How to Save a Time-Limited Heroine

Deltain gestured with his chin towards the empty seat and spoke indifferently.

“Go ahead, talk.”

There was only one reason for his nonchalance—he already knew why Ishmark had come to visit.

‘It’s about the weapons, isn’t it?’

Securing to defend the capital.

To Ishmark, this must have felt like a threat that needed to be stopped at all costs.

Of course, the idea that a mere noble could wield military power within the capital that even the Imperial Family couldn’t control wasn’t something even a fool would let slide.

Deltain was fully aware of that.

‘But my resolve won’t change.’

Deltain wasn’t politically naive.

He knew from the banquet the other day that both Ishmark and Marquis Grovin intended to use him.

And he deeply disliked being used in that manner.

Though there were practical reasons as well, those weren’t important at the moment.

It was at that moment that Ishmark opened his mouth.

“First, let me apologize. I’m sorry.”

His smile carried a deep sense of regret, and his tone was more cautious than usual.

Of course, Deltain knew this was all a calculated act.

‘He doesn’t want to damage our relationship. That’s what this is about.’

After causing all that trouble, what was he even trying to say?

As Deltain openly displayed his rising irritation and stared at Ishmark, the latter continued.

“I had no intention of upsetting you. I was just desperate for something to counter Marquis Grovin’s words. I hope you understand.”

Ishmark’s words followed a familiar pattern—an apology, followed by a plea of injustice, and then shifting the blame to someone else.

It was a rather weak apology, uncharacteristic of him. Deltain was sure there was some hidden agenda.

Frowning, Deltain spoke.

“… even if you apologize, I have no intention of retracting what I said.”

“I understand that as well.”

“Stop beating around the bush and get to the point.”

Though his tone was sharp, Deltain’s expression wasn’t particularly hostile.

Despite everything, Ishmark was at least observing the basic etiquette of an apology.

He had come all the way to the count’s residence despite being the emperor.

He apologized first before saying anything else.

And in doing so, he had essentially ceded control of the conversation to Deltain.

Deltain instinctively knew that Ishmark wouldn’t say anything too problematic in this situation.

“I will permit the installation of weapons.”

“That’s only natural.”

“But I want shared usage rights for those weapons.”

“You just want the benefits without any of the work?”

“It’s an important time for the authority of the Imperial Family. I hope you can understand that.”

Ishmark gave a faint smile.

“The nobles of the capital need to unite as one. The move against Marquis Grovin was for that purpose. But because of what happened at the banquet, a new faction might emerge that follows you.”

“I’m not forming any faction. It was never my intention, and it’s even specified in our agreement.”

“It’s not your intentions that matter, but how others perceive you. You know that.”

“Damn those greedy pigs.”

Deltain let out a sigh.

‘What a bother.’

Ishmark’s argument was sound.

Power dynamics in the capital weren’t determined simply by the strength one possessed.

What mattered was how much nobles’ support one had.

Even if one didn’t intend to, factions could naturally form due to the influence of followers.

“There’s a condition.”

“Name it.”

“I’ll give you the usage rights. But if you want to use the weapons, you’ll need my permission first.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m going to make something that dangerous.”

For a brief moment, Ishmark’s expression faltered.

Considering that he was someone who rarely broke his poker face, it was quite an unusual reaction.

“… I think I need to know what kind of weapon you’re talking about.”

“Nothing much, just a few things that fly around.”

“That explanation tells me nothing.”

“Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t understand. Just wait until the results are ready.”

The weapon Deltain intended to create was something even considered science fiction on the Earth he once lived on.

Given that, it would be difficult to explain it to the people here.

“It won’t be bad for you either. Once it’s made, nearly all physical threats aimed at the capital will be rendered meaningless.”

Ishmark’s eyes gleamed.

Deltain recognized that look as the one Ishmark always had when he was calculating something in his head.

“If you need to think it over, go do it elsewhere. Don’t take up space here.”

“… ah, my apologies.”

Ishmark stood up.

A sly smile had once again appeared on his face.

It was a quick shift in attitude, one that only occurred between him and Deltain.

Now that they had agreed to put aside any ill feelings, Ishmark no longer felt the need to humble himself.

“I am truly grateful for your generosity.”

“Don’t just say it—mean it from the bottom of your heart.”

“Oh, by the way, are you heading north with the princess?”

“Are you spying on me?”

“Duke Levadine is my right-hand man.”

“Damn it.”

Deltain’s expression twisted in annoyance. Ishmark clicked his tongue sympathetically.

“If you’ve changed your stance on remaining unmarried, let me know. There’s no harm in having a princess as a concubine. Considering your age, my seventh daughter could….”

“Stop. Don’t even bring her up.”

“Hmm?”

Ishmark tilted his head.

Deltain let out a dry laugh.

“You really don’t care about your kids, do you?”

“I take care of them with love….”

“Then how do you not know what she’s like? And you still want to match her with me? Unbelievable.”

Deltain’s words became harsher.

Though he was known for his prickly personality, even Ishmark was taken aback by the intensity of his reaction.

It was the first time Ishmark had seen Deltain reject something so vehemently.

Only then did Ishmark feel a faint sense of curiosity about his seventh daughter, Elina.

‘Hmm, does she have a harsh personality?’

Maybe he should have a private conversation with her once he returned to the palace.

Ishmark would think such thoughts as he calmed Deltain and then left the office.

