Chapter 16
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Aura and the Devil
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Aura and the Devil
‘…A devil, using Aura?’
For a moment, my mind went blank at the completely unimaginable situation.
Aura. It was a wall that could not be overcome with effort alone.
Here, Aura wasn't a state one reached simply through enlightenment. Only those who had passed through the hands of the Empire could wield it.
Every year, the Empire selected talented youths and educated them in a special institution in the capital.
They looked only at skill, regardless of origin, nationality, or race, so a massive crowd flocked to the imperial capital each year.
I didn't know the exact details, but I’d heard that even among those selected and trained at the institution, only a few could wield Aura.
To this day, nothing had been publicly revealed about what kind of training they received at that institution or what the principles of Aura were. It remained the exclusive property of the Empire.
Since they selected people regardless of origin or nationality, quite a few returned to their own countries rather than staying in the Empire, yet it was strange that the Empire still monopolized the method of producing Aura Knights.
‘…And now a devil is manifesting Aura?’
My head throbbed, trying to comprehend what this meant. No matter the hypothesis, everything I knew was being turned on its head.
The undisclosed process of creating Aura Knights, and a devil suddenly manifesting Aura. The gap between the two felt strangely close, yet distant.
It was a secret that would likely only cause trouble if I dug into it, but one I couldn't resist scratching.
‘Mages often have their awakening through personal enlightenment. Hans, the panty thief, was one of them. But knights, on the other hand…’
One thought led to another.
Why didn't knights emerge naturally, like in a typical fantasy novel? Why was there no one who could manifest Aura without the Empire's intervention?
‘…Could it be.’
*Thump, thump!*
Just then, the rough sound of knocking on the door shattered my train of thought.
Startled, I first grabbed the sword I’d set aside and got dressed.
Then I pulled on a thick leather vest over my clothes. After all, the moment I was discovered, it would be over without a chance for excuses. After tidying my appearance and checking in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place, I opened the door.
Standing in front of the door was the Inner Wall Guard’s Bastard Squared, Jace, with a sullen look on his face. He scowled with all his might, as if displeased to have come here.
‘What’s this bastard doing here?’
Perhaps because I had a devil embedded in my chest, everything felt suspicious.
I glanced at the sword hanging from Jace’s waist and habitually placed my hand on my own sword’s hilt. Then, I peeked to the side to see if anyone else was with him. In the narrow hallway, barely wide enough for one person to pass, there was only Jace.
“Ben summons you.”
“Why?”
“How bold of a commoner to ask for a reason.”
At my question, Jace sneered, one corner of his mouth twisting up.
I briefly considered his defiant attitude. Since there were no prying eyes here, perhaps I should teach the kid some manners with a few punches…
‘No, I need to lay low for now.’
I gave a small shake of my head. It was best to avoid causing trouble as much as possible until I dealt with the devil.
“Alright. Let’s go, Bastard Squared.”
Even though I’d received a devil, I needed to show that my character remained unyielding.
“…I thought I told you not to call me that, you damn commoner!”
Displeased with the nickname I’d given him, Jace’s face crumpled as he suddenly threw a punch. I reacted instinctively, swinging my own fist, which landed on his nose first, causing Jace’s punch to lose its power.
Taking a direct hit to the nose, Jace clutched his face and collapsed.
‘Idiot.’
If you don't like a nickname, you can just say you don't like it. I clicked my tongue at the brutish medieval method of communication, where fists flew first.
“Ah, my bad.”
“…You damn commoner.”
His hand was stained red, likely from a nosebleed. Jace glared at me, but it wasn't particularly frightening. Despite being a Bastard Squared, Jace couldn't let go of his noble ties, which meant he wouldn't stab me in the back.
“So, where to?”
I asked, extending a hand to Jace.
Jace snorted loudly, wiping the blood from his nose on the floor, then ignored my hand and stood up, turning away.
My hand now awkward, I wiped it on my trousers and followed him.
“Aron! I was just about to bring this to you! Oh? Where are you going?”
As I went downstairs, Hana, holding a loaf of bread packed with meat, tilted her head and asked.
