Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Knight of the Sanctuary
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As time passed, only the fragrance of flowers remained in the ruined garden.
Even amid the screams and the stench of blood, it had faintly asserted its presence. Now that the fierce battle had ended, the scent began to waft freely in earnest.
I gazed at the flower cradled in my arms, lost in thought for a moment. The vivid life and beauty emanating from each petal, and the thick fragrance spreading no less intensely.
Did the monastery send me into the Screaming Forest to retrieve this? If so, when I returned to the monastery, would they immediately demand the flower from me?
"…"
Standing beside the weeping Doren, I pondered these practical concerns.
Defeating a fairly powerful boss was undoubtedly a good thing, but I couldn't easily predict what consequences the items I'd obtained would bring in the future.
Still, the most important thing was this: I had no intention of giving the flower to anyone. Hadn't I already promised Doren and the Gardener Langbie that I would keep it safe?
Like it or not, I was resolved to bear this burden now. At the very least, until I learned more about this world, I would hold onto the flower myself and strive to clear the game.
"Hic... snk..."
Doren's sobs were finally beginning to subside. His gaunt frame lacked even the moisture to spare on unnecessary tears.
"S-Sir... I'm sorry... please forgive me..."
Doren was desperately careful not to overstep in our relationship. He used the utmost honorific "sir" for me, yet constantly watched my mood, anxious not to offend.
It was pitiful to see him apologize only after bawling until his eyes were puffy and swollen.
He acted as if any discourtesy toward me would cost him his head at once. What on earth did he think I was?
"O-Once upon a time... under Lord Magius's command, this place was... quite decent... heh... but saying it now is meaningless, I suppose..."
Doren wiped away his tears and seemed about to share tales of the old days.
Lord Magius, Gardener Langbie, the young lady, and Doren...
I could piece together a rough picture, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it again.
But before Doren could even properly begin, an inexplicable sense of foreboding settled in my mind.
Since entering the Deathcall world, this foreboding had visited me often. And whenever it did, some new event inevitably unfolded before me.
In this moment, amid the pervasive floral fragrance, in this very space.
Was it time for the insects drawn to admire the scent to appear?
...Plip.
From the dark corridor we'd traversed, an unexpected footfall echoed. Someone was approaching the blood-soaked garden, where all the chaos had settled.
At first, I thought it might be the coward Marie. Though she'd spat harsh words at me and left, I'd suspected she might be lingering nearby.
But the footsteps were utterly unlike the light, quick clack of the coward Marie's boots. They were heavy, like military boots grinding against stone pavement...
"Eh? S-Sir?"
Doren's storytelling cut off abruptly. I gripped my greatsword and rose, staring toward the mouth of the dark corridor.
A fairly large silhouette emerged. Smaller than the Rotten Knight Veronine, but curiously, with each step it took...
Crackle!
Golden lightning sparked from its feet.
"Wh-Wh-What's that!?"
Doren startled and ducked behind me.
But the unknown figure approaching us, though wielding a greatsword as impressive as mine, showed no sign of attacking.
"…"
Instead, he rested his greatsword on his own shoulder and simply watched me. Or, to be more precise...
He seemed to be staring at the rose in my arms and the Ruby Ring on my index finger.
Soon, his gaze shifted to the greatsword I'd wielded.
"Veronine."
His voice was unexpectedly high-pitched. Given his bulk, I'd expected a deep, cavernous baritone, but it was nearly androgynous, more like a macho falsetto.
And even that, he didn't project clearly.
Evidently, this knight had some connection to Veronine. Unfortunately, Veronine had met his end at my longsword, yielding up all his blessings, ring, and greatsword.
I even wondered if a fight might break out right here. If he'd known the Rotten Knight Veronine in life, he wouldn't welcome the man who'd killed him.
Crackle.
The knight approached slowly. I mirrored him, resting my greatsword on my right shoulder, and extended my left hand in a gesture warning him not to come closer.
A firm signal that advancing further might start a battle.
"…"
But the knight in charred black armor made the exact opposite gesture. His left palm faced upward toward me.
