Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: In the Name of Glory (12)
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***
Borka had said with his own mouth that it was already too late, but the Professor thought differently.
‘For someone who’s given up, he sure tried to slip away quietly at first, right? At the beginning—that is, before I clocked him—he didn’t even transform, just tried to subdue me lightly and bolt. It was obvious he was mindful of the church folks wandering around nearby.’
Just to survive? If so, he would’ve gone berserk the moment the church’s holy knights grabbed him, like he was now. According to rumors, getting caught meant death. But the fact that he’d been holed up safe and sound in the church’s annex meant he’d let himself get dragged in without a fight. What must a werewolf who’d come to the city searching for his family have thought upon seeing the church people who hunted his kind?
“And finally, you wanted to check the church’s underground prison, right? Since you got caught like this, you had to see if your family, dragged into the city, had ended up in the church like you. But to risk your life sneaking into the church... You must’ve been desperate. Or—”
“Three years. Three years. Three years wandering this city overflowing with hatred after leaving my homeland!”
Borka cut off the Professor’s words, exhaling a breath laced with fury like molten iron from a furnace.
“They were good merchants, that’s what I believed. Gifting glassware to the village women, sharing snacks with the kids—merchants with warm smiles that suited them perfectly!”
Shwick!
Even as he spoke, Borka didn’t stop his attacks. The Professor barely leaned back to dodge claws sharp enough to slice cleanly through solid granite walls.
“I thought, ‘Oh, there are decent humans after all!’ I welcomed them! Let them stay in the village! Never dreaming they’d laced the feast they offered in gratitude with poison!”
Shaaak!
“Tch! Damn fast! So, they killed your kin and kidnapped the kids!”
“You don’t know! It can’t be summed up with a single word like ‘death’!”
Pang!
The attacks grew faster. The Professor circled the thick structural pillar in the center of the room, grabbing Borka’s arm again the moment his claws grazed the pillar and slowed just a fraction, then hurled him away. He couldn’t afford to slam him down like before—the resistance from Borka’s seized arm was no joke. His gray fur had turned silver, gleaming with an unmistakably dangerous sheen.
‘Mana? No, spiritual energy? This guy’s a whole different beast from before the transformation.’
Borka, flung like a cannonball toward the Professor, twisted midair, landed lightly on all fours like a wolf, then kicked off the wall and lunged. It was a wolf’s pounce on prey—but dozens of times fiercer and faster. Instinct screamed: trying to grab that would get both arms sliced clean off.
The Professor sighed, channeling all his power into his right arm.
“Damn it. There are eyes on us, so I was gonna win this looking cool.”
[This ain’t the time to worry about style. He’s getting stronger—if you let him keep going, you might actually lose. Just beat him down easy.]
“Who wouldn’t want to? No Mutation Blood here either... Hngh!”
Crack-crunch-!
His arm swelled over three times its size in an instant, whipping back like a loaded spear. Borka closed the gap in a flash, aiming for the Professor’s nape.
“Humans! I hate you all!!!”
“Screw it! Don’t die on me, Borka!”
Shwaaak!
Just as Borka’s silver fur streamed behind him and his fangs neared the Professor’s neck, the primed massive right arm swung like a battering ram, bursting with a sound like a leather sack exploding.
Pwaaack!
.
.
.
A split-second silence. Then,
Kuuuuaaaaaang!!!!!
Borka, struck dead-on by the Professor’s full-power right hook, rocketed through the building wall like a missile.
Kwaaang!
Kwaang!
Kuuung.
Kuung-
.
.
.
.
Hearing distant crashes as something continued smashing along its path, the Professor scratched his head with his left hand, his right now a mangled wreck.
“Tch. He’s dead.”
[Paul. You should’ve aimed upward.]
“I hit sideways on purpose, you idiot. A home run would’ve cleared the church wall.”
The Professor squinted, peering beyond the church lodging where nearly an entire wall had been obliterated.
“No way, he’s alive? I think I see something twitching way over there...”
- Number Three: That’s rigor mortis, boss.
- Speed Wagon: Freshly slaughtered beef twitches when you cut it too.
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Don’t die! (Full power)
- Jokass: Did you see his eyes flash when you hit him? Man, those were killer eyes.
- takealook: Draw out all their grudge, then finish them off. Like a kind of funeral rite. As a church hero, you gave him a proper send-off...
