The Philosopher’s Stone and a Hero’s Deception

Old Jenny had been overjoyed these past few days. Her son, Roland, had finally returned to normal.

For years, she had given up all hope, yet everything had changed after Freya arrived.

She truly had Freya to thank. Still, Old Jenny couldn’t shake the feeling that this peculiar woman harbored ulterior motives towards her son. Yet, as an ordinary villager, what could she possibly have that Freya would desire?

Old Jenny had just finished selling her family’s wool at the town market and was now walking home along the dusty country road. She greeted familiar neighbors while fending off their curious gossip about her son’s recovery.

In the distance, she saw Freya helping Roland with the laundry. Roland, meanwhile, stood by the chopping block, axe in hand, lost in thought.

*Splash, splash—*

As if channeling her fury into the innocent garments, Freya scrubbed each piece with gritted teeth, pouring all her strength into the task.

‘Damn it! Why do human women have to do housework after getting married?’

‘Back in the Demon Realm, I had only to lift a finger for anything I desired, living a life of pampered ease. Who would have thought that here, I’d have to endure such humiliation to fulfill a wife’s duties?’

Gazing despairingly at the leisurely white clouds drifting across the sky, a single tear of regret traced a path down her cheek.

“That’s not how you wash clothes; you’re using the wrong technique,” Old Jenny said with a wry smile, eyeing the chaotic basin of laundry. “Oh dear, perhaps I should take over. You can go keep Roland company.”

‘Finally, no more laundry!’

As if granted a grand pardon, Freya unceremoniously dropped the pile of haphazardly washed clothes.

‘Hmhm~ Now, to check on that idiot Hero. I wonder if he’s remembered any of his old skills yet.’

Roland eyed the log, roughly as thick as his thigh. His right hand gripping the axe, he slowly raised his slender arm above his head, bringing it down in a cleaving motion.

The axe head embedded itself in the wood, snagged by tough fibers, unable to descend another inch.

“Tsk…” Roland savored the sensation. ‘It feels like there’s a skill from my memory, used exactly like this. What was it called?’

“Mountain Cleaving Earth Rend,” Freya said, smiling as she approached. She glanced at the un-split log, silently deeming him a ‘waste’.

Roland looked at Freya, clad in a simple dress, and asked curiously, “Is that skill very powerful?”

“Extremely powerful,” Freya replied, pausing in thought. “It was invented by a Sword Saint corrupted by demonic energy. You first used this skill when we were initially campaigning against the Demon Realm. Your familiarity with the Holy Sword wasn’t high then, so you unleashed this skill, instantly annihilating 3,000 demons.”

“Is that so? That formidable,” Roland exclaimed, his face alight with anticipation as he stared at the axe in his hand, imagining it to be the Holy Sword. He then began practicing the move repeatedly.

After watching the foolish Hero practice for a long time, Freya grew bored and found an excuse to return to the house.

Once certain the surroundings were safe, she pulled a red gem from her bosom.

‘The Philosopher’s Stone…’

Since her reincarnation, this artifact had remained utterly inert.

She attempted once more to channel her demonic energy into the Philosopher’s Stone.

“Still no use, then…” Freya let out a bitter laugh. “What exactly is going on…?”

****

Late into the night, in Roland’s room.

Despite an entire afternoon of practice, Roland felt no changes in his body, only a persistent ache in his arms.

He calmed his mind and checked his level.

‘Lv2…’

‘Alas, I’m just a weak villager now…’

Levels served as the world’s standard for judging strength, increasing with the growth of one’s magical energy.

As a level advanced, the increased magical energy would gradually enhance the cultivator’s various attributes.

Ordinary humans typically remained between Lv1 and Lv5, with no further increase. However, if one could awaken their magical energy and enter the Church to receive a divine mandate from a priest, there was a possibility of further advancement. The impact of level growth varied depending on the divine mandate, and the Hero’s mandate was, without question, the strongest.

He turned onto his side, his gaze falling upon the sleeping, delicate figure beside him. His heart stirred.

‘She should… be asleep, right?’

Roland quietly extended a hand, placing it cautiously on her waist.

Freya’s skin was warm and smooth; once his hand was there, he couldn’t bear to remove it.

‘No reaction at all… She’s far too careless.’

His palm, damp with nervous sweat, stuck to Freya’s fair skin as he moved it. Roland swallowed, feeling as though he was somehow defiling the girl.

