Book 11: Chapter 37: Rescue (Two)

“Butler Mason is in that middle bamboo cage. Be careful, his condition is very bad!” Iristin curled up, wriggling out of the bamboo cage bit by bit, then climbed down the wooden pole. The Elven Druid was kind-hearted. Even though she was eager to see Qin Lun right now, she had not forgotten the most urgent matter.

“Got it!” Lago curiously glanced at Iristin, though the Elven Druid’s messy, dirty appearance disappointed him a little. The Rogue had heard earlier that Sif had come to the Death Lands looking for death because of Old Butler Mason, while Qin Lun was here for this female Elf companion right in front of him.

After climbing down the flagpole, Iristin finally couldn’t wait any longer and looked towards Qin Lun’s location. She saw the silver-haired Elf looking at her with a familiar smile.

Her eyes slowly grew moist, like a layer of mist covered them. During the many nights imprisoned by the Trolls, Iristin had dreamed countless times of Qin Lun appearing before her. But each time, after the initial joy, she would be awakened by the clamor of the Trolls and returned to the cruel reality.

In those dreams, the silver-haired Elf took on various appearances—sometimes elegant and graceful, sometimes a horrifying blood-covered mess. Yet, one thing was always the same: that cunningly brilliant Firal Moonlight, his face was never quite clear, as if veiled by a light gauze.

Whenever she reached out her hand trying to grasp the silver-haired Elf, he would quietly pull away, always keeping her from truly getting close.

Qin Lun looked at the incredibly haggard Iristin before him, a strange emotion welling up inside him. The Elven Druid’s attire was very different from before. The tattered clothes were obviously not her usual Druidic garb, but a worn-out piece of common mercenary’s leather armor.

Baldur’s Gate didn’t forbid Druids from entering, but to truly blend into that city and become an adventure mercenary, the female Elf couldn’t keep wearing the eccentric Druidic outfits long-term.

The mercenary life was vastly different from Iristin’s previous existence. The quiet-loving, beautiful Elf surely wouldn’t be used to such a life. She must have suffered a lot during these days searching for Qin Lun.

For the first time, Qin Lun found it hard to fully grasp his own emotions. It seemed to contain many things, yet also felt like nothing at all. He thought the Elven Druid would be overjoyed to see him, but Iristin stood rigidly in place, not looking particularly happy.

“Iristin!” Qin Lun took two steps forward, cautiously calling her name.

“Huh?!” Iristin snapped back to reality. She realized something immediately, reached up to touch her hair, and couldn’t help but lower her head. She softly asked, “Do I look awful now?”

Qin Lun’s gaze flickered, unsure for a moment what to say. But he quickly came to his senses and opened his arms, wanting to embrace Iristin.

“I smell bad!” Iristin instinctively drew back. Her untreated wounds had mostly festered and rotted, giving off a stench. Even inside the Troll camp, the smell wouldn’t go away.

“It’s alright!” In this moment, understanding struck Qin Lun. He didn’t let Iristin avoid him. He swiftly stepped forward, wrapped the female Elf tightly in his arms, and whispered softly into her ear, “You’ve suffered!”

Tears slid down the Elven Druid’s gaunt face, carving two white trails through the grime. Iristin wrapped her arms around Qin Lun in return, burying her face into the silver-haired Elf’s shoulder and rubbing against it hard.

“Firal, I finally caught you!” Under the cool moonlit night, the two Elves stood like a pair of eternally embracing stone statues, seemingly oblivious to time and everything around them.

“Well, this trip wasn’t wasted!” Mastashia looked up nearby, letting out a long sigh, murmuring to herself.

“Hmph!” Idria, who had just climbed down the flagpole, happened to witness this scene. She couldn’t help but purse her lips and cast a disdainful glance Qin Lun’s way.

“Hey, what are they doing?” Lago also climbed down, carrying the unconscious Old Butler Mason. He chuckled softly, joking to the Highland Elf beside him.

Mastashia glared fiercely at him, then sighed helplessly. She moved closer from behind the couple and softly called out, “Hey, you two. I completely understand how you feel. But… how about we leave this place first?”

The tightly embraced couple seemed startled. Iristin gently pushed Qin Lun away, her head deeply bowed against her chest as she leaned wearily on the silver-haired Elf’s shoulder. “Let’s go. Don’t put your companions in danger again.”

The group cautiously crept out of the Troll camp. This rescue mission was unexpectedly smooth. Not a single Troll was alerted during the entire process.

Of course, Qin Lun and the others knew their danger had barely started. The real test would come after daybreak. Although Trolls weren’t skilled at tracking enemies, this was, after all, the Troll Claw mountains. Trolls familiar with the terrain couldn’t completely lose track of their prey.

The Troll village’s festival was about to begin. These fierce natives wouldn’t easily let them escape. Moreover, this Troll camp was close to the entrance to the Death Lands, but it was still at least four or five days’ journey to the northern exit by the Winding River.

