Evil God of Darkness (6)
The moment I stepped through the door behind Karia, I saw them—bodies sprawled across the floor of the manor.
According to her, they were the ones possessed by the evil god's influence, knocked unconscious and left where they fell.
"I figured the boss wouldn't be happy if I killed them all, so I went easy on them."
You've been through a lot.
"Mm-hm. Guess I have. Listen to my joints creaking like old floorboards. Keep this up and I could play a tune with my own body."
"...Could you maybe just give me a straight compliment for once?"
Nope. More precisely, I can't. The moment I try to praise someone, my usual torrent of abuse comes out instead—so just be satisfied with this much!
Trailing after the grumbling Karia, I was still making my way deeper into the manor when a fishy odor suddenly crept into my nose.
Nobody had to tell me what it was. Every crisis I'd ever clawed my way through had carried this same metallic tang with it.
The smell of blood.
Human blood.
"My lady."
"...Boss? One moment."
Ignoring Karl and Karia's protests, I followed the thickening stench deeper into the house.
It wasn't difficult. My senses, honed to a razor's edge through all my training, pinpointed exactly where the blood smell began.
The instant I opened the door, I saw it: at least a dozen corpses laid out in a neat row, and a man praying before them.
The sight of those who had clearly died in agony struck me hard, but even as panic began creeping in, my sharpened senses whispered something else—they were no ordinary humans.
Even with their lives snuffed out, a sinister energy still clung to their bodies.
They must have been worshippers of Tariki in life. The garbage who had tried to drag this territory down into hell.
So there was nothing there worth pitying—nothing at all—and yet my heart wouldn't listen.
My breathing quickened.
"My lady."
I'm fine.
"Worried about me, you pathetic scrub?"
The advice Karl had given me the first time I killed something with my own hands still lingered in my memory.
This is normal. Given time, it'll dull. Someday, it always does.
So what I need to do right now is look death in the face instead of turning away. So I can get used to it. Fast.
As I soothed myself and steadied my breathing, a long sigh drifted from somewhere behind me.
"...Haaah. Seriously. Hey, you perverted bastard. I told you to clean this up."
Despite Karia's words, the man didn't answer.
He simply kept his eyes closed, offering his silent prayers as if he couldn't hear anything at all.
Karia sighed again at the sight, but sighing drew no reaction from him either.
"Boss, just so you don't get the wrong idea—I didn't kill them on purpose."
I know, Karia.
"Good. You cranky old spinster."
I had absolutely no intention of scolding Karia over this.
The only reason I don't want to kill others isn't conviction—it's my own inadequacy. What right would I have to force that inadequacy onto someone else?
Perhaps she caught something in my single sentence, because Karia said nothing more.
A heavy silence settled over the room, and not long after, Phoebe and the rest of the party filed in.
Alsaetin and the face-con fox, of course, barely reacted. Johan's expression remained flat. Even Phoebe merely bowed her head toward the dead before moving on.
Everyone was used to scenes like this. Everyone but me.
I was letting out a hollow laugh at the feeling of being a clumsy little kid again when the man finished his prayer and rose from his place.
"Lady Arln. I have longed to see you again, no matter what it took—"
He turned to speak to Karia, but the moment his eyes met mine, he froze solid.
The instant I saw those vivid, unsettlingly obsessive eyes, I remembered where I'd seen this man before.
He was... what was it again... the pervert serving the beauty-and-pervert duo, wasn't he?
I couldn't recall the details exactly, but one thing was crystal clear.
This bastard was a pervert on par with the face-obsessed fox herself.
"My lady! I have dreamed of meeting you again—"
"Hiiiek?!"
I recoiled in horror at the blood-painted lunatic lunging at me—and in that instant, Karl stepped in front of me.
He instantly sheathed his fist in aura and drove it straight at the pervert.
A clean, single blow—not a flicker of hesitation in it.
The pervert's body went flying through empty air.
Ordinarily, that flight should have ended with a crash against the wall. That was the rule of the world.
But the pervert's body stopped dead in midair. A fog had materialized around him without warning, and it caught his body.
"Beat him."
The moment the face-con fox spoke, the pervert slammed into the floor—and then several more masses of fog with actual weight to them materialized above him and began stomping him into the ground.
...Um. Okay, first of all, thanks for driving him off.
But, um, hey. Is that okay?
Isn't he going to die like that?
"It's fine, Boss. That guy's hard to kill."
As if she'd read my mind, Karia clapped from the side in a voice like ice.
I don't know the details, but clearly there's a lot of built-up resentment there.
I did bring it up, but sparks are about to fly, so I'll just keep my mouth shut.
"Believe me, I'd love to keep watching this garbage get exactly what he deserves, but we have more important things right now. Come with me, Boss."
"Yes, go on. I'll keep an eye on this one myself."
So we left the pervert to the face-con fox.
Wait. Actually, is it okay to leave him to the face-con fox?
They're both garbage who have perfected the art of being disgusting. Is it really fine to leave those two alone together?
If they end up hitting it off later, they'd be a genuine catastrophe.
...It'll be fine.
The face-con fox may be a pervert, but she's a pervert who hates her own kind. Same-species aversion and all that.
After leaving the two of them to it, Karia guided us to a room somewhere in the manor.
