This Godforsaken Hell (1)

Word that the Holy Kingdom of El Dorado had assembled an investigation team and dispatched them toward the Forest of the Four Seasons spread like wildfire.

The news swept far beyond El Dorado’s borders, echoing across the entire continent.

Yet despite the sudden announcement, hardly anyone expressed genuine shock or bewilderment. Much like expecting a thug to commit thuggery, the collective response across the realm amounted to a tired shrug: El Dorado doing what El Dorado does.

Moreover, there was an obvious reason they could deploy an expedition so swiftly: the Forest of the Four Seasons directly bordered the frontier of El Dorado itself.

Spanning an expanse comparable to an entire sovereign nation, the Forest of the Four Seasons adjoined several neighboring realms, and El Dorado happened to be one of them. It was precisely this geographical convenience that allowed the theocracy to execute its so-called "dirty work" with practiced ease.

Ever since the rot began to fester deep within El Dorado’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠roots, the frequency of mysterious "disappearances" had skyrocketed. Once someone stepped foot inside the Forest of the Four Seasons, they entered an inescapable hell from which no traveler ever returned. Considering that an extraordinarily high percentage of the missing happened to be high-ranking officials and political dissidents, suspicion was inevitable.

"El Dorado is merely piling up more scapegoats. Reveal the truth!"

"Why do they seek to bury their own transgressions beneath the blood of others?"

"Those who hide behind the gods will one day taste divine retribution."

"The timing is far too fast. It's almost as if they prepared for this well in advance..."

Above all, the speed with which the expedition moved from planning to deployment was breathtaking. As if they had been lying in wait for this exact pretext, the dispatch of the investigation team proceeded without a single hitch.

Though cloaked in the dignified veneer of an "investigation team," rumors flew rampant that this was nothing less than a blatant, public purge.

"Had we not acted swiftly, baseless suspicions would have festered."

"We stand tall because we have committed no wrong."

"Do you dare doubt the Vicar of God? Every decree was issued under the personal direction of the Pope himself..."

El Dorado’s defense was brazenly simple: adopt an utterly shameless poker face and double down.

The moment they proclaimed that the Pope—the mortal voice of the divine—had personally commanded the expedition, neighboring nations had no choice but to tread cautiously. Who was the Pope, after all? If the Hero was the foundational pillar of El Dorado, the Pope was its roof beam. With the current Hero branded a heretical traitor and on the run, the Pope wielded absolute, unchecked hegemony. His word was, for all practical purposes, the sovereign will of the state—and he wielded that authority without a shred of remorse.

Corrupt as it had become, El Dorado remained one of the continent's preeminent military powers. Even without its Hero, its immense martial weight and institutional might meant no neighbor dared criticize it lightly.

"Kadir's public declaration was no lie. El Dorado is simply scrambling to bury it."

"Just look at the roster of the investigation team! They sent—"

"The purges have begun anew. The blood concealed beneath holy light is beginning to leak."

While fierce debates raged back and forth across kingdoms, El Dorado had already completed the deployment. Less than a single week had passed since the historical truth regarding the Undying King had been dragged into the open.

Such haste could certainly be interpreted as sheer panic, but in all likelihood, it was political theater. El Dorado’s message to the world was loud and clear: If we don't put on a show, you'll curse us anyway, so what else do you expect us to do?

And caught in the gears of that shameless cynicism were the unfortunate paladins and clerics dragged off as sacrificial lambs.

"Fuck's sake."

"Watch your tongue."

"If you were in my shoes, Master, wouldn't you be cussing too?"

Inside a carriage rattling toward the Forest of the Four Seasons, a man and a woman traded banter.

The man possessed a rugged, steadfast countenance, a chiseled jawline, deep-set eyes, and a handsomely groomed gray beard. Short gray hair framed piercing blue eyes, giving the middle-aged warrior an air of solemn discipline.

"Idle chatter is forbidden. Focus your mind on what lies ahead."

"Ugh, seriously, this is suffocating! Master! Do you even realize where we're going? It's the Forest of the Four Seasons! The Forest of the Four Seasons!"

The young woman seated opposite him cried out in exasperation, her voice thick with righteous fury.

She wore her brown hair cropped into a neat bob for mobility, and the sharp upturn at the corners of her eyes lent her a cynical, biting expression. Her husky voice carried a distinctly androgynous charm, yet it did nothing to disguise her striking beauty.

"I am well aware."

"Then how can you stay this calm?!"

"Because orders came from above. Never forget that we are soldiers as much as we are paladins."

"Hah...!"

Yet the gray-haired man merely crossed his arms, answering in a measured, unflappable baritone. Hearing a reply so maddeningly composed made the young paladin, Rece, exhale a harsh breath of sheer disbelief. Unable to stomach it, she voiced the bitter grievance churning in her chest.

