Eldrids.
Regalia of the North classified them as the next stage available to laikerns once they broke past their limits and evolved.
In terms of the world, and the perception they held in it—they were deities.
With the five most notable ones who were credited with the creation mythos being: Qilicent of Twisting Space, Banthos of Flowing Time, Druon the Drifting Mist, Mora the Endless Night, and Amelphas the Glaring Hope.
Just like on Earth, some people tended to become fanatical when it came to the faiths attached to these higher beings.
Which was why Reoloy had decided to hunker down in the temple for the night, avoiding one of the best examples of said fanaticism.
'They're not as bad as the cultists,' Reoloy mused, idly scrolling through his stat screen. 'But they're almost just as annoying, especially at night...'
He shuddered just remembering it.
"Should I have warned those guys about it?"
Reoloy quickly shrugged the thought away, figuring Lavere would probably make sure the others didn't get into trouble.
More important was the latest development in his "relationship" with Luvarne.
A notification had popped up earlier while he was pretending to meditate on the priest's sermons, but now that he was alone, he could properly go through it.
[The Rank Advancement System: Questlines has been initiated]
Reoloy's head tilted as he stared blankly at the screen.
"Questlines, huh?" he muttered, placing a hand on his chin while kicking his legs up. "That answers my question. I'm supposed to clear these missions, and that's how I eventually raise my Access Rank. Fun."
He navigated to the new page dedicated to the feature and found himself quietly appreciating the consistent, pleasing aesthetic of the game-like interface.
"The first one is... to learn a new skill?"
The reincarnator's eyes narrowed.
That was far too convenient to be a coincidence. He had been considering expanding his skill options just earlier that day, after—admittedly hypocritically—advising Lavere to focus solely on telekinesis.
"The point of connection between Luvarne and me is my brain," Reoloy murmured, closing his eyes. "And it clearly has the ability to scan my thoughts, but I never considered that it was an all the time thing..."
The idea made him uncomfortable, and he refused to dwell on it any longer, instead turning his attention back to the grey screen and shifting it to his stat page.
[Casis: 24.2/24.2]
Focusing on the stat caused a larger window to open, revealing multiple branching pathways with icons scattered along the diverging lines.
"Telekinesis is understandably still at level two, but with the progress I've made with it, I'm closer to a level three..." Reoloy examined the different symbols, unsurprised that he understood each of their meanings without needing to consult his guides. "In the grand scheme of things, my casis is still in the pits... so what I choose needs to be simple, but useful to the current me."
It would have to be a base casis skill like telekinesis, which, by itself, conveniently narrowed the list down to just three options he was willing to consider.
After a moment's consideration, his gaze settled on one of them.
"Telepathy…" Reoloy said thoughtfully. "My stats went up by a decent amount. Now should be a good time to start with that."
Suddenly, a tingle of mana flared within the room, introducing itself to his senses with all the subtlety of a kicked-in door.
He stiffened, wondering if one of Amelphas's manic followers had returned and already calculating how best to remove himself from any unwanted interactions.
Turning slowly, his tension shifted into shock.
'Wynn?' he thought incredulously. 'What the hell is she doing at the temple at a time like this? And what's with all the blood?'
Rather than pry and risk irritating her, knowing her personality, he decided to play it cool and relaxed.
"Oh, it's just you," he exhaled. "What a surprise. I wasn't going to seek you out until tomorrow. Such luck must mean things will go wrong soon..."
The girl only responded with quiet confusion.
"I came to Anselt for you and your brother," he continued nonchalantly. "Would you mind setting up a meeting?"
The two stared at each other for an extended moment, with Reoloy closing his left eye.
"...Who are you?"
---
- Anselt's High-Class District: Mist Garden -
They didn't remain in the temple long after that.
The conversation had been relocated almost immediately, as if they had both implicitly understood that neither of them wanted to risk whatever came next being overheard or interrupted.
Now, they stood on a terrace overlooking the city, within a private elevated park accessible only to the royal and ducal families.
"Not the best, but it'll do," Reoloy said, glancing around. "There aren't any owls in the capital right now, yeah?"
Wynn frowned. "Elisia left a few days ago. The only significant presence of note is Baltruss."
"I forgot about him..." he trailed off, seemingly absorbed in a line of thought before snapping out of it. "Anyway, like I said, I'll help you guys become king."
"I still don't even know your name or where you're from," Wynn replied. "You could be an agent of one of my siblings—or of the Alonbrights you're pretending to be wary of."
Reoloy hummed, throwing his head back before looking at her again.
'Should I test the waters here?' he questioned, the mystery of his last name playing on his mind.
He quickly dismissed the idea, deciding there were safer ways to investigate the matter.
"Reoloy," he said, extending a hand that she blatantly ignored. "That's my name. I couldn't tell you where I'm from even if I wanted to."
She frowned once again as they both settled on a bench right in front of the railing.
"Also, do I really seem like someone from Alonbright of all places?"