The room was like a model home—no trace of anyone having lived there, not even the smallest sign of habitation. And yet it had been cleaned so thoroughly that not a speck of dust could be found.
I knew exactly what this room was.
No one outside House Burrow should have known—but I did. I, who came from outside this world, couldn't not know.
This is the room of House Burrow's eldest son, who died here.
"Nakrad dragged the Minor Prince straight in here the moment you arrived, Boss."
What a rotten personality. Nakrad, making a dungeon entrance here, of all places.
Truly befitting a chuunibyou garbage serving a piece of garbage.
"Boss."
Yes?
"Well."
"What do you make of this dungeon? Does it look like an ordinary one to you?"
No.
"Old maid aunty, your eyes are going bad. You think that looks like an ordinary dungeon?"
The dungeon sitting at the center of the room was no ordinary dungeon.
It was the same kind as the one I'd entered a few months ago to rescue Adri.
Created not by Agra but by the hand of another evil god. Built around something used as a wedge. A dungeon that could admit only one person.
"Right, they do call you the dungeon specialist, Boss. Correct answer. This place is a bit different from a standard dungeon. There are several differences, but the biggest one is that only a single person can enter."
"Then I will go."
The moment Karia finished explaining the dungeon, Karl stepped forward. The sight of him moving toward danger as a matter of course was, truly, the picture of knighthood.
With one single exception: he hadn't spared a single thought for his liege's wishes.
Karl...
"Scrub. Stay put."
Hey. Karl. I've been through every hell imaginable to clear one dungeon in my life, and you want to hand it off to someone else now?!
Since when do knights have no code of honor? No honor at all?
The table is fully set, and you're trying to steal the tastiest bite off it? You think that's right? Huh?!
If you want to be my dog, at least learn the command wait!
"But, my lady!"
Karl. Do you know more about dungeons than I do?
"Why are you butting in like this, mutt, when all you're good for is swinging a sword? You think you understand dungeons better than I do?"
"...That. No, but."
"Lady Arln. Professor Karl is right."
As Karl faltered, unable to answer, Phoebe spoke up in his place.
"Your body is in the worst possible condition, Lady Arln. If anything happens to you in there—!"
Well. True enough. Honestly, I do think I could collapse at any moment like this.
But, you see, I'm extremely used to moving in this state.
During training with House Arln, there were days far worse than this.
This is nothing!
This is something I have to do!
"Pathetic Saintess. You want me to hand this over to a bunch of worthless trash like you lot? Are you serious?"
So stop trying to take the dungeon away from me! That's the whole reason I came here!
Phoebe opened her mouth to answer—but before she could, Johan placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Saintess. That's enough."
"But, Bishop!"
"It is the Lady's choice to make."
Phoebe stared up at Johan's impassive face, lips working—and in the end, no words came out. She simply bowed her head.
Leaving her be, Johan stepped in front of me and carefully extended his hand.
Resting in his palm was a sphere saturated with concentrated divinity.
"This is one of the few remnants of divinity left in my body. Please use it as you see fit, and may it serve you well."
The moment I accepted the divinity Johan offered, I felt power flooding back into my body.
My divinity wasn't fully restored.
But this was more than enough to blast Nakrad to smithereens.
The me who was humiliated by Nakrad in the past and the me standing here now are two entirely different people.
"Me too! I'll give you mine too, Lady Arln!"
As I was checking my body over with Johan's divinity in hand, Phoebe rushed to my side and hastily cast her holy magic over me.
Having spent most of her power working that miracle just moments ago, her magic was faint for someone bearing the title of Saintess.
But the heart behind it was genuine—and so the holy magic took unmistakable effect.
Feeling my body knit itself back together, I racked my brain over how to thank Phoebe, but no answer came no matter how hard I thought.
The moment I tried to say thank you, a disaster was guaranteed to erupt from my mouth instead.
So instead of words, I simply smiled at her.
Judging by the way Phoebe smiled back, it was the right choice.
When all of that was done and I stepped forward, no one stood in my way.
Now. Final equipment check.
Armor's bent in a few places, but still in one piece.
Ankir doesn't have a single scratch on it.
Mace's in peak condition, as always.
And me? I'm always ready.
That's just what being a hardcore rotten-water veteran means.
"Come back safe, Boss."
I'll be right back.
"I'll return before this old maid grows another wrinkle."
"...No, seriously?! Do you have to do that at a time like this?!"
Leaving Karia groaning behind me, I took my first step into the dungeon—and at that very moment, Grandpa's voice sounded in my head.
<Child of mine.>
What is it?
I wonder that all the time too.
What if I didn't have the Mesugaki skill! I've asked myself that more times than I can count.
I've even drawn up a whole plan of what to do first the day I can speak properly.
Not that I expect it to ever happen. What can I do when our worthless perverted garbage Chief God clearly has no intention of removing it?
Why bring that up now, all of a sudden?
<No, never mind. Even if you could speak your heart, you would only steel yourself and act strong all the same.>
Sorry, what does that mean?
<Ha. Forget it. Pay it no mind. Focus on what lies ahead.>
...Grandpa, do you realize saying THAT makes me worry about it MORE?!
Ugh, seriously! I need to concentrate in a minute—don't mess with my head now!
The moment I took another step forward, still grumbling at Grandpa, the scenery around me twisted and changed.
Well then.
Shall we enjoy the theme park Tariki has prepared for us?