Episode 1153
Episode 1153
Ibinta was equally astonished, but his thoughts were slightly different.
'This method... is actually producing results!'
The western region might be one thing, but this was still just the path leading to the northern territories.
Yet they were already seeing such effects. It was utterly unbelievable.
Just how shocked must those criminals have been to spread rumors and exchange information to this extent?
However, Lee Han remained indifferent despite this miracle.
"How can I trust you?"
Even if they came from Einrogard, it was only natural to get angry when criminals, who should be offering up their very livers and gallbladders in this situation, reacted like this.
There was nothing mercenaries who roamed the Empire's back alleys lacked more than patience.
But today, the mercenaries gathered here displayed the deep patience of gentle lambs.
"In anticipation of such words, we've prepared a truth potion ourselves. Once you verify its ingredients, we'll drink it and testify immediately. There will be no tricks or omissions."
"Hmph. You might have had your memories erased."
"We've prepared for that too. Would you look at this mirror? It's an expensive artifact for memory verification. If you examine this artifact, you'll see that our memories haven't been tampered with..."
The fierce back-and-forth between the desperate mercenaries and the suspicious wizard was truly intense.
Giselle, who was watching from the side, was so stunned she couldn't even speak.
'What in the world...?'
There had been criminals who surrendered while begging for mercy, but this was the first time she'd seen ones who came prepared in such meticulous detail.
If they had the capability to prepare this thoroughly, couldn't they just take normal commissions instead of committing crimes?
"Hah. I suppose I have no choice but to acknowledge it."
And surprisingly, the mercenaries emerged victorious.
Their desperate will to survive had led them to triumph.
Against an Einrogard wizard, no less!
—Are you really sure about this?
"We don't have time to waste. If the information is reliable, I'll accept it."
"An excellent decision!"
The mercenaries clapped with the happiest expressions in the Empire. Watching them, Ibinta thought to himself:
'I'm not that bad off—guess I'm lucky.'
Seeing these ruthless mercenaries reduced to this made him feel nothing but miserable.
The priest with the thorn pattern engraved on his forehead bestowed blessings upon those gathered in the alley and spoke:
"Let us all pray. Pray to the great Immortal Reborn One. Pray to His endless vitality and perfect flesh."
"Ooh..."
"O great God of Life..."
Recently, rumors had been spreading in this back alley of the city about a powerful priest who could heal any injury.
From refugees displaced by the western disaster to the monster waves occurring throughout the northern territories.
No matter how robust the Empire's infrastructure was, the marginalized and wounded would always emerge.
And for such people, the doctrines of the Evil God Worshippers resonated most strongly.
The Priest of the Thorn Pattern waved his arm with hollow eyes, signaling the end of today's gathering.
"What? That's it?"
The remnants of the Anti-Magic Zealots revealed themselves from the shadows.
After their faction collapsed in an unfortunate accident, these wanderers had coincidentally encountered a priest of the Prahgal Cult.
Though the term "Evil God Worshipper" might sound unsettling, some seasoned and exceptional villains knew how to use them to their advantage.
They might be insane fanatics, but the fact remained that they had faith—and that could be exploited if manipulated correctly.
These remnants of the Anti-Magic Zealots were among those who possessed such knowledge and information.
When they approached the Priest of the Thorn Pattern and expressed interest in Prahgal, the priest permitted them to stay without question.
"Indeed."
"You've gathered so many people. Can't we use this to do more? I saw servants working for noble households among them. We could infiltrate noble families or even swallow up a merchant guild..."
The remnants here were suffering from a lack of supplies and funds.
Whether they abandoned their Anti-Magic Zealot ways and started anew with a different gang, or rebuilt their organization to connect with others, they needed gold coins.
"Hmm..."
The Priest of the Thorn Pattern closed his eyes.
It was as if he was conversing with his god.
"It is not yet time."
"......"
Dissatisfaction rose on the faces of the Anti-Magic Zealots.
Bold enough to exploit an Evil God Worshipper priest, they had some understanding of the structure of faith.
Gods were not meticulous beings who gave detailed commands like 'do this or that.' If one heard a god's voice, it was more likely the priest simply believed and felt it that way.
"Tch."
"This is why lunatics are..."
The Anti-Magic Zealots retreated for now. But their eyes were already gleaming ominously.
It was a kind of threat. If their demands kept being ignored, there would be consequences.
As the gathered crowd dispersed and the Anti-Magic Zealots withdrew, only the Priest of the Thorn Pattern remained.
The priest shoved his arm deep into his own mouth. A posture that should have been impossible, but his flesh stretched unnaturally, as if boneless.
Like a snake swallowing its own tail, his body twisted grotesquely, and within it, a dimensional rift formed.
Report.
Astonishingly, the one on the other side was the cult's Bishop!
The numerous dimensions adjacent to the Material Plane served as both allies aiding mages' knowledge and secret arts, and as hideouts for criminals.
Those who committed grave crimes on the continent either fled across the sea or concealed themselves in such ways.
These pocket dimensions, accessible only by using worshippers' bodies as keys, were so elusive that even skilled mages struggled to detect them.
Still contorted, the priest spoke.
"I have acted as you commanded. The number of devotees is increasing."
