Chapter 272
Chapter 272
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 272
Chapter Title: Entrance to Autumn #8
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"I'm Prince Friedrich! If you're a heretic, you have to fall before me! That's how the game works!"
"This isn't a game...!"
"No, if this isn't a game, then what is...?"
"Hurry and kneel, swear your loyalty to me...!"
Just moments ago, we'd been playing tag together, but when I turned around, Paranoya was already knuckle-rapping some boys on the head, making them cry.
The boy who claimed to be Prince Friedrich had collapsed to the ground, bawling from the merciless knuckle-rap of a level 20+ heretic.
"With the prince defeated, the kingdom is now mine...! In the end, Pluto's influence will spread corruption throughout the kingdom...!!"
But Paranoya went even further, placing a leaf on each of the crying boys' heads.
"Since you died by my hand, you'll resurrect as undead...! You'll become a Scourge horde, spreading disaster and death under my command as Death Knights...!!"
"Uwaaah, Mommy, Mommy—!"
Terrified by Paranoya's frightening threats, the boys eventually scattered in all directions and fled.
The mothers chatting nearby looked flustered and came over to protest.
"Hey, why are you making the kids cry? Ralph, you too—no crying just because some nymph hit you! Stop it right now!"
"No, Mom, it really hurts. She's super strong!"
"Su-super? Where did you learn that word? You were playing with Barak again, weren't you? I told you not to play with him! You'll pick up those savage barbarian habits!"
"Ah, no, Mom, that's not—."
Maybe I should just leave her be.
The somewhat complicated situation ended with the mothers grabbing their children and leaving the area.
Perhaps because I looked pretty intimidating standing behind Paranoya, they chose to avoid escalating things and just vacated the premises.
"Bye, let's play again sometime."
"Yeah—!"
As the noisy chaos of crying children settled into a relatively quiet atmosphere, I said to Paranoya,
"Hey, what if you make the kids cry by hitting them? Damn, I thought we were in big trouble again."
If those furious mothers had protested, we couldn't just beat them off like thugs, so it could've turned into a real mess. But Paranoya puffed out her chest proudly, as if proud of her actions.
"Defeating Prince Friedrich means I deserve a medal...! Even if he was fake...!"
"What are you talking about now?"
"Prince Friedrich is a very, very bad guy...! There's no one worse...!"
Paranoya growled as if she harbored a deep grudge against Prince Friedrich. What, did he kill her parents or something? I knew a bit about this Prince Friedrich myself.
He was said to care for the people and citizens in place of the old, sickly king, fearlessly visiting plague-ridden slums and monster-infested demon realms.
He was the kind of prince from old fairy tales who rides a white horse and wins the people's love—brought to life in reality.
In fact, I'd received his help too.
That day, if Prince Friedrich himself hadn't come to the palace to investigate the Abyss incident and Antiope's unauthorized departure, declaring me innocent, I might be facing even greater retaliation right now.
But from the perspective of Paranoya, a Pluto heretic, maybe the prince, as a champion of justice, rubbed her the wrong way?
"Friedrich is an idiot...! That guy demolished Pluto's temples and branded the priests as heretics, chopping off their heads...!"
"Yeah?"
"Because of that, Pluto's followers couldn't escape being treated as heretics... Many of them truly fell into corruption like heretic scum...!"
That was news to me.
I'd always wondered how the cult of Pluto—one of the three main gods—had declined so much, earning such horrific treatment and corruption. Who knew I'd learn the reason here.
"Anyway, no more hitting kids on the head while playing."
"Got it...!"
Juno's garden felt quite desolate now that the children had left.
All that remained were toys abandoned mid-play, footprints, and echoes of laughter.
One boy who still looked like a child remained, picking up the things the others had left into a box-like container.
Unlike the kids who'd gone off with their mothers—who looked neat even with sand on them—this remaining boy had ragged clothes and messy hair. And that hair was black.
A Samaritan.
It wasn't something I'd mentioned or bumped into often, so I'd overlooked it, but seeing another Samaritan like me in the big city of Sodoma wasn't all that rare.
As I thought about how Juno's temple attracted all sorts, Paranoya, rubbing the head she'd gotten knuckle-rapped, explained in a subtle tone.
"That kid is Barak... He's an orphan being raised here at Juno's temple...!"
"I see."
An orphan, huh.
This world overflows with wars and famines, so orphans aren't special. Hell, standing right here—me, Luna, Paranoya—we're basically all orphans.
Thinking about it, what kind of messed-up group are we?
A band of orphaned siblings or something. Come to think of it, neither Antiope nor Hippolyte ever mentioned their parents. Bastards of Mars, probably.
I don't get why there are so many discarded kids in this world.
And among them, damn—who the hell dumped me here?
As I pondered that, Luna approached me.
"Hassan, wanna grab dinner together? It's been a while."
"Dinner?"
Is it okay to have dinner with Luna? With all the guys who'd cling to her, something annoying was bound to happen. If she got hurt in the crossfire, it'd be a real headache.
"Hey, Samaritan! Fight me!"
Even here at Juno's temple, before heading out for dinner, some punk was picking a fight with me.
When I turned to see what kind of idiot it was, I locked eyes with pitch-black pupils staring up at me.
It was the Samaritan orphan who'd been cleaning up earlier—Barak or whatever.
He gripped a crudely carved wooden sword, staring at me with a resolute expression.
"Fight me!"
"Damn."
As I said earlier, Sodoma has plenty of Samaritans who look like me. You run into one about once a day on the streets.
But I'd never mentioned them, and the reason was that I avoided them whenever possible.
No mentions, no encounters—that was my way of dealing with other Samaritans.