“No, I seriously didn’t mean to kill him. Just look at how he hung with me—he’s no ordinary guy, killing him would be a waste. It’s just... I was way stronger than I thought. I’m not usually this much?”
[Our body’s still growing. If you hadn’t sparred with Borka, you’d have been doing muscle-tearing workouts all day to block infection factors. It’s risky, but the gains are solid. Speaking of, he probably wrecked a few more church buildings nearby. Hope no one got caught in it.]
“...Eh, should be fine. With the times being what they are, all the church folks are probably at dawn prayer. Yeah? Probably.”
Rubbing his nonexistent sore shoulder with his left hand, the Professor stepped over the crumbled wall to find Borka.
Rattle-rattle, rattle-rattle!
“M-M-Monster... The church sold us into a monster’s hands...”
The rest of the suicide squad, watching the Professor—grinning to himself with one arm blown off—shivered in horror at the insane sight.
***
Clack! Clack!
“Halt! State your identity! This area is under the control of the Radiant Holy Knights right now...”
“Ugh, yeah, makes sense. After that ruckus, if the holy knights didn’t move, it’d be dereliction of duty.”
Following the straight-line path of destruction from the gaping hole in the suicide squad lodging, the Professor finally found Borka. Still embedded in the wall from his flight path, he was surrounded by holy knights radiating menace.
[Oh, he didn’t die.]
“No, not only alive—he seems conscious?”
Sluuurp—thud!
In that moment, Borka’s transformation unraveled, his body shrinking and dropping from the wall.
The Professor shoved through the protesting holy knights, deftly catching Borka’s falling form with one hand.
“Gotcha!”
Shwaaang!
“Stop! That beast caused a disturbance within the sacred church grounds—he must be duly punished—”
Fwaaaah-!
The holy knight’s words cut off. The necklace the Professor pulled from his neck lit the dim surroundings with holy radiance.
“Y-You’re a church hero.”
“Wha—? The church relic, why... how...”
“It was internal suicide squad discipline. Problem?”
The holy knight looked like he had plenty to say, but before the shaking, brilliantly glowing relic, he clamped his mouth shut.
“...the abode of Roharam’s faithful. Please... exercise restraint. If those heretics need instruction, tell us. We know many effective methods.”
“Yeah, sure. Keep up the good work.”
The Professor brushed off the holy knight’s words, slung the now dog-chased-by-chicken-like knights aside, hoisted Borka over his shoulder, and turned away.
Step, step, step step.
“...Cough! Kuuh...”
“Hey, you’re really awake. Tougher than me, huh?”
As he emerged from the holy knights and headed back to the lodging, Borka shuddered on his shoulder and spoke.
“...Kill me.”
“Nope. You’re coming with me to take down the queen. You have to live.”
“Ptoo!”
At the Professor’s words, Borka groaned again, twisting to hawk blood-mixed phlegm at his face.
“Don’t get cocky... Even if you bind my body, my soul...”
“Tch, frustrating, stupid, and filthy to boot. Minus one point.”
Borka erupted in rage from his perch.
“Kuhk—If you mean to insult me...!”
“No, it’s not an insult—it’s facts. You spent three years and couldn’t find the kidnapped kids, right? You’re still looking, so you haven’t even confirmed the bodies? So when the church grabbed you, thinking it was your last shot, you let them take you to check if they were there?”
Sparring had solidified his guesses. He wasn’t some high-ranking temple holy knight—the regular ones out on missions couldn’t handle full-power Borka. He knew capture meant death, yet came anyway. Clinging to that last shred of hope.
Borka affirmed it with silence.
“Obvious, right? A werewolf from the forest in Lordric, where everyone but humans gets treated like beasts. Three years of getting kicked around like trash—you must be worn to nothing. Hope’s volatile; hold it too long, and it evaporates.”
Three years in a cold city showing no trace of the kids, no one accepting him. Plenty of time for hope to burn out and despair to settle in.
“Idiot. You think long-haul traffickers covering Lordric to Great Forest would be findable normally?”
“Then what... should I have done? I used every method I knew, searched desperately. Couldn’t find them, so I should’ve gone back to the forest?”
“‘The methods you knew’... that’s the problem.”
Step, step.
For a moment, only the sound of footsteps on grass passed between them.
The Professor looked up at the sky. Unlike the pitch-black wasteland nights, this one sparkled like scattered jewels—a scenic view that stirred sentiment. Maybe that’s why useless words slipped out.
