Chapter 423: Who Said This Was Originium Arts?
Steven truly meant what he said, he honestly couldn't understand why Gladiia was still hung up on this issue.
"Time" might be a luxury for most people, but for him, problems like this were so simple they barely qualified as problems at all. And the moment he saw her little hand gesture, he had already guessed what she was worried about.
That scale on her neck—the one slowly eroding her body—from the very beginning, Steven had already examined it. And at the time, he never considered it a real issue.
But after a moment's thought, he realized why Gladiia never considered that possibility. He'd never told her he could heal that condition. Naturally, she would think he couldn't. So she had been planning everything based on that assumption.
No wonder that after regaining her memories, she rushed off to Iberia alone—leaving behind the two other Abyssal Hunters instead of bringing them along.
Once she realized that Abyssal Hunters and Seaborn might share the same roots, she probably didn't want those two encountering the truth too early. So she chose this route.
Steven chuckled softly. Then, as if following up on a simple joke, he raised his hand and gently brushed the spot on her neck—hidden beneath the high collar of her coat—where the scale had grown.
Compared to the glimpse he caught earlier, it had clearly grown larger. No wonder she was in such a hurry. If that thing ever spread to her face… explaining it to others would become rather impossible.
"…You already knew?"
Gladiia didn't pull away. She let Steven's warm fingertips glide across her neck, then slowly lifted her gaze to meet his—those unwavering black eyes that had never shown confusion or despair.
"Well, duh. Even when you hadn't recovered your memories yet, I could see the damn thing. But since you never brought it up, I figured you weren't in a rush."
Steven examined the scale carefully, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"Your miracle medicine—the one that purifies everything… it won't necessarily work on this."
Gladiia's voice softened.
"And even if it does, I wouldn't drink it. Not now. I still need this power."
Her eyes trembled faintly. She had always trusted Steven without question. If he said something was manageable, then he definitely had the ability to fix it—she knew that much.
But as one of Ægir's chief combat strategists, Gladiia understood her own kind better than almost any other Abyssal Hunter. She knew exactly where their power came from.
The scale on her neck wasn't a disease. It wasn't a malfunction. It was closer to a sign—an indication of evolution into something higher. A transformation she didn't want… but a transformation nonetheless.
If Steven truly erased that change, then the power she relied on—power she needed to protect the other two Abyssal Hunters—would vanish with it.
Yes, returning to Ægir and resolving this curse was her long-term goal.
But now was absolutely not the time to be cured.
"Alright, alright, I know exactly what you're trying to say. Give me some credit—I'm your old man, right? I can read your expression just fine."
Steven spread his hands helplessly. Just by watching Gladiia's eyes darting around, he already knew what was going through her mind. So all he could do was sigh and explain.
"I've told you, you're not my father. You are my possession. You belong to me. I've never acknowledged that title you keep saying. Not before, not now, and not ever in the future."
Gladiia cut him off with a blunt correction. She had never once accepted the 'father' thing he tried to impose. In her view, Steven was her property—and if he was ever strong enough to conquer her completely, then she could become his.
But "father"? That word held no positive meaning for her at all.
"Yeah, yeah, fine, not father. Forget it. Anyway—what I'm saying is that I can erase those physical traits while letting you keep your current power. Satisfied?"
Steven let out a deeply regretful sigh. Honestly, he still missed the days after Gladiia had lost her memories, when she clung to him and called him dad in that pitiful, adorable way.
"…Such a thing is impossible through Originium Arts. But if you truly can accomplish it, then… on behalf of all Abyssal Hunters, you have my sincere gratitude."
Even Gladiia, who normally had absolute confidence in him, frowned at that.
The modifications made to Abyssal Hunters were essentially permanent. To erase the creeping assimilation while keeping the power granted by the Seaborn—was that really something anyone could do?
"Of course I can. And I never said anything I do is Originium Arts anyway. If you really want to know… just call it a miracle from some ancient legend."
After confirming the scale on her neck wasn't about to reach her beautifully structured face, Steven finally let his hand slide upward.
He cupped her delicate, impossibly refined face, his palm pressing lightly against the soft skin beneath her chin.
Gladiia, for her part, didn't resist at all. She simply stared at him with quiet expectation, like she was waiting for a proper explanation—even while he was basically petting her like a cat.
"But I'll need a little time. Pulling that off isn't instant. Since we're on Rhodes Island anyway, I can tune a few things. Give me a few days, and we should have results."
Her earnest gaze made him pause his movements for a moment. Scratching his head, he offered her a timeline.
Since she refused to take the milk and solve everything in one go, he'd just have to find some other way.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
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