Because these Samaritan bastards have this weirdly aggressive vibe. Whenever we crossed paths, they'd pick fights out of nowhere, demanding duels on the spot.
Like a sudden Pokémon battle breaking out. A duel with fists.
Even these little shits start shit the moment they meet. Stupid Samaritan idiots.
"I don't fight rookies, dumbass."
No matter what, I wasn't Paranoya—I'd look pathetic beating up a kid.
If I knuckle-rapped this one while fighting, the mothers still lingering at Juno's temple might gossip, "That Samaritan Hassan is—." spreading rumors everywhere.
Branded a thug by the moms?
That'd ruin my reputation beyond repair. I'd have to move cities and start over.
So I planned to intimidate him lightly and scare him off, but this Barak kid unexpectedly stood his ground, burning with even more zeal.
"Fight me! You're not scared and trying to run, are you? I heard Samaritans never refuse a challenge!"
"Yeah, sure. But I'm not a Samaritan."
"You bastard!"
"What the damn?"
Rage flared up instantly. He'd poked the one nerve he shouldn't. As heat surged uncontrollably, Luna tapped my arm from beside me.
"Hassan, no need to get serious with kids. Let's go—."
"Yeah."
*
*
*
In the end, Luna and I didn't have dinner together and parted ways.
Luna seemed reluctant, fidgeting as if sad to separate, but with my status and situation still unstable, it was best she stayed solo for now.
Our relationship with Luna was starting to progress again, but everything else was at square one, with no clear solutions.
"Hassan, see you next time—."
"Yeah. I'll contact you first next time. Take care, Luna, Paranoya. And don't join any weird foundations."
"Foundations make me sick now...! I only go to the nymph comrades' meetings...!"
"Damn, what's that now? Comrades' meeting?"
"It's where nymph devotees of Goddess Vesta gather periodically...! Very wholesome...! Echo, the innkeeper's wife, is there too...!"
"Yeah? Alright, got it."
With that, Luna and Paranoya headed to the hut by the west gate, while I made for the inn near the north gate.
Rustle, rustle—.
But as I approached the north gate area, the sounds of someone tailing me grew louder, the distance closing.
At first, I thought it was thugs.
Some punks ambushing me, hiding daggers or clubs, waiting for an opening. But there were too few for thugs, and the footsteps sounded light. Build like Paranoya's, maybe.
Either small dwarves or kids who hadn't grown yet.
"Cut the crap and come out."
As I casually called toward the back, a small trash bin rattled loudly—clang!
Soon, someone emerged hesitantly toward me.
It was the Samaritan kid from Juno's temple earlier. Sweat poured down his face, his unkempt hair a wild lion's mane.
What was probably once a white cotton shirt hung stretched to his shoulders, and with no pants, his knees and calves stuck out tanned and rough. Worn sandals.
Overall, a shabby, pitiful orphan.
Of course, looks-wise, he and I weren't so different.
"Following me all this way. Wrong direction home?"
At my words, he drew something from his bosom. I was slightly startled—it was a blade unfit for a child. A decent dagger.
He said,
"I'm not going back. It's either taking you down here or dying—one or the other!"
"You idiot. Do you even know what dying means? Death is scarier than you think, kid."
"Better than this life of getting mocked as an orphan every damn day! Die like this, or beat you and rise as a warrior! One or the other!"
His eyes, gripping the drawn dagger, brimmed with killing intent. Flames seemed to blaze in those black pupils.
I'd never talked to this kid or knew what he was about, but somehow, I got it.
An orphan in this world isn't treated well. A barbarian orphan? No need to say more. In a world where you starve without pulling your weight, kids have few options.
"Hurry and draw your weapon, Hassan! I'll topple you at your best and raise my fame—I will!"
He growled at me. Casually, I extended both arms toward him.
"Weapon? Right here. Ten fingers. That should be plenty."
"Don't underestimate me—!"
Watching the kid flare up, I suddenly recalled my past self.
It was like when I first met Hippolyte—me with a sword, her bare-handed, probably feeling just like I did now.
What the skeleton knight, Hippolyte, even Kalidur had said hit home: "A true warrior knows victory or defeat before the fight begins—."
This fight between him and me was egg versus rock.
Charging in oblivious proved he was still a chick, barely worthy of warrior status.
"Don't underestimate me!"
Then the barbarian kid, dagger in reverse grip, lunged at me. Springy like a child, forceful like a Samaritan leap.
Thud.
He sprang up, slashing straight for my nape. Was he really trying to kill me?
A half-assed thug would've died for real.
But I raised my palm and backhanded his cheek.
"Guak—!"
With a weird scream, the kid tumbled to the ground. As he wobbled trying to rise, I slammed a clenched fist down.
Whoosh—Boom!
My superhuman strength cracked the ground slightly, and the kid, barely dodging the fist, trembled with tears in his eyes.
I told him,
"Don't ever say you'll die so casually again, dumbass. Death is scarier than you think."
"U, uu—."
But I'd scared him too much—he passed out cold.
Damn, this is nuts.
As I frowned slightly, a sharp blade sensation hurtled toward my nape. I swiftly drew my club from my waist and raised my arm to block. He had backup?
But.
Nothing.
Only the collapsed kid lay around me.
My imagination?
Tensing and scanning as I wondered, someone slipped out from the shadows—swish. I hadn't sensed their presence. How'd they get so close?
In this city, only Flash Kalidur and one other could approach me like this.
"Lady Hippolyte?"
"Your reactions have sharpened nicely. Excellent at sensing ki—. To react to the ki I projected. Life on edge boils the Samaritan warrior spirit, it seems?"
Clank—.
Hippolyte, clad in armor as always, emerged from the shadowed rooftop.
"I have words for you, Samaritan—no, Hassan."