Chapter 66
Chapter 66
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: In the Name of Glory (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
***
Church of Light
Any player diving into Gedroits's Game is bound to tangle with them at least once.
They first appeared midway through World 1, and in World 2, they made the biggest contribution to halting the undead advance—a religious order devoted to the god of light, Ro-Haram.
With a history as long as time itself, they've built an immense following, reaching the peak of their power in World 3, wielding more influence than most nations.
Truth be told, your average player ought to stay on good terms with the Church of Light.
Not out of fear of their clout, but because the friendlier you are, the more it helps your gameplay.
In World 3, you'll inevitably face off against Mutants or Black Mages one way or another. Rack up feats in battles against Mutants or take down Black Mages, and the Church logs your contributions. Stack enough, and you can recruit priest NPCs as companions, buy gear imbued with holy attributes, or snag handy consumables like holy water and holy potions.
From a player's perspective, you're just hunting Black Mages because you need to for your own progress, and suddenly Church folks show up praising your deeds, handing out gear and lending manpower.
But what if you've done something naughty and you're a wanted criminal?
Then you have even more reason to cling to the Church of Light for dear life.
Because they hold the "Right of Atonement"—the authority to forgive sins if the offender turns themselves in, completes confession per procedure, and carries out a few "sacred missions" assigned by the Church. That's no small power. They can absolve crimes from any nation, regardless of the offense, purely by temple decree. It's a stark example of just how much sway the Church wields in this era.
Crunch crunch.
Professor came down to the inn's first floor, nibbling his nails as he spoke.
"The Right of Atonement... Think we could just go get one?"
"Who knows? Depends on who exactly the Church is 'looking for,' doesn't it?"
Here's the problem. Are they hunting for the plain old "fugitive Professor," or the "Red Mutant" who murdered a 6th Circle mage, toppled the Mage Tower, and unleashed floods across the city to sow chaos? Not knowing which it is has us agonizing like this. If it's the former, just head over, say "oops, sorry," do some chores, and call it a day. If it's the latter...
"'Wicked fiend! Face the judgment of light!'
"'Burn in eternal, immortal torment! Oh, Ro-Haram! Your servant shall flay the hide from this evil being!'
'Yeah, no need to guess. Church of Light folks are terrifying. Even the nun pruning trees in the garden with a gentle smile flips her eyes back and lunges like a beast with garden shears the moment she spots a heretic. That 'light' in their name isn't for show.'"
The Church of Light's long history is one of unyielding struggle against heretics, steeped in grudge after grudge over the ages. They forgive human sins readily enough, but for grave offenses against their god—like practicing black magic, associating with it, or shaking hands with a Black Mage unaware—they bring down the hammer of fury without mercy.
Professor, seated across from him spooning soup, turned to Rakshasa, who was gleefully savoring his tormented expression.
"Rakshasa, what do you think? You've run a thieves' guild, so you must know more details than this."
"Hmm, sorry, but I never get involved with Church matters. All I know is that my name suddenly popped up on their wanted list. I do have a personal opinion, though."
Professor lifted his head from the table, silently prompting her for it. Rakshasa's face lit up even more as she replied.
"No need to take risks when intel's this thin, right? If word gets out that 'fugitive Professor' and 'Red Mutant' are the same guy, walking into the Church is suicide. Why not just cross the great desert with me to Taklan instead?"
"Taklan? You mean the desert nation of Taklan?"
"Oh? Playing dumb, or do you really not know? Someone as sharp as you must've pieced together my identity from my chat with Isaac."
Seeing her unravel thread from her fingertip to form a tiny spider that skittered about, Professor shook his head.
He'd suspected she was more than a thieves' guild master from her talk with Isaac, but Taklan—the largest territory holder among the eastern desert nations?
'No wonder she's stunningly beautiful.'
In this game, characters too handsome or pretty beyond reason warrant suspicion. Heroic Points don't just accumulate for players.
'People imagine heroes as handsome and beautiful by default.'