Like a loyal butler escorting a lady.
"Th-Th-That person is..."
Doren, hiding behind me, scanned the knight's outstretched hand and attire up and down. He didn't know the figure's identity, but the circular emblem on the armor jogged some memory.
"He seems to be from the Sanctuary... Sir..."
"Sanctuary?"
The unfamiliar term perked my ears.
No, wait. Was it really unfamiliar?
I recalled hearing something similar at the monastery before. When Abbess Sarabella drove out the players summoned to Deathcall alongside me, she'd said...
-This is a monastery. Not a sanctuary.
As if it were obvious, she'd cast a contemptuous glance at the other players.
"…"
Having now finished my battle with Langbie, I faced this new knight from the Sanctuary.
He nodded as he regarded me, my rose, the ring on my finger, and my greatsword.
"Are you asking me to come along?"
Nod.
The charred knight was a man of few words. Even when I questioned him, he rarely opened his mouth, merely nodding silently.
"Wait a moment. Let me talk to my companion first. Please hold on."
Leaving the knight aside for now, Doren and I stepped back to speak privately.
"What's the Sanctuary?"
"Ah, w-well, as far as I know, it's a place where Mortals gather... It's a bit different from the monastery, but not greatly so..."
Not greatly different?
"…"
Yet looking at the knight waiting patiently in the distance, they seemed rather gentlemanly and friendly.
Of course, one could never know the true nature of things until their hidden side was revealed—but the eerie feeling from the monastery was markedly absent here.
"Alright. Let's head to this Sanctuary first. We'll follow the knight."
The knight said nothing at all, merely guiding us.
One peculiar thing: the intermittent golden light bursting from my Ruby Ring swirled around the knight as if playfully toying with him.
'A group connected to the Rotten Knight Veronine...'
Still, I couldn't lower my guard prematurely.
I still remembered Veronine's final moments vividly. He'd twisted into a grotesque wolf-like form, thrashing to devour me until the end.
Of course, in his last instant, he'd regained his senses and bestowed a blessing upon me—but that very fact stirred doubts about this Sanctuary group.
What kind of place was it that had let Veronine deteriorate to that state?
And why now, of all times, did they approach, eyeing the greatsword and ring I'd taken from him?
"S-Sir."
I wasn't the only one wary of the Sanctuary.
Doren, trailing timidly behind me, whispered so softly the knight ahead couldn't hear, making a request.
"That flower... please, Sir, keep it safe..."
"Of course."
"Ah, y-yes...! S-Sorry to bother you... You know best, Sir..."
I understood Doren's worry. The special flower I carried was the final blessing of his homeland—and the great sin that had led everyone to death and ruin.
He didn't want it falling into the wrong hands and repeating the tragedy. Though even he sometimes stared blankly at the flower for long moments.
"B-But the Sanctuary has such a fearsome reputation..."
Still, it didn't matter.
What mattered to me now was the destination this knight was leading us to: the Sanctuary.
"…"
My eyes were already drawn not to Doren or the knight, but to the bizarre and eerie scene unfolding around the Sanctuary.
On the map, the Sanctuary lay directly opposite the monastery.
Unlike the monastery's high, treacherous bridges leading inward, the path here presented a completely contrasting sight.
...People.
It was filled with people who looked like refugees.
Even a quick glance conveyed that something was gravely wrong.
They'd pitched their dingy tents around a building resembling a cathedral, sharing watery stew made from hunted wild animals.
"...Y-You've arrived."
Spotting the three of us heading to the Sanctuary's entrance, they hurriedly hid in their tents, eyes wide with fear. Like insects fleeing from humans.
But I could no longer use such a comparison.
Because I clearly remembered the face of one man who clutched his bowl of stew and ducked into a tent.
"...Gasp."
The plump man who'd boasted 3000 hours of playtime.
But now, he was gaunt...
And his eyes were lifeless.
Moreover, I immediately sensed something off about these tent-dwellers.
They weren't NPCs. Well, some looked like NPCs, but more than half...
Were humans from Earth.
Players like me, summoned to this Deathcall world...