Hell Mode: Volume 11, page 6
“You should calm down, Allen,” Luke said. “Panicking won’t do you any good.”
The young dark elf sounded oddly mature. Despite his young appearance, he was around the same age as Allen. Luke and his father, Olbaas, were high dark elves, who reached adulthood at the age of fifty, but in Fabraaze, the village of dark elves, they were allowed to join the elders’ meetings at fifteen. General Bunzenberg, Luke’s caretaker, had mentioned as much. He’s right. Just because I halt the Songstress Contest, it doesn’t mean that another good plan will come to mind. I’ll only make an enemy out of all the merfolk, and even Holy Fish Macris. Just then, there was a soft vwum. A black grimoire appeared in front of Allen’s eyes.
“Huh?” Allen wondered aloud. He had not summoned his grimoire and was surprised to see it appear in front of him, but he was further shocked when he saw the log.
“What’s up, Allen?”
Luke rushed over to the Summoner, who was so fixated on the words he had read that he merely muttered to himself without offering a response.
“What? A demon was defeated?”
“Huh?” Luke asked as he peered at the grimoire.
A demon’s down?! Allen immediately searched through all his deployed Summons within the Prostia Empire and used Sharing, hoping to find the one that had killed the demon. As a Summoner, when his Summons defeated an enemy, or if one of his allies buffed by his Summons’ Abilities or Awakened Abilities did, he would receive partial XP. And it did not matter how far away the Summons or his friends were when they gained the XP. So long as they were still in this world, he would gain partial XP.
Thanks to that, Allen could efficiently earn XP through the Summons he had deployed to fight monsters in the northern region of the Central Continent and the allies he had buffed and sent to farm golems in the Rank S dungeon. He quickly learned, however, that none of his Summons had faced a demon. What the hell is going on? The moment he thought that, a new piece of text popped up on his grimoire.
Again? Is...Pelomas fighting? Allen quickly fiddled with his grimoire to check his friend’s Status and was stunned to see that his HP had decreased drastically. Pelomas is losing HP, and fast. Wait, he just healed. Must’ve used a Blessing of Heaven. As Pelomas regenerated his HP, only for it to whittle down again, logs began to pop up in the grimoire one after another.
Allen’s party members could also see the log, and Luke peered at it to find that someone was farming XP at an astonishing pace. The dark elf could not help but gasp with surprise as well.
“What the? This is incredible.”
“Yeah. Looks like Pelomas is fighting demons,” Allen replied.
All the while, dozens of notifications popped up, each informing Allen that someone had defeated a demon and he had gained XP.
“Pelomas is? Is he that strong?” Luke questioned.
The dark elf had joined the elven army in clearing the class promotion dungeon to gain levels, and he had worked with Pelomas. The Magnate had used healing pots on his injured allies, and when the occasional monster had approached him, he had made sure to keep his distance and never attack of his own volition.
“I don’t think he’s absurdly strong or anything,” Allen replied. “But if I’m gaining XP, the only logical conclusion is that he’s out there somewhere, fighting the Demon Lord Army.”
If I were in his shoes, would I be able to defeat this many demons in such a short time? Would that be possible against demons? No, demons are on par with Rank A monsters and higher... But not only was Pelomas fully equipped, but he had healing pots and gear that boosted his stats as well. Still, with his abilities, would I be able to beat dozens of demons? As Allen ran the simulation in his mind, an astonishing log popped up in his grimoire.
Archdemons were not as powerful as Demonic Deities or a Rank S monsters, but their stats were over 10,000, and they were difficult to defeat. The No-life Gamers had faced an archdemon called Glaster before, and the enemy had even used Extra Skills—the Summoner could vividly recall the excruciating battle. No way in hell Pelomas can single-handedly defeat an archdemon! Then how? How is this notification possible? The Summoner had boosted his Intelligence to the max with his gear and racked his brain for an answer, trying to reach any logical conclusion.
“What’s going on?” Luke asked worriedly. “You won’t cancel the Songstress Contest, will you? You wouldn’t do something awful like that, right?”
Allen barely had the time or strength to reply. “No... There must be something I can do. We have to prioritize preparations in case the Demon Lord Army tries something funny.”
With Pelomas gone, it’s clear as day that the Demon Lord Army’s behind this. It might be easy for me to say that I’ll trust Pelomas to handle himself, but right now, all I can do is all I can do.
“All right,” Luke mumbled. “But what in the world are we gonna do?”
I feel like Pelomas has bought me time to think and formulate some sort of plan. This turned out well, then, right? I can’t say this is the right answer, but... Allen was not sure where to go from here, but he refused to give up. He flew out of the villa and rushed toward the Songstress Contest venue. The streets were flooded with merfolk, making it difficult for him to get through, but even so, he waded through the crowd, pushed people aside, and somehow managed to meet up with Rosalina at the designated meeting spot. She waited there, dressed in a beautiful outfit that Cecil and the other ladies had worked tirelessly to prepare.
“Hey! You’re late!” Rosalina snapped. “You’ve got everything, I trust?!”
“Yeah,” Allen said through huffs. “Sorry about the delay. Here’s your entry pass.”
