The Sashin's Banquet

I won't die like this.

After a Sashin stole his youth, Gracia had been aging at a terrifying pace. That was why he had come here. To keep from dying. Only by killing the Four Calamities Baal could he survive.

The Four Calamities Baal is practically a wellspring of life itself. Kill the thing and I'll get my youth back.

Of course the Calamity was powerful. Powerful enough that four cities had fallen in less than a single day. Yet Gracia had a reason for his confidence.

I didn't want to use this, but I have no choice.

Gracia drew a bottle from his robes, uncorked it, and poured its contents into the Blue Dawn. The azure light immediately began to stain a sickly green.

A poison that instantly kills every living thing it touches. Even a Calamity won't escape its effect.

He had obtained the toxin by pure chance and only after grueling effort. It was the most potent poison in the world—anything with life that came into contact with it died without exception.

The Sashin's Banquet.

The gathering where every Orthodox assembled to feast. And among the Orthodox, the first banquet held special weight for a simple reason.

A Sashin without Sashin power cannot properly eat.

The reason everyone assumed the Twelfth Orthodox had never once eaten was straightforward. An Orthodox lacking Sashin power could not summon a Sashin, and without a summoned Sashin it could never partake in a true meal. Only the flame of a sinner captured by a Sashin could serve as genuine sustenance for an Orthodox.

Thus every Orthodox challenged the full meal at their first banquet and thereby acquired Sashin power. That was the rule. That was the discipline.

Yet not a single Orthodox had ever succeeded at a full ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meal during their first banquet. All eleven of them.

And this sinner's flame is twice as large as usual.

The size of the flame scaled with the rank of the captured sinner. An average flame stood roughly the height of an adult man. Tonight it was fully twice that. Gracia's stolen youth and the many high-rankers they had taken had swollen the fire considerably.

On average an Orthodox's first meal is about forty percent.

A long-starved Orthodox would devour a substantial portion of the flame at its first banquet—around forty percent. Absorbing that much at once granted extra wings, birthed Sashin power, and allowed the summoning of a Sashin. There had never been an exception.

Still, curiosity remained.

The Twelfth Orthodox, who has not existed for ages. And those white wings…

Every Orthodox had belonged to the Death God Religion from the egg stage. Only those ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the proper qualifications could crack an egg and become its guardian. Never before had an Orthodox or an Orthodox egg been discovered outside the order.

Those white wings were alien as well. At first they had taken it for a hybrid. Yet an Orthodox was still an Orthodox. Better to verify than to reject—better to learn how this one differed from their own.

-Kyahahahaha!

Before long the black goat Orthodox reacted to the sight of the sinner's flame. It had recognized the meal by pure instinct. Ancient hunger could not be restrained. The guardian's will was irrelevant. Once it saw and reacted, devouring was only natural.

Even so, it'll only manage about ten percent.

No one expected much. A hybrid mixed with white. The odd way the other Orthodox seemed to follow it. In the end it was just a spectacle—like staring at a beast locked in a cage.

Golden Mask was not the only one thinking this way.

Half-breed, so five percent?

White is a color that stains easily. To an Orthodox it's practically poison.

A hybrid dares…

Curious, but that's all it will be.

The other guardians shared nearly identical thoughts. Hybrid. Mongrel. Anything mixed was not pure blood. A non-pureblood Orthodox challenging the full meal was laughable by definition.

Then the Twelfth Orthodox opened its mouth.

"……!!!"

"……What?!"

The sneers vanished without a trace. What followed was pure shock. The enormous sinner's flame wavered—

—and in an instant, it was gone.

"No way?"

"It… ate it all?"

"A full meal……!"

A sinner's flame could not simply evaporate. If it had vanished so suddenly, it had been consumed. An unprecedented full meal! The act of devouring every dish prepared for the banquet—the gluttony they had believed impossible—had just been accomplished before their eyes. How could anyone not be stunned?

"So it wasn't a mere hybrid?"

"An Orthodox that surpasses our own?"

"The black goat… no wonder it was so confident."

"And after eating that much it will undergo rapid growth."

"Mm. A full meal from the very first feeding… it might even summon an extraordinary Sashin."

They did not deny the reality unfolding in front of them. They only wondered how far the growth would go after a full meal. The first feeding had been a banquet twice the usual size, completely finished. No one could even guess how much power would awaken or what kind of Sashin it might summon. Each Orthodox's summoned Sashin differed in nature, after all.

Every gaze converged on Hell.

-Kya…… kya?

Hell tilted its head. Perhaps the growth from its first meal felt unfamiliar. The laughter cut off. Then Hell opened its jaws wide once more.

And—

-Kaak, ptooey!

—spat it all out.

The guardians burst into mocking laughter.

"Got greedy, did it?"

"Puhaha! Should've eaten in moderation!"

Of course. A full meal? Impossible. It had simply eaten too much out of greed and thrown it back up.

-Ptooey ptooey ptooey ptooey!

Yet even that explanation collapsed almost at once. Hell kept retching as if determined to fling every last residue from its mouth. There was only one reason for such a reaction.

……It tasted terrible.

The exact behavior one showed when forced to swallow something truly, unspeakably foul.

A brief silence fell. In the middle of it Golden Mask spoke.

"Well. Rules are rules. The first meal has failed, so we move to the next."

They had thought it succeeded at a full meal, only for it to fail. Once the food was spat out, no further chance remained. The black goat would simply have to find its own meals from now on.

"We went out of our way to give it a chance, yet it couldn't even eat what was offered. Tsk tsk."

Golden Lion clicked his tongue and stepped forward.

-Kerker!

The burly, horned Sashin that had stolen Gracia's youth approached the spat-out sinner's flame again.

