Chapter 70: The Letter

The thought that Baba was made for “banana disposal” flashed through Ion’s mind, but that couldn’t be the real reason.

“Can you shoot beams or fire or something?” Ion asked.

“Dunno. Might know if I eat a banana,” Baba replied.

Ion set the Sansevieria pot on a rock and crouched down.

“Open your mouth.”

Baba complied. Ion inspected the tiny bat’s mouth, but no flame-emitting organ was visible.

“Any strong venom, then?”

He lifted Baba’s right wing, revealing a magic circle etched on the membrane. The bat’s claws were barely noticeable.

“Tickles.”

“Hold still. Doesn’t look sharp…”

“Really tickles!”

The small bat squirmed. Ion rolled up his sleeve, revealing a scarred arm—marks of harsh training. He added another scar, scratching his arm with Baba’s claw. A thin red line appeared, a bead of blood welling up.

“…!”

Baba, startled, broke free from Ion’s grip.

“What’re you doing! What! What’d you do!”

Ignoring Baba’s frantic flapping, Ion tilted his head.

“No venom either…”

“No venom?! You’re bad, Dam Ion! I’m shocked! You hurt yourself with me! Bad! Bad!”

“Not a combat chimera, then.”

“Dam Ion, I’m shocked! Hurt! Heal it quick!”

“Maybe that’s why you were abandoned…”

“Sanse is shocked too!”

When Ion kept ignoring, Baba played the Sanse card—an effective move. Ion jolted, kneeling before Sanse.

“S-Sanse, why’s she shocked? For what?”

“You’re hurt!”

“Me?”

“Your arm! Bleeding!”

“It’s barely a scratch…”

Ion rubbed his cheek against Sanse’s leaves.

“Sanse… were you really shocked? Sorry. Even if there was venom, I’m resistant, and elves could heal me quick…”

“I’m shocked too! Apologize to me! I need comfort!”

“Sanse…”

“Sanse says apologize to me too!”

Ion was skeptical but couldn’t argue with Sanse, so he followed Baba’s lead.

“Sorry to both.”

“Apologize with more sincerity!”

“…Really sorry.”

“Apologize! Apologize! With heart!”

Baba, backed by Sanse, pressed venomously. As Ion debated whether to tear the bat apart, he sensed someone approaching.

It was Ellen.

“Master Ion, here you are. Training your familiar?” Ellen’s gaze at the glaring bat was cold.

“Something like that… What’s up?”

“An elder wants to see you.”

Ion assumed the elder wanted him for the finished ring insignia. But at the chapel, the three elders’ grave, serious expressions suggested otherwise.

They handed him the completed Executor ring.

“Master Ion, it’s done. Take it.”

“Thank you.”

It was a small pendant. Ion buried it in Sanse’s pot.

“Ellen, you may leave.”

“Yes.”

“You others, clear the room.”

“But, Elder…”

“Now.”

“…Yes.”

Ellen and the escort elves bowed and left, leaving Ion alone with the three elders.

They appeared in their forties but were over a century old. All were awakened aura users, but only the enchanter elder trained in aura; the others, skilled mages, didn’t need it.

“Master Ion, that plant you always carry… it’s called ‘Sanse,’ yes?” the eldest elder asked.

Why the serious tone about Sanse? No hostility in their blue eyes, but Ion tensed.

“Yes, it’s Sansevieria.”

“Sansevieria…”

The elders exchanged glances, their demeanor saying, As we thought.

The eldest pulled a book from their robes.

“Read this.”

“…?”

Puzzled, Ion took it. The paper’s texture and smell weren’t ancient, perhaps well-preserved. The cover featured a green plant with long leaves—Sansevieria. Below it, text.

The elder asked, “Can you read it?”

“…Yes.”

Nine words on the cover: Top line, in Elven: “To the Revelator.” Bottom line, in Korean: “To my disciple.” Teacher’s handwriting.

If everything goes as planned, my most exceptional disciple is reading this. You’re likely a mage, always carrying a plant. I told the elves to give this book to a Revelation-attribute aura mage carrying that plant who visits their village. By my calculations, you’d come here. Thus, your reading this is part of my plan. Since I don’t know your name, I’ll call you ‘Prime Disciple.’

