The Sweetness of Vengeance
It was a sunset evening, and Ian's condition was excellent. Soon, a pitch-black darkness gathered, thick enough to fill the entire house.
"Ian! We're here!"
With the darkness fully deployed, Ian was practically invincible. It was hard enough to take a single step without being able to see ahead—let alone chase and fight enemies. On top of that, Ian cast a spell on Belenca.
"Wind!"
The magic he'd developed in the Talian Baron's cemetery: Echo Positioning. It visualized sound, allowing him to distinguish objects even in total darkness.
"Hm."
As the mystery of wind whispered sounds, Belenca felt a hazy sense of the objects in the darkness. However, unlike in the confined underground, the spell's power was much weaker on the open surface. The wind and sound leaked out in all directions, preventing perfect operation of Echo Positioning. So Belenca could only fend off the enemies rampaging close by.
"Eek!"
The situation reversed in the blink of an eye, and the assassins lost their minds. And who could blame them? They'd been told this mission was just dealing with feeble monks. Clergy were people you felt squeamish killing, not people who were hard to kill. Overcome any pangs of conscience or worries about the afterlife, and anyone could do it. But Takarion's group had a mage mixed in. A very capable one at that!
'As expected, Takarion's blessed by the gods?!'
'Wrong...! We should've known better from the start!'
With the plan gone awry, the assassins panicked and floundered. They did have a Plan B in case of assassination failure, but that had nothing to do with the assassins themselves.
"Run!"
"Scatter! Everyone scatter!"
Sensing failure, the assassins fled in all directions seeking their own paths to survival. A few got caught by Belenca after running the wrong way, but most escaped the house and vanished into the darkness beyond.
Ian didn't pursue the assassins. Or rather, he couldn't.
"Surrender! I surrender!"
"???"
"I'll pay ransom, so spare me!"
The leader of the assassins dropped to his knees with a thud. Ian was dumbfounded. What, now even random mutts and pigs were talking ransom? Did these guys think they were worth it?
"Excuse me. Just to check, are you royalty or something?"
"No, but..."
There was no point listening further. Ian drew Anorilsil and aimed at the assassin's chest.
"..."
Right before swinging the sword, his fingertips trembled slightly. Murder was commonplace for medieval folk, but not for Ian. Glory and sin were two sides of the same coin. Killing was an honorable act, yet it also gnawed away at one's humanity.
By then, the darkness had lifted. Belenca approached Ian and said,
"I could execute him for you if you want."
Ian looked at Belenca. She was his knight. He didn't have to dirty his own hands; she could bear the sin in his place. But Ian shook his head.
"No."
Ian wasn't a modern man anymore. He was a resident of the medieval world. There were no laws to protect him here, no police or judges to uphold justice. To protect himself, he had to wield violence. Ian needed to get used to it.
"Sp-spare me, and I'll give you a treasure map to hidden gold and jewels! Booze and women too! Please, just let me live!"
Ian let out a hollow chuckle in exasperation. Money, booze, women. A lifetime of killing to amass wealth, and that was all it amounted to?
Ian turned the blade downward and struck between the assassin's collarbones.
"Gah!"
The blade sank smoothly into the flesh. For his first swing, he'd somehow avoided the bone. If that was beginner's luck, so be it.
As Ian pulled out Anorilsil,
Thud.
The assassin collapsed, blood gushing out like wine from a corked bottle.
Belenca let out a low whistle.
"Nice sword indeed. Pulling out a blade sunk that deep isn't easy under normal circumstances."
"..."
"First kill, Ian?"
Ian nodded mechanically. A strange sensation lingered on his fingertips. Excitement and trembling. And that feeling... it was close to pleasure.
Humans instinctively craved violence. Destroying others and instilling fear confirmed their own strength. Violence held an addictive thrill.
"Yeah. Revenge is sweet, huh? But Ian, don't forget—even that revenge means taking a life."
Belenca patted Ian's shoulder lightly. Violence was pleasurable, which made it easy for humans to get hooked. But those addicted to violence were no different from monsters. Belenca pointed that out. She wanted Ian to remain purely human forever.
"...Yeah."
Ian took Belenca's advice to heart. Revenge was still murder. Righteous anger made it just, but for someone addicted to killing, revenge was mere entertainment. Drawing a sword over a bumped shoulder? That wasn't justice; it was madness.
Ian felt he'd grown even more medieval. He already was one, but now more than ever. To modern folk, murder was a crime; to medieval ones, renown. Now, Ian was the slayer of assassins.
"Is everyone alright?"
With the situation sorted, Ian sought out the monks. Fortunately, they were all unharmed. They'd hidden under the table the moment the commotion started.
"Oh!"
"Truly...! You must be a messenger from the heavens!"
The monks rushed to Ian, clamoring their thanks. Even Takarion mumbled awkwardly,
"Uh... thanks, I guess... or, you fought well..."
Ian nodded half-heartedly. Physically and mentally exhausted, he felt like collapsing. But it wasn't over yet.
"Sorry to say this, but we need to leave now!"
It was Sister Mionia. The furious monks immediately lashed out.