She clutched it to her chest, her eyes twinkling. “Finally! I can’t believe this day’s arrived! My beauty will reach every corner of the world, and my lovely singing voice will echo across the ocean floor!”
“Yeah. But be prepared for a fuss.”
“What are you on about? I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Rosalina glared at Allen quizzically.
“Well, you know, a revolt just occurred and all...”
“Are you telling me to be careful? Well, duh!”
She puffed her chest out proudly and headed for the participants’ waiting room. Allen, meanwhile, headed for the stands where Ignomasu sat. After the Songstress Contest, he would present his water purification tool, an offering from Crevelle, to the public. He and Luke had been tasked with operating the device to show it off, and until then, they were to sit in the VIP seats in the center of the crowd, reserved for nobles and the imperial family.
The seats, along with the stage for the Songstress Contest, had been built high up on the style of the crystal flower that Patlanta stood atop. The circular venue was around five hundred meters in diameter and was propped up by stems that grew out radially. From a distance, it resembled a bowl supported by numerous thin branches. Allen swam up and spotted an especially lavish seating area in the middle of the stands. Ignomasu, surrounded by high-ranking nobles, was there. Next to the emperor sat Princess Rapsonil, who had been taken out of the annex. Princess Carmine, Cecil, Sophie, and Shia sat beside Rapsonil as her ladies-in-waiting. Ignomasu had purposefully seated the imperial princess beside him to convey his rank and dignity to the other nobles.
Just as Allen got to his seat, a small magic ship loaded with the first batch of contestants stopped at the edge of the flower’s style. Beautifully dressed merfolk women rushed out as more magic ships arrived, filling the venue with contestants.
Songstress Contest Schedule
9:00 - Opening ceremony and Ignomasu’s speech
9:45 - First round (five participants out of a thousand chosen to advance to the semifinals)
10:00 - Second round (three of the five will head to the finals)
11:00 - Final round (winner is selected)
12:00 - Princess Rapsonil and Ignomasu’s engagement announced, followed by the unveiling of the water purification magic tool
13:00 - Closing ceremony and Macris leaves Patlanta
14:00 - Huge celebration in Patlanta
Holy Fish Macris was scheduled to arrive before the opening ceremony. After the first round, the circular crowd of a thousand participants gathered atop the massive crystal flower’s stigma would be reduced to a mere five semifinalists, each of whom would receive a Tear of Macris. After the semifinals, the victors—or rather, the top three would once again receive a Tear of Macris. I guess he cries a lot—got a lotta tears to spare.
Though Allen was still worried about Pelomas, he now had enough mental leeway to crack a small joke. Once the Holy Fish went on his way, the entirety of Patlanta would erupt in jubilation—everyone would be encouraged to eat, drink, and make merry for the rest of the day at the huge ceremony that would be hosted. That had been the tradition for the past three hundred years. The emcee walked onto the stage and used a voice amplifier stationed by the flower’s style and its roots to announce the beginning of the contest, working up the crowd. His voice filled the entire area.
“Is everyone excited?! Because I certainly am! We will now begin the annual Songstress Contest! Let us start with a prayer to Lady Aqua, the protector of us subjects within the Prostia Empire!”
Allen looked up and saw a starfish man shouting into a cube-shaped magic tool he was holding to amplify his voice. He was clearly the emcee of the ceremony this year.
“She is the protector of the seas, of this very ocean that we live in, and is the source of all life!” he declared. “Please bestow upon us from your beautiful fingers, Lady Aqua, the light that shall illuminate the darkness and dispel evil!”
Immediately, the contestants, along with the nobles in the guest seats and everyone else who had gathered by the root of the style, began loudly praying to Water Goddess Aqua. Allen listened on with interest. As the prayers echoed throughout the area, the sound of small bubbles popping filled the water, and countless orbs of light, just small enough to nestle snugly within the merfolk’s webbed hands, began glowing around the flower’s style. Their light enveloped the sides and top of the style, and the entire contest venue with it. Without a doubt, they were crystal seeds.
The seeds emitted soft glubbing sounds as they popped out of the style and slowly floated up. They would spend the next few hours journeying close to the water’s surface before falling back down to the ocean floor over the course of another couple of hours. And if you manage to pick up the crystal seeds that return to the ocean floor, Prostia will buy them off you for one gold each.
Prostian law dictated that crystal seeds were managed by the empire, and merchants required a permit to buy and sell them. But even if a merchant managed to obtain a permit, if they wished to sell seeds at their shop, they would need to buy them from the empire for several dozen gold apiece. Naturally, the price would fluctuate based on the number of seeds circulating the market and the wealth of the empire. Kasagoma, the owner of a magic store, had grumbled about how difficult it was to be in the crystal seed industry.
Pelomas disappeared during his search for the seeds, right? The Summoner thought about his friend as he gazed at the seeds, and he took out his grimoire to check on the Magnate’s Status. Right when his HP was about to be fully depleted, he healed himself back up to full as notifications continued to pop up in Allen’s log.