Prime Disciple, I probably told you endlessly: you’re not even an extra, just narrative dregs. Never forget your role. You exist to sacrifice for the protagonists. I whispered this countless times. You tried to follow, but you’ve meddled in the story. Your presence in Idea, reading this, proves it.

There are reasons for this. Perhaps other disciples, defying orders, meddled, forcing you to act. (You don’t know about other Breeders yet, do you?) Maybe a system glitch twisted the plot, requiring your intervention. Or… perhaps you grew too attached to the characters.

It doesn’t matter now. You may meddle in the story going forward. As long as you remember your role as dregs, you can act freely. Confused? You’ll understand eventually. For this world to reach its conclusion, heed my words. Never forget you were born for the protagonists. And that for a god’s amusement, a terrifying, absolute being can do anything.

That’s for later. Prime Disciple, you have a task. Just as Earth had other Breeders, Idea has one too. Unlike us, it’ll survive the cataclysm. It holds dangerous ideas.

Prime Disciple, For this world to reach its proper end, that Breeder must die. My wish is for the world to conclude. You’re my only disciple who can fulfill it. Your task: kill Idea’s Breeder. Even if you die fighting, it’s a worthy death for the protagonists… Make me not regret raising you.

Burn this letter after reading.

No farewell, just an abrupt end.

Ion sank into thought.

Daon, via Brainstorming, deduced a Breeder survived in Idea, sending Ion here with a Demonkin teleportation crystal.

Daon said I’d naturally know what to do in Idea.

Did Daon predict I’d find Teacher’s letter, instructing me to kill the Breeder?

If so, Brainstorming was an extraordinary skill.

No time for awe. The elders let him think undisturbed, so Ion delved deeper.

Teacher, the Regressor Breeder with a masked persona, warned Jin Seongha: “To one embarking on a long journey: if you go, you’ll die there.”

Why warn Ion, not her disciple, through Seongha? Regardless, Ion now understood.

It meant I’d die fighting Idea’s Breeder.

Earth had a Possessor and Regressor Breeder. What kind was Idea’s?

Ion wasn’t afraid. In sparring, he’d surpassed Teacher in swordsmanship and magic.

But… what if Idea’s Breeder wasn’t human? A dragon, perhaps?

Ion suspected the dragon who informed Killia about Demonkin was the Breeder. Dragons rivaled Demon nobles in power. If their numbers matched humans’, Demons would’ve been easily defeated.

Could he kill a dragon Breeder?

Death didn’t scare him. Compared to the vague task of “dying for protagonists after the Demon King’s revival,” this was clear and straightforward.

First, he needed to meet this Breeder.

“What does the book say?” an elder asked, unable to contain curiosity at Ion’s grave expression.

“It’s not a book, but a letter to me. I can’t share the contents…”

“Hmm. It’s yours, then. We weren’t sure, as it only showed a plant, not a familiar.”

“It was left fifteen years ago by someone who saved our village during the Spirit Frenzy,” another elder said. “What’s your relation to our benefactor?”

Ion didn’t know what the Spirit Frenzy was but answered, “They’re my Teacher.”

“Ah… that explains your extraordinary abilities.”

“The letter says to burn it.”

“It’s yours. Do as you wish.”

“I’ll burn it outside.”

“Very well.”

Outside, Ion traced Teacher’s rigid, angular handwriting before burning it. Her stubborn personality shone through—sometimes her “ㅇ” looked like “ㅁ.”

The kids used to tease that Teacher’s square writing felt like an attack. Hard to read.

Seon tattled once: The kids say your writing’s like a square assault.

“If you’ve got energy to mock my writing, training’s too easy. Starting tomorrow: wake an hour earlier, add 10kg weights, 1km extra running morning and night.”

No one mocked her square script after that. Here it was again.

Teacher left nothing behind. After lessons, she burned all materials. When she died and the orphans left, Ion and spirits searched the orphanage for any trace of her—nothing.

I don’t understand you, Teacher. But I’ll follow your words. I’ll fulfill your wish.

Ion mentally replied, then summoned a flame. The letter burned to ash instantly.