Chapter 128
Chapter 128
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Star Fall (13)
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Since I was already out and about, I figured I might as well take care of business. I'd memorized the Kingsland geography from the community forums, so I planned to head straight there, deliver the messenger's letter, and ask about the current state of the war. After all, I was a hero of the Radiant Church, the most powerful order in the kingdom. They might not treat me like a commander right away, but sharing intel should be no problem.
Kingsland was a city packed with sturdy yet luxurious buildings. The streets stretched straight and wide like a badge of pride for its planned design, divided into neat districts that made passage easy unlike typical streets of this era. Seventy years ago, Lordric had faced an undead assault head-on, and in the rebuilding after the capital's structures and palace were smashed to bits, it had been reborn as a planned city.
Why bring this up? Because in this refreshingly open city with its clear sightlines, every alley except the main boulevards was crammed full of tents and shanties.
With the kingdom on the brink of total collapse, refugees weren't surprising. The issue was that these refugees—and the ramshackle structures they'd piled up in the alleys—didn't look ordinary at all.
[Info Update: Tent woven from elven silk, recycled chairs, walls from Andalia mahogany, exquisitely crafted earthen rainwater collectors, dwarven silverware, torn silk dresses / Summary: An extraordinarily expensive pile of trash.]
A quick scan of the refugee dens spat out that much info.
'Elven silk tents? That's top-grade natural plant fiber—tough yet light as can be, never wears out. Popular stuff. Using liner material from high-end dresses for tents? How much did those cost? And that sloppy wood pile underneath. Brighter spots show it was originally one piece, smashed apart for this shelter. Furniture? Nah, a carriage. See the wheels repurposed as table tops. Silverware on the table too—wait, a tea set? They're sipping tea amid all that crap?'
Looking closer, the bizarre shelters overflowed with valuables beyond the tent materials.
Items worth more than their weight in gold, broken carriages, and people with skin just a bit disheveled but still pale and smooth—refugees who'd clearly washed and maintained themselves.
Surprisingly, the street-sleepers in the alleys were nobles. Lands overrun by mutts, they'd grabbed their treasures and fled to the capital, now camping in Kingsland's few alleys.
'Those doing menial work nearby are retainers or guards, not knights... Knights got drafted into the defense forces. No familiar house crests either. Not high nobility... Minor lords with small holdings or distant branches.'
Their fall from wealthy nobles to wealthy refugees was obvious. Kingsland brimmed with far more important people than minor rich nobles. No chaos or panic despite the kingdom's peril—just tension—because they'd seized all housing, evicted the commoners, and turned it into lodging for hero parties from afar, their escorts, and high noble families fleeing here.
'Kingsland never had many commoners anyway—mostly noble estates. Perfect for guests. Securing an inn room was purely thanks to the Radiant Church's clout.
A radical move ignoring all politics. The kingdom really is on the verge. Kicking nobles onto the streets because the palace is full?'
"Tch. Knew Kingsland would be exhausting, but not like this..."
Sharp sword intent and mana prickled everywhere on the streets. Professor slipped the holy relic from around his neck outside his shirt and quickened his pace. Better grab the next mission and bail from this mess.
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Clang!
"Halt! This is a place that serves Lo Haram. Regardless of status, no one enters lightly!"
At the main gate of the Radiant Church headquarters in the capital Kingsland.
As Professor approached, two paladins in blinding white armor crossed spears to block him. Their throats sounded raw—like tons of people had been pounding on the gate.
"Latura, Lo Haram. May light grace your path, brother. I'm Professor, hero of the Church. Here to report on my previous mission and receive return orders."
"We've heard of Church heroes. Mind if we verify?"
One knight stepped forward. Without hesitation, Professor placed the Light of Nelfia in his hand. It had soaked up enough sun on the way—glowing faintly with holy radiance.
Seeing it, the paladin uncrossed his spear and bowed deeply, hand on chest.
"Latura, Lo Haram. Forgive our rudeness. With so many trying to barge in for every excuse, we've tightened security."
"No worries. I saw the alleys on the way—makes sense."
"Insight worthy of a hero. A few overdid it; they're in the underground cells as examples now."
Professor's affable chuckle soured. Blocking was fair, but throwing innocent nobles in dungeons?
