The Oracle
Tsarkhella’s explanation was simple, direct, and painfully easy to grasp.
Once she finished laying out the broad strokes, I had no choice but to let out a hollow groan and bury my face in my hands. It would have been a thousand times better if I hadn’t understood a single word.
"So... what you’re telling me is that you had no choice but to declare us engaged just to keep us alive?"
"Correct. Since I emerged victorious from the duel of honor, the spoils—namely, everything you possess—belong exclusively to me. However, my barbarian warriors demanded you pay for your crimes. And to them, payment means death."
"......"
"Therefore, if I wished to spare your life and the lives of your companions, taking you as my husband was the only way. By the sacred laws of our tribe, entering into a marriage washes away all blood debts and ancestral grudges between kin and comrades."
"......"
I listened quietly to her calm, matter-of-fact tone, feeling a tiny sliver of relief work its way into my chest. I nodded slowly.
"Aha. So, basically, you're just pretending? Because there was no other way around it... Well, thank god for that. At least you aren't serious."
"Hm? What are you talking about? I am entirely serious."
"...What?"
When I looked up, a deep crimson flush had crept across her cheeks. Her heated eyes glistened with an unmistakable sheen, and beneath those dark pupils swirled a thick, unbridled torrent of lust and possessive desire.
"Even though victory was mine in the end, you are the only one who has ever fought me on truly equal terms."
Her fingers gently traced the skin of her cheek before sliding down to rest over her stomach. Not a single scratch remained, but every spot she touched was where I—or rather, the Demon King manipulating my left arm—had landed a heavy blow.
"The thrill and exhilaration of that clash remain vivid to this very moment. And I know this isn't merely the lingering high of an even match, nor the simple novelty of taking a wound after so long. It was the razor-sharp cunning you showed in standing toe-to-toe with me despite your frail flesh; the bloodlust that flared through the scattering crimson; the communion of our very souls traded with every blow of our fists... Yes, in that moment, I peered deep into the core of the man you truly are. A conversation of flesh and bone, you might say. And just like that, I fell head over heels for you."
Tsarkhella clenched her fist tightly, baring her sharp teeth in an intensely serious grin.
"And surely, you must feel the same. You and I have already shared our bodies in spirit. Out in the wider world, such a bond is known as lovers—or husband and wife."
"...What kind of lunatic, crackpot bullshit are you spewing?"
Dismissing her long-winded romantic monologue with a single line, I shook my head in utter disbelief.
"Peered into my core? Don't flatter yourself. Did you take one too many punches to the skull and start hallucinating?"
"Heheh. There is no need to be shy, my beloved."
"......"
A violent shiver ran down my spine, breaking out into full-blown goosebumps.
"Tsarkhella. You're joking, right?"
"I never joke about such matters."
"You genuinely plan on marrying me?"
"I do."
"...You do realize this body belongs to Stanashila Aljen, don't you?"
"Incest is common enough. Even beyond the barbarian plains, isn't it practiced behind closed doors throughout the Empire?"
"...On top of that, I'm a complete stranger who hijacked Stanasila Aljen's vessel, remember?"
"Which only makes it easier for me to accept without hesitation or disgust. Besides, as I said before, I have already seen through to the essence of who you are, so none of that poses any issue. Naturally, it would be arrogant of me to claim I know everything about you from that alone... but we have the rest of our lives together to learn the finer details, do we not?"
"......"
I sat there, jaw hanging open, completely at a loss for words.
"This woman has completely lost her mind. Are you missing a few essential screws that normal humans are supposed to have?"
"Hahahaha! I hear that quite often!"
Even when I lashed out with crude insults to point out the absurdity of the situation, she brushed them off with a carefree laugh, making it impossible to hold a sensible conversation.
"...Do you not give a damn about what happened to the real Stanashila Aljen?"
"Did you not say that even you do not know? Furthermore, didn't you mention that the gods themselves had a hand in placing you inside that body? If so... then it is not my place to question it. While I harbor some concern, the Beast God Kubel and Tu-moa, the Goddess of Birth, are both benevolent deities. Everything will unfold in accordance with providence."
"...You crazy bitch."
"Now, now. Enduring such constant tongue-lashings is growing rather tiresome. We are to be family soon, so you really ought to mend that foul mouth of yours."
Watching Tsarkhella deliver that scolding with absolute poise and confidence completely drained whatever will I had left to argue. A heavy sigh escaped my lips.
"...Hey, Muriel. What the hell were you doing while things devolved into this mess? Instead of listening to this drivel, you should have knocked some heads together and made a run for it."
"Well..."
From beneath my head, which was currently pillowed against the soft, smooth expanse of her chest, Muriel offered a bitter, helpless smile.
"Circumstances did not permit it. Above all else, my priority was ensuring Lord Han-gil's safety."
"...My safety?"
"Yes. Immediately following the duel, Lady Tsarkhella took you hostage..."
"...Barbarian warriors never shut up about their so-called honor and pride, so taking hostages is considered an honorable deed out here now?"
When I narrowed my eyes and glared her way, Tsarkhella scratched the back of her head with a distinctly sheepish expression.
"Come now, even I know it was an unbecoming move. But I could hardly just let you walk away, could I? I had far too many questions, and given my duty as chieftain, I couldn't afford to let you slip through my fingers... Ah, that reminds me. There was also the matter of the oracle I received from Lord Kubel."
"...An oracle?"
I chewed on the word for a brief second before my eyes went wide.
"Hold on. An oracle? Did you just say an oracle?"
"I did."