"Devour it! This time achieve a full meal and become an even stronger Orthodox!"

At Golden Lion's shout the horned Orthodox hesitated, then shook its head.

-Kerker!

"What are you doing? I said eat it!"

-Kerker!

A clear refusal. The other Orthodox reacted the same way. One even waved its scythe in dismissal and turned its head entirely. The gesture was unmistakable.

"……Are you saying it's dirty because it was already eaten and spat out?"

"This is insane……"

An unprecedented situation had arisen. With the banquet right in front of them, every single Orthodox refused to eat—as if food that had already been tasted and rejected held no interest whatsoever.

"……This is the first time I've ever seen anything like this."

Golden Mask added a dry remark, sounding utterly at a loss. Since the banquets began, a mass meal strike had never once occurred. All of it because of that black goat Orthodox.

Eating and spitting it out……

If it couldn't eat the thing, it should never have put it in its mouth in the first place. What kind of creature was this?

The "eat-and-spit controversy" dragged on for quite a while without resolution. They simply refused because it was dirty; there was no method left. Forcing them was impossible.

"……This 'sinner's flame' will be handled by you, black goat."

In the end Golden Mask dumped the troublesome flame on me. The other guardians tacitly agreed. Keeping something they couldn't even feed was nothing but a nuisance.

Then Golden Mask's sharp gaze locked onto me.

"However. If you fail to prepare a proper banquet by the next gathering, you will be stripped of your position as guardian. Guiding an Orthodox to grow correctly is also a guardian's duty."

Stripped. At the very least it meant I would no longer be able to keep a foothold in the Death God Religion. Eat the flame, grow Hell, then go out and hunt myself before returning—that was the message.

I merely shrugged. Golden Mask turned his attention to the others.

"It's absurd, but continuing the banquet like this seems difficult. Next we will vote on which city to 'disinfect.'"

Clap!

Golden Mask struck his palms once. The ceiling opened and an orb descended.

A Wish Orb? The shape is similar, but this one is far larger.

It resembled the Wish Orb an Imoogi held in its mouth before becoming a dragon, yet it was easily a hundred times the size.

"Reveal yourself."

At once letters and numbers began to float above the yellow sphere.

……What the hell is that?

Concurrent users? Did that mean the number of players currently logged in? The Death God Religion knew the exact count of players?

"Two hundred twenty thousand! Still so many sinners left for us to judge. Until that number reaches zero, our 'disinfection' must never stop."

The others nodded at Golden Mask's words.

"No matter how many we cut down, the number never shrinks."

"Insect-like vermin……"

Pure malice radiated from them. Why did the Empire—why did the Death God Religion—hate players so fiercely?

"Which place would be best? In particular, black goat, I will hear your opinion first."

Golden Mask curled the corner of his mouth. Those glittering eyes belonged to a man seized by madness. In that state he was asking me right now: Which city has many players? Which one should we smash?

He's completely insane.

Mad. Everyone gathered here except me.

Then came the next words.

"Hurry and choose. As the guardian of an Orthodox, you too must have suffered the Divine Illness. When you transcended, you must have seen it—the way those sinners toyed with you, with our world!"

……After the entire uproar had passed.

The Sashin's Banquet concluded, and Golden Mask kept his promise to me. Without the slightest suspicion he handed over the three treasures I had selected. Not one of them was ordinary, and among them—

Baal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Armor!

I clenched my fist with everything I had. I wanted to shout out loud. The sole missing piece of the Baal Set—finally, finally in my hands!

I will never turn back again.

I had come the long way around. From first obtaining the Sword Saint Diary on the Mountain of the Cultivator, drifting into the Empire, reaching the imperial family and at last the Death God Religion—only then had I been able to claim it. But now that the Baal Set ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was complete, no path of retreat remained. Only forward.

I quickly reached for the thoroughly ominous Baal Armor and equipped it at once.

"A-are we really allowed to keep staying here?"

Valte—who had been more or less kidnapped from the Mountain of the Cultivator—asked Hudson with a face full of anxiety. Right after the auction ended, Randolph had suddenly vanished together with Golden Mask. The two of them had decided to remain in Darkan Territory until Randolph returned.

"Have some confidence. Is there any reason we shouldn't be here?"

Hudson replied while sipping tea with elegant poise—the kind of refined bearing that would put imperial nobles to shame.

"Saying that with that appearance……"

Valte muttered with a sigh. The problem was that Hudson's body, face, and even gender were completely different. The sturdy Hudson was nowhere to be found; instead a slender woman sat before him acting exactly as if she were Hudson.

"W-what if we get ambushed without anyone ever knowing?"

Valte was still a coward. Even though Randolph had personally bestowed the Berserker Set upon him, he never removed it even while sleeping and remained constantly on edge.

I'll never be like Lord Randolph or Lord Hudson.

Valte's lips had gone bone-dry. The majestic presence both of them had displayed in the Empire was enough to make even a man fall for them. Especially Randolph's dignity—seeing it with both eyes still made it hard to believe. A man one wanted to resemble yet could never become. That was Randolph.

"Tsk tsk."

Hudson clicked his tongue at Valte's behavior as if finding it pathetic, then looked out the window.

"Hurry, move faster!"

"Whoa! Whoa!"

This was the lord's castle. Outside, countless knights and soldiers were busily hauling something—and in enormous quantities.

"They're moving supplies today."

"Yes. It looks like they're preparing for war."

"War……"

The moment the Death God Religion's disinfection ended, the lord of Darkan had begun gathering materials as if he had been waiting for exactly that. Was he truly preparing for war?

He looks desperate, as if trying to prove his loyalty.

With disinfection having taken place inside the city, the fire was now under his own feet.