“If you’d known more about the human world, you might’ve had a shot at finding them in those three years. Ignorance can be a sin sometimes.”
“Sophistry. Easy to say—”
“I lost my mom the same way.”
Step, step, step.
Reaching the visible suicide squad lodging, the Professor broke the heavy silence.
“Talked to the bishop here earlier. Thought I’d been discreet, but the Radiant Church knows everywhere I’ve been and what I’ve done.”
“...”
“They’ve got an info network of believers. Not just Lordric—Roharam’s faithful span the world, nowhere without them. If you weren’t treated like a beast, but as a church suicide squad member earned their respect as an undeniable hero... you could tap that network for info on the caravan that hauled wolfkin from Great Forest three years ago. Hell, they might already have it.”
Step, step, thud.
Entering through the wall hole, the Professor set Borka down in a corner.
“Think it over. Beastkin have tough life force—they don’t die easy. As long as you don’t give up, there’s still hope.”
Leaving the now-silent Borka, the Professor approached the others, frozen like glued to the table in terror.
“Alright, bit noisy, but seems we cleared up that guy’s doubts. Anyone else got questions for me?”
Naturally, no one could muster it, seeing Borka swollen-faced and sprawled like a corpse in the corner.
***
‘Mm, perfect! The mood’s great now!’
[Shell, you really think this is a good vibe? Everyone flinches like their bladder’s tingling every time you look?]
‘It’s fine, fine! A leader needs some scary edge.’
Truth be told, the Professor’s “mood” wasn’t just the fear hanging in the air.
‘Wasn’t planned, but I threw down properly anyway.’
Any group’s the same—people prefer strong leaders. If someone’s ordering you, they’d better be better than you, or resentment brews. Y’know, that famous line: ‘I don’t take orders from the weak!’
‘At least on combat, I’ve sold them on my quals to lead.’
They flinched and edged away each glare—maybe oversold a tad.
‘Eh, we’ll iron that out.’
Anyway, Borka was reeled in fine; time to convince the rest.
Luckily, the mages weren’t hard.
“Elder Ottoman?”
“Eeeek! I-I’ll follow! Unconditionally!”
“Uh, thanks, but listen first...”
“Uwaaa! I’ll follow! No matter what! Just spare my life...!”
“Agh, seriously! Just hear me out!”
Calming them took longer than convincing.
“...So, the Reid Flow school’s already marked by the Radiant Church—leaving won’t let you operate freely. No funds for a new tower. Rural areas are even more under church sway; one complaint from the local priest, and villagers swarm you out. Best case, alchemy guild job making holy water—lame for a mage, right? Never dream of Water Rain or whatever?”
“Mm... true.”
“So, nail this mission, show the Radiant Church Reid Flow aren’t heretics. That’s it.”
“I see. You’re surprisingly sharp, lad? Unlike your actions...”
“Huh?”
“N-No! Nothing!”
Thus, the water mages joined willingly.
“Black Mage, you get it, right?”
“...If I don’t join, it’s execution anyway.”
“That too, but key is showing the church we’ll fight Mutants and aligned black mages per orders. They hate black mages on sight—prove there’s ones like us on different paths, helps you and other unfairly persecuted black mages. So...”
“Enough. I know our plight better than you. I’m life-bound to the church anyway—they have my soul jar.”
“Ah... so that’s you.”
World 3’s big foes included black mages, so community intel was solid. Varies by sect, but black mages with big obvious necklaces? That’s the weak point. Breaks, they die—probably the soul jar.
“So, full effort on the mission?”
“No choice. Why switch to polite now? Confusing.”
“Only when needed.”
Short and sharp for orders, but dropping honorifics with elders like Ottoman or the black mage felt off—my inner Confucian blood rebelled.
Anyway, black mage committed too.
Finally, he’d bound these quirky comrades under one goal: [Resolve Church Mission].
Clap clap clap!
Drawing eyes with applause, the Professor beamed like the world’s happiest man.
“Alright! Now we’re truly comrades. Right? Wanna grab drinks, but it’s late, and tomorrow’s busy—so sleep for now. See you all!”
He dashed to the farthest spot, threw the church blanket over, and lay down. The chaos needed forcing into order, or no one’d sleep.
Still, standing at the starting line felt good as he drifted off.
“Ugh, ugh...”
“Shh! Quiet! You’ll wake the monster!”
Sadly, despite his efforts, the mages lay awake, watching his severed right arm regrow in real-time from under the blanket.
***