Chapter 95
Chapter 95
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 95
Chapter Title: Visiting the Sick and Hassan's Club
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Sometimes in life, there comes a day when you don't even want to lift a finger.
A day when you just don't want to do anything at all, when you'd rather lie in bed doing nothing the whole day long.
Is that like burnout syndrome?
That feeling of depleted focus and stamina, losing all momentum in life and turning listless.
That's exactly what I was experiencing right now.
Of course, in my case, it was due to a very physical reason—I literally couldn't move a single finger.
"Hassan, here's some water."
"Ugh..."
I lay on that deer carpet in the upstairs room of Luna's house, barely managing to swallow the bitter medicine she fed me spoonful by spoonful.
"Grrr."
"Why are you spitting it all out? This stuff is so precious for your body...!"
"No, I'm not spitting it out on purpose. It just won't stay in my mouth. What the hell is this made of?"
"...You're better off not knowing. Anyway, back in it goes. Here."
"Grrr. Mmgh!"
"Don't taste it—just gulp it down."
Since Luna clamped her palm over my mouth, I had no choice but to swallow what was in there.
Gulp. Gulp.
My mouth felt so puckeringly astringent it was like I'd licked raw beast bile—pure agony.
But Luna just swirled the spoon around in a small wooden vial and cheerfully struck up a conversation.
"Good job! You've finished your morning dose! How's it feel? Any better now?"
"Uh, no. Same as before."
"Maybe I misjudged the dosage. Guess I'll have to mix in some new herbs and stuff! Next chance I get for an experiment... er, ahem."
"Ex, experiment? What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing at all! Anyway, I need to head to the market."
And with that, she scampered off barefoot somewhere.
"I'll be back soon, so behave yourself!"
Soon, I heard the front door clunk open downstairs, and the presence of people faded, leaving a heavy silence pressing down on me.
"Luna, you gone?"
No answer when I called toward the first floor. Had she really gone outside? Just in case, I yelled louder.
"W-water! At least give me some water before you go!"
I'd just downed that insanely bitter medicine, so my mouth was dying to be rinsed. But whether she'd gone too far or not, Luna didn't come back to give me any.
"Ughhh..."
With no other choice, I tried to reach for the water skin by my feet.
Ow.
But I was suffering such extreme muscle pain that even twitching a finger was impossible, let alone sitting up to drink.
It had been two days since my deathmatch with the voodoo sorceress Somnia.
The backlash from devouring raw the berserker flower—Ideophe's Hashishi—was so far beyond that lingering spicy taste in my mouth that it was wrecking my life.
My body felt like a prison trapping my soul.
The first day, I was so weak I couldn't even open my mouth—I really thought I was dying, and it terrified me.
Whether thanks to the secret medicine Luna fed me or my natural healing, I could now barely move my lips, tongue, and eyelids.
Who knew how many hours or days it'd take for my whole body to recover? Without Luna nursing me, I'd have died for sure.
Clunk.
Was it because I was thinking of her? I sensed movement downstairs—someone opening the door and entering the workshop.
"L-Luna, could you give me some water?"
I desperately appealed my thirst to who I assumed was Luna. Then, a shadow fell over my face.
"Hassan of Samaria. I'm not Luna."
"H-Hippolyte!"
I was so shocked by the totally unexpected visitor that I nearly jumped like a shrimp tossed onto dry land.
But with absolutely no strength in my body, I didn't actually jump.
"Ughh."
"I told you to come to the guild about the heretics, didn't I? Ignoring me like that—looks like you've gotten bold lately."
Come to think of it, when I handed over the heretic healer Somnia to Hippolyte, she had told me to visit the guild for the full story.
By the date, I was supposed to have gone to the guild's temporary tent yesterday.
"No, it's not that I didn't want to go—there were circumstances..."
"I can see that. You're suffering the backlash from the drugs, right?"
"Something like that."
"That's what you get for seeking power through unjust means. Drugs, secret medicines, alchemical inner pills—power gained that way is fleeting, and in the end, it just leaves excruciating pain."
Thud.
Hippolyte sat down beside me, scolding me like a nagging teacher. She wasn't in her usual armor but in those dark training clothes from before, looking refreshingly cool.
Above all, looking up at that massive chest from below, its shape was pretty impressive. The design had slits for ventilation at the bottom, exposing the underboob clearly.
On closer look, there was even a mole under her left breast. How brazen!
Ow, ow.
"Urk-"
A sharp pain hit my lower body, forcing me to look away. Who knew even getting hard would hurt? The aftereffects of illegal doping were fucking brutal.
Never doping again, swear to god.
As I vowed that to myself, Hippolyte—arms crossed, sitting next to me—spoke up.
"Still, thanks to you, we can say we captured the heretic Somnia. Without that, your group wouldn't have stood a chance on your own skill."
"Th-that's true."
Hippolyte's words were spot on. Without the illegal doping, could we have subdued Somnia in those underground sewers that day?
No, Luna and I would've probably ended up as her zombies, flailing around. Yeah, definitely.
"So, what brings you here...?"
"Some heretic business to discuss. And about promoting Noxdoty and the secret medicines. But Noxdoty's out, it seems."
"She'll be back soon—ten minutes at earliest, an hour at latest."
"That's fine. I can wait that long."
With that, Hippolyte sat quietly beside me, lips sealed.
Only the chirping of birds outside and the noisy voices from the slums rang in my ears. Unable to move a muscle, the awkward situation made my back crawl—I felt like I was dying.
Was she really going to sit here without saying a word?
As I thought that...
"The heretic Somnia you captured and Pluto's templar Skizo have been transferred to the prison city of Dorgernt."
Hippolyte broke the silence first.