‘No, how could this be defilement? We are husband and wife now. Though she’s willing to do housework for me, she hasn’t fulfilled her most important wifely duty.’

‘Being touched by her own husband is also a wife’s duty, isn’t it?’

‘Hehe, a wife’s duty…’

His mind raced like lightning, and he slowly moved his hand upwards, targeting a particular area.

‘My heart is pounding so fast. Don’t be nervous; this isn’t a crime, just a touch.’

To avoid waking Freya, Roland’s hand had to move like a snail across her smooth skin.

“Hm? Is there something here?” He felt something hard. While Freya was still asleep, he secretly pulled it out from her.

It was a red, rhomboid gem, still warm with Freya’s body heat and scent.

‘Should I smell it? That feels a bit perverted.’

“Pervert…” a faint voice murmured.

‘Ah! This is bad!’

Roland turned to look at Freya, only to find her still asleep.

‘A delusion?’

“Not a delusion,” the gem in his hand trembled slightly. “Look here.”

‘Good heavens! A talking gem! What is this thing?’

“I am the Philosopher’s Stone, the supreme, omniscient, and omnipotent being of this world,” the Philosopher’s Stone declared, sensing his thoughts. “Hero, I can bestow upon you the strongest power in the world and restore your forgotten memories, provided you agree to one condition.”

‘It’s actually the legendary Philosopher’s Stone… What kind of condition?’

“Kill the one beside you,” the Philosopher’s Stone’s voice was chilling and merciless.

‘Huh? What the hell? That’s absurd, right?’

“This individual is actually a demon. Everything she told you before was fabricated. She approached you only to gain your trust; once you find the Holy Sword, she will kill you. Do not be deceived by her appearance; demons are inherently cruel, treacherous, and cunning. You must find an opportunity to eliminate her later…” The Philosopher’s Stone spoke voluminously.

‘A demon? Roland glanced again at the sweet, sleeping face of the girl beside him…’

‘Aren’t demons supposed to be dark and ugly? This Philosopher’s Stone must be fake.’

“Hmph, naive! She isn’t just any demon; she is the reincarnation of the Demon Lord,” the Philosopher’s Stone emitted a crimson glow. “Fine, I’ll return a fragment of your memory first. Boy, observe this memory carefully, and don’t be foolish anymore!”

A fragment of memory pierced Roland’s mind. His eyes glazed over for a few seconds before clarity returned.

‘Memories of the Magic Fairy Castle…’

‘The Philosopher’s Stone…’

‘The Demon Lord…’

“Hiss—” Roland gasped, sucking in a cold breath. He recalled the Demon Lord’s hair and eye color, which were indeed identical to Freya’s.

‘Wait, wasn’t the Demon Lord a male in my memories?’ Roland looked at Freya again, carefully confirming her body.

‘They’re quite large, aren’t they? She doesn’t look like a man at all.’

“Hehehe, boy, you wouldn’t know this, but high-ranking demons can reshape their bodies after reincarnation. You still think he’s a woman, huh?”

‘Damn! So not only is she a demon, but also…’

Roland felt his emotions and body had both been deceived. Thinking of his ignorant actions just moments ago, he was overcome with regret and disgust.

‘Hey! Broken stone, did you just say she wants to use me to get the Holy Sword? And then kill me?’

“Yes.”

‘Then where is the Holy Sword?’

“It’s with me.”

‘Then give me the Holy Sword, and I’ll hack this bastard to death right now!’

“Heh, naive. With your current strength, you couldn’t possibly wield the Holy Sword. Even a mere touch would reduce you to ashes,” the Philosopher’s Stone scoffed.

‘What should I do then?’ Roland’s face darkened, feeling his life was in peril.

“That amulet around your neck, lend it to me as a temporary dwelling,” the Philosopher’s Stone said. With that, it emitted a red light that shot towards Roland’s amulet.

His mother had obtained the amulet from the Church long ago. After his magical backlash, the priest had produced this item, claiming it could expel evil spirits and restore his sanity, for which he charged his mother a silver coin—a sum she had acquired by selling many of her possessions.

The silver amulet trembled a few times, then the voice spoke weakly: “I am somewhat debilitated now and cannot assist you for the time being. During this period, do not reveal any weaknesses. Once I recover… take the Demon Lord to the Elvin Front Line, east of Green Village… and then…”

And then, as if its power had been completely spent, the voice vanished entirely.