Since seeing the Devil’s Handprint, I hadn't left my room, so for the past few days, Hana had been bringing my meals directly to me.
She would also bring her own food and eat with me. When I asked why she was eating here, Hana would spout some nonsense like, ‘If you eat alone, a devil will get you!’
Hana had likely said it without thinking, but it had made me jump out of my skin, and I’d suffered from a long bout of hiccups as a result.
“I’m following this guy.”
“Oh! You must be Aron’s colleague! Hello! I’m Aron’s… um… I’m Hana!”
Hana trailed off at an odd point before smiling brightly and greeting him.
“…Hmph.”
Jace, receiving the greeting, jutted his chin up and gave only a slight nod.
Jace already had a long chin, so when he lifted it like that, he looked quite menacing.
“Here you go! Aron, you need to eat well. You’ve been looking a bit haggard lately.”
Hana said with a feigned look of concern, handing me a mug of beer and the bread.
“…Haggard?”
Jace looked at me up and down with an incredulous expression. When I met his gaze and playfully shrugged, he scowled and turned his head away.
“You’ll be back tonight, right?”
Hana asked as she tied the strings of my leather vest. When she patted my chest after tying the knot, I grew so tense I could hardly breathe.
“Of course. Do you know how much a room here costs per day?”
I replied with a forced smile, trying to act nonchalant.
“It’s actually really cheap, you know?! And I charge you even less! That doesn't even cover the cost! Not even the cost!”
Hana pouted and retorted sharply before heading into the kitchen.
Lately, Hana had taken a liking to the word ‘cost,’ mentioning it at every opportunity. Yesterday, while making that hand gesture of hers, she’d claimed that 40 coppers didn't even cover the cost, which made me think she didn't really know what the word meant.
“Hmm…”
“What’s with that look?”
Jace’s gaze, as he glanced back and forth between me and the kitchen Hana had entered, was strangely unsettling.
“For a girl like that to be with a guy like you… Hmm… How peculiar.”
“What’s so peculiar? Your birth is more peculiar.”
“…?”
Not understanding my words, Jace furrowed his brows. I looked at him and took a large bite of the bread Hana had given me.
‘Is it the effect of the fish bread?’
The meat bread, which used to be tasteless, now tasted quite delicious. The grease soaked into the dry bread had a remarkable flavor. The mere absence of a fishy smell made it a fine dish indeed.
“You… you… you…!”
As I took a second bite of the bread, Jace’s body began to tremble as he made strange noises. He glared at me with strained eyes, then turned and walked away quickly.
“Hey, are you pissed?”
“…”
Seeing the back of his neck turn bright red, he was clearly pissed.
‘Getting sulky over a little teasing.’
Jace headed towards District 1. In truth, District 1 was just a place where the buildings were a bit taller and people’s clothes were cleaner than in the other districts. The characteristic medieval stench of shit on the streets was still the same.
‘You have to go to the capital or a big city for the smell to lessen a bit.’
Recalling old memories, I took another bite of the bread.
“Watch out!”
Just then, a woman’s voice came from above. I looked up to see a cute-looking woman with a round object, peeking her head out. More than the fresh smile on her face, the round object caught my eye.
‘Shit.’
Realizing what the woman was about to do, I jumped aside in alarm. Jace was already a good distance away, and the people on the street had scattered to press themselves against the buildings.
A moment later, the woman on the second floor emptied the contents of her chamber pot out the window. *Splat*—along with the unpleasant sound, the stench of filth filled the air.
‘…Fucking medieval times.’
I quickly turned my head away. The smell, however, was unavoidable.
“Ah, Emma.”
“Jace! Good morning!”
I couldn’t help but curse as I watched Jace and the woman who had just dumped filth onto the street exchange cheerful greetings.
This was the difference between Districts 1 to 3 and the others. The people in Districts 1 to 3 didn't relieve themselves on the streets; they used chamber pots at home and then threw the contents onto the streets.
I could never understand how those same people could point their fingers at others for shitting on the streets, calling them barbaric.
‘If you’re going to throw it out, throw it in a latrine.’
Even though a special waterway had been built to a public latrine, they still dumped it out their windows. They didn't seem to mind the stench of shit pervading the streets.
