Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: The Samaritan of the Black Rock Mountain
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Black Rock Mountain? Pandemona.
The true nature of what they called the Black Rock was basalt formed from volcanic activity.
As soon as we reached the base of the mountain, the boiling geothermal heat hit us right in the face, making sweat pour down hot and heavy. Was the volcano still actively erupting?
Holy crap, in my whole life, the only volcano I'd ever been to was Hallasan back in high school on a school trip. But wasn't Hallasan a dormant volcano or something?
Anyway, the volcano we were standing at the foot of now—Pandemona—was clearly a living, breathing one, with magma bubbling deep underground.
Its activity was so intense that not a single tree or blade of grass could be seen on the barren slopes. We steeled ourselves and set foot on the mountain anyway.
I'd climbed mountains my whole life growing up, so I figured I had some confidence in it. But scaling a mountain filled with scorching geothermal heat was no joke.
Sizzle, sizzle.
I wrinkled my nose at the thick sulfur stench and asked,
“Is there really a spring up here?”
No one answered my question.
This volcano was supposedly a forbidden sanctuary, off-limits to all, so no one had ever been here before, probably.
As we huffed and puffed our way up the rocky slope,
fragments that could be called broken statues—or maybe ruins of buildings—started appearing here and there.
I scowled, panting, wondering what the hell they were—
“I never imagined we'd come to Lord Pluto's sanctuary.”
Paranoya spoke up, as if she knew something about it.
“What'd you say?”
“This Black Mountain Pandemona was originally Lord Pluto's domain. But Venus worshippers invaded and destroyed the temple and all the sacred objects, stealing them...”
Malco, who'd been grunting his way up the mountain, chimed in like he knew all about it too.
Malco was the type who loved showing off what he knew, so he probably couldn't hold it in once the topic came up.
“I've heard that story too. Venus Temple's faction is the strongest now, but this place was once a fierce battlefield where worshippers shed blood fighting over it.”
Even in this world, there'd been wars and disputes between followers of different gods, huh.
“...It's been destroyed so horribly. I'm a Vesta follower now, but I still owe Lord Pluto a debt of gratitude. This sight feels a bit too much.”
Different worshippers fighting over a mountain—what could be worth it? Maybe the sulfur near the volcano was valuable or something. That's what I was thinking when—
“L-Let's take a break...”
Exhausted from carrying the heavy jars, Luna plopped down on a nearby rock, gasping for breath.
We'd been climbing nonstop for about an hour, so yeah, a rest sounded good.
“Alright, let's rest here. Twenty minutes—keep an eye on the time, Malco.”
“Got it, brother. About five songs' worth.”
Ding-a-ling.
I'd noticed it before, but this guy Malco had some internal clock or something—he nailed the timing perfectly every time.
What a freakishly useful skill for telling time. Too bad it was useless for anything else.
Why'd I even bring this guy along?
Apparently, you needed a bard to draw the black spring water. That's why Venus's saintess had hired me and Malco.
What the hell for?
Did bards have some union that forced quotas on them, like Hollywood's diversity hires?
Anyway, with Malco's singing as background music, we set down our gear and weapons and let our tired bodies relax.
Man, lugging heavy loads in this sweltering heat was pure hell.
No wonder this was pro adventurer work. At least no monsters or bandits were jumping out, which was a huge relief.
Maybe the land was too barren for monsters or creatures to survive?
Looking at the scattered bones and shattered stone slabs everywhere made me understand why this place was Pluto's sanctuary, the god of death.
Land where nothing could live.
Hot, humid, with a weird stench to boot.
It was like every element of that health spa I hated back home all rolled into one. Made me nostalgic for some reason.
That place was probably still bubbling away with all sorts of crap. The sticky herbal bath smells clinging to your skin like a steam sauna, unchanged.
I was lost in those memories for a bit when
Luna got up, rummaging through the stones on the ground with her hands, rustling around.
“Luna, what're you doing?”
“Hm? Oh, we're at a rocky mountain for once. Thought I might find some potion ingredients. Even horned lizards or ants would be great!”
“Ants for what?”
“Th-That's a secret.”
Rustle, rustle.
Luna kept digging through rocks and pebbles for a while. But in this mountain where everything was dried and twisted by the heat, there was no way she'd find what she wanted.
Black sand.
Black stones.
Black rocks. That was it.
But Paranoya, watching from the side as Luna stubbornly dug up dirt everywhere, finally spoke up.
“...L-Lady Luna, there's nothing here.”
“Oh?”
“This dead land holds only the possessions of death...”
Possessions of death. Coming from Paranoya, a former cultist, it sent a chill down my spine.
* * *
Sure enough, there really had been a temple here once—halfway up, there were stone steps.
The base had been tough with rolling rocks and steep slopes, but climbing stairs made the summit way easier.
At the top was a vast lake like a volcanic crater. What do you call that? A caldera lake?
Except instead of blue waves filling it, there was black, bubbling, weird liquid.
“Whoa, Hassan, that hot spring water's pitch black.”
“What a bizarre sight that inspires ominous melodies.”
A lake filled with black water.
It looked exactly like the Dead Sea.
Truly a sea of death. Fall deep into that, and no body would ever be found—just sink straight to the earth's core.
Ugh, freaking scary.
Shivering, I glanced around and spotted ruins of buildings near the lake, styled like Mars Guild or Venus Temple.
Collapsed roofs, toppled pillars smashed everywhere—it reminded me of the Mars Guild after the cultists attacked.
The difference? Everything was made of black rock.
“Th-This is Lord Pluto's temple...”