And those remnants?
"Not even a fragment of faith is visible among them."
Naturally.
The Bishop, 'The Undead,' was now a being scarcely recognizable as human.
Resembling a massive snake with limbs and a head grotesquely grafted and bloated, he writhed in contemplation.
The title of Bishop in the Empire's proper religious orders and that in an Evil God Worshipper cult carried entirely different weight.
Unlike the continent's large-scale religious orders, where bishops held administrative or honorary titles, only true monsters who had proven their power could claim the position in an Evil God Worshipper cult.
If those above seemed untrustworthy or unfaithful, the rule was simple—devour them and take their place. That was the law of Evil God Worshippers.
The few bishops in the cult were its core, the ones who kept it running—strong individuals who sought to transcend their limits by merging with the Evil God.
Recently, those scavengers have resurfaced. After their downfall, they've grown reckless, acting without forethought. Foolish, but they serve as a lesson, don't they?
'Scavengers' was a derogatory term other Evil God Worshippers used for the Sanguiros Cult.
The Bishop doubted this resurrected cult would last long.
With their strongest fighters gone yet still acting arrogantly, whoever led those scavengers wouldn't escape unscathed without extraordinary means.
"Do you wish to devour them?"
No. Now is not the time. We've lost too much—focus on recovery. Increase the faithful, strengthen the faith. The power of our Authority must at least double. There's no need to engage with such fools.
"I will remember."
The thought of resources wasted by another bishop's reckless actions still made his anger boil.
The Undead exhaled a breath laced with venom, his patience deep. To Evil God Worshippers, everything in the world was an enemy.
Subordinates, fellow bishops—all were merely competitors.
"Did you feed the bugs to the remnants?"
"Yes."
Then it was time to begin.
The anti-magic zealot remnants were mistaken about one thing.
The only reason they could use the evil god worshippers was because the evil god worshippers had no interest in them.
The moment the evil god worshippers took notice, their fate was inevitably cursed.
The Priest of the Thorn Pattern had already secretly fed the remnants the Authority-infested bugs.
These bugs amplified their host's vitality with formidable life force, but at the same time, they scattered a vicious curse everywhere.
Soon, the remnants would become walking disease carriers, and people would have no choice but to rely on the god of life.
"There's one more thing to report."
What is it?
"The number of people searching for those extortionists has increased significantly. Rumor has it that several powerful mages are also looking for them."
Fools. That figures. No need to worry. If we control it well, they'll serve as perfect scapegoats.
The Undead wasn't particularly concerned.
Even among evil god worshippers, the differences between cults were vast.
Unlike the Sanguiros Cult, whose appearance always led to bloody sacrificial spectacles, the Prahgal Cult's emergence made the Empire's citizens hide them instead.
Even if they were tracked down, only those fools would suffer the consequences.
"These vile bandits! Occupying the highway and collecting tolls as they please? Unforgivable!"
"We mages are the ones who maintain these roads—how dare you scum take our money?!"
Thanks to criminals who reported suspicious individuals on sight, Lee Han's group quickly achieved results.
The White Tiger Tower students, who had subdued bandits hiding near the highway and captured human traffickers fleeing from the south, felt genuine pride.
"Wardanaz! Thanks for the backup. If it weren't for your magic... Wait, Wardanaz, what's wrong with you?"
"Probably because there were no evil god worshippers among the captured."
"Ah, no way. Evil god worshippers aren't that common, right? They're like rare wizard cards or something."
"That analogy is unsettling, but it's not wrong."
Common criminals were one thing, but evil god worshippers didn't appear so easily.
Of course, knowing the reason didn't make him feel any better. Lee Han poked the fallen bandits sullenly with his staff.
"Lee Han. Lee Han."
"Yes?"
At Professor Garcia's call, Lee Han stopped prodding the unconscious bandits with his staff.
The bandits, who had been pretending to be dead, let out sighs of relief. Seeing the mage who had been firing spells like a madman act like this was genuinely terrifying.
"There's a plague spreading in Marheim City. From the symptoms, it seems to be a curse-based epidemic."
"Did someone tamper with an ancient ruin or something?"
"Hard to say... Either way, it's best to prepare. I'm planning to brew potions—would you like to help?"
"I'll assist as well, Professor."
Catten chimed in eagerly. Professor Garcia hastily replied,
"Ah, Catten! Look, that bandit's loosening his ropes and trying to ambush the juniors!"
"???"
The bandit, writhing in pain, froze in shock at the sudden accusation.
This was a completely unexpected false charge.
"Lee Han?"
When Lee Han suddenly fell silent, lost in thought, Professor Garcia asked with concern.
Whenever this student zoned out like this, he often ended up doing something bizarre...
"Professor. Would it be alright if I shared an idea?"
"Of course! Do you have a suggestion about the potions?"
Professor Garcia didn't doubt her student's alchemy skills.
After all, weren't they both eccentrics who had taken classes from every school?
"Instead of brewing potions and distributing them to people, what if I just use Downfall Magic to absorb everything quickly and resolve the situation?"
"...Professor! Professor!! Could you come here for a moment?!"
Professor Garcia swiftly called for Professor Kirmin.
She wasn't confident she could talk sense into this student alone.