Chapter 58: The Divine Scale

Settling the Cabin

The lakeside cabin stood quietly. Wenger helped move some items. Vick’s room had little space, unable to hold all the furniture. Still, the decorations added warmth. However, it fell short—Vick likely had nothing to offer guests now. Wenger didn’t linger, sparing him extra effort.

After consulting him, she placed the remaining furniture on nearby open ground. Glancing up, she saw stars twinkling endlessly. Tomorrow would bring good weather. Thus, there was little to worry about. Besides, since Vick had given her a spatial crystal, he likely had storage items. Not overthinking, she bid him farewell and walked slowly along the dirt path to her treehouse.

A Quiet Path Home

The lake was serene. A cool breeze rippled the water, bringing warm vapor to Wenger. The chilly night air, laced with moisture, sharpened her senses. The path was rough. Someday, she’d gather materials to fix it—a small task. Ahead, her home came into view.

The tree, brought from the capital, still grew, now towering past the mountainside. Her old house was on the ground, but the sapling’s rapid growth prompted her to build above. Roughly one or two centuries had passed. Pulling the vines, stepping lightly on the wall, she landed on the platform. It’d been a while since she climbed like this—she wondered if it was too much for Viyi. It was probably fine, good exercise. But the girl wasn’t up for it now.

Caring for Viyi

She pushed open the guest room door. Viyi slept soundly, her steady breathing audible from the doorway. Wenger probed with mana again. No major issues—just exhaustion. Rest would help. Quietly, she retreated, making pancakes in the kitchen for Viyi to eat if hungry.

Then, she heated a tub of water, undressed, and soaked comfortably. The fatigue of recent days melted away, her thoughts clearing. “So nice…” She sighed, leaning back, then sat up abruptly. Where was Peach? She’d left it by the dragon egg, but it wasn’t there on return. Her mental energy brushed the desk holding the egg—no pink slime.

It definitely came back… Perhaps it was hungry and went foraging. It couldn’t get lost in Maple Whisper Village, right? Still, she felt a bit careless. Was it wise to leave such a large egg out in the open? For now, she soaked, nearly melting in comfort. Only half her head stayed above water, occasionally dipping lower.

Moonlit Reflections

After bathing, it was still early—they’d returned just after sunset. She had no plans for dinner. In a white nightgown, she sat on the platform’s bare wooden steps, no railing. Moonlight cast a cold glow over the world. Wiping the dragon egg, she held it, keeping herself company. Its shell was sturdy, no need for excessive care.

Her natural mana enveloped her, shielding against cold or heat. She used to cast mana to block dust or toxins. Now, it flowed instinctively, protecting her without thought. But… Barefoot felt odd outside. No one would pass by now, though. She didn’t even want slippers. Musing glumly, the past days felt like a dream.

She’d traveled to an unknown era, eased Vick’s urgent condition, and confirmed details about the Nameless Sword. She’d also acquired a scale. A divine artifact she couldn’t use. Did it matter if she took it? The [Arbiter’s Scale] fit in her inventory, but [Agamemnon’s Scale], as it was when Aranold sent them back, didn’t. She suspected the “Arbiter” was a past wielder, possibly tied to Agamemnon, though unconfirmed.

A Tangled Puzzle

Another matter puzzled her. Edward mentioned a silver-haired woman taking the holy sword. Wenger hadn’t forgotten her suspicions about Vick’s search. The person he sought likely shared that trait. If she’d lost memories, it might explain some things, but not why Edward didn’t recognize her. Had her “sleeping self” awakened, returned to that era decades earlier, taken the sword, and later sealed it in the stone forest?

It suggested “she” deemed the sword dangerous, unwilling to let her future self have it. With her personality, she’d hide it somewhere unreachable. Yet, her current logic found this flawed—her deductions, based on current information, had gaps. Unless the former hero lied. Or perhaps her memory loss was accidental, and guarding a cursed artifact herself wasn’t impossible. Anything was possible.

It was maddening. So lazy, yet meddling in everything. Some confidence, Miss Wenger… She grumbled inwardly, returning to her room.

Restless Thoughts

On her soft bed, she let out a contented sigh. Nothing felt safer than bed. A lifetime with it would be nice. But sleep wouldn’t come. She was too excited—not thrilled, just her mind too active to settle. Rolling over, she lay flat, her slim arm covering her eyes.

Fighting for her ideals… What ideals? She didn’t know. Farming? Going home? Or achieving the best ending in this world? Had he overheard her muttering and misunderstood? She was all talk—conquering or ruling would break her little brain. Why else had she mumbled about needing an external brain?

But that wasn’t right either. No knight’s code would support rebelling against a kingdom. The “game’s” design was intricate. No ending was truly “good”—the kingdom was doomed to suffer. Thus, the so-called “kingmaker” might be seeking a new ruler to save a falling nation.