Chapter 105
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: The Cultists of the Underground Sewer
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"Hey, Kobson. Grab this bastard."
"Heh heh heh, got it."
Kobson grabbed him from behind, his body limp and dangling. It felt just like back-alley thugs holding someone down while their gang beat on him.
"Hey, Mr. Cultist. Snap out of it. Even a rat hole has its day in the sun, right? Listen to your elders, and good things might fall into your lap even in your sleep."
The man, presumed to be a cultist, hung his head, black tears of blood dripping down. Kobson started spouting incomprehensible words of comfort, but it was impossible to tell if they even made sense to him, let alone if he understood the language.
I bent down to meet his eye level and spoke.
"Hey, bro. Can you hear me?"
"..."
"Sorry for hitting you. Had no choice... Not getting through? No reaction? Bro, can you hear me? Let's talk, come on?"
I grabbed his chin and lifted it. He glared at me with blazing eyes, a disgusting gaze like bubbling rotten tar. That black stare seemed laced with curses, sending a chill down my spine. I yelled at him in shock.
"Don't... don't look at me like that!"
His lips were pitch black, his skin ghostly white like snow. His eyes had no whites at all, and worst of all, the sinister tattoo on his face marked him as a heretic spawn. And damn, the bastard was bald as an egg.
This guy was a hundred percent involved in some criminal shit. As a righteous soul, it was my duty to judge him on behalf of this world. I had the authority.
"Ah, ah. Ah. Repeat after me."
To the silent man, I pointed at my mouth and kept making "ah, ah" sounds. Figured primitive body language might work.
"Say something, anything."
"..."
Still no words, so I grabbed both his ears. Surprisingly normal-looking ears. Everything else was freakish, but those were human. I yanked hard, like I was gonna rip them off, and a scream erupted.
"Sya!!!! Daoc!!! Daoc!!!!!"
"What the fuck are you saying?"
"Daoc! Daoc! GurDat! Sadami!"
He rambled on, but it was gibberish. That crap about true hearts communicating was total bullshit. With assholes like this! Humans could never fully convey their true feelings! That was why humanity could never unite!
"Can't understand a word, huh?"
All I could speak was the common tongue of this world.
Time to ask the others.
"Hey, anyone here get what this guy's saying?"
I looked around. Everyone shook their heads.
The middle-aged one didn't know, and Claudy said she didn't either.
"Hmm, guess not..."
Maybe some foreign language, magical tongue, or demonic speech. Would've been nice to have a mage or priest here. I missed Elise.
No point interrogating if we couldn't communicate.
Then Meria examined the cultist's face closely and said,
"What if he's just pretending not to understand?"
"You think?"
"Could be."
It was a damn good point. We all nodded. Staring at his bowed bald head, it seemed plausible. Criminals always played dumb no matter what you asked.
Time to toughen up.
"Well, guess we'll have to beat it out of him then."
I muttered quietly, convincing myself.
"Yeah... a good beating might loosen his tongue."
This reminded me of a story from back home.
In the chaotic era of globalization, parents desperate not to leave their kids behind started shoving English on them young. Not knowing English in modern society was like being a thunderbolt-headed freak.
I saw it on the news while eating. Curious how they taught such young kids English, I kept watching. Turns out, the "method" was beating them with a stick until they magically picked it up.
They believed the fear of pain would naturally unlock the truths of English.
That fanatical faith turned kids into pulp and landed moms in jail, but it showed how vital English was back then. Undeniable.
English was as heavy as life itself.
Parents were weeding out the non-speakers.
Thinking back, it wasn't a feature on quirky English methods—it was breaking news about abusive parents killing their kid.
Anyway, inspired by that lesson, I decided on physical encouragement to open this cultist's mouth.
Worst case, he might die like those thousands of kids learning English the hard way. But like those stick-wielding moms, it was worth a shot.
"Kobson, hold him tight. Language wizard Kim Katt's about to put on a magic show."
"No idea what you're on about, but I'm looking forward to it."
"Meria, you in? Claudy, you too?"
Claudi shook her head. Meria came over. She started it anyway. Better together than solo.
