Chapter 86
Chapter 86
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: Hero of Sodomora
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The fog that had blanketed Sodomora lifted completely only by the next morning. The sun rose bright and clear in a sky so pure it made last night’s chaos feel like a dream.
Contrary to expectations, there was no assault from the heretics.
We had no idea why, but the city—which had been cowering in terror of the heretics—began to stir with a bit of life again.
Merchants returned to the streets, and helmetless children dashed through the parks, swinging wooden toy swords at each other.
“I’m the daughter of Mars, Hippolyte! Take my sword, Altair!”
“Why do I have to be Altair? I wanna be Hippolyte!”
“Dummy, you’re a boy. How could a boy play a girl—?”
In any case, the city that had been trembling at the heretics was definitely starting to buzz with energy again.
From my modern sensibilities, though, shouldn’t they stay cautious for at least a few days, maybe a week? Dropping your guard like this is when danger strikes.
“It feels like yesterday was all a lie.”
Luna picked up on my mutter, standing beside me.
“Right? But thank goodness it ended without anyone hurt! I never thought Hassan would take down a heretic priest. You really stepped up!”
“He did his best.”
Her excitement made me feel a bit proud, somehow. But honestly, it wasn’t because I was strong—it was pure luck.
Still, thinking about it, in survival and combat, it’s not the strong who survive; the survivors are the strong ones.
So, doesn’t that make me stronger than that Skizo guy?
Hell yeah, I’m pretty damn tough!!
Just as my ego was inflating, I remembered it wasn’t all my doing, so I swallowed my pride and spoke up.
“Still, I lost that elixir you made yesterday. I tried to grab it somehow.”
I regretted the elixir Luna had lost to that heretic healer, Somnia. Luna just slowly shook her head.
“It’s fine. It was just a test batch, not that expensive. Surviving is what matters. More importantly, Hassan, at this rate, you might actually hit Gold Tier!”
“R-Really?”
The words “Gold Tier” conjured images of a shiny gold necklace in my mind. It had felt so out of reach I’d half-given up, but now it seemed possible, glimmering on the horizon.
We were chatting idly like that when—
“Look, there it is!”
Luna pointed, and sure enough, a towering statue rose like the Statue of Liberty.
It was only about half the size, but it was the first time I’d seen a sculpture that high since coming to this world.
A helmeted goddess strode forward with shield and long spear at the ready.
It had to be a carving of Minerva, goddess of wisdom and exploration.
“Why’d the Minerva Guild want to see you, Hassan?”
“No clue.”
I’d gotten a summons from the Minerva Guild early that morning.
Even when I asked the messenger what it was about, he just said it was a secret from everyone.
“Maybe they’re giving you a bounty?”
“I hope so! You’ll get a big one, Hassan!”
I’d crushed that heretic assassin, after all. According to Actaeon, I’d get a fitting reward.
Pay based on work done—makes you wanna hustle, damn it.
The Minerva Guild building had all sorts of intriguing features. The structure itself wasn’t much different from the Mars Guild before it got trashed.
But the vibe of the people coming and going was totally distinct.
The Mars Guild felt like a staffing agency packed with every Kim, Park, Choi, and Lee forming crews.
Here, it was like stepping into a government office—neat, clean outfits everywhere.
Very few wore armor; most sported soft fabric clothes. Wild.
“No warriors here?”
“There are, but they can’t enter the guild in armor. Minerva’s stricter about rules and standards.”
“Gotcha. Weird stuff.”
Even inside the Minerva Guild, I felt sidelong glances at me and Luna.
Can’t blame them—black and pink imp monsters showing up.
“I don’t know what brings you here, but this is a sacred temple. Please leave your weapons and armor.”
A guard who looked like temple security approached me. Sacred temple, my ass—she was decked out in armor, spear, and shield.
Her chest plate curved outward—definitely a woman. A female guard? Rare sight.
Not just her; all the guards around seemed female. Some dress code?
Anyway, I deposited everything except the two long swords I’d broken yesterday: one long sword and one dagger into the basket.
Stripping off the spider-shell armor from my limbs felt lightening—not bad.
“You’ll get them back when you leave.”
After that stiff exchange with the female guard, I headed to what looked like a bank teller window.
Amid the bustle, only the counter with a beauty sporting long, deep purple hair was empty.
“Uh, I’ve got some business here.”
“You’d have to, to come. But we don’t have time for barbarians.”
Ouch.
Like Daphne, guild receptionists always hit me with that icy first impression—enough to make my eyes water.
“No, I’m Hassan from Samaria… Someone called me here. Maybe—?”
“Hassan from Samaria… Hassan… Hassaahn? That Actaeon’s!?”
She cut me off, eyes widening huge.
“You should’ve led with that! Who do you wanna get fired!?”
“S-Sorry.”
Damn it, not sure I even owed an apology, but her intensity crushed me into one.
“Anyway, he’s waiting underground. Go there. And that pink-haired girl stays here.”
“Hassan, guess I’m waiting again.”
