Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Scout (5)
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Aster had donned her mask and just reached the cave entrance.
She slipped inside only after Guro had begun his fight—after the hulking brute had finally lumbered out from within.
The cave, with water droplets plinking down from above, wasn't as damp as she'd expected.
Perhaps because the path ahead was lit by torches.
Traversing what felt like a noble-frequented passage took little effort.
The floor had been smoothed and leveled for easy walking, a sign that no small sum of money had been spent here.
"Is that guy really the same kind of human as me?"
With such a leisurely path laid out quietly before her, she even had the luxury to let her mind wander.
And those wandering thoughts naturally turned to Guro, who was out there buying her time.
'What an odd name, and an even odder man.'
Her original plan had been far safer.
Lure them in together, sow chaos with ice magic and traps, then enter the cave—that had been the idea.
She'd proudly boasted that the whole layout, from geography to trap placements, was etched in her mind.
But then he'd thrown her off with a single line.
- I'll handle it. You go in alone.
Guro had stated it as plain fact: he'd take on the whole lot by himself, so she should head inside solo.
Forget the all-nighter she'd pulled scheming it out—the idea was utterly unrealistic.
No matter how skilled he was, taking on dozens without killing them? Absurd.
Yet his sheer intensity had swept her plan aside, and they'd gone with his instead.
"Now that I've seen it for myself, I want him even more."
And there he was, actually doing it.
What an extraordinary man.
Even among the countless protagonists she'd read about in books, he stood alone in his madness.
Aster pondered how she might lure such a man into her service.
With someone like him at her side, what need would she have for armies or demons?
He didn't leer slyly at her figure, just guzzled booze like it was air—clearly one of a kind.
Resolved to wrap things up quickly, Aster broke into a run down the cave path.
It was like a temple, and as she dashed onward, her mind locked onto one goal.
Proof that her brother wielded profane power through devil worship.
With that, she could oust him and claim the family head's seat for herself.
Tat-tat-tat!
After cresting a hill of stalactites and veering from the easy path to sprint for what felt like ages, Aster finally uncovered her brother's dirty secret.
Her knees were mangled from jagged rocks along the way, her body scratched up in places.
But she grinned like a child, thrilled at last to have snagged what she came for.
All that was left was to head back.
She trusted Guro was still holding out outside, so she needed to hurry out and let him know it was done.
Otherwise, he might be fighting all day.
Rumble rumble rumble...
"Eek!"
On her way back, she stumbled upon a peculiar chamber.
She'd leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, when she spotted the unknown door.
A door that slid open on its own—Aster had never seen such a thing, so she peered around the room with eyes alight in curiosity.
Come to think of it, she'd read in a book that this region had once flourished under the ancient Dwarf Empire.
Dwarves were a race dead serious about digging tunnels and hiding secrets, so stumbling on hidden rooms like this was par for the course in any cave they'd touched.
Glancing inside, Aster's eyes sparkled for a moment.
"Can I take this...?"
She stared at the object she'd found, mulling it over at length.
Did booze even have an expiration date...?
**
The man called Dull Knife took a beating fit for death afterward.
He'd announced his name upon entering, and with his sturdy build, I'd pulverized his bones by vibrating my muscles.
Same principle as smashing a boulder with your fist.
Dull Knife just stared in panic and terror, unable to string words together, oblivious to it all.
And ignorance demands punishment.
So I beat him for a good while.
Only after Dull Knife crumpled did the remaining thugs lose their minds and charge me like a wave.
With their boss down, the weaklings' instincts must have kicked in.
I repeated the same routine for ages.
Pummel, stab to keep distance, smash.
For a long, long time.
'When the hell are they coming out?'
Even I, a living creature sweating blood, was starting to tire.
Especially since I'd skipped exercise lately, pounding nothing but booze—my ribs were probably sticking out fiercely by now.
Still, I'd turned every attacker into a pulp. Perfect timing, as fatigue was setting in.
I shifted my gaze to the men just staring at me.
Devil worshippers, exuding an eerie vibe.
I sidled up to the nearest one and asked casually,
"If I kill you lot, do I really get cursed?"
"...Are you from the Imperial Palace?"
"Answer my question first. Does killing you actually trigger some curse?"
Even I, a master at reading faces, struggled with these genuine devil cultists.
Their eyes rolled independently like severe strabismus, whites fixed on me.
"Care to find out?"
"Guess I'll just shatter your bones then."
"You know us already, so... a holy knight?"
"Back-alley washed-up drunk, selling a day to a lady for a few bottles."
"Not spilling the full story, eh? That zealous look screams church anyway."
I figured no one could introduce me better than that.
A washed-up life sold for booze to a woman? Ain't nobody else like me.
Even if I told the truth, they wouldn't buy it—devil cultists were clearly society's misfits gathered together.
"Perfect."
The worshipper muttered something only he understood.
"Glad to meet a specimen like you before the era shifts."
"Stay put. I'll double your bone count."
"Never seen a holy knight this strong."
I gripped my staff and finally stepped beyond the circle I'd drawn.
The men groaned pitifully as I trampled past.
Amid the grunts and moans, I reached the closest devil worshipper.
This short guy had it bad—strabismus so severe his pupils were barely visible.
He bobbed his head blankly, expression unchanging.
Irked by his silence, I prodded his skull with the staff tip.
Suddenly, he shuddered violently. In my head, one scenario fit.
"Suicide bomb?"
Whatever, probably was.
I snatched a sprawled thug and hoisted him as a shield.
