Chapter 28 - Regret, Obsession, Ruin
"Revisions? Is the codex gonna get pregnant or something?"
Adamanthon's idiotic cackle drew a heavy sigh from the mage Mindina. A sigh so pointed it might as well have spelled out 'ignorant bastard' letter by letter. It grated on his nerves.
These bookworms, with their knowledge fused to their spines like some twisted badge of culture, never stopped tilting their chins up in arrogance. Adamanthon had no intention of letting his woman act that way.
"You're taking my joke way too seriously, Mindina."
"...That's not it. Keep reading."
"Who cares what achievements non-Hero aptitude holders rack up? Heroes have their own competitions."
Adamanthon's track record had been stagnant for years. Even to his own ears, it sounded like an excuse.
Mindina let out an even deeper sigh.
"Fine, just keep reading!"
The mage's sharp yell nearly earned her a slap, but Adamanthon held back. He was a considerate guy, after all.
"Mindina? What did I tell you yesterday?"
"...To fix the golem."
Mindina averted her eyes, her voice thinning.
Every party's goal is the same: pool strength to hunt monsters. But for a small party like Adamanthon's, with him and his two women burning through supplies like there was no tomorrow, they had no choice but to roam rough terrain hunting rare beasts. City spawns were either low-value trash or too dangerous for the payout.
He hadn't thought it'd be that hard. And it hadn't been. Not while Tan Bantai was around.
That idiot would casually spill travel tips worth more than his salary. Adamanthon figured he'd absorbed plenty of that know-how—then lopped him off like a rotten branch. Why pay a non-combatant extra once the lessons were learned?
But expertise doesn't transfer perfectly just by watching. Case in point: yesterday.
If he'd had any sense, he wouldn't have led the golem down that narrow cliffside path. It was Adamanthon's screw-up from hiking fatigue.
The golem slipped on the narrow footing, plunging into the river with all their gear and wedging between rocks. Soaked to the bone, but the cargo mostly survived. They hauled it out with Herculean effort.
The power core? Not so much. It sputtered pathetically on startup, spewing river water instead of mana.
"Still not fixed?"
"...I'm an enchanter, not an engineer! That's—"
"Then your job isn't shoving this shitty newspaper in my face like I'm a kid learning to read. It's busting your ass to get that mana engine running! Because if you can't, you, me, and Sister Moriba are hauling hundreds of kilos back ourselves. Got it?"
Adamanthon bared his teeth, shoving his face into hers. With the salt and toothpaste washed away, his breath reeked from the ordeal.
Mindina clenched her jaw, fighting a thought: The porter's absence is a gaping hole. A real porter wouldn't have taken that path or dunked their gear.
She shook her head. Couldn't let on how much she missed traveling with a porter. Couldn't risk losing her Hero connection over trash like that.
That's why she'd helped trash Tan Bantai. His career was done. Should be done.
But...
"I already sent a mana emergency comm for help. Got a repair catalog tied to a lightning owl's leg—along with this paper. Calm down and listen. Check the photo at the edge of the front page. Closely."
Adamanthon slammed back onto the stump, snapping the newspaper open like it was an enemy.
Mindina swallowed her third sigh.
There, in the paper, was a face eerily like someone they knew. Even the name rang familiar.
"'Ran' Bantai...?"
"Looks exactly the same, right?"
"No. Not exactly."
Adamanthon jabbed the ponytail in the photo.
"This one's a woman."
Mindina clutched her chest in agony. How can you not see it? Her silent scream of frustration.
"That's Tan Bantai who left us! If you have eyes—"
Mindina's mouth snapped shut with a bruised lip.
It wasn't just her hysterics giving Adamanthon a headache. He slapped her.
Mindina gingerly touched her cheek, retreating to study his profile. He felt it too. The damn porter's void. And the ego bruise from it.
Silence dripped into the soggy tent alongside the water.
Adamanthon broke it casually.
"That porter punk... didn't he mention a sister once?"
"That sister? Said she researches magic at the Imperial Tower! A big shot! Who'd ditch that for porter work?"
"Fuck, so what?"
Mindina flinched. No sword drawn, but his patience was gone.
"If it's the same guy, then what? What's that change?"
"W-well..."
"We shouldn't have cut that worthless non-combatant? Look at the hell we go through on expeditions now? He was just freeloading off 'my' glory—that was my mistake, and he's thriving on his 'own' merits?"
"...No. I mean, even a guy like that found a new nest this quick. Some parties still value porters. So maybe we should hire a reliable one for emergencies like this..."
Adamanthon shot up, grabbing her trembling shoulder mid-excuse. He poked her cheeks.
"Great idea! Why didn't I think of that sooner?"
"A-Adamanthon?"
