Chapter 43
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: A Fine Abbot
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That was just how the world worked.
If the majority shat on the streets, the one using a toilet was the weirdo.
If the majority were murderers, the one who wasn't was the coward.
In that sense, Abbot Brighton was the strangest bastard I’d ever seen.
At first, I thought he was just a fastidious prick who loved to criticize others.
After all, it was easy to point out others’ flaws, but much harder to practice what you preached.
So I watched him like a hawk.
Ready to claim my success fee the moment he showed the slightest hint of hypocrisy.
The down payment had been five gold coins, so the success fee was bound to be a whole pouch of them.
But…
‘This guy’s a complete oddball.’
The problem was that he was genuinely a fine priest.
He practiced what he preached before pointing fingers, and though he was a nag, a deep faith lay beneath it all. In hindsight, everything he said was right.
‘No, why is this bastard so damn fine?’
This was a world where it was normal, even expected, for priests to have a mistress and a regular prostitute.
But this man substituted his meals with a single piece of hard bread, never let the scripture out of his hands, and prayed as if muttering to himself.
He was a saint, completely out of place in a medieval world where the absurd was the norm.
‘This is driving me crazy.’
I scratched my head, my irritation flaring.
The man finished his lunch of stale bread and headed for the square.
He called over the children playing there, lined them up, and personally bestowed a blessing on each one, starting from the front.
‘Instead of yelling at their parents to increase their donations, he's giving out blessings? Isn't this guy completely insane?’
His actions were so absurd that I let out a dry cough.
An abbot, wandering around and giving blessings himself…
It was the kind of story that, if you told anyone, they’d call you a liar and tell you you might as well claim dragons exist.
“Stand up straight. Don't fidget. One must maintain proper posture and attire when receiving a blessing.”
I clicked my tongue as he even corrected a child’s posture.
“Waaah! I don’t want it!”
“No blessing, no candy.”
He even gave them candy after the blessing, skillfully managing the children’s short attention spans.
‘He was demoted. No doubt about it.’
I had wondered why an abbot would come to a remote castle like this, but seeing him in action, I could guess.
A man that cluelessly upright wouldn't know how to navigate a hierarchy.
He had clearly spoken truth to a superior and been sent packing.
‘But for an abbot to get demoted, who the hell did he lecture?’
“A blessing is only effective if received consistently, so all of you, come back here at this time tomorrow.”
After blessing every last child, Brighton turned on his heel without a second thought.
He didn't even wait for the children's thanks.
After that, he toured the districts, starting from District 7 and working his way backward.
He visited each place, listened briefly to their stories, provided healing with his divine power, and then spoke of God.
After following him until sunset, I had no choice but to admit it.
‘This bastard… there’s no excuse to hit him.’
Since falling into this medieval world, he was the first person I’d met who gave me no reason to beat him.
“You’ve worked hard. At first, I was worried we had given an honorary cleric title to a thug, but seeing you stay with me until the end, you too must possess a rather sincere faith. True faith doesn't come from how well you know the scripture, but there are many good words within it, so I recommend you read it.”
Even with deep exhaustion etched on his face, his stern expression remained as he gave his advice. I didn't even feel the urge to punch him.
He even seemed moved that I had stayed with him the whole time, his voice sounding subtly softer than before.
Though his nagging tone hadn't changed a bit.
“Well then, I’ll see you at morning prayers. And be sure to read the scripture.”
As the Abbot spoke, I made a silent vow.
‘Success fee or not, I'm staying the hell away from the Society's hall.’
I hid my thoughts and nodded.
I had only gone to the Society's hall to get some scraps anyway. All I had to do was not show up for a while.
If I later heard that the piggish priest had murdered this fine abbot, that would be the time to pay a visit.
***
They say things in life never go as planned.
Knock, knock.
The sound of knocking jolted me awake, and I drew my sword.
Sword in hand, I took a deep breath before remembering I was in Casedic.
I wiped the sweat from my brow with my sleeve, sheathed my sword, and opened the door.
However, I had to fight the urge to slam it shut again.
“It is a fine morning for prayer.”
Brighton stood before the door, looking exactly the same as yesterday.
For a moment, I barely restrained myself from swinging my sword.
If I had been just a little groggier, that righteous head of his would have been rolling on the floor.
‘How does he know my room?’
No, beyond that, the fact that an abbot had come to find me personally was absurd.
An abbot held a position high enough to hold his head high even before nobles, yet here he was, visiting a shabby inn room. It was an obsession that crossed the line.