Take this example: Suppose someone huge and monstrous-looking like me pulls off heroic feats that make waves. In a place where tavern gossip is the local pastime, rumors spread fast.
['A warrior built like a troll, with a bushy-bearded face and monstrous strength, saved our village bare-handed!']
By the time a bard carries it to the next town, it's morphed into:
['A burly fellow with a manly face and strength to uproot mountains saved the village single-handedly!']
And when it hits the capital's gossip mills:
['A sturdy, handsome hero bellowed at the villains, swinging his greatsword to cleave mountains and rivers, enlightening the wicked in one fell swoop. His commanding physique, dragging the bound foes home, left village maidens fainting in droves.']
Every NPC is a proactive system admin with a sliver of authority over the game. Once perceptions of a figure solidify, the character's appearance shifts to match. No joke—pile up Heroic Points in the late game, and even my ugly mug subtly turns ruggedly handsome. That's why a silver-tongued diplomat build can outmatch regular knights easily.
Anyway, the point is:
------
Heroic Points trigger appearance corrections toward what people envision as "heroic."
Rakshasa is beautiful enough to star in any epic saga.
Thus, Rakshasa has Heroic Points—she's a Hero Unit.
------
Simple, but a solid hypothesis.
'The system hasn't flagged it because her name isn't Rakshasa.'
A Hero Unit's identity reveals when they disclose their true name and join as a companion.
Yet Rakshasa's shared numerous adventures with me, even showing deep intimacy moments ago, but no Hero Unit message or companion recruitment prompt appeared.
'"Spy dispatched from another kingdom." Tough spot for becoming a companion. Maybe that friendly demeanor was all an act.'
Disappointing in a way, but her intel gathering, stealth, assassination, and combat skills make sense for someone hard to recruit. At least A- rank. Might take a solid month of dedicated quests to snag her.
Mistaking his thoughtful gaze for worry, Rakshasa leaned in earnestly and whispered.
"As you guessed, I'm an agent Taklan sent to gather central intel. Last night while you slept, I sent word back home about the Mutants that raided the center. Got a reply this morning. Headquarters recognizes the severity—they're recalling field agents to plan countermeasures."
Rakshasa gently took Professor's hand, locking eyes with him.
"Professor? Won't you come with me... to Taklan? I'll guarantee your safety personally."
Her sincerity made him set aside doubts that it might all be theater. Revealing her spy status—something she shouldn't—and inviting him home. Who knows how genuine, but her fondness wasn't entirely fake.
That made it all the sadder. He had to turn her down.
As he released her hand with a bitter look, regret filled her delicate features.
"Why...? If Taklan doesn't appeal, please reconsider. It's not as backward as central folk claim..."
"I know. How prosperous Taklan is. How mighty its power."
Taklan's famed for its hardy warriors, but their earth magic fueled by "Desert Blood" is the real star. They pump oil for spells. Even in GG, oil magic's power endures.
"Then why—"
"I've got to stop them. You saw it too, Rakshasa. The monster that infiltrated a Mage Tower lord's body and puppeted him. Creatures with power to topple three cities in a blink, yet resorting to such insidious tactics."
Going to Taklan with her would be comfy. Guaranteed status, and unlike central nations, the merit-based desert kingdom would let him wield his looks and skills openly.
But if he left, who'd save Lordric from collapse after losing three cities? If Lordric falls, who'd stop Mutants sacrificing countless citizens to overrun the central continent? Eastern desert nations? Southern rainforests? They'd crumble to Mutants in under half a year. Knowing this world is sprinting toward doom, there's no escape anywhere.
"You have to stop them.... Is it revenge? Against those who made you this way?"
"Revenge? Nah. The Mage Tower made me like this, not the Mutants."
"Then why bother stopping them? I know you're powerful, but... you're just one person. Even at your best, you can't step into the light and bask in praise."
Faced with Rakshasa's question, he couldn't muster a logical reason.
"Who knows. No real reason. I just know if we let it slide, everything's done for. So I want to stop it. That's it."