- Jokasss: Underground cells? Basically slow-roast execution central, right?
- Highway Nacho Man: Slow? Civilians turn into 24/7 scream-machines and go mad or die in under five days.
- Deer Drug Please: Crazies doing crazy shit is par for the course, but headquarters folks should have some sense?
Like, kill random nobles and then what? How do you deal with the fallout?
The paladin read his face; his visor slits curved softly as he continued.
"You seem surprised. The Church faces a life-or-death battle with the Evil God. Amid holy war, worldly chains are mere facades before the light. Harassing overworked priests prepping for crusade? Heretics. Heretics must be purified. Right?"
- Take a Look: We call that 'execution.' Social contract.
- Deer Drug Please: Shh! Shut up! Didn't you see his eyes? Dude's unhinged! Killer eyes!
The paladin showed zero doubt that nameless nobles met gruesome ends through their own fault. A chill crawled up Professor's spine.
'Right—Radiant Church is one of GG's certified lunatic groups. And now? [Evil God stirring + their HQ at risk from those bastards]—mashing panic buttons like mad. Probably twice as nuts as usual?'
He wasn't a normal hero. Known as half-mutt-ish, under ideological scrutiny. A half-Evil God minion strolling in—would no priest or paladin snap and 'purify' him? This Church where even kindly orphanage nuns turn horror monsters at "black m-"
...Gulp.
"Ah, I've wasted your time, brother. Please, enter. Hero!"
"Uh, wait, hold on..."
"Archbishop said usher verified heroes inside ASAP. Hurry! Clear the nuisances, pile heretics on pyres sooner! Quick! One second faster!"
"Uh, uhuh..."
Hesitant, Professor yielded to the paladins' gleaming eyes and stepped in.
****
"Brother Ganuto! Northern weather data status!"
"By the light! Contact from brothers ambushed in Panasel!"
"Brother Damiano! Brother Damiano, where are you!"
...Gulp.
Never seen a temple this rowdy—like a marketplace. Priests everywhere cast comms magic, gathering intel from scattered paladins and priests, issuing new orders.
"Uh, excuse me..."
"Out of the way!"
"Um, where's Bishop Senadis..."
"Comms linked. Casualty list... noting... ngh!"
"No, it's fine..."
Lost in the chaos, unsure who to ask, Professor milled about when—
Thud!
Crash!
A capital monk hauling a mountain of parchments bumped him blind, spilling them everywhere.
"Damn, western intel! Brother! Crusaders and paladins, keep VIPs and pesky heretics outside—the temple's a maze, I keep tell—"
"Sorry. They said the Church was looking for me..."
He yanked out the relic like a talisman the instant they collided.
"Holy relic... A hero?"
"Yeah. Sort of, but..."
"Then what are you doing here! Meeting started ages ago!"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? Noon today, here at Radiant HQ—heroes in Kingsland, Lordric Commander-in-Chief, his subordinates. Strategy session ahead!"
News to him. Meeting? Bull.
"Not the time! Most heroes attending, and our Church hero skips? Dishonor! Hurry! This way!"
The monk snapped, forging a path through frantic priests to guide him.
Step. Step. Step. Step.
"Uh... brother?"
"Speak."
"Didn't get the memo, so... mind briefing the agenda?"
"Almost there—short version. Two items: Sharing Evil God intel, and deploying forces from all nations."
'Intel sharing, fine... But troops by committee?'
Shit. Proper fucked.
No quiet wrap-up here. Why appoint a Commander-in-Chief pre-war? Unified command on big calls, right?
War means risky spots, sacrifices for greater good.
Decide that by vote? With heroes from everywhere, each with their armies? Head hurts. Who brainstormed this idiocy?
Slam!
"Halt. Identify."
Mid-brood on the impending shitshow, two more paladins appeared like at the gate, spears crossed.
"Latura Lo Haram. May light be with you. Leo Vino, servant of light, hero..."
"Professor."
"...Professor. Escorting Professor to the meeting hall."
"...Latura Lo Haram. Verifying. Evil God's twisted spawn might sneak in."
Scrape. Clank.
Facing the approaching paladin, Professor's chest tightened. Unsettling, like dread squeezing his heart.
"...Pardon, but may I have your name, brother?"
