Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 126
Chapter Title: Omen #3
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“Carry the supplies!”
The next day, the nearly rebuilt Mars Guild grounds were in an uproar.
“When the hell are the other priestesses coming? I want to get a prayer before we head out!”
“Yeah! At this rate, we’ll be pulling an all-nighter!”
It was all because of the upcoming cultist subjugation campaign—people were flocking to the Mars Guild, or more precisely, the Temple of the God of Strife.
Luna and I had come to the temple building not as guild members today, but to pray for victory in the war.
Amid the endless chatter of the crowds, I spotted Hippolyte in her red, flowing cape over heavy plate armor, laying her sword on people’s shoulders one after another like she was baptizing them.
“I, Priestess of Mars, Hippolyte, pray for the War God’s blessing upon you—Tormus…!”
A long line stretched out in front of Hippolyte, so backed up it was suffocating just to look at.
“Hassan, let’s get in line too!”
I was about to turn around and leave, but Luna insisted on waiting, so I had no choice but to join the end of the queue.
They say once you get a girlfriend, you end up lining up at trendy spots like this a lot. I wondered if this was what that felt like.
Did that make Hippolyte the trendy spot? My own analogy felt oddly lewd, and my joystick twitched.
But thinking about another woman right next to Luna felt rude, so I turned my attention to her as she scanned the crowd and asked,
“There are really a ton of people here. Does this stuff actually work or what?”
“People heading off to war praying at Mars or Minerva temples is standard procedure, isn’t it?”
Standard procedure. I almost burst out laughing at the term coming from Luna’s mouth. She often picked up words I tossed out thoughtlessly and found them fascinating.
From “shit” on up to “standard procedure.” Luna was soaking up stories of my homeland like a sponge. She probably thought they were just dialects or slang from the Samaria region.
“Does praying actually do anything?”
“Better than heading into war with zero prep, right? Gotta cover all your bases!”
“I guess so.”
I thought about tomorrow’s subjugation campaign.
War.
The military.
Fuck.
Even as my memories of life on Earth started to fade,
There were some I’d never forget until the moment I died—like my army days, fuck, that dogshit.
The cold and hot land of ice and fire, Gangwon Province.
Honestly, even the memories I had, I didn’t want to revisit. That place was like another isekai in its own right. Fuck, where else in Korea does it snow until May?
Anyway, after grinding through that hellish military life and going back to school, I ended up in this world one day, spending my youth as Elfriede’s slave.
Conscription notice.
And now, off to the army again.
Fuck, war is shit.
But I’m not even from this world—just a foreigner, Hassan.
They’re drafting foreigners living in the city to throw into tomorrow’s subjugation war?
What kind of insane shit is this? Does that mean the city’s in that dire a state?
This time, we might face a real, brutal battlefield, and the thought made everything go dark.
Smashing goblin skulls or exploring dark labyrinth mazes as an adventurer was a whole different league.
Just imagining it had my mouth drying up, tension building. The anxiety I’d been ignoring started making my legs jitter nervously.
As my legs bounced like I was bursting with energy,
Luna muttered,
“It would’ve been nice if Ideophe had a Mars or Minerva temple too. If they’d prayed for blessings before heading out, more men might’ve come back alive.”
“Ah.”
Come to think of it, Ideophe had way fewer men because of constant tribal wars. That’s why most of the population was women, and boys were treated like treasures.
Anyway, Luna had been making protective charms and totems from the night she got the conscription notice all the way to this morning, and now she was even coming to the war god’s temple for prayers.
Compared to what I knew, it was like those moms going all out with every “miracle cure” before their kid’s college entrance exams.
Of course, I couldn’t sit still either—I was anxious as hell.
Fuck, this primitive barbarian battlefield. Probably full of sticky, nightmarish mud.
Back when I was a slave in the city of Calcuta, I’d seen soldiers returning from a war with a neighboring city.
They were all bandaged up, missing limbs here and there. Even from a victorious war, they dragged their exhausted bodies home, faces worn out. That stuck with me vividly.
As I recalled those fatigued eyes,
Luna started thumping my shoulder with her fist.
“Hassan, it’s almost our turn.”
Snapping back, the long line in front of us had shrunk to just a few groups.
Seeing Hippolyte’s face for something official like this—not a mission or casual meetup—felt awkward, kinda off.
“Daughter of Temona—Belucamoni. I pray for the blessing of burning zeal and victory upon you—!”
The woman kneeling in front of me rose, and I stepped up to Hippolyte, her face clearly showing fatigue.
She wiped the blade used in the ritual with a white cloth and asked,
“Warrior heading to battle. What is your name?”
“Hassan of Samaria.”
“Hassan of Samaria, kneel… Wait, Hassan? Hassan!? No, Hassaann!?”
Eeeeeek—.
Hippolyte’s startled yell rang in my ears, deafening me.