“I’m busy, I can’t go. I have to train.”
“…Hmm. Is that so? Diligently carrying out one's duties is also a practice of faith.”
Brighton stroked his chin and nodded.
I gave a slight bow and closed the door.
Forcing down the irritation that had flared up so early in the morning, I put on the armor I’d left by the bed.
‘A cluelessly fine priest, that bastard.’
After a short warm-up, I opened the door. He was still there, not having left.
“I have to train, so I can’t go to morning prayers.”
I explained again, thinking he hadn't understood properly.
“Ah, do not worry. I shall be by your side to assist you.”
He nodded, his expression unchanging.
I didn't understand his reply, but I figured he’d eventually give up and leave, so I started walking.
Brighton followed right behind me.
Soon, I understood what he had meant.
“The sun looks down upon the darkened land, and though you may lose your way, it shall always show you the path, so fear not…”
‘Is he really insane?’
While I ran around the clearing, he stood there aloofly, reciting prayers in his characteristic deep voice.
I forced myself to ignore him, swinging and thrusting my sword until I reached my limit.
When I finally stopped, unable to move anymore, his prayer ended.
He approached me, placed a hand on my sweat-drenched forehead, and recited a prayer.
A ray of light streamed down, restoring my vitality.
My aching muscles were instantly fine.
The unwanted refreshment made me curse under my breath.
“May the sun shine upon you today as well…”
Having finished his prayer, he turned and left without a second glance, as if his work was done.
‘…Crazy.’
I stood there for a moment, staring blankly at his retreating back.
“Here.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
As if it had been watching and waiting, the mini-fridge handed me a mug of beer with ice floating in it as soon as he was gone.
I held it, hesitated for a moment, then chugged it all down.
The ice shaped like my face in the mug.
The deep voice that kept buzzing in my ears.
I was seriously bewildered.
***
I packed the dried goblin things into a wooden box and headed for the castle gate.
I planned to generously offer them for sale to those entering and leaving the castle.
“Jojang, how about selling it as a powder? Its appearance is grotesque, so if we grind it up, we could probably charge more for it.”
Pul, who had been watching from the side, made a tempting suggestion.
‘He has a point. It is grotesque.’
I looked at the dried mini-sweet potatoes and nodded.
Looking for something of a suitable size, I detached the pauldron from Gelharu, who was standing there blankly, put the goblin things inside, and crushed them with my sword's pommel.
They were dried well enough that they turned to powder with just a little force.
“Oh, not bad.”
“It looks much better, Jojang.”
The grotesque thing had become a simple dark green powder. At a glance, it looked like green tea powder.
It was much better than its previous, explicit form.
Just as I had crushed about ten of them, a peasant with a deathly pale face came running.
“B-big trouble! Big trouble! There are orcs in the field…!”
I didn't need to hear the rest to picture the situation.
“Which field?”
“The one Pra works!”
I handed the pauldron to Gelharu, who was standing next to me.
Gelharu, who had been wearing a sullen expression, took the pauldron with wide eyes.
“Pul, contact the inner guards. Gelharu, you keep grinding that.”
I knew the guy.
Pra was a reasonably diligent peasant.
He had invited me to his home once, and he was a decent fellow who would occasionally slip me a beer during inspections.
The field Pra managed was at the very edge of the territory.
I clicked my tongue and began to run for all I was worth.
***
‘What is this?’
Gelharu stared down at his pauldron, his eyes wide.
It was filled with green powder and a grotesque thing that had yet to be ground.
A curse almost escaped his lips, but he couldn't ignore the man's orders, so he began to work with a queasy look on his face.
It was a relief that the hideous thing was at least dried.
He figured he could dust off the powder later and wash it with water to use it again.
‘But if orcs are out there, is it okay to send him alone?’
The thought occurred to him, but he quickly shook his head.
What did it matter to him if that guy fought orcs by himself?
In fact, if he died fighting the orcs…
Gelharu muttered a string of curses as he busily ground the parts.
Just then, a group of guards burst out from inside.
‘But why are their armors like that?’
For a moment, Gelharu thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He squeezed them shut, then opened them again.
It was still unbelievably colorful.
“Where did he say? Ah, the far end? Let’s go, run!”
“Come on, it’s the Jojang. Orcs are nothing to…”
“Remember last time we were late and the Jojang gave us an earful…”
His eyes weren't mistaken.
Looking less like guards and more like a troupe of clowns, men in multicolored armor ran frantically.
They wore serious expressions, but the ridiculous colors of their armor reminded him of a farce he’d once seen in the city.