Not a player's perspective. He's got cash now; solve the Hide issue, and no need to grind this ragtag game. But these NPCs? Not mere code snippets. They think independently, feel emotions, pain, marry, have kids, experience every joy and sorrow—replicated souls. Can't ignore them dying knowing that. This place is no different from the real world.
'This is why I hated playing this game.'
GG changes you the deeper you go. The more you learn, the more human you become—or discard humanity. No one's forcing it; you just keep choosing until you transform.
[Blah blah, tacking on pointless excuses again. You skipped the real reason.]
Lost in thought, quiet Hide suddenly piped up, grating his nerves.
'...Touchy subject much?'
[Helping you. So when things get rough and you think, "Why am I even doing this?" you won't quit and regret it.]
With a cackling whisper, Hide projected an image in his mind: A modest wooden cottage. A small garden plot in the yard, a stream beyond the fence, a couple offering warm meals to passing strangers they'd never met.
[If you let this world be... you know, right?]
Heh heh.
'...Annoying bastard.'
Being forcibly stripped bare like this felt profoundly uncomfortable and embarrassing. Fine. He couldn't let them die. Eddie and Martha—replicated souls or not—he wouldn't abandon them to war's flames again.
"I want to protect this world."
Thanks to the pest yanking away his pretenses, raw, embarrassing truth spilled out.
Professor's face flushed crimson at his own words.
Rakshasa's face, tinged with disappointment and pity, shifted to confusion, surprise, then an inscrutable tangle of emotions.
"Found... you."
Her eyes moist, Rakshasa murmured cryptically, withdrawing her hand as if accepting his resolve, and spoke.
"You're... far more special than I thought."
Clenching her chest as if holding back, steeling herself, Rakshasa suddenly stood.
"Professor, I've heard your noble intent. First time a man's turned me down so firmly—and first time it doesn't sting. Stealing a woman like me's first experience like this. Definitely no ordinary man."
"Uh, no, that's not—"
He couldn't finish. Rakshasa approached softly, seized his face, and kissed him fiercely.
As the soul-stirring, passionate kiss ended, Rakshasa—flushed and disheveled, not her usual gentle smile—swept back her fallen hair and slipped her hand into his tunic.
"W-Wait! Not here—ngh!"
A burning sensation flared where her fingers touched, and a red curse mark appeared near his collarbone before sinking into his skin. In its place, a tiny knot of thread remained.
"Oh? What were you imagining?"
"N-No, I..."
"God, so intense one moment, adorable the next."
Flicking his nose, she leaned to whisper in his ear.
"I'll hold back this time. Taklan women are patient. But don't make me wait too long, or I'll get mad?"
"Wait too long? What—"
"Go to the Church. If they truly suspected you, they'd have sieged Tobrune and torched the city, not just posted warrants. They're probably after 'fugitive Professor.' Go do what you must. And someday, before your star sets, when your brilliant task nears its end..."
Her words trailed off as her slender fingers caressed his face, handling it like the most delicate treasure.
"Walk due east from here, between the stars of Cyan and Dopplon, to the third well you encounter. Show my mark there."
With her words, the curse mark on his collarbone glowed faintly red.
"Then, the man who crossed the desert seeking his beloved, and the woman who longed for him counting grains of sand in the wind, shall meet. The desert woman, Anaya, shall find her mate after long waiting."
Anaya gazed at the man who would be her dearest treasure, her violet-flecked black eyes brimming with open affection.
"I'll wait. Stay safe until the day you come for me, my love."
Swish.
With the sound of scattering wind, Rakshasa—who'd caressed his face so tenderly—vanished without a trace.
Ding—
[Info Update: Affinity formed with Hero Unit - Anaya Tam Shandea (Rakshasa). / 'Ah, that prophecy was true. Amid the human masses like grains of desert sand, after that long wait, my love has finally come.' / Current Relationship: Lover]
"Rakshasa? Anaya? L-Lover?"
Before the stunned Professor lay only the blinking system alert, a chat window exploding in the corner, and the curse mark radiating faint warmth.
***