"Master. Let's call it what it is—they're shoving our backs into a grave. And for what? Simply because high command told us to?"

"..."

"Why in the world do we have to take on a suicide mission like this? Don't tell me it's because you were the Hero's instructor..."

"Silence."

Rece's desperate appeal was cut short by Ludwig's solemn, commanding reprimand.

Though it was only a single word, the sheer weight of authority behind it was enough to clamp her mouth shut. Yet while her lips closed, her scowl remained firmly etched across her face. If anything, the smoldering defiance in her eyes deepened as indignation simmered beneath the surface.

"High command issued an order, and we obey. That is all."

"Master."

"From this moment forth, address me not as Master, but as Commander. We may share a past, but I am your commanding officer."

"..."

His stubborn inflexibility was stifling enough to choke the breath from her lungs. Rece grimaced, unable to offer a rebuttal. Venting her frustration wouldn't alter their destination in the slightest.

"Rece."

"..."

"If you are afraid, you may flee. I will look the other way."

Breaking the deathly silence, it was Ludwig who spoke first.

Rece blinked in shock at the sight of her upright commander casually endorsing desertion, before her brow furrowed in disbelief.

"What's this now? Frankly, hearing that come out of your mouth is more shocking than the mission."

"Even I can distinguish right from wrong."

"If you can see that much, wouldn't it be better to just revolt and ram right into them?"

"Better to search for a sliver of hope than to throw your life away in vain."

"Yeah, right."

Rece let out a hollow scoff. She was no fool. She understood the precarious state of the Holy Kingdom, and she knew precisely why she had been shoved into this doomed investigation team. Knowing the insidious machinations at play left her with nothing but bitter laughter.

"It's truly pathetic that having half a brain gets you executed around here."

"There are times when one must have the wit to play the fool."

"If you knew that so well, why on earth did you train the Hero?"

"It was the sacred duty entrusted to me by the Goddess."

"Good grief."

Rece shook her head in defeat.

Ludwig had once tutored the Hero in martial discipline and was celebrated across the land as a devout, incorruptible believer. Within El Dorado, he had long stood among their most esteemed holy knight commanders—until the catastrophe occurred that dismantled everything.

"Commander."

"Speak."

"Do you truly believe the Hero is an apostate?"

The rumor that Hero Asella was a traitor, and that she had fled in disgrace. An apostate was a betrayer named directly by Goddess Aris Herself—the ultimate mark of infamy in El Dorado. At present, the Holy Kingdom was frantically scouring the realm in pursuit of the fugitive Asella, and whispers branding her an apostate had already saturated the continent.

"According to the prophecy, she would have to be considered an apostate."

"And what if the Pope's faction manipulated the revelation?"

"Who can say? Only prelates of Cardinal rank and above are permitted an audience with the oracles."

There was a foundational reason El Dorado could preserve its divine standing despite perpetrating countless covert atrocities over the ages: the prophecies. Oracles said to be delivered directly by the Goddess whenever the Holy Kingdom faced existential peril. In humanity's frail dawn, Aris and the pantheon handed down revelations constantly. In the modern era, prophecies were typically bestowed at generational transitions—specifically, whenever a new Hero was chosen.

And the very moment Asella drew the Holy Sword Revolution, the Goddess delivered an oracle: a revelation foretelling that Asella would bring about the total destruction of the Holy Kingdom of El Dorado.

Normally, divine prophecies left ample room for interpretation. But this oracle had been shockingly blunt and horrifyingly direct.

"Even if foul play was involved, Asella fled the moment she heard that prophecy. Does that not speak for itself?"

"Why in the world would the Goddess...?"

"Only the Goddess Herself knows."

Having heard the oracle, Asella seized the Holy Sword and fled into the wind. With the Hero—who was meant to wield authority equal to the supreme pontiff—now absent, there was no one left to check the Pope's power. His unchecked tyranny was possible precisely because there was no leash to hold him back, and the investigation team assembled for this expedition was packed entirely with thorns in his side whom he wished to quietly eradicate.

"So, will you run?"

"Forget it. Even if I ran, they'd hunt me down in a heartbeat."

"As the saying goes, better to roll in dog shit in this world than rule in the next."

"I'm sure our noble Goddess will illuminate the path."

Hearing Rece's biting sarcasm, Ludwig let out a soft chuckle. Even when she grumbled like this, he found it impossible to dislike her. At the same time, a pang of sorrow tightened his chest. To see such promising young talent snuffed out in a political purge...

Part of him longed to draw his blade and charge straight into the high cathedral, but he possessed neither the strength nor the political standing. It was a reality as cruel as it was unjust, yet not a soul alive possessed the power to change it. When even the chosen Hero was branded an apostate, what was left to believe in?