They said the God of Strife, Mars, sometimes roars at enemies to shatter their will. Looked like his self-proclaimed daughter had lungs to match.
“Ahem, no… Hassan! What the hell are you doing here?”
She cleared her throat and asked quietly, her face openly baffled.
“Heading out tomorrow.”
“Gods, you enlisting? A guy without citizenship? Give me a break. You’ll die for real.”
A priestess of the war god Mars discouraging me from fighting before the battle even started. Fuck, I wasn’t big on superstitions, but it felt ominous.
“I don’t wanna go either. Got the conscription notice. They said I can’t stay in the city if I refuse.”
“Let me see it.”
At Hippolyte’s word, I pulled out the notice that had arrived last night.
There were two sheets total, one more besides the first I’d read.
The second was written in elegant script, detailing when and where to assemble and join the unit. Of course, there was more besides.
“Kill the cultists. Cultists are our enemies. Our Sodomora has developed for decades. Some cultist bastards invaded Sodomora.”
Spelling out the desperate reasons to subjugate them seemed like it’d boost the enlistees’ morale.
But what I’d scrutinized was further down, the core message.
“All conscripted participants will be granted citizenship and the right to participate in the city fragment council. – Enya Sardici.”
Hippolyte handed it back after reading.
“Samaritan, I thought you weren’t interested in stuff like citizenship.”
“…Wouldn’t hurt if I could get it.”
Citizenship.
Sure, I was an adventurer, Hassan of Samaria, but only Bronze tier, so access to social systems was limited.
For instance, fuck, I couldn’t even use the bank right now.
No account meant lugging around a clinking pouch of silver coins.
Or hiding it somewhere no one knew, but then I’d worry about thieves, distracting me from work.
No work means, “This fucker won’t shape up?”—getting chewed out, negativity spirals, I lose the job and the money.
Fuck, citizenship.
Not just bank services—cheaper clinic visits, calling the guard in emergencies, that kinda stuff.
Never thought I’d get citizenship before hitting Silver tier. Maybe joining this subjugation would be a shot at a comfy life.
Of course, only if I survived the battlefield.
“I get why you’re enlisting now. Enya that idiot must’ve cooked this up. Minerva’s grand warriors always pull crap like this.”
“Hippolyte, bless Hassan already!”
“Uh, hmm, ah, got it. Wait, Noxdoty, you enlisting too…?”
“Nah. Hippolyte, you enlisting by any chance?”
“Wanted to. Lost the draw, so I’m stuck defending the city.”
Hippolyte not joining? My morale plummeted hard.
Fuck, if a cannon of a warrior who shoots sword beams isn’t going, who the hell is?
“Don’t sweat it too much. If the count’s lady leads the charge herself, Hassan, your survival odds go up a bit.”
“Really?”
“But you’re still over 50% likely to die. The mountain stronghold we’re targeting has the cultist wizard Anxius. He’s dangerous. A mage who’s dipped into hellish magic. Horrifying.”
At the name Anxius, cultist wizard, I recalled sneaking into their gathering pretending to be a Pluto cultist.
The cultists there: Skizo, Somnia, the mage Anxius with his long staff, and the one called Boss—four total.
Was that mage Anxius holed up in the mountain stronghold?
I knew mages’ power well enough. My old master Elfriede, who tormented me, was a magic user.
“A powerful mage equals a trained battalion. Anxius was a fallen archmage apprentice from the magic tower. Messing with forbidden knowledge makes him even deadlier.”
“So, what should I do?”
“Die, obviously.”
“R-Really.”
“Or run. Hassan, I, Hippolyte, can wipe your name from the enlistment list.”
Wipe my name from the list? Was this that “connections with high officials” golden ticket I’d only heard about?
What better blessing from the war god than victory without fighting?
Hippolyte really was Mars’s daughter. That magnificent chest.
Imagining the broad bosom under that sturdy armor, I trembled with emotion. This is why people chase school ties and hometown networks. Good call joining the Mars Guild.
“Hippolyte, thank you so m—”
“But a hot-blooded Samaritan wouldn’t flee the battlefield. No point saying it.”
“…Maybe try anyway.”
“Waste of breath. Samaritan, your eyes burn with warlust. Like my father Mars. A lion’s gaze seeking bloody fields. Those black eyes veined red—stunning.”
I touched my face, wondering what my eyes looked like. I’d pulled an all-nighter prepping for war with Luna, so no sleep.
Hippolyte mistook it for battle fervor.
Right then, shouts erupted from behind me.
“Hey, we’re on a schedule! Hurry it up!”
“I got other shit to do! Gotta sharpen my rusty blade, fit my armor!”
Our talk had dragged, and the line behind us was out of patience.
Hippolyte hemmed and hawed, clearing her throat.
“Hassan, I’ll pray for your blessing too. A s-special one. Takes time to prepare, so come back this evening.”