Chapter 20
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Silent Dancer Igra
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Silent Dancer Igra.
Objectively speaking, she wasn't a particularly exalted goddess.
You could tell just from the shadowy corner she occupied in the pantheon.
'Honestly, I had no idea such a goddess even existed until I came to this village.'
Still, being a goddess, she had a small following scattered across the continent.
What she demanded wasn't silence.
It was the screams of sacrifices echoing in the silence.
Merchants lured by warm lantern light and people kidnapped by her followers became offerings.
Most of those abducted sacrifices were children.
Ever since learning that detail, Bran hadn't left this cultist village alone once.
"Y-You...?!"
Leodorn's eyes widened.
Bran was the last person who should be here.
After gaping speechlessly for a moment, he raised his voice in a shout.
"What do you think you're doing?! Get out of here now!"
"Looks like you're still alive. I'll get you out in a sec, old timer."
"Get me out? Screw that—run, I said!"
It was hopeless. He'd been secretly relieved that Bran hadn't been captured with him.
Not only did he fail to escape, but to come back on his own two feet—what kind of madness was this?
"......"
The villagers watched him in silence.
There wasn't a trace of alarm on their stern faces.
The two guards let out soundless laughs.
"Heh."
"......Hah."
It was blatant mockery.
Even with their leader, the elder, dead, they showed no signs of agitation.
One guard yanked the dagger from the elder's forehead.
As he peeled off the blood-soaked hood, the elder's brutally mangled face was revealed.
"Urk... blegh."
Leodorn retched.
Brain matter was oozing from the gaping hole in his forehead.
The guard who had jammed the hood over his own head finally spoke.
"What was that, kid? No one leaves here alive?"
It was a disgustingly thrifty form of recycling.
Seemed like he needed that hood to talk. Some ridiculous doctrine.
"I'll give you points for guts. But how exactly do you plan to—?"
"Curious for a dead man walking."
"Such an insolent little... Well, you've been on my shit list since you stuck your nose in back at the swamp. Ruining our perfect setup."
The guard growled.
Sure enough, those two had dumped Leodorn's cart in the swamp.
Probably spooked the mule or tampered with the wheels.
They'd planned to use him as a sacrifice from the moment they were hired.
Leodorn gasped in outrage.
"You bastards! I knew it was you! No wonder the pay was so cheap!"
"You signed the contract, old man. We'll clear out the brat and be done with you, so just wait quietly."
Shing. The guards drew their longswords.
The blades reflected the torchlight, scattering crimson gleams.
Their stances were decent—years of eating steel had honed them.
Jeering smiles now curled the lips of the villagers... no, the cultists.
'They seem awfully relaxed.'
It wasn't just because Bran's actions amused them.
Made sense. Beyond those guard nobodies in the chapel, they had something solid to rely on.
Suddenly, the hairs on Bran's neck stood on end.
"Ngh...!"
It was killing intent. The instant Bran leaped back,
a shadow dropped from the ceiling, smashing into where he'd stood.
The ground cratered, dirt spraying everywhere, yet eerily silent.
Leodorn convulsed in shock.
"H-Heek! W-What is that?!"
The shadow, easily three meters tall, slowly rose.
Its two arms, embedded in the floor, were bent like mantis sickles.
Its silhouette resembled a tall woman, but it was far from human.
"......"
No facial features. No voice.
Its entire body roiled like molten lava made of darkness.
Bran quirked a brow.
'Even creepier up close.'
This was his first time seeing one since arriving in this world.
A lesser shadow spirit favored by minor evil gods.
Usually bestowed upon devout followers as a gift.
"Lucky bastard. Dodging that."
The guard clicked his tongue.
He hadn't expected Bran to evade the spirit's ambush.
Bran didn't reply, but he silently agreed.
'Good thing I never dropped my guard.'
The spirit gave off no presence at all.
Thanks to Igra's blessing of silence.
That's why the ambush had been soundless too.
Rrrumble...
A murky aura, like incense from an idol, enveloped the spirit's form.
"But lightning won't strike twice. Servant of Igra, grant this infidel eternal silence!"
At the guard's shout, the spirit charged.
Its limp arms stretched like whips. The twin sickles slashed toward Bran.
Mana-forged strikes that would cleave flesh like tofu.
But Bran didn't retreat.
Morning's Light strengthens Heavy Strike!