"Come to think of it, Commander."

"Speak."

"What about that fellow on the Gallery who exposed the book's contents?"

While Ludwig grieved in silence, Rece shifted the subject. The catalyst and origin of this entire continental upheaval. Under ordinary circumstances, matters transpiring on the Gallery rarely spilled over into physical reality, but this was unprecedented. It was an incident monumental enough to rock the foundations of an empire; it could not simply be dismissed.

"Why do you ask about him?"

"Do you really think he's living in the Forest of the Four Seasons?"

"I do not frequent the Gallery, so I cannot say. However, I understand his presence there has already been verified."

"Sure, but I wonder if that's even realistically possible."

Perhaps because they were about to enter that very forest themselves, the question rose naturally in her mind. Ludwig pondered her words carefully before casting a sideways glance.

"Do you use the Gallery as well?"

"I just lurk."

"What does 'lurk' mean?"

"Wow... total boomer vibes."

"My apologies for smelling like an old man."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Anyway, it just means I look around without posting. You don't read every single newspaper word-for-word from front to back, do you, Commander?"

"Actually, I do."

"..."

Rece shot him a look of utter defeat. Now she understood where the Hero had inherited her infuriating rigidity. Swallowing an exasperated sigh, she moved past the small talk and returned to the core subject.

"Regardless, do you honestly believe that whistleblower lives in the Forest of the Four Seasons? Even if he proved it, it's pretty hard to swallow."

"Virtually nothing is known about the Forest of the Four Seasons. It is entirely possible a sanctuary exists."

"I suppose if you put it that way, I can't really argue, but..." Rece trailed off, her husky tone softening. "Do you think we could survive there too?"

"This will be my first time stepping into the Forest of the Four Seasons. I cannot say."

"Sigh. I shouldn't have even bothered asking."

Rece gave up on pressing further after receiving only by-the-book answers. Instead, she pulled up the Gallery ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠interface to pass the time.

Noticing her staring blankly into empty space, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ludwig tilted his head, his interest piqued. "Are you connected to the Gallery right now?"

"Yes. I'm reading a post that guy made."

"What did he write?"

"He said if anyone manages to reach his camp, he'll throw them a grand welcome party. He's practically begging people to show up."

Rece snickered as she relayed the details, clearly entertained by whatever she was reading. Ludwig's curiosity deepened.

"Is there anything else?"

"Yeah. Well... he mentioned that if someone proves they're an actual member of the investigation team, he'll give them an insane gift."

"...What?"

"A gift, Commander. Should I ask him what it is?"

Ludwig grimaced slightly at her casual coarseness, but offered a slight nod, permitting her to do as she wished. Rece stared into the void for a while before clicking her tongue in disappointment.

"Forget it, it's too much work. Why does he make the verification so damn strict?"

"What kind of verification?"

"There's a whole list of conditions. First, you have to take a picture at the entrance of the Forest of the Four Seasons. Second, you have to prove you belong to the investigation team. And on top of that, the other forum users have to agree that the proof is legit."

"A meticulous individual."

"We don't even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know what he's giving away. Might as well pass."

Just as Rece's grumbling died down, Ludwig broke the silence.

"How does one access the Gallery?"

"Excuse me?"

"I asked how one accesses the Gallery."

The question was so thoroughly unexpected that Rece could only blink in disbelief. After a prolonged pause, she asked in a stunned, hesitant murmur, "...Are you serious?"

"Consider it a final bit of diversion before the end. Well? Will you not teach me?"

"No, it's not that, but..."

Rece walked Ludwig through the process of accessing the Gallery. Connecting to the network was straightforward enough, and Ludwig managed to log in without difficulty. For several moments, the seasoned commander kept his gaze locked onto the shimmering space before his eyes.

"Rece."

"Yes, Commander?"

"Could you lend me a mirror?"

"?"

It was a bizarre request, but she handed one over nonetheless. Ludwig took the mirror, examined his face from several different angles, and promptly returned it. Then, he resumed his inspection of the Gallery interface, wearing an expression of grave, unyielding focus.

Rece watched him curiously before accessing the forum herself. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of post a man that stiff could possibly write. Of course, if he's just lurking, there won't be anything, but...

Right there on the front page—in the Hall of Fame reserved exclusively for posts that received massive upvotes—sat his very name.

Ludwig van Erold was his full name. While first names might be common, sharing both a surname and middle name was virtually impossible. With an incredulous thumping in her chest, Rece clicked on the thread.

"Hmm. Strange. I clearly provided verification."

"..."

Even his very first post on the forum reeked of a hopeless old bachelor.