"Why the hell are you only bringing this up now? Kubel gave you an oracle? Did he even have enough juice left for that? Wasn't his divinity practically half in the grave?"
At my careless words, Tsarkhella’s expression instantly turned lethal.
"Aljen... no, you said your name was Han-gil, correct?"
She cast a quick sideways glance at Muriel, her knuckles cracking as she flexed her fists.
"Even coming from you, speaking so blasphemously of a divinity pushes my patience to its limit. You are treading on dangerous ground with such irreverence."
"Cut the crap and spit out the oracle. What did the damn dog say?"
"You..."
Her lips parted furiously, poised to snap back, but after a tense heartbeat, she let out a long, defeated sigh.
"Haah... It seems a wife's burden in disciplining her husband will be mountainous indeed. However am I to straighten out this hopeless man of mine...?"
"...Knock it off. It gives me the creeps. Seriously."
As I shuddered from head to toe, Tsarkhella smirked and gave a small nod.
"At any rate... the oracle was brief. 'Simply resolve your troubles through them.' That was all."
"...Troubles?"
When I gave her a quizzical look, she let out another heavy breath.
"Yes. As you may or may not be aware, our Claw of Kubel tribe is currently in the midst of uniting the nomadic clans across the Northern Wilderness."
"Yeah... I know that. But wasn't that basically in its final stages?"
By the time the original story kicked off, Tsarkhella was already reigning as the queen of the barbarian kingdom. Chronologically speaking, the unification should have been all but complete by now.
Affirming my deduction, she gave a short, decisive nod.
"Correct. It is nearly finished. Subjugate just a handful more tribes, and the entire Northern Wilderness will be forged into one. However, recently... one of those remaining tribes began displaying highly bizarre behavior."
"What, did demons show up or something?"
"The likelihood is very high."
"Huh?"
Tsarkhella clashing with demons during her campaign to unify the barbarians? I ran a rapid mental search through my encyclopedic memory of the game's setting lore, but no such event had ever been mentioned.
"Are you certain? That demons have actually shown their faces?"
"All circumstantial evidence points to it. Those savages have begun wielding the undead and displaying grotesque bodily mutations... Above all, they emanate foul demonic energy. There is almost certainly a demon pulling the strings from the shadows."
"Hmm..."
A flicker of genuine curiosity sparked inside me.
"In short, the oracle told you to use us as the sledgehammer to smash them to pieces?"
"I cannot say with absolute certainty, but seeing as I have no other pressing troubles weighing upon me, that must be the intended meaning."
"...Fine. I'll help."
I needed to figure out what that bastard mutt Kubel was plotting, and what he actually wanted from this mess. And while I was at it, I intended to fleece him for a fat stack of rewards.
"Ohh! Truly? If you would do that, nothing could be better! Ah, a woman truly must choose her husband well!"
"I told you to quit that shit..."
Rubbing the persistent goosebumps on my forearms, I pushed myself up into a sitting position.
"That being said, business is business. I'm not lifting a finger for free."
"What? Demanding payment from your own woman? How cold. A husband who counts pennies so tightly is practically begging to be nagged to death. In fact, I'll be the one doing the nagging."
"...Shut your mouth and engrave a Shamanic Ritual Tattoo on me."
"A shamanic ritual tattoo?"
The unexpected demand caught her off guard, and her head tilted slightly in surprise.
"I don't know about the others, but this recent beatdown hammered reality into my bones. If I don't have at least that much on my side, I won't last long out here."
"Hmm. Are you sure? You are an Imperial noble by blood. If you brandish a barbarian's ritual tattoo upon your flesh, the stares of your peers back home will burn holes through you."
"I couldn't care less about what those bastards think. So, can you do it or not?"
At my blunt reply, a broad, feral grin broke across her face—one laced with genuine delight, pride, and profound approval.
"As expected, I picked a magnificent man for my husband. With an open mind like that, you will adapt to our ways in no time."
"I swear to god, I don't have the slightest intention of marrying you, so cut the crap..."
Clicking my tongue at her, I took a slow look around the interior of the tent.
"By the way, where the hell are the others? Why is only Muriel here?"
"Ah. The rest of your party is currently attending our tribe's traditional festival."
"A festival?"
"As I explained earlier, tribal law dictates that we roll out wine and provisions, feasting and drinking together to dissolve lingering animosity and cast old grudges to the wind. Since you, Han-gil, have become my husband, this ritual gathering is an absolute necessity."
"......"
I had plenty of counterarguments ready on the tip of my tongue, but hearing that, I simply nodded and hauled myself onto my feet.
"A feast with alcohol flowing, and nobody bothered to call me? You lot have truly lost your minds."
"Lord Han-gil. Absolutely no alcohol."
"Now, now, Muriel. It's not like I'm drinking because I want to, you know? This is the sacred, unyielding law of the tribe! As Tsarkhella’s husband, shouldn't I be mingling, eating, and drinking with them to wash away those old grudges? Am I right, or am I right?"
When I shot Tsarkhella a knowing glance to back me up, she stared blankly for a second before bursting into a hearty, booming laugh.
"Hahahaha! Spot on! That mind of yours works delightfully fast! Truly a husband worthy of me!"
"...I told you to drop the husband routine."
"You were the one who called yourself my husband first this time!"
"...Whatever. Let's just go. I'm dying to see what barbarian booze actually tastes like."
Smacking my lips in anticipation, I strode forward. From behind me came the sound of Muriel letting out a deep, long-suffering sigh.
Naturally, I paid it no heed, brushing aside the heavy felt flap of the ger and stepping out into the brisk wilderness air.