Instead, he charged the spirit.
The moment his Heavy Strike-accelerated club clashed with the shadow sickles—
Boom!
A brilliant flash erupted, engulfing the spirit.
"Wh-What?!"
The guard recoiled in shock.
The light faded.
Whoosh...
The spirit's body scattered like dandelion seeds, torn to shreds.
The Morning's Light coiling around Bran's club flickered even more fiercely.
A disappointingly anticlimactic end, but expected.
Morning's power repels the darkness.
Proficiency with Light manipulation has slightly increased.
Morning Goddess Raweina has taken notice of your existence.
Raweina was a goddess of far higher standing than the likes of Igra.
Leisure vanished from the guards' and cultists' faces.
"Th-The servant bestowed by Lady Igra...!"
"Sorry, but."
Bran shook the blood from his club.
Exactly the difficulty he'd anticipated. That's why the first move mattered.
Compared to the ordeal at Black Stone Fortress, this was nothing.
"My last job was no joke."
"Damn it! Take out the brat now—"
Before the man could finish,
Bran kicked off the ground and swung his club horizontally.
Crunch.
The glowing club burrowed into the side of the hooded guard.
"Guh."
Vertebrae snapped. The man's eyes bulged.
As Bran twisted his hips, the folded body flew toward the cultists.
Splat-boom!
People scattered like bowling pins on impact.
Agonized screams erupted everywhere.
"Gaaah!"
"M-My arm!"
Silence shattered.
Limbs broken, people writhed on the ground. At least five looked crippled.
The bisected guard's corpse spasmed, foaming at the mouth.
"O... Ooooh...!"
Leodorn's jaw dropped.
Bran looked like a completely different person from the one who'd pulled the cart from the swamp.
The remaining guard cried out in a terrified voice.
"K-Kill him! Swarm him all at once!"
"Offer this vile infidel to Lady Igra!"
The cultists charged.
The code of silence had long been broken.
Among them were the man who'd opened the gate and the woman who'd poured the drinks.
They'd shared brief pleasant moments, but not a shred of hesitation or pity showed.
"Good to know they can actually kill when it counts."
They weren't human anymore anyway.
Splatter!
Bran swung his club, exploding the head of the guard right beside him.
Gripping the club two-handed, Bran plunged into the cultist tide.
It didn't take long for quiet to return.
"Hoo."
Bran dropped the blood-drenched club.
The light faded the moment it left his hand.
Its surface was cracked, on the verge of breaking after a few more swings.
Ptoo. Bran spat as he surveyed the surroundings.
"Off to hell with all of you."
True silence had arrived.
Over a hundred cultists lay dead.
Fluids from shattered skulls soaked the victims' remains.
Hopefully this sated their grudge.
Victory achieved against the cultist horde. Tenacity of the Weed activates!
Strength and Agility growth rates have slightly increased.
Repeated skill use has slightly boosted Heavy Strike's destructive power!
He'd grown a bit too.
Nothing major since they weren't strong foes, but satisfying enough.
What Bran truly sought wasn't this anyway.
He brushed back his blood-matted bangs and approached Leodorn.
"You okay, old timer?"
"......"
"Leodorn."
"...H-Huh?!"
Leodorn flinched, shoulders hunching.
He'd been lost in a daze and missed Bran's voice.
"Y-Yeah... I'm fine. Sorry about that."
"No need to apologize. Glad you're safe."
Snap! Bran tore the ropes binding him with bare hands.
The merciless butcher was back to being a kind boy.
Leodorn staggered to his feet and finally spoke.
"...Bran. What the hell are you?"
"Just your average sellsword. Told you that."
"No... that's not average. With skills like that... maybe..."
Leodorn mumbled something.
Seemed like he was sorting out what to say.
At least he wasn't hurt—good.
Confirming that, Bran cupped his mouth and shouted.
"Kael! You can come in now!"
Loud enough to carry beyond the doors.
He'd left Kael waiting outside the chapel.
No matter how scum-like the targets, the trauma of slaughter wasn't something a kid that age could handle.
But the response came from closer than expected.
"Uh, y-yeah. I've been waiting."
"Huh?"
Bran whipped around.
Kael stood by the altar.
His skinny legs trembled violently.
His face was ghostly pale, on the verge of fainting, but his eyes burned with sharp clarity.
"What? You watched the whole thing?"
"...Yeah."