"Prison city?"
"I wanted to interrogate them slowly and get all the details, but Minerva's cowards won't take the risk. They think keeping them in the city makes us ongoing targets for the heretics."
I'd heard about the prison city during my slave days. Up north in the cold lands, there's a massive prison about the size of a small city.
It had to be a fucking nightmare.
"Anyway, I didn't expect it, but you pulled off a big win capturing heretics. Those bastards rarely show their faces."
Srrr.
Hippolyte's brown eyes narrowed thinly. That suspicious gaze made the blood drain from my neck.
"Are your encounters with heretics just coincidence?"
"Pr-probably? We don't really know either."
"Well, even if you didn't know, I doubt Noxdoty has any cult connections. More importantly, you've been twitching uncomfortably since earlier. Something to say?"
"Th-that water skin down by my feet..."
"Oh."
Finally getting it, Hippolyte grabbed the water skin by my feet. She uncorked it and, quick on the uptake, held it to my mouth.
Splash!
But Hippolyte had no talent for nursing or feeding water—she poured so much that it overflowed, soaking my entire face.
Damn it, now I'm drenched. She used up most of the water on my skin.
Yet Hippolyte grumbled at me instead.
"Can't even drink properly while lying down? Hassan of Samaria—you really have no talents at all."
"No, slurp—that wasn't my fault just now..."
"Hmph."
Snorting, she turned her head. Then her eyes lit up at something amusing.
"Hoh. So that's it."
Swoosh.
Rising, she picked up my club—the 50cm Terror Crusher leaning against the wall.
"So this is the living weapon. My god, handing something this valuable over to you."
Saying that, she swung it around—whooosh, whoosh—whistling through the air. I couldn't help but tense up watching her wield it in the room.
If sword aura shot out from the club, this shack would collapse, and Luna would be devastated and pissed.
Clink!
"Huh...!"
"No, did I just hear something break?"
"You misheard, Samaritan. Have your ears gone bad too? How pitiful."
"No, I really heard something break just now..."
I wanted to look around, but my body wouldn't budge. What broke? There's only Luna's precious stuff up here.
"No, swear to god, smashing and breaking other people's things—how do you plan to make up for it?"
Swoosh-.
The club's tip was suddenly shoved near my head.
"Must've been my imagination."
"Yes, you're delirious from the pain. I'll let it slide. Anyway, fine weapon. Simple and crude—perfect for someone like you without finesse or skill. The recommender has good taste."
Swoosh, swoosh.
Hippolyte kept stroking and examining the club.
It looked just like a bully eyeing a nerd's stuff, dredging up painful memories from way back. Swear, those were my shoes—I saved my allowance for them!
"Honestly, I covet it. Waste on you."
"Th-that's..."
What if Hippolyte wanted to borrow my club? Could I refuse? Would she give it back if I asked?
As I fretted, she leaned it back against the wall where it was.
"I do covet it, but I have bad history with wooden clubs like this. Honestly, I don't even want to look at it. Got badly beaten by a warrior who wielded something similar."
Hippolyte getting beaten badly? It didn't quite fit. Come to think of it, wasn't one of Actaeon's friends an expert warrior who used a club like that?
Speaking of Actaeon, a memory suddenly popped up.
"Hippolyte. Actaeon asked me to pass a message."
"That bastard? To me?"
Sitting cross-legged beside me again, arms crossed, she furrowed her brow like she had no idea what I was on about.
"What pointless crap is he sending now? If it's 'lend me money,' tell him I'll kill him."
"Something like, 'the warrior's karma isn't finished yet'—"
"Fucking hell. Better if he'd just asked for money."
Before I could finish, Hippolyte clicked her tongue like it was a huge problem.
"Is something wrong?"
"Hassan of Samaria. Do you know the rumors about Samaritans spreading across the world?"
I had no clue what she was getting at.
But waiting alone for Luna was boring, and awkward silence with Hippolyte was worse, so I played along.
She's probably just rambling to kill time waiting awkwardly with me.
Rumors about Samaritans anyway.
"That they're barbarians or whatever?"
"Yes—peeling the faces off enemies they kill, raping attractive opposites and forcing marriage, fighting nonstop for three days straight, that sort of thing."
Who knew Samaritans better than me? Swear, I'd suffered all kinds of bullshit from those misconceptions.
I ended up enslaved because 'Samaritans are born warriors who can work days without food—they're tough!' Fucking pisses me off. Feed us and then make us work.
"Yeah, I know them well."
"Some are true, but plenty mixed with fiction and exaggeration. That's how rumors go. But rumors don't come from nothing. There really is such a Samaritan. He's the reason Samaritans have such a bad rep."
What? There's a guy responsible for Samaritan discrimination? That fucker's my mortal enemy.
"Who's the bastard?"
"Goddess's templar. That's all that's known. Cursed by the goddess from birth to live as a slave forever—pitiful guy. And he's after this body's belt, of all things."
Swoosh.
Glancing at Hippolyte's waist, I saw a lean, flawless figure wrapped in a thong-like belt.
That was the belt she was proud of—practically her pride and joy.
Lots of people after it? Must be some amazing item.
"Honestly, fighting him again is something even I want to avoid."
"He's fucking strong, huh."
Hearing her sound uncharacteristically meek made me imagine how terrifying he was. Probably a real face-peeling Samaritan. Shit, scary as hell.
Even in this savage world, he's treated as a savage and shunned—gotta be a monster.
As I pictured a barbarian warrior swinging axes and clubs, munching on raw livers, Hippolyte added gravely.
"Strongest among Cairo's disciples. And he won't stop at me. Hassan of Samaria, you'd best be careful. Especially you."
"M-me...?"
"Yes."
Why...?