“I’ll bring souvenirs on the way out.”
* * *
I’d been curious what the Minerva Guild’s underground prison looked like, but it was disappointingly ordinary.
Just like the Mars Guild’s basement: rows of rusty iron bars, rat pups squeaking from holes everywhere.
Still, prisons are prisons—unfamiliar and creepy anywhere. My spirits dipped a bit.
“Friend, you’ve come.”
Actaeon, in his red cloak and skimpy outfit, welcomed me with open arms.
I’d met this guy only a few times, but every time, I thought I should’ve just left him as a deer.
A curse turning a man into a deer had to have a reason. Anyway, no hugs for dude-bros, so I shoved his torso back.
“So, why’d you call me?”
“Because I have words about the heretic priest you subdued.”
“Subdued?”
Not killed or executed—subdued? My brow furrowed.
Peering into the cell, I nearly screamed at the sight of the black-armored man, Skizo, sitting cross-legged with arms bound behind him.
“Mom! Holy shit!”
I did yell. Freaking startled me!
No way—I’d gouged his eyes and brain with my dagger.
I’d even prayed for his soul, feeling guilty about the kill. Now I felt ripped off, damn it!
How the hell is he alive?
Same armor, different guy?
My head spun with possibilities.
“Surprised, eh? We were too. We’ve got him restrained for now, but I felt you needed to know.”
“Y-You’re sure it’s him? Not just same armor…?”
Actaeon shook his head at my doubt.
“No chance. That armor is his prison—no one can remove it, not even him. He’s definitely the man your friend killed yesterday.”
“What does that mean…? He died and came back?”
I couldn’t grasp what Actaeon was saying. The guy I’d killed was alive? Unbelievable.
Even in this chaotic, rule-breaking world, a stab to the heart kills you.
That’s why people value life, and adventurers risking theirs rake in the cash.
But fuck, this black-armored bastard was cheating.
“Ever heard of Holy Warriors?”
“Nope. What’re they?”
“Long ago—but only 30 years back—the gods atop high Hypos chatted plenty with humans. Holy Warriors are remnants of that. Cursed champions of the gods.”
I knew a bit about divine champions.
This world’s gods bless favorites with graces, turning top ones into champions—extensions of themselves, like divine servants.
But “cursed champions”? Didn’t click. Champions are champions—why cursed?
“Your face says you don’t get it. Gods don’t just bless favorites as champions. Sometimes they curse those they despise, dooming them to impossible tasks forever.”
Actaeon crossed his arms at “curse.”
This man had nearly lost his humanity to a curse, turning deer. He probably took curses dead seriously.
Me too—I’d suffered the “Dusar’s Curse of Impotence” for two years. Fuck, curses are terrifying.
Actaeon continued.
“Those cursed live as gods’ slaves till death. That’s a Holy Warrior. Endless holy warriors. And this one’s probably Pluto’s.”
“The armor he can’t remove, not dying—it’s all tied to that?”
“Yes, quick on the uptake—good. Of course, reviving from death is beyond any hero. There must be conditions, backlash.”
Coming from a Gold Tier adventurer like Actaeon, it rang true. Not infinite respawns.
“Anyway, wanted to interrogate him, but he won’t talk. Thought he might with you here. Mind being alone?”
Alone with Skizo in this basement? Scary as hell. Even bound, that heretic might laser my throat with his eyes.
“If anything happens, call. I’ll come running.”
But Actaeon didn’t wait for my answer—just left. Suddenly, it was just me and the unkillable monster.
Awkward. Unsettling.
“…”
He’d always been quiet, but not mute. Yet here I was, and he said nothing.
Pissed off? I’d be raging too if someone gouged my eyes.
“Uh, look, don’t hate me. You came at me to kill, so you were ready to die, right?”
I babbled, fearing he’d break out for revenge. Then his shoulders shook—hack, hack.
Laughing?
Silent laughter—creepy.
He kept at it.
Seconds. Dozens of seconds.
Made me wonder if my dagger hit something in his skull.
As I stared—
“…I, Skizo, am but a storyteller. Not even fit to tie the shoes of the One who comes.”
His voice scraped like metal on floor—horrid. But what the hell?
“Huh? Shoe-tying outta nowhere?”
“You slaves of the twelve idiot gods… think we fight a hopeless war. But we have prophecy. Soon, so soon… *cough*.”
He hacked violently, like vomiting blood.
“…Eyes for first death, nose for second. Tongue for third? Fine. Come.”
*Splash—*
Blood sprayed from his dragon-head helmet. Still, he laughed.
“…Soon, He descends on this land. None can stop Him.”
Something in his tone made my hairs stand on end. Not just a mad heretic— he believed.
“Who? Pluto from the underground labyrinth?”
“Son of Death… Pluto’s successor. Knights of the new order under Chaos… You’re bound to fate now.”
He spouted cryptic nonsense and clammed up.
I prodded more, even chucked pebbles into the cell, but he stayed still as a broken machine.