"Why? I told you to wait outside. Said as long as you prayed, it'd be fine."
"H-How could I?"
Suddenly, Kael shook his head.
"What?"
"W-We agreed to save the world together. How could I bail while you're out here suffering?"
Kael replied in a small voice.
He'd slipped into the chapel before the killing started.
Taking a deep breath, he continued.
"Hoo... It's okay. I was startled, but."
"Kael. You."
"I won't hate you no matter what you do. I promised."
For some reason, Morning's Blessing had lasted longer than usual.
Thanks to Kael braving the danger to stay close.
Bran let out an involuntary chuckle.
"You cheeky little shit."
He ruffled Kael's hair wildly.
"Waaah! S-Stop...!"
"Already acting big? You've got some nerve, kid."
Pure sarcasm, of course.
What a gutsy brat.
Kael flailed his arms in protest, but he was too scrawny to resist.
Bran pulled his hand away with a grin.
"Thanks for understanding."
"Yeah, duh."
"Stuff like this'll happen a lot. It's a world overrun by demons in human skin."
Return Lord's world was no different from reality.
Though it had the perk of superhuman healing.
Anyway, time to fulfill their goal in this cultist village.
"Your turn now, Kael."
"Okay. I'll do it."
"Make it heartfelt. You'll do fine."
Kael nodded and approached Igra's idol.
The evil god's murky aura now churned violently, like crashing waves.
'No wonder she's pissed. We just slaughtered a bunch of her already-scarce followers.'
Proof Igra was enraged.
But what Kael was about to do would stoke her fury even more.
"Lady Raweina."
Kael placed his hand on the idol.
Fwoosh!
The murk recoiled as if burned by the light.
Normally, it'd drive you mad or curse you outright, but Kael's noble bloodline shrugged off such lowly evil.
"Banish the darkness. Let dawn fill the void left by this false silence."
The prayer of purification began.
An aggressive rite using one god's power to expel another's influence.
Bran had recalled it from memory, so the wording might be off, but it didn't matter.
What mattered in prayer was sincerity and clear intent.
Groooar!
The murk swirling around the idol thrashed wildly.
[How... dare...!]
Suddenly, a woman's voice echoed through the chapel.
Chills swept over them. Rage boiled in the voice.
Rumble!
The entire chapel shook.
"She's really pissed."
Cold sweat trickled down Bran's temple.
Probably Igra herself. The divine pressure made his limbs tingle.
But not enough to panic.
Igra's wrath engulfs you!
Morning's Blessing nullifies the malevolent energy.
High Mental Fortitude. Unaffected by intimidation!
This was why he'd pumped up his mental stats.
Besides, gods rarely intervened directly with mortals.
The only one at risk was old man Leodorn, defenseless against divinity.
"Gaaah! Delpha!"
"Keep going, Kael. You're fine."
Kael pressed on as instructed.
His tousled platinum hair glowed brighter and brighter.
Crack!
Fissures spiderwebbed across Igra's idol.
Thrashing murk. Shaking chapel.
The evil god's voice devolved into incomprehensible mutters.
The steadfast prayer continued—
Boom!!!
The fractured idol exploded.
Shrapnel flew. Part of the ceiling collapsed.
Bran yanked Kael and Leodorn by the scruffs simultaneously.
"Eek?!"
"Heek!"
Debris buried where they'd stood.
The rain had apparently stopped. Night wind swept the chapel.
Blue moonlight poured through the hole in the ceiling.
Suddenly, a warm surge filled Bran's veins.
Morning's Blessing has risen in rank.
Faint Morning's Blessing evolves into Serene Morning's Blessing!
Bonus stats from the blessing have increased.
Gained additional resistance to Dark attribute damage.
Damage dealt to Dark attribute enemies has increased.
"Ah, just as I thought."
Bran's face lit up.
It meant Raweina's ire toward Kael had eased a bit.
The blessing's perks had improved nicely.
Just swapping "Faint" for "Serene" brought major changes.
Precious stats like attribute resistance and bonus damage.
Especially handy against common Dark foes.
"I'll put it to good use."
Bran grinned.
As he mockingly raised his club in thanks, more messages scrolled by.
Destroyed the sanctuary of Silent Dancer, Igra!
First intervention in the gods' power struggles. The pantheon takes notice of you!
The message he'd truly been waiting for.
New stat unlocked: Divine Power!