"I'll seriously consider it. Yeah, replacing the porter with a golem was hasty. Can't swat bugs with it, keeps dumping cargo, and you can't even tease it about porter life. Once we're back, we'll scout a new one. Better than that unreliable slacker Tan Bantai. Sound good?"
His sudden kindness eased Mindina's fears. The Adamanthon she knew—the one she wanted—was back. Her hand clutched his collar like a lifeline from the river.
But he pried it off, returning it to her side.
"Now get out."
"What?"
"Go fix the golem. You got the catalog."
Blinking, Mindina waited. No reaction. No kiss, no affection.
Regret and defeat churning, she left the tent. Adamanthon called for another woman.
Moriba, wiping the wet tent, nodded to Mindina, removed her priestess hat, and vanished inside.
Mindina's chest burned.
It wasn't like this at first.
Their conversation carried clearly through the thin fabric. Unlike with her, Adamanthon didn't mind Moriba's voice. It didn't drag on.
Lips met with a smack, followed by muffled moans. Whispers trying to hush—aware of possible listeners outside.
Mindina felt it was mockery, not consideration. Regardless.
Unable to bear it, she jammed her hat down and ran to the golem by the water. Couldn't take it.
The sound of her man—once hers—being stolen. And that he found more thrill defiling the saintly one than with her, the original companion.
"...If I try harder, fill your heart with acts you like..."
Inside, Moriba teared up, pushing Adamanthon away.
"You said restoring my innocently slain father's honor might be possible."
Fallen minor nobles often dumped unmarried daughters at the church for protection. For a baseline life despite poverty. Or to sell faith for status.
Moriba was the latter. Her treason-framed family clung to any rope.
Hero bloodlines were noble elite. This divine chance for an unfaithful soul—she couldn't lose it.
But no blank check on her body. Rejection would just break her heart, efforts wasted.
"Promise... Say it firmer. That you'll protect my family if I give myself."
"What?"
"You heard...!"
Only a scoffing laugh.
Unable to endure, Moriba struggled, but the Hero's strength overwhelmed. He was drunk too.
Thankfully—or not—he twitched and stopped before climax. Released her collar. Lost interest.
"Don't force conditions like that. If you don't want to, just say no."
Moriba collapsed to her knees, sweat-matted hair sticking. Adamanthon, pants half-down, muttered irritably and left.
Moriba thought: If there's a word for this misery...
His drunken grump turned to humming. He tossed the sweat-and-dirt rag into the woods, ready to relieve his beer-filled bladder.
Careless in the wilds. The one with the knowledge to stop him? The guy he'd just cut loose.
Staring at his stream, Adamanthon realized he was stepping on the circle's edge.
The ash ring around camp kept snakes and bugs out. His foot was half-out.
He shrugged it off. If Tan were here, he'd fuss about staying inside. But breaking it once wouldn't kill him. As long as no snake caught his piss...
Mindina, tinkering with golem parts despite sobs, ass-planted at a distant scream. The golem toppled onto her.
Pinned under metal, she groaned.
"What the— what happened?!"
"Some Hero got his balls ripped off by a venomous snake."
"Eww, gross. He live?"
"Yeah, luckily. Don't know how bad. Rest is just 'be safe in rough lands' warnings."
Esen, who'd subscribed to the paper on my urging—her first time—shuddered, folding today's delivery. Post-special promotion hype, her news interest spiked.
"Always borrowed before, but my own sub's convenient."
"Told ya."
"But that succubus thing last time too... World's too harsh on guys with balls, huh? Scared to even have 'em."
"...Say that somewhere quiet, Esen. Embarrassing. So, where to next?"
"Remember those succubi we sealed? Processing them's our add-on mission."
"Not a goldfish. Week ago."
"Could forget. Last night was intense."
Monica sis jolted mid-snack.
"Y-you heard, Esen?"
For a week, Esen, me, and the Monica sisters got royal treatment in the party. Mission success aside, tradition's to spoil survivors of high-risk ops.
Made friends aplenty. Hard to carve out trio time, though.
And in those rare slots, I got drained plenty again.
"Why not barrier it, sis."
"Did. Guess Esen's immune to sensory blocks. Maybe 'cause Mom recognizes her as my ally? Gotta ask..."
"That goddess? Don't ask her to mute it. Hearing's hotter. Makes me wonder what you'll do with me next after going that far with sis."
Esen licked her lips happily. I resigned bitterly.
"Sis, if asking, see if she can boost our porter's stamina. Improving, but we'll suck him dry at this rate."
...People adapt to extremes, huh? Haven't done both at once like before.
But handling either's way easier now. Sometimes I even finish before tapping out.
"Think you can give 'em both a few loads without passing out this time?"
Too soon.
"...So, where we headed?"
Grinning, Esen pulled the 'Queen'-orb from her bosom.
"City of All Gods in Banir. Orders say head there. Queen too strong—figure which god to entrust it to."