Chapter 19: A Sinister Vial and a Fleeting Shadow

As the saying goes: a tiger leaves its hide when it dies, but a bandit leaves only filthy trinkets.

The bandit leader, torn apart by the buff elf Veldum, departed for the afterlife, leaving behind a glass vial radiating an ominous aura.

…A drug that transformed a scrawny bandit leader into a muscle-bound monster in an instant.

Anyone could tell it was the work of some shadowy mastermind. I tried to quietly dispose of it to avoid getting entangled.

Unfortunately, the priestess caught me red-handed.

“What are you doing right now?”

Her suspicious glare pierced through me.

I quickly played dumb, turning the tables with brazen confidence.

In situations like this, acting timid only makes you look guiltier.

“I was just curious about its contents. Is there a problem?”

“You were trying to get rid of it secretly! Don’t play innocent!”

“No way, you must’ve seen wrong. Think about it—what do I gain by hiding this?”

“Well…”

Her attempt at a retort faltered, leaving her stammering.

Did she realize it made no sense for a witch holed up in the Southern Great Forest to be involved in western affairs?

The priestess, who’d been so quick to accuse, now looked confused and apologized.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“It happens. Small misunderstandings are bound to crop up during a journey.”

Smiling brightly upfront, I was sweating bullets behind my back.

That was close.

I nearly got pegged as an evil witch again.

Trying to quietly dispose of an item that powered up a bandit leader? That’s textbook villain behavior.

Sighing in relief, I tucked the vial into my pocket.

…Alright, I’ll keep it for now and ditch it later when no one’s looking.

I can’t get involved with the mastermind and the main storyline.

At first, I wasn’t sure about the vial.

But once everything settled and the bandit leader was reduced to a shriveled husk, it hit me.

The western arc had already begun.

It’s understandable why I was confused.

In the original story, this drug didn’t appear until the party fully reached the west.

Plus, there was no bandit raid event like this, and the drug’s transformation effect was less dramatic.

So it’s only natural I didn’t recognize it right away.

…Still, one silver lining: unlike the north, south, or central arcs, the west’s events can pass quietly if you don’t get involved.

In simple terms, if you’re an innocent civilian, the incident happens and resolves without you even noticing.

Unlike the Great Forest’s grand escape, if handled well early on, this arc can be navigated peacefully without dangerous encounters.

So, I have to get rid of this vial.

Before the mastermind comes looking for the protagonist’s party.

As I stared gravely at the vial in my pocket, Veldum, the buff elf, approached with an even grimmer expression.

“Do you know anything about that drug, witch?”

“Would I? It’s my first time seeing it today.”

“For something you’ve never seen, you seem awfully knowledgeable. Or is that my imagination?”

…This is why I hate sharp-eyed elves.

Always noticing things they shouldn’t.

I shook my head, denying his words.

“Must be your imagination. How would someone stuck in the south know about western affairs? Right?”

“True, but I get the feeling you know something. Didn’t you talk like you already knew us when we first met?”

Oh, crap.

I didn’t expect him to bring that up.

Caught off guard, I made a dumb face, and the elf, seizing the moment, grinned fiercely.

“I won’t ask how you know. Like you told Stroheim, it’s probably some ‘witch’s secret.’”

“…”

“But I’d appreciate an answer about this drug. I’m dying to know who made this disgusting stuff.”

Yeah, you’d be curious.

But—

“Don’t know.”

None of my business.

I already suffered enough in the Great Forest, getting dragged into the protagonist’s mess.

I tried to avoid it, but it happened anyway—why would I volunteer to dive in now?

That’s like jumping into a fire pit.

I’m not a masochist, so why would I willingly join this grueling arc?

I shrugged, meeting Veldum’s fierce aura head-on.

“You’d think I’ve got a dimensional library in my head or something.”

“Isn’t there one? Oh, wait, no—someone who picks only poisonous herbs for food probably doesn’t.”

“…I told you to stop teasing me about that.”

“Pfft, how can I not laugh? Claiming toxic herbs aren’t toxic in front of forest folk?”

“Hey!!!”

Brandishing my cleaver and throwing a fit, Veldum dodged effortlessly.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“You, shut up!”

Poor Carl, butting in cluelessly, bore the brunt of my burning rage.

*

Some distance from the bandit stronghold.

Veldum, who’d stepped into the deep forest to relieve himself, muttered while glancing toward the witch.

“She knows something.”

That thoughtful look as she stared at the vial.

And the way she checked if anyone was watching before trying to ditch it.

She denied it, but the witch definitely knew what the drug was.

“How she knows isn’t important. The trick is getting that info out of her head.”

If she weren’t a comrade, he’d just train her hard to extract it, but she was the witch who’d helped them since the Great Forest—a valued ally.

One wrong move could ruin the party’s vibe or, worse, break it apart.

“I can’t cause trouble for the first perfect comrades I’ve met.”

Three excellent comrades who understood muscle aesthetics, a priestess enabling endless training with healing spells, and a witch who knew suspiciously much about the party, making him wonder if she really had a dimensional library in her head.

Veldum, the buff elf, loved this party.

“Maybe that witch even knows long-lost extreme training methods. I can’t gut the goose that lays golden eggs.”

He loved muscles more than anyone, but his brain wasn’t made of muscle.

…He’d gotten too worked up seeing a roider. He’d have to apologize later.

With that resolve, Veldum turned to leave but stopped, speaking quietly.

“Whoever you are, show yourself.”

“…”

“Think I wouldn’t notice? Few can fool an elf’s senses in the forest. If you thought you went undetected, you’re mistaken.”

Raising his aura in warning, a man in what looked like priestly robes appeared.

“Thought I hid well, but an elf is an elf, I suppose.”

“What’s your business? No killing intent, so you’ve got another motive.”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m not here to fight—just to retrieve an experimental item.”

“…You’re the one behind the roids?”

No wonder it felt fishy.

Rage surged, but Veldum suppressed it, eyeing the man.

“You won’t tell me your goal or identity, will you? Fine, then we’ll just have a cozy squat session to talk it out.”

“Haha, good one. I’m content doing waist exercises with a lovely lady at night.”

“Upper and lower body balance is key. Only working the waist will ruin you.”

“…My jokes don’t land with you, do they?”

Sighing at Veldum’s dead-serious response, the man in dark robes glanced at the bandit stronghold with a hint of concern.

“Gonna be tough, huh? Three guys like you, a saint candidate, and a strong-looking witch? I wonder if I’ll make it out alive.”

“Odd. Why worry about survival? Just do some squats with me here.”

“That sounds worse than the afterlife.”

Firmly refusing, the man shrugged and turned away.

“Guess survival trumps retrieving the experiment. Heh, see you next time. Look forward to my visit.”

“Think I’ll let you go?”

“Haha, I’m more confident in escaping than anyone.”

Before he finished speaking, the man vanished like mist. Veldum clicked his tongue, staring at the empty spot.

“Got away. Should’ve caught him and reformed that rotten body and mind.”

Next time, he’d make sure to sculpt some fine muscles on him.

Regretfully, Veldum returned to the stronghold and detailed the forest encounter to the party.

Then—

“Fuck.”

The witch, previously silent, swore with a pale face.