They quickly disappeared into the distance, soon becoming colorful dots on the horizon.
‘…I really hate Casedic Castle. I want to go back to Volt Castle.’
Feeling a wave of melancholy, Gelharu shook his head slightly.
He was about to start grinding again when he noticed it was all powder and stopped.
He recalled the conversation of those loafers from earlier.
‘They said this stuff is that good for a man?’
After a quick glance around, Gelharu stealthily dipped a finger into the powder and tasted it.
He thought he could feel strength welling up inside him.
And the taste wasn't bad either.
Gelharu’s finger moved toward the powder again.
***
‘Seven?’
I caught my breath, ragged from running, and surveyed my surroundings.
In the long stretch of green fields, orcs armed with leather armor were tearing into something, showing off their thick muscles.
The shape of what they were eating was familiar.
Pra, who farmed here, his two companions, and even his wife, who must have gone to deliver their meal.
They had become a snack in the orcs’ hands.
‘Too late.’
After that brief assessment, I drew my sword.
I nodded at the cool sensation of the blade.
The tricky thing about orcs was their strength and their decent combat instincts.
Orcs grew up fighting amongst themselves, so those who survived to adulthood were quite formidable.
‘Still just orcs, though.’
Hoo— I took a small breath and stepped forward.
An orc, drinking blood from a neck like it was a beverage, spotted me and twitched its nose.
I immediately pushed off the ground, kicking forward.
The creature swung its handaxe at me in a diagonal arc.
Its natural strength made it quite fast, but it was still just an orc. Its axe drew too straight a line, making it easy to dodge.
I twisted at the waist, altering my stance, and swung my sword horizontally.
The sharpness, on a different level from my old sword, cut through the leather armor and the orc’s tough hide in a single motion.
Even with its guts spilling out, the creature swung its handaxe again.
‘Does it not feel pain?’
If this creature had been a general, its spirit would have been recorded in history. But unfortunately, it was just an orc with its belly sliced open.
Guwooo!
Whether they liked a fair fight or were just so excited that the sound came out on its own, orcs always yelled when they attacked.
That was why some called them ‘stupidly honorable.’
I plunged my hand into the orc’s torn abdomen and pulled out a handful of something hot and squishy. As if outraged at having its property stolen, the creature flailed its arms, but it lacked strength.
I quickly threw what was in my hand behind me.
The squishy mass, dripping green fluid, flew in a winding arc and slammed into the face of an orc behind me.
“Guwoooaargh—!!”
The one who got hit seemed shocked, its eyes widening as it froze for a moment.
‘It even works on orcs.’
Thanks to the brief opening, I corrected my posture and swung my sword deep.
This time, the orc was sliced into two pieces and collapsed.
The sword was so sharp that even cutting through bone, I only felt a slight resistance.
I offered a small thanks to the drunkard who had willingly given it to me.
Just then, two handaxes came at me from both sides, one high and one low.
One for my head, one for my waist.
There wasn't enough time to block both.
I ducked my head and took a step toward the orc aiming for my waist.
The distance closed abruptly, throwing off the point of impact and reducing it to a light thud.
Gruk-?
Looking at the closer orc’s ugly face, I slammed the pommel of my sword into its temple.
Its scalp must have been thick, as its eyes only glazed over; it didn't fall.
So I brought the pommel down again.
The tough bastard, having taken two unnecessary hits, let out an aggrieved ‘grrrk’ and collapsed.
Guwooo!
At that moment, a powerful impact on my back made me stagger.
“You treacherous orc bastard.”
As I was about to swing my sword at the one behind me, another one from the side swung its axe.
It was a wild attack, but with them coming from all directions, it was troublesome.
However, their handaxes couldn't pierce my armor.
So I only dodged the attacks aimed at my head, fighting by trading blow for blow—taking a hit, then slashing and striking back.
The orcs let out a ‘Guwooo!’ sound, rallying their spirits.
“Guwoooaargh!”
Not to be outdone, I roared back at them.
I must have done a decent impression because the orcs’ eyes widened and they froze for a moment.
In that gap, I managed to turn another orc into two.
I tangled with them again, and after a messy brawl, I was able to take them all down.
Moving around in the hot weather had left me drenched in sweat.
“Tough bastards—.”
I looked at the fallen orcs on the ground and calmed my ragged breathing.
Around that time, my men arrived.
“Jojang!! Are you all right?!”
Thanks to the armor, they were easy to spot from a distance, which was convenient.
“Have some of this, Jojang. Hehe—.”