With a curse-proxy right underfoot, it felt solid. Praying for his soul, I squeezed my eyes shut.
'......'
But contrary to expectations, nothing happened.
Feeling foolish, I dropped the guy, who was barely moaning.
Then I inspected the worshipper's face closely.
"So the church was hiding a monster."
I smashed his head with the staff instantly—his voice had shifted to something bathhouse-worthy, and his all-white eyes blackened completely.
Chills hit hard; I reflexively swung. Briefly worried I'd killed him.
'Don't tell me I caught a curse. Strabismus plague or something.'
But my casual fretting was for naught; he stared back, neck twisted at an odd angle, perfectly fine.
Body possession, plain as day.
"Who's in there?"
"It is I, son of the goddess. I am her husband—and your father."
An uncanny voice.
Echoing, splintering into multiples, yet mimicking an old man's timbre.
'I'm an orphan.'
Calling himself my dad out of nowhere, I nearly reintroduced myself properly. "Son of the goddess"? Still pegging me as divine.
But timing cut me off.
Splat! Crunch, crackle!
As the possessed man raised his arm, the thugs I'd knocked out stirred back to life.
They'd morphed into even stranger forms, eyes rolled back uniformly.
The ones I'd just dropped, revived as zombies or worse.
"What say you, son of the goddess? Drained of strength, can you still fight?"
"Dad, what'd you do to these thugs?"
"Whispered power to my loyal worms. Seems you approve."
"Dad's got talents. Be nicer to Mom, yeah?"
"......Faithful don't call her that. Who are you?"
"Damn, played me."
My ploy to extract info via their misunderstanding had crumbled instantly.
Claiming "goddess's husband"? Devil for sure.
Info flop meant fight time.
I provoked first to gauge him.
"Piercing my flawless act? No ordinary devil, then."
"......Felt the Swamp Lord's stubbornness earlier. Were you drunk?"
"I get why devils scare folks. Mind-reading, huh."
"First human to say that to my face."
Chatting with this devil was getting fun; I awaited his next echoing query.
The deep voice's owner flustering was a sight.
But.
"My worms will devour you."
No games—he wasn't the chatty type.
I crushed his skull, but the sticky-advancing horde didn't halt.
"Gotta fight again?"
"If you tire of battle, take my hand. You could rival the Rose Knight. Show me your veiled face. Come."
The devil, hopping bodies, whispered seductively.
Middle-aged timbre grated; I grimaced.
I scanned my surroundings.
Checking if the crushed ones retained any sense.
'Hmm... Wipe 'em all?'
Exhausting for sure, but best while stamina held.
Resolved to draw my sword from my waist.
Then I caught a peculiar gaze amid the stares.
'That guy's...'
The lowlife who'd bet sleazily on my crotch.
His clothes and the oddly swollen spot I'd pummeled confirmed it.
"K-Keeek!"
I recalled going light on him. While others advanced, he slunk back.
The rest slowed deliberately as I grabbed my staff.
"Dad. Even worms got feelings."
Memories of beatings lingered.
These monsters remembered me.
Warmth oddly bloomed in my chest.
"What are you doing?! Fight! Fight and bring me his knee!"
"Sob... Dad's incompetent."
At the devil's yell, they finally stirred with resolve.
Arms outstretched, they closed in.
'Tch.'
I focused briefly.
Planning to cleave a path with one sword stroke.
But then.
A faint scream tickled my ear.
From the cave—Aster's tiny cry.
"!"
I flung the staff aside, trampled the monsters, and bolted into the cave like a shot.
Their reactions lagged now; hilarious, all staring skyward.
At the entrance, I drew my sword.
Might've missed cave forces; I stepped in urgently.
If she'd died inside, guilt would've wrecked me.
A bit further in, a familiar face poked out.
"Wha—Uncle?"
"Jeez, scared me... You're safe, right? I mean, yeah?"
"Tripped on the way back. Got banged up."
Scratches everywhere, but her voice was clear.
That scream was probably just her fall.
Relief mixed with mild annoyance at her.
"Find what you were after?"
"Yeah, got it. You're unscathed too... Went smooth, huh?"
I skipped mentioning the devil's horde outside.
Too lazy to explain; showing was faster.
Homebound now, I grabbed her to hustle out.
But she stopped me. Probably thought I'd flattened everyone outside.
"Wait. Uncle, check this out. You gotta see."
"...?"
She started unfastening her chest garb; I panicked hard. Not the time to dawdle, honestly.
Yet my honest eyes caught every detail.
From her bosom emerged... not flesh.
"Ta-da."
She proudly presented an ancient jar.
"...What's this?"
With a disarmingly innocent smile, she beamed.
"Booze I grabbed for you. Dwarven stuff from ages ago—probably aged 300 years!"
I took the jar.
Heavy. Carrying this must've been rough. For me?
Pure kindness, that.
...When was the last gift I'd gotten since coming here?
I uncorked it, sniffed.
Definitely undrinkable stench.
"You know booze doesn't smell like this normally, right?"
"...Don't lie."
"This is poison, not booze."
"Aaaah...!! Thought that was normal."
My verdict crushed her effort; her face fell dramatically.
Aster's booze ignorance was kinda cute.
'First time feeling this.'
What changed?
Trusting me enough to show this side.
Forgot the urgency, savoring the moment.
The jar felt warm, infused with her body heat.
'Heart's warming up.'
For some reason, this young lady before me...
I just wanted to protect her a bit.
And without thinking, I chuckled softly.