“Emma, would you like to have dinner with me later? I made a reservation at the Blue Snail.”
“That sounds wonderful! See you later, then?”
‘Asking a woman who just dumped shit out on a date…’
Watching Jace’s goofy grin, I shoved the last bite of bread into my mouth. I chewed it roughly and washed it down with beer.
‘…These barbaric medieval bastards.’
I muttered the words that had become a habit, unable to get used to the smell of shit.
Jace, soon to be the father of a Bastard Cubed, stopped in front of a chantry in District 1.
A small fence surrounded the chantry, enclosing an area large enough to build two houses with room to spare. The chantry itself was twice as tall as the adjacent buildings, and the white stone structure impressed upon onlookers the power of the order.
Jace stopped before the chantry, brought a fist to his forehead, and bowed his head slightly.
‘…He summoned me to the chantry?’
My guilty conscience flared up. I glared at Jace’s bowed neck and fiddled with the hilt of my sword.
Could Jace be up to something? Could the petty bastard have held a grudge over a few punches and lured me here? As my thoughts raced, my hand on the sword hilt grew sweaty.
I recalled the words of a priest I had worked with on a request.
[Devils are cunning, sly, and always whisper lies, so uncovering their true nature is no easy task. The only way to be certain is to burn them. Ah! Of course, there is also the method of checking the chest area. But as a rule, they must be burned. One can easily fall for a devil’s base and sweet whispers.]
Those were the words of a rather well-known priest at the time. Therefore, it was unlikely that anyone in a remote place like this could identify a devil by appearance alone.
‘The only ways to identify a devil are to burn them or to check for the handprint.’
My leather armor had been torn during the bloody battle with the devil, but the area around my heart was intact. That was why I hadn't noticed the Devil’s Handprint until I was bathing, so it was certain no one else had seen it.
I tried my best to remain calm, quelling my overheated paranoia.
‘Running away now would be even more suspicious.’
I took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart.
After collecting my thoughts, I looked up to find Jace staring at me. I met his cloudy blue eyes, the color of an overcast sky, and smiled as if nothing was wrong.
“Ah, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Just needed a moment to pray.”
With only one option, there was no need to hesitate.
I walked past him.
I grabbed the polished door handle and pushed. I was worried sparks might fly, like some kind of barrier from an old movie, but I was able to enter without any problems.
‘…To think a day would come when I’d have to worry from a devil’s perspective.’
The interior of the chantry was surprisingly ornate for being in such a remote area. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, beautifully fractured, painting the white chantry in color, while the floor was laid with uniformly sized marble tiles.
“Welcome.”
A monk with the top of his head shaved in a circle greeted me. The monk, assuming I was there to make a donation, smiled brightly and took out a dark brown pouch from his waist.
‘Don’t they usually start with a blessing?’
His posture, like that of a debt collector, was absurd.
“I was told that Ben has summoned me.”
I looked at the monk, curled my right hand so the palm faced forward, and touched it to my forehead.
“Ah, you must be the one the priest mentioned.”
The monk, who had looked momentarily disappointed, quickly corrected his expression and mirrored my gesture, touching his fist to his own forehead.
“This way, please.”
The monk walked without making a sound. I took a short breath and followed him.
‘There’s only one door. What about a back door?’
Following the monk, I checked for escape routes. A long corridor stretched into the chantry, with wooden doors placed one by one along the side. I discreetly licked my finger to check for a draft.
‘There’s a back door further inside.’
A breeze blew just before the monk turned a corner, so I was certain there was an open back door at the end.
The monk stopped in front of a particularly large wooden door. He knocked politely with the back of his hand.
“Yes. You may enter.”
A benevolent voice came from inside. The monk stepped aside.
*Hoo…*
I took a small breath, placed my left hand on my sword hilt as if adjusting my belt, and slowly pushed the door open.
Not knowing what might happen, I imagined the worst. I pushed the door and quickly stepped back. There was no ambush as I’d expected.
The room was tidy, yet quite lavish.
In the center were six wooden chairs with high backs, and a long white cloth was spread over a long table. Atop it were various breads and golden goblets.