‘Tsk, tsk, honestly. To stop halfway, how irresponsible.’

After a moment’s thought, Roland decided to place the red gem back on Freya’s body, as it likely had no further use.

‘I’ll just pretend nothing happened for now…’

“Bastard…”

Just as he placed the gem down, his hand accidentally brushed against Freya’s soft chest, eliciting a delicate yet furious snarl.

‘No way, I’ve been discovered?!’

“You…”

Roland’s wrist was firmly clasped, impossible to break free.

“Shameless, filthy, perverted…”

Freya slowly turned over, the fury in her eyes threatening to erupt.

“Idiot Hero…”

Freya extended her right hand, preparing to cast a [Blazing Flare] spell. ‘This scoundrel will be crippled below.’

“Calm down!” Roland’s mind raced, instantly formulating an excuse. “Aren’t we husband and wife?”

“Husband and wife…” Freya’s movements halted.

“Then, as a husband, touching his wife’s body is quite normal, isn’t it?”

“Uh…” Freya angrily crushed the magic she had just prepared.

“Besides, you haven’t even fulfilled your most important wifely duty. It shouldn’t be too much to ask for me to touch you a couple of times to vent my frustration, should it?”

“A wife’s duty…?” Freya suddenly felt a wave of helplessness, lowering her head in despair.

Seeing his argument was effective, Roland quickly pressed on. “Exactly, exactly. You have no idea how hard I’ve been holding back these past few days. Ah, but seeing how unwilling you are, I can’t force it. This time, it’s my fault. Don’t be angry, my dear…”

Roland felt sick to his stomach as he spoke. ‘Good heavens, I just casually called the former Demon Lord ‘my dear.’ As the Hero, I have absolutely no dignity left!’

“My… dear…?” Freya’s eyes twitched stiffly. She turned away, retching disgustedly, then took a deep breath. When she turned back, her expression was as gentle as water. “I… I’m not angry because you were taking liberties with me. It’s just… your body hasn’t fully recovered yet, and you shouldn’t expend your energy like this. Let’s wait until you’re almost recovered, and then… I will fulfill that duty…”

‘By then, I’ll fulfill my duty of turning you into an alien insect, hacking you to pieces, and flushing you down the drain!’ Freya secretly vowed in her heart.

On the surface, however, she maintained a bashful expression, her rosy cheeks seemingly capable of blushing even more deeply. Her captivating gaze made Roland truly want to award her an Oscar (the highest award from the Holy Roman Kingdom’s Royal Actors’ Guild) for her performance.

‘Heh, acting? Who can’t do that?’

Roland chuckled inwardly. Without hesitation, he leaned closer to his wife, placing a hand on Freya’s flushed cheek, and gazed at her deeply. “Mm, it’s alright. Actually, thinking about it, I was also in the wrong.”

“Eh?” Freya’s blush was tinged with a hint of pallor.

‘Bastard, why are you so close!’

“It’s all my fault… I was too impatient…” Roland looked into her violet eyes. “Too impatient to express my love for you.”

Roland took a deep breath and said with profound affection, “I want to give you everything… the damp strands of my hair, the whispers of midnight, my clumsy declarations of love, the stars in my eyes, the surge of my blood, my cautiousness, my recklessness, the cold wind, the scorching heat, morning and evening, good mornings and good nights—with a fervent heart, I give you all the rest of my life.”

Freya could feel the warmth of his breath hitting her delicate face with each word, causing her body to tremble with revulsion. It was as if he wasn’t her husband but a divine inquisitor from the Church, and he wasn’t speaking to her, but rather lashing her repeatedly with a heavy whip of divine punishment.

‘I can’t take this anymore… Idiot Hero, just kill me already!’

“No… don’t do this…” Freya buried her head in his chest, her unseen face contorting wildly. “I understand everything you’re saying…”

Roland felt his acting had truly reached its peak, soaring to the heavens. Looking at Freya in his arms, he patted her back. “Mhm, alright. It’s late now; let’s just sleep. We can talk about anything else tomorrow.”

“Mhm.”

Lying down, both instinctively moved a little further from each other, avoiding any physical contact.

‘As for acting, I’ve got this in the bag!’

Both thought simultaneously.