Chapter 754: Selling Tomorrow for Today
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 754: Selling Tomorrow for Today
Encrid scanned the crowd—those welcoming him and those watching warily from the shadows. Their skin bore a distinct purple hue, and their eyes were a clear, piercing brown. For the most part, at least.
"My name is Zoraslav. This way, please."
The man named Zoraslav led them toward a domed building in the center of the village. Along the way, Encrid noticed villagers peeking out from their homes or shrinking back into the darkness, watching the newcomers like frightened squirrels or curious cats. It was a scene no different from any ordinary settlement reacting to outsiders.
In other words, it was a very human reaction.
The building they approached was constructed of plaster and brick. It seemed to serve as a town hall or perhaps a place of worship, as it was the only structure large enough to accommodate more than ten people.
"We should offer you some food, though I do not know if it will be to your liking."
A woman stepped forward from behind Zoraslav.
"Welcome. I don't believe we've ever had this many guests at once."
Guided by the woman, who possessed an undeniable beauty, they headed to a parlor that doubled as a dining room. They took their seats around a large table on dark brown wooden chairs that were clearly handmade.
There was no sense of threat, no lingering danger. Everyone in the group likely felt the same.
Soon, ordinary tableware was set before them amidst the modest furnishings.
Sachsen smelled and tasted the food before giving a short nod. No poison. Sinar and Luagarne had different dietary needs and abstained, but the rest of the group began to eat.
It was a simple meal: a stew of meat and a potato-like root vegetable, served with tough but savory bread.
*
After finishing the meal and resting for half a day, Rem hummed thoughtfully, looking around the room.
"This feels... a bit awkward."
The meaning behind his words was clear. Even though these people served the Demon God, they looked so much like ordinary folk that the idea of swinging an axe at them felt uncomfortable.
Sinar furrowed her brow, a movement so slight it was barely noticeable.
Whenever they entered the Demon Realm, the very air seemed to shift, and this village was no different. Encrid felt it too.
Though it’s not as intense as the Demon Realm itself.
An unsettling aura lingered here. It stirred bad memories for Sinar—specifically, the time she had been trapped in a demon's den. Naturally, it was unpleasant, but she was no ordinary elf; she endured it with stoic grace.
"Fiancé, do not leave my side."
She said it simply. Considering her state of mind, Encrid complied, staying as close to Sinar as possible.
Roman scratched his head as he looked around at the group.
"I told you they weren't normal, but it's still a bit of a shock, isn't it? I felt the same way when I first arrived."
Encrid nodded. The others shared the sentiment.
Though they had only been there for half a day, their impressions could be summed up in one word: Ordinary.
It wasn't that there were no peculiarities, but in terms of eating, drinking, resting, and working, the villagers lived lives as mundane as any other.
In the cultivated fields deeper within the village, various crops were planted, and they harvested blue fruits from the trees lined up beside them. They likely weren't ordinary crops—they certainly didn't look the part.
Still, it's not like they're inedible.
If there was one truly peculiar thing, it was that the villagers offered prayers three times a day. To whom? As the symbol in the center of the village indicated, it was to the Demon God.
"Let us pray."
Before the evening sun set, they would face the statue of the Demon God erected in the square. No matter where they stood—even in the dirt—they would kneel and press their foreheads to the ground.
Those inside their houses came out to join them. Meanwhile, those who were coughing or sick were permitted to rest.
It was not done out of coercion or force. There was no real need to pry into their reasons for serving the Demon God; their devotion didn't even seem particularly heartfelt. It was more of a routine—an attitude of doing it simply because they were told to.
"What a peculiar place," Luagarne said, her cheeks twitching.
Calling this place the Demon Realm Borderlands felt almost like an understatement. It was more accurate to call it the front yard of the Demon Realm.
In such a place, one could not survive with just a flimsy wooden fence. It was a place where monsters and demonic beasts should have treated the village like a personal pantry. Furthermore, several notorious wandering monsters were known to prowl nearby.
"The protection of the Demon God, then," Encrid muttered.
That was exactly it. This village was a sanctuary for those who lived with the Demon God as their patron. The purple hue of their skin likely stemmed from the same source.
Ropode looked around the village and remarked, "If a beast tainted by demonic energy is a demonic beast, I suppose we should call these people Majin."
It was a fitting term for humans invaded by demonic energy.
*
So, what were they to do about this place? To take action felt wrong, as these people were simply living their lives.
"Leave them be. They are merely trying to survive."
Serving the Demon God was heresy, yet Audin was the first to suggest leaving them alone.
"Haha, if it were the old me, indeed... I would have unleashed a fiery wrath and scattered divinity to purge their demonic energy. But not anymore. I have learned to respect each individual's way of life."
As Audin spoke, a white light shimmered in his eyes—divinity manifesting naturally. Encrid looked him straight in the eye and nodded.
"Let's do that."
Who were they to judge those who served the Demon God simply to survive in such a desolate place?
Zoraslav visited occasionally to explain the village's way of life.
"That is correct. We are protected because we serve the Demon God. But if you ask whether we serve him with sincere devotion... well."
Did they possess blind faith? No, it wasn't like that.
"It is to survive."
They were pragmatists who served a god for a practical purpose. He added, "We are content with things as they are. Even if it means worshiping a god of the Demon Realm and living on its borders."
This small community was of one mind. There was no discord. Anyone who caused disharmony would have been cast out, sacrificed, or killed long ago.
So, did they have to kill them all? Surely not. If this was their will, they would simply be left to live as they wished.