Along the way, Qin Lun’s group not only had to find their way but also evade pursuers. Because there were other Troll tribes along the route, they could only move at night and avoid those Troll camps, which unwittingly slowed their pace.

If they were discovered by the pursuing Trolls or any tribes along the way, several fierce battles awaited them. It was perhaps just a matter of time.

After reuniting with Rick and the others, the happiest person was Sif Hulan.

“Old Mason, you’re alive! Thank you, thank you all!” Sif cried and laughed at the same time. He took the skeletal old butler from Lago’s hands, profusely thanking everyone while tears and snot streamed down his face.

Honestly, since the day he lost the old butler, he had never imagined he’d see the man who had cared for him since childhood again. The repeated failures to organize mercenary teams had pushed his mental state near collapse. That’s why he refused to return to his hometown, Tethyr, choosing instead to drown himself in sorrow in taverns.

“Young Master Sif… have I died?” Perhaps from the jostling earlier, or perhaps from hearing Sif’s voice, the old man, who had been unconscious for so long, finally opened his eyes. An unnatural flush colored his cheeks.

“No, Mason, I came to save you!” Sif wiped his face, both crying and laughing as he helped the old butler up.

“Sif, let Hill look at Butler Mason!” Seeing the old butler’s abnormal coloring, Qin Lun frowned slightly and brought Hill over.

Hill had now undergone his Class Change to the Second Order. His Class was Chaos Priest. While not a pure support-type Priest, it was still a Priest Class and naturally possessed healing skills. Because if it was just about damage skills, Hill might as well have changed into a Mage or Sorcerer.

“His condition is dire. He’s also too old, practically used up like a candle.” Hill examined Mason and couldn’t help but shake his head with a bitter smile.

“Can he be saved?” Qin Lun asked Hill softly, making sure Sif couldn’t hear to avoid unnecessary trouble.

“A human lifespan is like a candlewick. Once it’s burned clean, outside help can’t do much,” Hill shrugged, sighing helplessly.

“No hope at all? Not even with our Apostle restoration medicine?” Rand, who had walked up next to them, added regretfully, “After finally rescuing him…”

“He can be saved, but medicine won’t help. Another method is needed!” A strange glint flashed in Hill’s eyes, and he chuckled softly. “If it weren’t for me being here, if it was a lawful-aligned Priest, he’d definitely be beyond saving.”

Hill’s solution was a Dark Pact. As a Chaos Priest, his pretended faith here in the Toril World was in a certain demon lord from the Abyss, not even part of the human pantheon.

Using a Dark Pact, Hill could extend Mason’s life for a while, but there was a price. Even if Mason signed this Dark Pact, he likely wouldn’t live long—a few years at most—and his death would be very painful.

Luckily, since Hill’s faith was fake, this Dark Pact was essentially fake too. When Mason died, his Soul wouldn’t be harvested by the Abyssal demon lord. But if the demon lord discovered the deception prematurely, the old butler would simply die.

“Sif, step aside. Let Hill speak with Mason.” Qin Lun gently pulled the noble youth away, allowing Hill to speak directly with Mason. This Dark Pact required the person’s own consent.

“Haha, this old man knows his own body. Getting to see the young master again is already heaven being kind. If I can care for you for a few more years, a little pain means nothing!” Mason seemed exceptionally calm once he confirmed the Dark Pact wouldn’t cause an Abyssal demon lord to harvest his Soul.

The old man had lived so many years. The only one he truly couldn’t bear to part with was probably Sif, whom he had watched grow since childhood.

The magical fluctuations from the signing of the Dark Pact drew attention from Mastashia and Winnie. However, they were smart enough not to ask too many questions. Everyone understood Mason’s condition. Regardless of their individual faiths, none could oppose helping the old man at this point.

“I feel much better! What a miraculous spell!” Mason felt the vitality filling his body and widened his eyes in surprise. The moment the Dark Pact took effect, his strength returned at a visible rate. He could even stand up himself, albeit shakily.

“Alright, let’s get moving!” Rick glanced warily at the Troll camp and urged everyone to leave in a low voice.

“Iristin, let me support you!” Qin Lun had already given some restorative medicine to the Elven Druid during the earlier lull.

“No, go with the others. I’ll walk together with Idria.” Surprisingly, the beautiful Elf refused, smiling as she supported the Female Knight. “While you were gone, Idria faced life and death with me. Now that I’ve found you, it’s time for me to take care of her.”

“Hah, you just stick with that guy. I’m a follower of Loviatar. These hardships might just be my goddess testing me. I don’t need anyone fussing over me.” Though what she said was dismissive, Idria’s face showed a triumphant smirk as she gave Qin Lun a sideways look.

“Fine, as you wish!” Qin Lun cracked a grin and didn’t press any further.