Dylan handed me a mug of beer filled with ice.
‘This bastard was just lazing around at Hana’s tavern.’
I didn't bother pointing it out.
The others checked the fallen orcs, silencing any that were still breathing.
“Pra, he’s gone.”
“Tsk, that’s why I told the Daejang we should either patrol the outer areas or stop the peasants with faraway fields from going out.”
“The Daejang can’t help it. The inner castle won't give permission. You think the Lord will bat an eye over a few dead peasants? He’d probably think losing peasants is better than ruining the harvest.”
“Damn nobles. Jojang.”
The men, having gathered the fragmented corpses in one place, called out to me. I stood before the bodies, choosing my words.
Looking at the pieces, which resembled broken toys, I was ironically reminded of a prayer the Abbot had muttered.
But those words were too lofty and useless, so I swallowed them.
“You’ve been avenged.”
That should be enough to cover the beer Pra had bought me last time.
“Jojang, Pra used to grumble every time he passed the gate about how he didn’t want to work… Doesn’t he look like he’s smiling now?”
Kel said it like a joke, but his voice wasn't that of someone joking.
“We’ll need to bring a cart to collect them.”
Berman said in a flat, business-like tone.
I nodded.
Death was not a novelty here.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
“Hey, Pul. Have the guys get started on that.”
I pointed at the scattered orc corpses and said.
“Yes, Jojang.”
Snake-eyed Pul gave a simple nod and gathered the men. He then squatted in front of an orc and demonstrated with a dagger.
“Ugh—.”
“Oh, how much is this worth?”
“Even an orc is no match for me.”
The heavy atmosphere vanished in an instant.
Brick retched, Dylan’s eyes gleamed as he asked about the price, and Kel pointed to his own waist with a confident expression.
Berman was already squatting in front of another orc, his dagger moving.
‘It's hot.’
Looking at the blazing sun, I finished the rest of my beer in one go.
A splitting headache followed, neatly clearing my complicated thoughts.
“Berman and Brick, with me. The rest of you, get a cart and clean up the bodies. Finish up with those things too.”
“Are you going for more?”
“Yeah, might as well clean up a bit while I’m sweaty.”
“Yes. Understood.”
The men nodded without complaint.
‘Tsk.’
Wiping the sweat from my brow with my hand, I started walking.
***
Gelharu, who had been continuously tasting the green powder with his finger, finally came to his senses when the amount had visibly decreased.
He put the remaining things in and started grinding again.
Once he got into it, it was quite fun.
How much time passed like that?
Gelharu finally managed to turn all the remaining things into powder.
However, there was so much that it started spilling from the pauldron, forcing him to pick up the powder and eat it.
‘I think I feel stronger.’
Gelharu moved his hips this way and that.
He felt his core had gotten stronger.
He felt a surging power.
‘Hmm…’
Gelharu checked his pockets.
It would be a tight squeeze, but he thought he could afford a prostitute.
‘Can’t be helped. To quell this overflowing vitality…’
Ahem.
Gelharu cleared his throat and tossed a bit more powder into his mouth.
Just then, a guy in tacky orange armor ran past the castle gate.
He looked to be in a real hurry, which meant something must have happened.
‘Did he fail? Well, what do you expect from guards against orcs.’
Unlike tiny goblins, orcs were bigger than adult men and wielded handaxes, so they were not to be taken lightly.
It took one well-equipped, trained soldier to handle one orc.
That's why it was common to use traps or bows against orcs.
Despite their excellent combat skills, their intelligence was abysmal.
‘But he definitely said orcs… plural.’
No matter how monstrously large and clad in iron that guy was, going alone surely meant trouble.
‘If he’s dead, is this mine?’
Gelharu licked his lips, looking at the powder that filled the pauldron.
Just then, the man in the orange armor came out again.
But he wasn't leading reinforcements. He was pulling a cart loaded with beer barrels.
“Freezing the beer barrels! The purple one is a genius!”
Muttering something incomprehensible, the man disappeared over the horizon with the cart.
And until the sun touched the horizon, there was no other news.
Gelharu debated whether he should file a report but then shook his head.
Those guys might have already reported it, and besides, this wasn't Volt Castle; there was no established reporting system.
Gelharu licked his lips again, looking at the half-full pauldron of powder.
As he was mentally reviewing the list of prostitutes in Casedic Castle, something appeared on the horizon.
A large figure in the middle, with others beside it.
The six figures, silhouetted against the reddish sunlight as the sun hung on the horizon, looked like…
A horrifying picture drawn to scare children.