Encrid knew himself well. He was a swordsman, not an orator. Unless he intended to slaughter them all, the right thing to do was to do nothing.
Zoraslav, the village representative, spoke in a calm, flat tone.
"Then let me ask. Did you come here viewing us as evil, intending to punish us?"
To Zoraslav, Encrid's group was a massive threat. They had multiple swordsmen, a Frok, and even an elf. How would such people view a village where the Eroded gathered to live? All those concerns were packed into his question.
Encrid asked himself: Are they evil?
No one could easily answer that. Encrid knew better than anyone that good and evil were rarely binary. What is good to one is evil to another. A righteous man might appear as a guardian of injustice to his enemies.
That didn't mean he would refrain from drawing his sword just because he feared being "evil." It was simply that he did not want to lose his sense of respect. They had chosen their path, and Encrid respected that choice.
"No, we did not."
At his denial, Zoraslav smiled.
Encrid looked at these people who lived by offering a part of themselves to the Demon God. While he respected them, he wondered if this was truly the life they desired. But could he do anything for them right now? That was a question for another time.
*
Zoraslav provided the group with a place to rest.
The next day, Ragna complained of feeling suffocated and announced he was going out. Ropode quickly followed.
"You cannot go alone," Ropode insisted.
"Why?" Ragna asked nonchalantly.
Rem answered from behind, "Are you seriously asking that?"
"If I knew, why would I ask? It's common sense, you barbarian."
Encrid silently watched the exchange. Rem turned his head toward Encrid.
"...I'm seriously wondering, can't we just bury that guy somewhere and leave him? Having to look for him every time he wanders off is more work than the mission itself."
Rem spoke half-seriously. Later that day, Ragna returned after clearing out a small Demon Realm with Ropode. It had been dominated by ghouls and bloated water monsters called Drowners, with a hunched, spell-casting demon at its center.
"Ah, those bastards settled there last year and have been a massive headache for us," Zoraslav said, overjoyed by the news. "They were always eyeing us, waiting to snatch us up the moment we stepped over the boundary."
Ropode mentioned that the demon had cast lightning from its hands, but Ragna's sword had suddenly shone with a brilliant light and incinerated it.
"I'm starting to get the hang of it now," Ragna said, as if it were nothing.
A knight—and a genius of exceptional talent at that—had gone wild, wielding not just an imprinted weapon, but a family heirloom passed down through generations. It was a natural outcome, yet one that could not be taken for granted.
"We don't have much to offer, but..."
Zoraslav slaughtered a sheep. They raised livestock here in considerable numbers—real livestock, not demonic beasts. The group feasted on mutton that evening.
"It would be convenient to use this place as a base," Luagarne suggested after surveying the terrain.
Their original purpose was to crush every small Demon Realm they encountered and hunt down wandering monsters. Since the Balrog was a wandering monster whose location was unknown, they needed to sing a "seductive serenade" to draw it out. Geographically, this village was perfectly suited to serve as a base camp.
Encrid nodded and walked through the village. As he moved, the dreams he had experienced over the past two days flashed through his mind.
*
In his dream, accompanied by the sound of rolling waves, Encrid saw the ferryboat expand vastly.
Chink.
Pebbles piled up on the floor, and the waves rolled in right to his feet. Though he was aboard a ferryboat, it felt as if he were strolling along a riverbank.
"Let us walk a bit," the Ferryman said, holding his lamp with a calm demeanor.
Encrid walked beside him. The distance between them was exactly three and a half paces. The Ferryman's voice was softer and thinner than usual.
"I would like to ask your impressions of the village."
They conversed as they strolled, exchanging ordinary words. The next day was much the same.
"Have you observed those who believe in the Demon God? Did you also see the traces of sacrifices?" the Ferryman asked.
It was not difficult to grasp the meaning behind the questions. The Ferryman did not bother to hide his intentions, and Encrid was quick-witted. Because they both knew this, the Ferryman brought out his true question earlier than planned.
"Are these people also among those who stand behind you?"
Were they worth protecting? Or were they to be cut down? Where did the standard of good and evil lie? Where, indeed, was his path leading? Could all those who served the Demon God be deemed evil?
It was a time that forced a cruel choice upon him, following a cruel fantasy. The Ferryman could not divine the future, but he had seen its countless branches. He pulled out Encrid's future and contemplated it.
One tomorrow: Cutting down all the villagers of the Demon God.
"They were just people," Roman’s voice echoed, blaming Encrid for the slaughter. Encrid, too, wavered. Was this truly the right path?
The second branch: A tomorrow where he left the villagers behind.
Years later, they would all be forced to consume human flesh and blood just to survive. Their end was clear. They were people who had sacrificed their future to live in the present. It was something anyone could do.
Selling tomorrow for today.
Between the two choices, the Ferryman asked: "Which path do you desire? Does a 'right' path even exist in this world?"
Encrid realized that, just like before, the Ferryman's trial had not ended.
*
"What thoughts have you so deeply lost?"
Sinar's question snapped him back to reality. Encrid blinked, looking at the elf of otherworldly beauty.
Was the Ferryman a woman too?
For some reason, looking at Sinar brought that question to mind. Then, he naturally asked a related question.
"After you migrated, your home changed, and your way of life changed. Was that truly alright with you?"
The elven village had begun trading with humans and exchanging technologies. At the question he had never asked before, Sinar showed him a smile she rarely displayed. The corners of her dark green eyes curved, and her blonde hair fluttered in the wind.
"Wherever elves live, that is an elven village."
It was true.
Encrid pondered the Ferryman's question once more.
What is the path I desire?