"Church hero—chosen tool of Lo Haram himself. Mind your tone. Just ordinary paladin Gregorio."
Humble words, killer eyes. Gregorio was on high alert.
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Bullshit. Gregorio? That fucker—Purifier Gregorio Garnier.
- Jokasss: Purifier... The arsonist?
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Yup! Top merit stealer in 3rd World black mage hunts! Radiant Paladin Captain! Careful—lights your ass up first, asks later!
'Damn. Why's that psycho door-guarding the meeting?'
[Urp, ugh. What is this? Fight? Weird vibe... Another brawl?]
'...Not yet.'
Hearing Hyde stir at the threat, Professor wet his dry lips. Not pure knight but paladin—his holy aura was real. Background faded; Gregorio filled his vision.
"Don't move. If truly pure, no harm."
"Uh, pure's a stretch, but let me explain..."
"Sorry. No choice."
Muttering prayer, the paladin gathered light denser than any priest spell.
"One spark banishes darkness. [Light]!"
Fwoosh!
Blinding—not just eyes, drilling into skull and brain. Professor felt dizzy; Hyde did not.
[Gyaaaa! What! Why! No fight! You said not yet!!!]
Shing!
Beyond Hyde's flailing screams in the light wave, a cold blade slid free.
"Heh heh. Knew one would come. Evil God's minion—underestimating the Church?"
"Wha? I didn't—!"
"Quiet! Detected another being inside you writhing under light's touch! That 'insomnia crab' the mages warned of!"
.
.
.
.
Oh crap. Right—post-Isaac, they feared parasitic mutts even high mages couldn't control!
Whoooosh—
'Th-that fucker's drawing aura! Gonna kill me! Decided solo, gonna slice first!'
Gotta de-escalate. Win or lose, brawling Paladin Captain at HQ? Game over!
"M-misunderstanding! I'm a special case—"
"Brother Leo Vino! Plug your ears! Tricks evil sorcery to fool brothers!"
Fuck! Won't listen—can't reason! Need someone sane...
Professor's eyes flicked past the fiery paladin to the massive door behind—ornate as a wooden statue, meeting hall entrance.
"...Blood Armor."
Splash!
Gregorio smirked at blood shaping on Professor's arm.
"Repentance? No, resistance? Violent as Evil God's scum, heretic. No twisted tricks surpass Lo Haram's light granted me. Burn your limbs, hang from tallest spire—then that wench who hailed Evil spawn as hero, hang her too, confess every foul rite!"
"Your sword's violence incarnate, asshole! Listen when I talk, you psycho fuck!!!"
Boom!
Paladin and Professor launched at each other—red gauntlet met white-flame sword.
Craaack!
Textbook horizontal slash. Gauntlet shattered in one blow, aura clove arm. Second strike lightninged at head—
Clang!
Fallen arm's blood armor reverted to liquid, spraying Gregorio's face.
"Petty tricks! Blood sorcery—Evil God's style!"
Slash!
Sword inches from Professor's head reversed unnaturally, flames vaporizing blood.
End of first clash's flurry. Professor lost arm once crossed; paladin hadn't even tried.
'Speaking fluently after infiltrating this far—must be famed [Talking Mutt]. But some hidden card...?'
Gap clear, Gregorio stayed wary. Turning to finish flailing heretic—
Thud-thud-thud—
"Take that, dipshit!"
Professor bolted past in clash direction.
Most Churchies—fanatics ignoring logic. Psycho or not, couldn't slaughter ally...
'Gotta find someone who listens— not this ape!'
Late to catch on, Gregorio pursued—but Professor's remaining left arm already swung at door.
Bam!
Door flew; momentum carried Professor inside. Facing dozens of blades drawn at him, he threw arms up screaming.
"Help! Murderer killing people!!!"
"M-misunderstanding! He's clearly a heretic..."
"Aaagh! My arm! Arm! My aaaarm!!! Healer! Call a priest!!!"
Gregorio halting before armed heroes, Professor screamed louder.
'Voice loudest wins half the room clueless! Beg for explanations? You're fucked, buddy!'
Heroes from all nations. Rational bishop-priests running intel ops. Unlike this moron, they'd get it.
Professor grinned wickedly at sword-wielding, frozen Gregorio amid flickering holy flames.
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