Pelomas was still fighting for his life. In an hour, the effects of Mimic would wear off on him, and if Pelomas was still underwater, he would drown in minutes. What can I do? Allen once again considered his options—had he made a wrong choice somewhere? While the masses were enchanted by the breathtaking glow of the seeds, Allen continued to question himself in search of an answer. He was soon snapped out of his thoughts, however, when the water current rushed toward the flower’s style.
Allen looked up as the crowd became abuzz. Thousands of crystal seeds slowly floated to the surface, while the light emitted by the massive flower that had expelled them made it seem like Patlanta was shrouded by a starry night sky. But amid this dazzling display of illuminations was a massive shadow that drew near.
“Is that Holy Fish Macris?” Allen muttered to himself.
Ever since he was a manservant in House Granvelle, thanks to Cecil, he had heard the name of the protagonist of Tales of the Prostia Empire countless times. That fabled hero was now slowly emerging from the waters.
Chapter 4: The Visitor at the Songstress Contest
Through the particles of light, a massive, white dolphin at least thirty meters long approached the round stage built atop the stigma. When the Holy Fish was a merfolk, he had supposedly been called the Pig Prince, but as his streamlined figure serenely swam among the light, he gave off a mystical glow. It was a lovely sight—so much so that one could hardly believe that he had once been forced to cover his face with a hood. When Allen was still Kenichi, he had seen a few dolphins on TV or the internet, but he found Macris to be more beautiful than any he had ever seen. Is this thanks to his good conduct before he became Aqua’s kin?
“How beautiful...” a merfolk noble beside Allen murmured.
Much like Allen, the noble was stunned by the Holy Fish’s beauty. Any merfolk noble would have seen this awesome display every year, but the splendid elegance was awe-inspiring no matter how many times one saw it. Perhaps the merfolk of Prostia held the Songstress Contest and gathered people from different provinces every year specifically to watch Macris’s entrancing swimming. Even the merfolk who could not get into the Songstress Contest venue had gathered around to catch a glimpse of Macris and enjoy the celebrations, craning their necks to watch the contest above.
The Holy Fish approached the top of the flower style before he whirled around, the light from the countless seeds dancing about as he glided through the waters, and swam along the perimeter of the circular venue. Everyone, from the contestants and the special guests to the people in the crowd at the bottom of the style, gasped in amazement.
“Wow! Look at all these cuties! Heh heh heh! Whew!” Holy Fish Macris’s voice echoed throughout the venue. He eked out his words between lecherous huffs.
The merfolk watched a lascivious and lustful smirk stretch across his pale, long face, and they all looked taken aback.
“Eek! Huh? What? No way... Is that Lord Macris?!” a few girls among the thousand contestants shrieked. They sounded shocked and confused.
Macris apparently didn’t change his personality much even after he transformed into a Holy Fish, but I think it’s more than just his appearance that leaves something to be desired. I mean, ew.
“N-Now then!” the starfish emcee shouted. “Since Lord Macris is here, it’s time to officially begin the Songstress Contest! Emperor Ignomasu, would you kindly say a few words before we kick off the festivities?”
Allen looked up and saw Ignomasu, in the middle of the crowd, rise to his feet.
“O-Of course,” Ignomasu said. “Holy Fish Macris, protector of merfolk and kin of Lady Aqua, who watches over us, you are the guardian of Prostia! I, Emperor Glaudel van Ignomasu, offer you the most beautiful women of the empire and their lovely singing voices! Please enjoy this gift!”
The emperor sounded a touch awkward while giving his opening speech, the voice amplification tool broadcasting it to the entire venue. In response, Holy Fish Macris thrust his large body over the venue in confusion.
“Ignomasu?” he asked. “Who’s that?”
One could practically feel the water quake with his every word, and everyone—barring Allen and Princess Rapsonil—gasped. They gazed at the new emperor awkwardly. The Holy Fish paid no heed to the silence and stuck his massive face near the VIP seats, where Ignomasu stood.
“Are you Ignomasu?” Macris asked.
“I-I’m the new Prostian emperor!” Ignomasu declared before he quickly added, “Um, my lord.” He trembled nervously as the Holy Fish blinked his large, dark, twinkling eyes.
“Hmm. Mkay.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, but that only made Ignomasu even more tense. Not only had the Holy Fish not recognized him, but when he had introduced himself, Macris had clearly shown zero interest. That dealt a heavy blow to his pride and reputation. In fact, if Macris was implying that he did not see him as the new emperor, then all the efforts he had made thus far had been for naught.
Macris, however, said nothing more. He shot a quick glance at Princess Rapsonil, who sat sadly beside Ignomasu, before swimming above the VIP seats and once again gliding around the flower’s style. Ignomasu finally looked visibly relieved as he took his seat, while some nobles, in contrast, gave grimaces of defeat. Allen watched the scene carefully. I guess quite a few nobles were banking on the Holy Fish doing something to Ignomasu, the ringleader of the riot.
“Thank you for your generosity, Lord Macris! And thank you for the speed, Your Majesty!” the emcee shouted. “Now, let’s finally kick off the first round of the Songstress Contest! Ladies, are you ready? Sing your hearts out for our protector, Lord Macris!”