‘Hideous. Why would they wear such armor…’
Gelharu unknowingly gulped and looked away.
But the image of the menacing, muscular rainbow seared into his mind was hard to erase.
“Shouldn't we be getting paid extra for this? My arms are shaking.”
“That’s because you’ve been slacking on your training.”
“Isn't the Jojang just unusually diligent? I bet even knights don't train that hard.”
“Jojang, should we dry these and turn them into powder too?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll go dry them.”
“To think this is all money… it feels a bit strange.”
Then he heard the conversation of the men as they approached.
Their voices were so carefree they sounded like they were returning from a picnic, but their appearance was anything but.
Covered in green blood, with bits of flesh stuck here and there. What on earth had they been doing out there…?
Gelharu found himself straightening his back and swallowing hard.
“But Jojang. Is it okay for just us to do this? I mean, you did most of the work, but…”
“What?”
“Well, that guy Jace and the others from the inner castle are making a fuss about preparing for a cleanup.”
“Finders keepers.”
“That’s not what I meant… Ah, whatever.”
Just then, the man beckoned with his finger.
Startled, Gelharu grabbed the pauldron and ran over.
“Gelharu, did you do a good job?”
“…Mmm.”
Gelharu gave a subtle affirmation that wasn't quite an answer.
It was his last shred of pride.
“But why is there so little? Did you eat some?”
“Mmm…?”
He tried to play dumb, but the moment he saw the piercing blue eyes in that scarred face, his hand went to his pocket.
He held out the few silver coins he had left, and the man’s eyes softened.
“A customer, I see. So, your review?”
“…Mmm.”
Gelharu fought back the tears welling in his eyes and looked away.
Only then did he see the contents of the cart being pulled by the man in orange armor.
Piled up like a mountain were green things of all shapes and sizes.
Gelharu was startled to realize he had been licking his lips at the sight of those hideous things.
Just then, the relief guards arrived. They exchanged brief greetings and went inside the castle.
“Hey, Gelharu. You don’t look so good. And where’s your other pauldron?”
“…Never mind!”
Gelharu snapped at the question and ran towards the inside of the castle.
His body was surging with power, his loins were full of strength, but—
He had no money.
Gelharu swallowed the tears that welled up in his eyes.
***
‘I can’t make a mistake.’
The black magician Peroron muttered to himself over and over.
After the failure at Querentel, the Society had been in an uproar.
To make up for it, the Society had made a huge investment this time, so failure was unthinkable.
They had even sent the ‘Knight Hunter’ and ‘Crimson Darkness’ as backup. To send those two to deal with a remote castle like this!
He didn't know much about ‘Crimson Darkness,’ but the ‘Knight Hunter’ was as famous for his cantankerous nature as he was for the feat of taking on a knight single-handedly and snapping his neck.
He was a foul-tempered bastard who would drain your blood for the slightest offense, even if you were a fellow black magician.
If he made even a small mistake, his own neck would surely be snapped.
Peroron stroked his neck and let out a small breath.
‘It’s fine. Everything is going smoothly. I’ve already infused the monsters the Society provided with the Consuming Darkness.’
Normally, handling monsters that retained some intelligence was extremely tricky, but it was possible because Peroron’s specialty was in brainwashing and control.
Of course, even that was just giving them simple commands and letting them loose.
Now, all he had to do was follow the Society’s plan…
‘Why do I have this nagging feeling of anxiety?’
Peroron pressed down on his pounding heart.
But the anxiety wouldn't subside, so he decided to look around.
If those guys had left the castle, he would have been contacted the day before, so there couldn't have been a problem.
Still, he moved to ease his nerves.
To check if the goblins and orcs he had deployed were all right—
‘Huh? I’m sure I deployed some here too. Did these stupid bastards wander off again?’
Hah, this is why monsters are… Peroron sighed and moved his aching leg.
After walking for some time, he was relieved to find the orcs and goblins.
They were peacefully tearing into something. At the lovely sight, Peroron patted each of them on the head.
Still, just in case, Peroron decided to check the remaining locations.
And soon, he realized the source of his anxiety.
‘W-what is this?’
This was where he had deployed a group of orcs.
Well, the orcs were still there.
The problem was that their heads had been cut off, and…
‘Why are all their lower abdomens…’
Something was missing from where it should have been.
Peroron felt a primal fear, not from the severed heads of the orcs, but from the absence of what should have been below.
‘What in the world happened…’
A chill ran down Peroron’s spine, and he covered his groin with his hands.
Something was going terribly, terribly wrong.