Before long, with his hood once again covering his head, Ishmark walked down the corridor and asked his escort, Marquis Ishvalt.

“Marquis.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know anything about my seventh daughter?”

“Are you referring to Princess Elina?”

“It seems she has a connection with Count Hebron as well.”

“I understand she’s quite a quiet person. She’s not particularly keen on socializing or outside activities. Ah, I have heard that she’s the only friend of Princess Levadine.”

“Oh, that’s interesting information.”

Could it be that he became acquainted with her through Princess Levadine?

Ishmark’s smile deepened.

“I’ve been too indifferent towards my daughter. I should at least have a meal with her when I return.”

*

Deltain was busy moving around.

There was much to prepare, as there were only eight days left before their departure to the snowy mountains.

‘The vehicles are prepared.’

Gerhart would handle the supplies and any expenses needed for the journey.

The hounds, used to frequent trips like these, would complete their preparations on their own.

So, there was only one thing left to worry about.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

It was Agnes’s spirit contract.

In the duke’s rose garden, Deltain watched Agnes, who was standing barefoot on the soil, and spoke.

“To explain again, spirits are essentially bound to the natural world. So…”

“You mean it’s important to raise the resonance level by making contact with nature. Then, once I write the spirit contract, the spirit will appear, and I’ll negotiate the conditions for leaving with them, right?”

Deltain’s expression darkened.

“… don’t interrupt.”

“You’re wrong. This is when you’re supposed to praise a student who remembers things well.”

Agnes walked towards Deltain, her feet making soft steps on the soil, and lowered her head slightly toward him.

“Pat me on the head while you praise me.”

“Are you a child? Get a grip. You’re twenty years old.”

“I don’t think twenty is quite an adult yet.”

Agnes stood on her tiptoes, but even then, she barely reached Deltain’s shoulders.

The height difference was significant from the start, and with Agnes barefoot, it was even more pronounced.

“Hurry.”

“… good job. Happy now?”

“Pat me on the head.”

Deltain, though annoyed, placed his hand on top of Agnes’s head.

He then gave her head a couple of taps with his palm.

“Ouch.”

“Stop exaggerating. I barely touched you.”

“My heart hurt, so I made a sound.”

“Get to the center before I shut your mouth.”

Pouting her lips, Agnes went to the center of the magic circle Deltain had drawn.

The magic circle was quite complex, intricately designed.

The materials used in it were clearly expensive, radiating a mysterious light.

Deltain sighed.

‘This is why spirit contracts are such a hassle.’

There was a reason Deltain, who normally used chantless magic, had drawn this magic circle.

Spirits were inherently finicky, and if you didn’t show dedication through such a circle, they wouldn’t even come near.

But that wasn’t the only issue.

Even if you managed to summon a spirit, if they didn’t like the summoner, they would immediately turn away and flee. And when that happened, all the expensive materials used in the circle would go to waste.

That said, not using the circle wasn’t an option either.

It was impossible to catch spirits along the road just by using sensitivity.

‘Without manifesting them through the circle, it was impossible to see spirits, even if one had sensitivity.’

In fact, this was the main reason why there were so few spirit masters.

Even if someone had sensitivity and wanted to become a spirit master, how many could afford to create magic circles that cost astronomical amounts each time? It was rare to find someone with such resources.

Of course, this didn’t apply to Deltain and Agnes.

‘In the game, the success rate for spirit contracts is 10%. Sensitivity gives an additional 7% boost per point.’

Agnes’s sensitivity was 8.9, so rounding it off, it was 63%.

Adding the base 10%, the total was 73%.

For a spirit contract, that was a very high success rate.

Even if they failed this time, after two or three more attempts, they’d likely succeed once.

After quickly calculating the odds, Deltain spoke.

“Let’s begin.”

“Okay.”

Agnes stood with her hands behind her back, striking a casual pose.

Deltain narrowed his eyes and asked.

“What are you doing?”

“My preparation stance. I thought it might make me look more appealing. You know, since I need to charm the spirit.”

Deltain opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort.

Arguing with her would only be a waste of energy.

He then began to activate the circle.

Snap!

With a snap of Deltain’s fingers, the magic circle began to glow.

The light was distinct, separated like a spectrum into clear colors.

Soon, the light that had risen high into the air began to curve and bend downward, wrapping itself around Agnes’s body.

This was the process of summoning a spirit around her.

After some time had passed, Agnes began to mouth words silently while staring into the air.

Deltain chuckled.

‘Success.’

Agnes must have been conversing with the spirit.

Though Deltain couldn’t see the process himself, the successful summoning meant there was nothing to worry about.

Surely no spirit would reject Agnes’s overwhelming resonance of 8.9.

All that remained was to train Agnes in mental defense over the next eight days.

Just as Deltain was thinking this, Agnes spoke up.

“Deltain, they said no.”

She delivered the worst possible answer.

Deltain’s expression went blank.

“… what?”

“They said no. They said they’ll get in trouble.”

That made no sense.

How could spirits, who didn’t even form groups due to their constant internal strife, be afraid of getting in trouble?

‘There is nothing in this world that can suppress spirits…’

Suddenly, Deltain’s body shuddered.

‘Except one.’

Something came to mind belatedly.

There was one being in this world capable of suppressing spirits.

“… the Spirit King.”

Deltain let out a hollow laugh.