Paranoya, the former cultist, trembled at the sight of her old god's ruined temple, overcome with emotion.
“P-Pluto's temple...!”
Shit, had this girl not fully converted? Maybe a few good whacks on the head would fix her?
I was seriously debating giving her one when
Malco pulled out a guitar-like instrument from his back and headed toward the ruined temple grounds.
“Shall we go inside? We need a purification rite to draw the spring water. A greeting to the land's master, that sort of thing.”
We all followed Malco into the ruined temple. Inside was just as wrecked as it looked from outside—no intact structures.
But ruins had their own imposing vibe.
“Whoa, what the hell is this?”
I gaped at the massive statue in the temple's center. There, imposingly seated, was a black statue about two stories tall.
It depicted a burly, muscular man.
But no head.
The head part was cleanly sliced off, shattered—eerie and creepy as hell.
On the flip side, the headless look kinda fit the vibe of this shattered black temple.
Someone had deliberately decapitated it, no doubt. This was a hotspot for clashes between rival worshippers.
“Hassan, that's Pluto, god of treasure and wealth.”
Luna whispered beside me, then clasped her palms together, muttering what sounded like a prayer.
“Lord Pluto, god of treasure, make me rich quick. Again—”
Pluto was the god of death but also wealth. All the underground treasures and minerals belonged to him, making him the richest god.
His image got tarnished by cultists worshipping him, but folks still prayed to him for money luck.
Still, after all those life-or-death duels with cultists, I wasn't thrilled about praying in front of this headless statue.
“...L-Lord Hassan.”
Paranoya cautiously approached, noticing my reluctance.
“Won't... you pray?”
“No hobby for that.”
“...B-But why not try it once, just to see? We're at Pluto's temple for once. You might get an unexpected response.”
She whispered like she was tempting me into something evil. Nymph or imp?
“...Y-You handle hell's magic so well, even Kalan's star without issue. Lord Pluto might hear your prayer.”
“...For real?”
“...For real.”
“For real my ass. This bitch still has cult water in her.”
I smashed my fist into Paranoya's head. Thunk. She clutched it, yelping.
“Eek—!”
I'd thought I'd gone easy, but my strength stat must've cranked it up—she looked in real pain. I felt a bit shocked and sorry.
But if she kept up the cult crap, it'd be pitchforks from angry folks, not my knuckle-raps. This was for her rehabilitation.
“Daring to whisper cheap sorcery in my ear.”
“J-Just once, for real...”
“No, you idiot.”
I growled firmly at the head-clutching Paranoya when Luna, who'd been kneeling in prayer, stood up and approached me.
“Hassan, last time we prayed to the God of Light, the fog cleared right up. What if praying to Pluto makes gold coins rain from the sky?”
“Really?”
Luna's words sounded pretty convincing. Praying to the God of Light had burned 200 karma points and evaporated the fog over Kalan.
That swampy alligator-infested mess now bloomed with colorful flowers.
I had 282 karma points saved up anyway.
Pray here at Pluto's temple, and maybe gold would rain down like she said?
“Ahem, uh-hum. Fine, whatever, I'll give it a shot.”
“Y-You hit me when I suggested it...”
“Shut up.”
Ignoring Paranoya's grumbling, I cleared my throat a few times and positioned myself before the giant statue.
“Prayer time—”
Like before, I laid out rations from my bag in a row, then bowed twice before them.
The so-called Samaritan-style simple sacrificial altar.
“Heh, brother, your prayer method's always so bizarre. Can't wait to see what happens—”
“Shh, quiet, big nose.”
Luna shushed Malco as he tried to talk to me.
Gulp.
Malco shut his mouth and just watched my weird ritual. Paranoya beside him stared wide-eyed too.
With all eyes on me, I finished the two bows and bellowed at the air.
“P-Pluto forever!”
And...
Silence.
....
Quiet.
I'd been holding my breath, eyes darting around expecting something—minutes passed.
Nothing stirred.
“Pfft, damn. Nothing happened.”
Mortified and embarrassed, cheeks burning like a clown, I dusted off my knees and stood.
Luna patted my back, sensing my awkwardness.
“Pluto's probably busy, Hassan. Underworld's packed with souls every day. He must not have heard.”
But Paranoya kept muttering “That's weird” like a broken parrot.
Then she grabbed my sleeve.
“J-Just once more!”
“Whoa, you scared me. Don't grab like that. You'll stretch it.”
“Th-The prayer was wrong. Try with more sincerity...!? If the words are hard, I'll teach you. O Father in the deep earth, grant us our daily bread and...”
She reeked of cult fanaticism now. Bad idea bringing her here before she was fully converted.
More knuckle-rapping needed?
“Quick, try it! O Father in the deep—”
“Damn, why's this headless rock my dad? Move aside—”
That's when I shoved her off.
“Wh-whoa—!?”
Shoved harder than I thought—she flew back like tripping over a rock.
She slammed face-first into the weird statue in front of us—thud.
“Gaaack—!”
Looked painful as hell. Malco, Luna, and I winced, groaning “Ugh—”
“That’s gotta hurt. Apologize to Paranoya, Hassan.”
“Hey, I told her not to grab me.”
“O-Ow, uwaaaah— B-Blood, blood!?”
“Hey, you okay? Wasn't on purpose. Sorry.”
I hurried over to help the nosebleeding Paranoya.
Crack, craaaack.
Right then, cracks spiderwebbed across the giant statue before us.
A small fissure formed—and it shattered.
Rumble rumble.
Coins poured out from the split in huge quantities.
“Whoa, shh.”
“...Shh, Hassan, those are gold coins...! Gold inside the statue...!”