Chapter 275
Chapter 275
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 275
Chapter Title: Rift, Ceres's Grudge #2
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Mars Guild's conference room.
Unlike the extravagantly ornate exterior building, the conference room—restricted to key personnel only—was surprisingly simple.
A large round table with several chairs around it.
On the table sat a massive map and a model of Sodmora.
That was it.
It almost looked like a field command post for officers. In fact, that was probably the inspiration.
We sat around the table, arms crossed.
The people here were me, Antiope, Hippolyte, Baltma—the half-bald, one-eyed middle-aged man in charge of Mars Guild—and Vice Vain, the inquisitor dispatched from the temple knight order, a holy knight of Bacchus.
The man with seaweed-like hair the color of wine pointed to a spot on the map with a long baton-like pointer.
“As I mentioned beforehand, this entrance is set to open here, close to the city of Sodmora. It's an oracle from the priests of light, so the location is certain.”
“Hmm.”
Baltma let out a slight grunt at that.
“I knew the entrances opened at random spots, and that they were gradually approaching Sodmora from the plains of Kallan, but I never imagined they'd get this close.”
Baltma's remaining eye was fixed on the map of Sodmora and its surroundings.
From the forest at the abandoned temple ruins by the west gate, to the deer forest at the south gate, the valley at the north gate, and the plains east of the east gate—all depicted in quaint detail.
Among them, the spot Vice Vain indicated with his finger was a hill about half a day's walk from the abandoned temple ruins at the west gate.
Less than a day's journey from the city. Everyone present, including Baltma, seemed weary at the thought of such a bizarre dungeon appearing there.
“Could you mark the locations of previous entrances, Sir Vain?”
At Hippolyte's question, Vice Vain replied nonchalantly, “Of course,” and stuck red, round-bulbed thumbtacks like pins around Sodmora's vicinity.
“Thirty years ago, the first discovered after the long winter ended—the autumn entrance—was here. In the great plains of Kallan, or rather, the Kallan marshes back then.”
Leaning back in her chair with her sandaled feet propped on the table, Antiope spoke up.
“You mean the first rift Theseus sealed?”
“That's right.”
“Tch, Theseus. Hate even looking at him. Countless daughters of Mars died because of that guy.”
“Shh.”
Hippolyte, arms crossed, cut in with a solemn tone.
“Antiope, this isn't the time for personal opinions.”
“You hate Theseus too, sis.”
“True. But right now, we're discussing the autumn entrance, not Theseus.”
Antiope seemed full of complaints but shut her mouth at Hippolyte's words, which apparently hit home.
Watching her grumble, our eyes met, and she quickly took her legs off the table, sitting primly.
Am I that scary?
What?
If word spread that someone I knew well suddenly set fire to the city, even I'd find them intimidating.
As I nursed that slight emotional bruise, Vice Vain with his wine-colored seaweed hair continued.
“The rift twenty-five years ago was here, twenty years ago here, fifteen years and ten years ago here. As you can see, they're progressively drawing closer to Sodmora.”
“Why?”
Hippolyte asked.
“Why are they getting closer to the city?”
“We don't know. Perhaps they’re drawn to places with dense populations and mana. The problem is, this year's entrance is closer to the city than any before. At this rate, in five or ten years, one might open right in the city center.”
A dungeon entrance in the city center—.
Everyone let out a slight grunt at the thought.
From what I knew, dungeons were somewhat beneficial to human life.
More precisely, when a dungeon appeared, conquerors followed, and with them, people making a living off the byproducts, stimulating the economy in various ways.
Kalkata, a hub city primarily tackling Pluto's Labyrinth, was a prime example. But even Kalkata maintained a distance of one to two days from the labyrinth's entrance.
A dungeon.
Or in other words, a demonic realm.
No one knew what might burst out from within to attack people.
If one opened near a city—let alone in the center—even a hub like Kalkata would face massive chaos.
Sodmora, meanwhile, had little connection to dungeons. It was obvious what would happen if an entrance popped up somewhere in this populous metropolis.
Baltma, fingers interlaced and resting on the table, spoke gravely.
“It'd be pandemonium. Utter chaos. So what's the conclusion, inquisitor? You're a busy man—no need to beat around the bush. Spit it out.”
“So far, we've only sealed the autumn entrances. Five-year seals. But that's no longer enough to turn a blind eye. Therefore, we've decided to destroy the autumn entrance entirely.”
The room stirred at that. Hippolyte was the one who gaped in disbelief.
“Destroy a dungeon? It's called a dungeon, but it's originally the domain of Goddess Ceres. On what authority would you demolish it? It could be blasphemy.”
“We already have the royal sanction.”
“Prince Friedrich, I presume. Who else could command you?”
“Exactly. By His Highness's order, our holy knight order intends to utterly destroy the autumn entrance—Ceres's domain. The justification is ample.”
“Justification is ample—ha, it won't be easy, though? Even that hero Theseus only managed a seal.”
“I don't think anyone here is inferior to Theseus. Amazon sisters, you're both demigods, inheritors of divinity. No reason you can't surpass him.”
At Vice Vain's words, Hippolyte pondered with a thoughtful “hmm,” weighing her response. Antiope, however, who had been sitting straight and attentive, raised her voice excitedly.
