Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Red Hill Village
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Saf was lost, stuck in the shadow of a rock, unable to move forward or back.
Of course, she could tell east from west, north from south at night by the North Star, and she knew she had to head east for the Albito Valley.
But keeping a straight course across a barren desert with no landmarks was far harder than she had imagined.
“Sorry. Because of me, you might die too. I should have just waited quietly for a guide back in Postrum Village.”
Saf gazed out at the silent desert and spoke to her horse.
“At least it’s a relief. I thought I’d run into monsters or bandits in the desert, but nothing like that happened. The sisters scared us with tales of heretics and demons living in the Red Desert. Guess they were just ghost stories.”
Saf took a sip from the waterskin and gave the rest to the horse.
*If we don’t find anything soon, thirst will be the end of us.*
Saf kept the thought to herself, not wanting to spread fear to the horse.
She set out again as evening fell and the sun dipped low. Nothing but endless desert stretched ahead.
*Father Danel mentioned this once. In wide-open places like deserts or plains, even if you think you’re walking straight, you veer off just a little to one side. You end up tracing a huge curve instead of a line. In the worst case, you circle right back to where you started...*
Unnoticed by Saf, the pure sand gave way to dry earth. There was still plenty of sand, but it was no longer a total wasteland.
A stretch of barren land led to the faint outline of a small village in the distance.
“Ah, luck’s finally on my side for once on this trip.”
Saf let out a short cry of joy and urged her horse onward. Even if it turned out to be Postrum Village again, water was all that mattered.
Her brief spark of hope faded as she drew near.
The village had been abandoned long ago. The wooden houses had weathered years of wind, leaning to one side or collapsed entirely.
The church at the village’s northern edge had a third of its structure crumbled away, but the roof still held, and a well stood behind it.
“No point getting my hopes up.”
Saf approached the well with worry. Peering in, she saw sand piled halfway up.
“This has to be Red Hill Village. Which means I’m as far from Albito Valley as I was from Postrum...
Saf desperately tried to recall Grandma Julie’s map from that one quick glimpse.
“A few miles northeast from here is Santarimo Monastery. Women can’t enter, but at least I could get water. Let’s head there before it’s too late. If I hurry, I might make it before the sun sets completely...
The moment Saf moved to climb back on her horse, figures emerged from behind the church.
They carried swords, their faces masked. Saf mistook it for sun-dazzled vision at first, but snapped alert when one shouted.
“Just one! And it’s a woman.”
A rush of men poured out from the rear. The startled horse reared, and Saf dropped the reins, stumbling back.
One dashed forward to seize the frantic horse’s reins. The others advanced on Saf, blades drawn.
One man yanked down his mask.
“Huh? She’s a looker!”
Grinning with his few remaining teeth, he asked Saf,
“Hey, where you from?”
“P-Pos..., Postr...”
Saf stammered in terror.
“What? Postrum Village?”
Saf nodded. The other men closed in.
The second man jerked his head.
“Get her inside, quick.”
“Take her inside, and she’s the boss’s. Not yet.”
The first man objected. The others eyed agreement with him. But the second shook his head.
“Even here, she’s the boss’s. Seen plenty like you—idiots who rush in and end up ‘cut.’ We take her in.”
The first man and the rest grumbled.
“Aw, but a pretty girl like this...”
The second man quieted them.
“Hey, think. Why’s a young thing like her out here? What if she’s one of the Red Desert demons?”
“If she’s this pretty, demon or not...”
One quipped, and the men roared with laughter.
Saf was too frightened to catch half their words. Helpless, she let them seize her arms and drag her into the church.
Torches and a bonfire lit the interior of Red Hill Village’s church.
They called the thick-bearded brute by the fire “Boss.”
From the chatter, Saf pieced it together: they were the Kaf Bandit Gang of the Red Desert. The boss was Kaf. They were furious over some daytime incident—and it spelled trouble for her.
“The boss can’t talk after that giant monster battle sliced his mouth, so I’ll ask for him. Who sent the assassin?”
In Kaf’s place, the man beside him demanded, handkerchief pressed to his mouth, eyes fierce.
Saf mumbled,
“A-assassin? I’m not.”
“Then who are you?”
“I...”
Saf lacked the wits to sort her racing thoughts into words.
“...A nun.”
*Strictly speaking, not a nun. Never finished the rites, bailed halfway—fat chance now.*
Saf bit back the long ramble. Not the time anyway.
“Nun? Bull. No nunneries around here!”
“Th-that’s..., I...”
As Saf faltered, another man chimed in smugly.
“No need to guess. She’s headed to Santarimo Monastery.”
Another cut in.
“Nah! Monastery’s no-go for women—how’s she going? Spy from Rom to Luna Duchy. Horse gives it away. Rom warhorse. Hiding her politics!”
Everyone jumped in.
“Far as I know, nuns can go to monasteries.”
“Far as I know, not even nuns.”
“Nuns are clergy too, moron.”
“Don’t play wise guy. Wanna die?”
“You old fuck!”
Kaf gestured. The man beside him drew steel.
The babblers clamped mouths with both hands. Comical, perhaps—but Saf felt only dread.
Kaf peeled the handkerchief away. His lips gaped cut and split, blood and pus crusting to his nose.
“You... hurt? Sword gash?”
Kaf glared at Saf’s question.
“I-I can heal you.”
Saf offered, hoping it might ease the menace.
Kaf stared long, then nodded to his man.
“Real?”
“Yes.”
“Do it. Fuck around, you’re dead.”
He waved his sword loose.
Saf neared, hand out. Kaf recoiled instinctively, eyes threatening.
“Might sting.”
Saf laid palm to Kaf’s mouth. Slick blood and pus smeared her skin.