Ben and a pot-bellied man were sitting in the chairs.
“Ah, you’re here.”
Ben smiled broadly upon seeing me. Unlike before, he was wearing silver armor, which looked to be of lower quality than the black armor he had worn previously. A material that looked like it would pierce if I thrust my sword with enough force. Not bad.
Opposite Ben, the pot-bellied man sat with a benevolent smile. The golden cape around his neck was marked with two black stripes, the sign of a priest. He looked like the kind of man who would suffocate from lifestyle diseases without me having to lift a finger.
Behind the pot-bellied man stood a woman in thick armor.
She was as tall as most men. A cold, expressionless face, short black hair. The woman carried a greatsword on her back that was as large as her own body.
‘A greatsword…’
Those who used greatswords were mostly tricky opponents. Not only because of their length, but anyone who could swing such a brutish weapon possessed strength far beyond the norm, making it impossible to cross blades with them.
As I habitually estimated the combined length of the woman’s arm and her greatsword, I nearly screamed when I saw the emblem engraved on the center of her armor.
The woman’s armor was a thick set of plates that shone white, and emblazoned right in the center was a hammer emblem with a sun.
The meaning of that emblem was clear.
‘…An Inquisitor.’
The woman was an Inquisitor, known as the Nightmare of Heretics, a Devil Hunter, or a Proxy of Judgment.
Only then did I notice the hideous mace and the black holy book hanging at her waist.
Our eyes met, and I instinctively looked away. Then, the woman strode towards me.
*Clank, clank.*
The heavy sound of her footsteps in the thick armor drew closer, and I felt a sensation as if someone was squeezing my heart.
‘Am I caught? No, that can’t be. But an Inquisitor…’
The woman’s black eyes were devoid of any emotion, making it impossible to read her intentions. I watched her approach and fiddled with the hilt of my sword. My mind became a little calmer.
If she came any closer, the distance would be to my advantage. A distance where I could thrust my sword before she could draw her greatsword.
I checked the woman’s exposed neck, as she wasn't wearing a helmet. Various scenarios rose and fell in my mind.
But no matter what choice I made here, the outcome would surely not be good. Still, if the moment came to choose, I would not hesitate.
The woman came to a stop right in front of me.
I could see my own face reflected in her pupils.
The expression of a child who had wet the bed. I forced the corners of my mouth up. My face transformed into that of a master fugitive.
The woman, now directly in front of me, suddenly raised her right hand.
‘Even if the church members have superior healing abilities, they can’t do anything if their neck is severed. I’ll cut her neck, use her body to block the door, and then…’
I gripped the hilt of my sword tightly. I was ready to slash her throat the instant she even feigned reaching for her greatsword or mace.
*Thump.*
The woman brought her fist to my forehead.
At her light gesture, the complex and blood-soaked thoughts vanished.
“Ooh… a blessing from an Inquisitor.”
At the priest’s murmur, I finally realized what the woman was doing.
I didn’t understand why she would offer a blessing without so much as an introduction, but I closed my eyes anyway.
‘…Have I really become a devil?’
The fact that I had come up with five ways to kill her simply because an Inquisitor approached left a bitter taste in my mouth.
But it couldn't be helped. I had promised to survive with all my might. I already had enough chains around my neck.
‘But… is it okay for me to receive a blessing?’
The thought suddenly occurred to me. With a devil inside my body, wouldn’t receiving a blessing bring excruciating pain? But I couldn't brush away the Inquisitor’s hand.
I clenched my teeth, preparing not to scream in case the pain came. As long as it wasn't as bad as having an arm cut off, I could probably endure it with a smile.
- How dare a mere dog. Where do you think you’re putting your hands?
Just then, a voice, seemingly filled with rage, muttered in my head.
A bright light enveloped the woman’s hand.
- …Huuuh.
With a soft groan, like an old man getting a massage, the voice fell silent.
‘…Is this thing really a devil?’
My eyes met the woman’s.
The moment I faced her deep, black eyes, which held no trace of emotion, I found myself looking away.
My hand was still gripping the hilt of my sword.