“Yeah, no reason we can't! If Theseus had destroyed it back then, we wouldn't be dealing with this hassle. We'll do what he couldn't!”
“Excellent attitude.”
Vice Vain smiled in satisfaction.
So, to sum up what I'd heard: we were heading to what was once a god's domain turned dungeon, and we just had to smash it.
I was confident in smashing things, at least.
After all, I was the Samaritan infamous for setting fire to an intact city. Who else was better at destruction?
I'll smash it all to hell.
Hassan, smash.
As I mused alone, everyone stood from their seats.
“Then, we'll depart after lunch, renting carriages. Please prepare by then.”
*
*
*
Two carriages waited at the west gate.
Sturdy iron fittings and sleek tail feathers adorned the horses pulling them—horses decked in splendid armor.
*Snort.*
If horses had a class system, these would be rubbing shoulders with the elite. Gold-tier steeds, for sure.
Whoa, fancy carriages. Better equipped than most adventurers. Just one horseshoe could fetch enough for days of meals.
Idiot, you'd lose your head. Look at the emblem—a dragon. Temple knight order carriages.
People gawked and whistled at the sight. It reminded me of my wide-eyed stare at a Rolls-Royce back home.
The situation was exactly like that now.
Nothing beats a luxury ride for showing off.
Because of that, as I climbed aboard and sank into the plush cushions, my ears felt hot, like they were flushing. Did I look natural getting in?
As I wondered, Vice Vain, seated across from me in the carriage, spoke up.
“I hear you've been through a rough patch lately.”
Everyone I met asked the same. So I gave my standard reply.
“Something like that.”
“But you look better than expected. Why did you set the fire? You don't strike me as the type.”
“Everyone has destructive urges deep down. Doesn't everyone, at some point, want to try something out of character?”
“Ah, true. As a follower of Bacchus, I know more than most about inner destructive urges.”
Vice Vain said that casually, then called to the coachman.
“Let's depart.”
The coachman cracked the whip lightly, sending the horses galloping. Watching the scenery shift past the window, Vice Vain added a few words.
“Alcohol is great for revealing one's inner self. A true divine blessing. But drink too much, and it leads to frenzy. Samaritan, you should steer clear of booze.”
I could tell Vice Vain was offering sincere advice.
People like me, a bit timid at heart, are sensitive to malice or goodwill—we have an instinct for who's friend or foe.
He seemed pretty fond of me. Probably because we'd bonded cursing heretics together at our first meeting.
But why booze all of a sudden?
As I pondered where the conversation was headed, Vain said,
“So, between us, be honest. What kind of alcohol was it?”
“Honest about what? What booze?”
“No need to dodge. Samaritan, to arson a city, you must've been smashed. How many bottles?”
“Pardon?”
“Back then, you downed a bottle of strong liquor without a hint of drunkenness. For you to get so wasted you torched the place, it had to be some potent stuff.”
“No, what—”
“I heard your 'Samaritan secret brew' is legendary. Was it that?”
Samaritan secret brew? That's a technique, not booze. He apparently thought I'd committed the crime blackout drunk.
As I tried to explain, he pressed on.
“Exceed your limit, and we can plead diminished capacity due to intoxication—major sentence reduction. Mitigation by alcohol. Bacchus's grace. Why didn't you mention it?”
Bacchus's grace, huh.
I recalled Gaia's laws on alcohol-related crimes.
Bacchus followers defended drunks' crimes, causing riots, so laws officially lenient toward intoxicated offenders?
Hence thugs committing crimes then chugging booze.
Truly barbaric, fitting for Gaia. Sentence cuts for drinking? Unbelievable.
But I hadn't touched a drop.
“I was stone sober.”
“…Really?”
“At least, no alcohol.”
“Good lord, committing such madness sober. Astonishing. How do you even think of that straight? More extraordinary than I thought. This is getting interesting.”
To a mad god's follower, 'madness' praise or insult? Is this guy subtly roasting me?
As I seriously pondered, Vain said,
“Still, your recklessness apparently intrigued His Highness. You turned down joining the holy knight order?”
“Yeah, back then.”
“I find refusing the prince's offer harder to believe than sober arson. How do you pull off such insanity clear-headed?”
Refusing a golden parachute gig harder to believe than torching the rich district sober? I recalled the trial.
Voices of countless people.
Innumerable eyes.
Tangled interests.
Self-loathing disgust.
And Elfride—.
My head was full of that; no room for anything else. Come to think of it, I'd rejected the prince's offer to join the holy knights.
Like turning down a cushy state job. Yeah, pretty insane.
But I hadn't wanted to kneel to him.
The prince, proud Friedrich.
Foe of heretics.
Champion of justice.
Why reject such perfection? And that eerie vibe at trial's end nagged me.
No one else noticed, but the prince's face split into a monster's grin for an instant. Chilling.
Instinct told me he was my enemy. Thinking the kingdom's heir an enemy—utter madness.
But my plebeian gut was often right.
Maybe the prince wasn't the noble justice everyone said. I'd seen clean faces hide filth plenty.
Ah, but now I'm sounding paranoid like a heretic.
As I thought that, the swift carriage arrived at the hill called Nymphs' Hill.
Vice Vain touched his forehead like making a holy sign and whispered.
“Almighty Bacchus, please let the wrath of seasons and harvest spare us—”