"Trying to trick us again?!"
"What's your scheme this time?!"
"Change out of that lewd nun outfit first!"
Sister Mionia flushed red.
"I-I'm not a lewd nun! And I'm serious!"
The mood could turn ugly fast. Ian stepped in to mediate.
"Let's hear Sister Mionia out first."
"Hmph! Sister? You call her that looking at that outfit?"
"Why not? She's pretty."
At Ian's remark, Mionia covered her mouth in surprise. The monks were flustered. Belenca sighed.
"Again with the sweet talk."
The monks briefly wondered if Ian had been bewitched by a succubus. But faithful Brother Ian wouldn't fall for that... so his tastes must just be a bit off, they concluded.
"Hm..."
"Must be the mage thing—his eye for beauty's unique..."
Mionia gave Ian a subtle wink. Kira whispered to Belenca,
"Ian likes that kind of outfit, huh..."
"What else from a guy."
Ahem. Mionia raised her voice.
"Listen up. Barbarian warriors will storm this place soon."
"Barbarian warriors?"
The monks jumped in alarm. Barbarian warriors weren't something you saw easily in the Empire.
"Yes. From what I know, mercenaries hired by Count Lumini. Backup in case the poison assassination failed."
The assassins had known the [Tomato Assassination Method] was unreliable. Truth be told, it only benefited the assassins. Handing priests mysterious deaths just lightened their own crimes. "We just served food—they died on their own~" gave them an excuse.
If they wanted the monks dead for sure, they'd have used lethal poison from the start. But devout Heavenly Church follower Count Lumini didn't want to burden the assassins with the heinous sin of killing clergy. So first, the tomato ploy. If it failed, send the monks off with a smile and try the second method: the [Barbarian Assassination Method].
"Barbarians..."
"This is bad."
Worry creased the monks' faces. Heavenly Church folk never harmed clergy—fear of the afterlife. But barbarians were different. They were heretics! They didn't believe in the Heavenly Church. Killing a thousand priests meant nothing to them!
Count Lumini had cunningly prepared the perfect assassins for clergy: barbarian warriors, killing machines unworthy of the term.
"We need help from Heavenly Church folk ASAP."
Ian nodded. If barbarians showed up, the monks' survival wasn't guaranteed. Ian had various magics and even teleport scrolls, so his odds of dying were near zero. Near zero, not absolute. In this hygiene-and-medicine-nightmare medieval world, one stray arrow could mean poison and death. Avoiding pointless fights was always smarter.
The upside? The enemies were barbarians. This was Empire soil, teeming with Heavenly Church followers. Priests chased by barbarians? Knights hungry for glory would come charging with laughs. Any roadside knight could shield their group.
"I get the gist, but questions remain."
A monk pointed at Mionia.
"What if she's luring us to the barbarians?"
Ian silently eyed Mionia. She'd altered her nun habit lewdly(?) to seduce Takarion. Could he trust a former enemy?
"Sister Mionia. Swear on heaven and tell the truth. Why betray them? Why side with us?"
Mionia sighed.
"I just wanted to laicize, so I followed the abbess's orders. I knew it was assassinating Takarion and joined anyway. Yes, that's my sin."
"?! You planned to kill me from the start?"
"Shut it for a sec. Sister, go on."
"...But the assassins wanted you all dead. I didn't want to see that. It'd be a sin I couldn't bear. So I told the truth."
If Mionia hadn't betrayed them, Ian's group would've walked out fine—only to fight barbarians soon after. She'd ruined everything. Or saved them all.
"Tough choice."
"...Not praiseworthy. I sowed the sin; I reaped it."
"You could've stayed quiet and got what you wanted. But you kicked it away yourself."
Ian smiled.
"Guess laicization's not in the cards yet."
The monks nodded at Ian's words. Choosing divine teachings over immediate gain was more priest than layman. They decided to trust Mionia. Everyone except one.
"No way?! She tried to kill me! And you're okay with that???"
"Eh, could happen."
"What do you mean 'could happen'!"
Ian was sincere. Takarion still lacked self-awareness. As seen at Drbosi Castle, he didn't grasp how loathsome he'd been.
"Sister Mionia! You said you liked me! Respected me!"
Takarion's voice was pathetic. Mionia deadpanned,
"Are you an idiot? You believed that?"
"It... it was a lie...?"
"Thinking I'd like you is hilarious to begin with. You don't even wash your face. Oh, right—you don't wash at all, so you wouldn't know."
"That's too much!!! You said you liked my gospel too!"
"Ahh, the gospel. Honestly? Your gospel sucks. Deserves divine punishment. You turned the other saints into morons to hero-worship St. Marcus."
"Th-that was just centering on Marcus's deeds..."
"St. Garhan, whom you portrayed as a moron? Count Lumini's favorite saint."
"..."
Takarion paled.
"N-no way... over that, you tried to kill me?"
Mionia sneered.
"Over that? You treat faith like a game?"
Ian nodded. Yeah, fave character issues were serious business. Especially if some weirdo's fanfic made your fave a moron. As a former modernite with some subculture experience, Ian somewhat understood Count Lumini's rage.