Wynn threw a sideways glance, quietly appraising him.
She could easily observe that he lacked the specific brand of unnerving quality that the ducal family and their associates seemed to exude. But, he was weak—or at least, weaker than her—and Duke Elio did enjoy taking in such people.
'He's too confident, as well... Why else if not from having strong backing?'
"Look, I'm sure your brother will be able to determine whether I'm telling the truth or not," Reoloy said, breaking her train of thought. "For the time being, though, as a gesture of good faith…"
A bottle of glowing blue liquid appeared in his hand, drawing a rare visible look of shock from her.
"Spatial magic?!"
"It's nothing that impressive," he said, waving the thought away immediately. "It's an inventory—a relic I have in my possession."
Reoloy gently swirled the luminous liquid inside the finely crafted glass with a distracted stare. He wasn't actually lying. Luvarne was indeed his relic, and it had an inventory feature.
'I've been doing a lot of this recently, haven't I?'
He slid the bottle across the bench.
"Your injuries should be taken care of with this," he said, leaning back.
The princess stared at the potion resting beside her thigh with a mix of heightened curiosity and caution.
"It's not poison," Reoloy added dryly. "I have no proof, but this is my bid to earn your trust and meet the third prince... you'll just have to take my word for it."
Wynn opened her mouth to remark on how foolish he must think she was if he expected her to trust him based solely on his "word." Then she remembered that, only a few hours earlier, she had been trying to recruit a den of heinous criminals.
Her lips slowly closed again.
Silently, she uncorked the fancy bottle and took a small swig before her eyes widened to dramatic proportions.
A great warmth flooded her body, and every sign of injury began to sizzle away. Faint wisps of steam drifted from her skin until not a single wound remained in sight.
'This is insane...!' she thought, looking at her hands in disbelief as even the callouses from her last training session vanished as if they had never existed.
"How many of these do you have?" Wynn asked quickly, suddenly leaning into Reoloy's face.
He reclined slightly, making no effort to hide the expression that plainly said he knew he had hooked her.
"More than you'll ever need," he replied coolly, viewing his inventory through his closed left eye. "But I'm afraid what you're thinking of doing won't work."
"Why?" she asked, genuine confusion plastered across her face. "What do you even know about our situation?"
Reoloy stared at her blankly.
He fought the urge to launch into some theatrical spiel about their life story and all the details he was sure would leave them horrified that he knew.
"Cale Lu Lindel is in the middle of being consistently poisoned," he started. "You suspect your sister, and you would be right, but you're unsure as to how she's doing it or what kind of poison is being used."
He watched her expression turn into one of plain suspicion, then into one of impatience and desperation.
"She's slipping it into his food through the servants," she explained frantically. "Finding the culprits is important, but it can wait until after the current effects have been alleviated."
Reoloy raised a finger and shook it in her face, opening his eye and looking at her seriously.
"Wrong."
"What?"
"You're wrong," he repeated. "What you're doing is placing the blame on the easiest targets. Punishing those poor, innocent servants the way you clearly intend to wouldn't just be wrong…"
His gaze sharpened.
"…In my eyes, it would put you in the same category of garbage as your second sister."
Wynn visibly recoiled.
For a brief moment, she thought she was listening to Cale.
'Maybe this guy...'
"The actual cause is magic," Reoloy continued. "Obviously, of the poison attribute. Usually, you'd need a point of contact, but—"
"Of course!" Wynn cut in, springing to her feet. "She has an extremely powerful affinity for poison and is entering her fourth year at Aldain soon! It wouldn't be strange if she'd developed to the point of managing such a feat!"
"Well, that theory makes sense, but—"
"So we simply need to uncover the spell's formula, then we can counter it!"
"It's not that easy—"
"Since you know all of this, you should already have it figured out, right?"
"I'm trying to tell you!" Reoloy snapped. "You're partially right, but Princess Lara doesn't have a poison affinity in the first place."
Wynn's eyes narrowed as her head tilted.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" she asked.
"Yes, actually," he replied plainly. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but after meeting you in person, I'm starting to believe the narrative I was fed."
Whether it was from being taken aback by his bluntness or trying to process the latter half of his statement, she remained quiet.
"Now, as I was saying, unless you're a master rank or above, contactless, traceless poison magic is impossible," he explained, exasperated. "She gets around that problem by using the core advantage of her actual attribute."
"Which is?" Wynn asked, still partially offended.
"Radiance."
All thoughts in the third princess's head dispersed as her head whipped toward him so hard that it almost felt like it had barely stayed on.
"What did you say?" she asked slowly. "Lara... Radiance? The holy attribute?"
Reoloy nodded. "That's the public perception of it, yes. It's nothing that grandiose, though."
She stumbled back onto the bench, releasing a heavy sigh.
"What does that have to do with poison then?"
The reincarnator simply smiled, crossing his arms and legs simultaneously.
"Well, you see..."