Eyes shut, Saf invoked healing light. As it bathed his face, Kaf shrieked, foot slamming her chest. She tumbled back.
Kaf ripped his hand free, bellowing,
“You dare fool me! Bind that bitch now—
He froze.
Subordinates poised blades over fallen Saf.
“Huh? Boss, you’re talking... Still bleeds, but way better.”
Saf hugged her bruised chest, breaths ragged.
“Raise the girl. Do it again.”
Saf was hauled up, shoved before Kaf. Breathing hurt.
“Hurry! Hurt like that again, you die for real.”
Saf shook her head.
“C-can’t.”
“Bitch wants death.”
“N-no... This healing can’t be painless.”
Saf pressed her chest.
“Real?”
“Yes.”
“Make it hurt least.”
*No way to.*
Saf thought it, reapplied hand. Light flared; Kaf groaned agony.
Treatment done, he backhanded her cheek. She crumpled.
“Filthy wench, hurts bad! Said painless!”
Kaf probed lips, nodded late.
“Anyway, healed solid? Handy.”
Bandits murmured awe.
One hand up cautious.
“Me, hurt earlier—heal?”
“Got a wound from the job.”
“Me!”
“Me!”
They surged. Kaf waved sharp.
“Shut it!”
Kaf dropped to one knee before cheek-clutching Saf.
“Get this? Girl’s a stunner.”
Hand seized her chin, forced face up.
“Hoh, blue hair too?”
Kaf’s former spokesman neared, fingered blue strands under hat.
“Real. Sand hid it.”
Kaf asked,
“Which nunnery?”
“Ah, Athina Nunnery.”
Saf gasped it out.
“Where?”
“Rom...
Kaf waved it off.
“Nah, whatever. Magic like that, face like this—useful all ways.”
Kaf’s meaty paw gripped her nape, hoisted.
Saf whimpered short, dragged upright.
*Shouldn’t have healed. Rom beggars were saints.*
Saf recoiled from horrors ahead.
“Prayer room back here? Be right back—guard tight.”
Kaf tugged her nape along.
First captor griped,
“Told ya.”
Kaf stripped her walking. Saf hugged herself futile; sand-frayed rags shredded under brute grip. Hat next—strings snapped tight against wind, staggering her.
Hat gone, Kaf recoiled shocked.
“Ugh, what the—?”
Subordinates gawked sequential.
“Horns?”
“Horns??”
“Horns!”
“D-Demon! Knew it.”
Men backed off steps.
Kaf dangled hood.
“Yol’s minion? Th-that was our bad.”
Saf huddled head-hid, eyed stunned men.
*Yol? Play this, maybe defuse?*
Saf couldn’t claim “Not Yol’s.” No lie skill. Silence.
Kaf, bandits watched her face.
Church door slammed wide. Man through half-ruined frame yelled,
“Vice-boss Pendail’s back—!”
His head arced off. Rolled floor blood-trail. Headless slumped. Next man strode in.
“Pendail?”
Kaf squinted.
“Pendail, where you been till now? Subs?”
Door-man slow-scanned church mute.
Kaf head-shook baffled, asked,
“You... killed my man?”
Pendail stepped past corpse, center-bound, asked,
“And you?”
“Blind to your boss now?”
“You’re boss?”
Pendail smirked on,
“Then strongest flesh yours.”
Words out, nightmare bloomed.
Nearest throat slashed, next bisected waist, next throat gone. Church bathed gore instant.
Sole survivors: distant Saf, rags clutched; dumbstruck Kaf.
Slaughter done, Pendail retched. Black spew—not puke, clots. Heart-like.
“This body’s tapped out.”
Pendail hawked bloody spit, neared Kaf, spotted Saf late.
“Hmm, what’s she?”
Saf gaped numb. Terror locked legs. Breath failed.
*Lord, dreaming?*
Kaf statue-still.
“P-Pendail. S-spare. Gold, any... No—you boss now. Pendail Gang fine!”
“Dense fool, still blind? Not Pendail.”
Kaf wailed,
“Th-then wh-who?!”
“Desert god. Pray. Praise.”
Pendail’s flesh-borne “not-man” spoke.
Kaf palms-flat groveled.
“Beg thus. Mercy.”
“Wrong prayer. Not how for me.”
Pendail teased.
Kaf lips quivered,
“How then?”
“Stand.”
Kaf lurched up. Pendail scoffed clumsiness, chin-jut Saf.
“Her? No desert girl.”
“D-don’t know. Claims nun—identity fuzzy.”
“Nun?”
No bandit lust—Pendail’s glare alien.
*That look? Hunger. Eat me. Literal.*
Pendail commanded.
“Slow riser. Mouth—open.”
Kaf obeyed.
“Good. Easier takeover.”
Black smoke poured Pendail’s maw to Kaf’s. Smoke fled, Pendail withered—decades sun-mummied.
Saf first-saw spirit-shift flesh-to-flesh. But wonder topped:
*What? Name?*
Smoke-exhale, Saf glimpsed “his” name. Clung to Pendail, leaped Kaf-ward! No Kaf, no Pendail.
*True... demon-name.*
Saf knew gut-deep.
Kaf wobbled blink, straightened taut. Name vanished.
Blood-gob spat, said,
“Boss-hype, but short-lived.”
Eyes wheeled Saf. “Pendail hunger” now “Kaf hunger.”
“Clergy best snatch. Faith-rich hold longest past trials. Not brute meat.”
Kaf quick-stepped Saf-ward.
“Pity. Thought fresh eat—now meat-body awhile.”
Saf crushed rags tighter chest.
*Village no luck. Lost-death thirstier mercy. God, mercy—kill now.*