ways to stay forever young; wasn’t this one of them?
“You probably don’t need it. Incubus lineage itself slows down aging and death. Of course, if you pursue immortality…”
Brand quickly shook his head, denying, “I don’t want immortality.”
“Why not?” When hearing his denial, Alphard had a vague sense about this but couldn’t help asking for Brand’s thoughts. Hardly anyone didn’t want immortality.
Brand seemed to answer without much thought, stumbling over his words for a while, looking confused, “I… was naturally born into this world; I eat when I’m hungry, sleep when I’m tired, there’s nothing unsatisfying about it. It would be regrettable if I died unexpectedly, sure, but if my life just naturally comes to an end, isn’t peacefully dying a fulfilling conclusion?”
“…” After listening to him, Alphard pondered without expressing any opinion and silently went to the basement.
After Brand finished speaking, he repeated it in his mind, feeling that he had spoken reasonably and thus felt somewhat happy. When he snapped out of it, Alphard was already gone. It dawned on Brand that he hadn’t asked the most important question. Who did Alphard want to resurrect with cloning magic or gold in exchange for the priest’s resurrection spell? Did the reclusive Alphard have someone he cherished deeply?
Brand stood still at the bottom of the basement stairs for a long time. For once, he didn’t rush over to ask questions but pondered and speculated, quietly returning to his small nest in the attic, with curiosity and confusion entering his dreams.