"Like you said, seems like he's faking it."
"Right?"
"Then we gotta make him talk."
"How?"
Meria grinned wickedly, tossed her shield down, cracked her neck side to side, rolled her shoulders, and loosened her fists. I did the same stretches, and we said in unison,
"Brute."
"Force."
"True barbarian style."
"You guys... can't we just head up already?"
Kobson was impressed. The middle-aged guy fidgeted, begging to leave. But we'd tasted the money. Those wands they carried were surely valuable.
And we could even strip that black robe for sale.
I stood with Meria in front of the cultist. Sensing danger, he slowly lifted his head to eye us. Last warning.
"Don't wanna get fucked up? Say so."
"..."
"This bastard... good actor, huh? Still pretending?"
He kept up the act. Rage boiled over. Why can't you speak English? Why! Mom's gotta do this!!! Aaaargh!!!
"Kobson! Hold tight!"
Fury peaked. I punched his gut wildly. Thud! My fist sank deep.
"—Gack!"
He thrashed like a duck. But Kobson held firm.
"Meria! Your turn!"
"Got it! Filthy heretic!"
Taekwondo had punches too. My brain said gauntlet-fused ones could pulverize organs in one hit.
—Thud!
—Thud!
I hammered his gut endlessly.
"Talk, you fucker!"
My big, massive fist plunged in and out, ravaging his insides. He kept quacking like a duck. Faking speechlessness, now imitating poultry.
There were limits to insulting people...!
"Evil heathen! Bad bastard!"
Meria pounded him with her gloved fists. In a church-strong world, even commoners despised evil. No mercy in her warrior punches.
"Move, gotta kick!"
Still no answer. Desperate, I kicked like a sandbag. The greaves Claudy gifted at the festival were solid iron, boosting my kicks massively.
Gathering power, I unleashed a roundhouse.
"Roundhouse kick!"
—Crack!
Clean impact. My kick buried into his chest. Felt ribs snap around my foot—definitely broke a couple.
—Thud!
Too strong. Kobson toppled backward, still holding him.
"Gah, urk! Too hard, barbarian!"
"Oops! Sorry! You okay?"
I apologized to frowning Kobson, helped him up, brushed him off as he grumbled. Then we tried raising the cultist again. English class wasn't over.
"Katt. He's dead."
Claudi, checking the fallen cultist, said so.
What? Dead?
"Good hit. Shattered ribs pierced his heart. Remember the feel."
"H-he's dead?"
"Yeah."
"Kyaa!" Meria screamed at the accident. Kobson checked his pulse, confirmed, and yelled,
"Hey, barbarian! What if you kill him?!"
"Uh, uh?"
"We got nothing out of him! That's not interrogation, that's murder!"
"N-no!"
"No what!"
"No! I-I just... just... English..."
I looked at the corpse. Eyes rolled back, motionless. Hard to tell with no whites anyway.
"It's fine. He couldn't talk anyway. Better off dead. No point sparing him after killing one. Easier to hand over dead to the church too."
Claudi soothed my shock.
True. He wouldn't say anything we understood. Just venting sewer stress violently.
"So, up now? Or 4th floor again? Either's fine."
"Let's head up quick. Quest's done... Horrifying!"
Claudi smiled. Middle-aged guy replied maniacally.
I eyed Kobson and Meria. Truth was, no clue what lurked below. But two wands meant loot piled up.
Maybe some evil ritual?
Sacrifices too?
"Kobson, good with two wands?"
"Hmm... tempting."
"Meria?"
"Same... more info would've helped."
"Up now! Too dangerous! Who knows what's there!"
Middle-aged guy barked at our hesitation. Normal citizen hated combat overload. Dragging him was iffy, but...
I calmly persuaded the excited man.
"Mr. Merman, calm down. What if they're making undead? Then more pop up, guild penalties for 'failing' a cleared quest."
D-rank goal for me. Painful hit.
D-rank meant real good quests. Easier money.
"I-I'll take responsibility! If we go now!"
"Hmm..."
I narrowed my eyes at him.
Choice time.
Search sewer level 4, or bail?