Chapter 207
Chapter 207
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: Omen of War (3)
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Kadim had simply assumed he'd bumped into an Arch Paladin who was just passing by coincidentally.
That assumption was wrong. In truth, Hendark had mobilized superhuman senses to track Kadim's traces near the Great Forest for over ten days.
Even so, running into him like this was an incredible stroke of luck. The boundary of the Great Forest stretched out like an endless barrier of lush greenery. Of course, luck was a term reserved for the tracker, not the one being tracked. Ignoring the listener's lukewarm reaction, Hendark urgently began spilling the details of why he'd come.
After a sermon lasting several dozen minutes, like a sigh-laden final murmur...
"...And so, Archbishop Erensko has declared the launch of the 'Holy War.' The Free City Alliance has been designated as the primary target, so soon enough, a vicious storm of blood will sweep across this land."
The Arch Paladin's tale, which had raged like a sudden gale, finally came to an end.
As if echoing the listener's sentiments, a chill wind blew across the winter field.
Whooooosh...
"...".
"...".
For a moment, Kadim just stood there, grimacing deeply. It wasn't an easy story to believe, but he knew full well that this Knight of Elga was incapable of lying.
"So... that punk Knight of Elga I killed before... you're saying he's the Archbishop's nephew."
"...That's right."
"Which means that lunatic went mad over losing just one nephew and started a war."
"...".
After heavy deliberation, Hendark confessed the truth behind the truth.
"Archbishop Erensko... actually has no siblings."
"...What?"
"The Knight of Elga you killed, Linton Peliferus, was originally the Archbishop's most favored 'squire.' The problem was that the Archbishop indulged him so deeply—accepting every whim—that when Linton said he wanted to become a Knight of Elga, he summoned high-ranking knights to train him, personally bestowed blessings, even forged holy weapons for him, and ultimately made him a real Knight of Elga..."
"...".
"To justify the special treatment and eliminate any root of suspicion, the Archbishop belatedly fabricated a blood relation pretext. Aside from me, hardly anyone knows this top-secret matter, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread it around..."
The tone and accompanying warning felt oddly sharp. Sensing something off, Kadim pressed back.
"That Knight of Elga was originally the Archbishop's 'squire'?"
"Yes. Meaning he handled every task possible at the Archbishop's side. From errands and menial chores to... hah... the filthiest duties of satisfying carnal lust..."
"...I distinctly remember that guy being a man."
"...Your memory is correct."
"...".
A wave of disgust surged up his throat. But now the picture was crystal clear.
'Right after my second playthrough began, the one whose skull I crushed wasn't the Archbishop's nephew... it was his lover...'
Not pure rage over lost kin, but twisted, ugly revenge born of illicit affection... It finally made sense why the pursuit had been so relentless, why that bastard had eventually gone berserk with madness. It also drove home just how rotten the Elga Church of this era truly was.
But that was none of his concern anymore.
"So, what do you want from me?"
"Well..."
"Didn't our deal end when you passed on the intel from the Magic Tower? You're not seriously asking me now to take responsibility for killing that punk Knight of Elga—or your disciple, the Arch Paladin."
"...".
"If you're here to spout that nonsense, you'd better prepare for my axe to bury even deeper into your forehead than last time."
Hendark's face paled faintly. He didn't need his stigmata to discern those words weren't a bluff. The taut tendons like catapult ropes and the death grip on his axe handle said it all.
He'd been a formidable opponent last time too... but this warrior's power had now ascended to a level Hendark couldn't handle.
But if he were going to give up this easily, he wouldn't have come this far.
"Absolutely not—rest assured. I reaffirm: I have no intention of antagonizing you over that or holding you accountable. Our previous deal is cleanly concluded."
"...".
"But couldn't we strike a new deal? I may be immodest, but I don't think I'm an unreliable partner. Even without swearing on Elga's name."
Like before, Hendark revealed the decagram emblem on the back of his hand—a stigmata that granted insight into truth but struck down lies with divine punishment.
A reasonable approach. Kadim's wariness eased somewhat. His attitude didn't turn friendly, though.
"Whether you want me to kill that Archbishop or help with your 'sacred holy war'... I don't know what you're asking, but either way, I can't. I've got my own urgent business."
"No! That's absolutely not a 'sacred holy war'!"
Hendark recoiled in horror, insisting it would be a fanatic massacre. He then pleaded for Kadim to join the alliance side, stand against the Knights of Elga, and protect the innocent.
Kadim chuckled inwardly. He'd sensed it from their first meeting... This Knight of Elga pursued the greater good unbound by personal feelings or church realities—noble to a fault.
But that didn't change the fact that the burden fell on him.
"...What did you take my words for? I said I've got business. If you want to stop the war and save lives so badly, go run that Archbishop through yourself."
"I... hah, I truly want to... No, I've already tried once... But the Archbishop's allies are beyond my power, and to make matters worse, all my disciples have been taken hostage... I just can't..."
"So you're saying, despite having no power yourself, you want to satisfy your petty conscience without any sacrifice."
A piercing critique straight to the heart. Bitter regret creased the man's eyes.
"Yes... you could see it that way. I won't deny it. But it's undeniable that Decagram's invasion of the alliance territories will cause massive casualties. If you just lend your strength to avert this disaster, scorn my petty conscience all you want..."
"So you're still valuing the lives of your few disciples over countless alliance folk whose names you don't even know."
"...".
His gaze dropped as if crawling into a hole. Kadim's empty stare pierced down like an abyss.
Kadim glared silently at the cowering man for a long while. Then, suddenly, he spat it out like vomiting blood.
"You saw the note I left south in Vesta, right?"
"Yes..."
"A while back in the Great Forest, I found the culprit who unleashed demons across the world."
"...What!?"
"Long ago, an old comrade I valued more than my own life. Searching for me after I vanished, he accidentally opened a rift to hell. Head to the forest's deepest heart even now, and you'll see the rift's core."
No need to question if it was true. Hendark had discerned it instantly with his stigmata.
"Wh-what did you do with him?"
"Killed him. With my own hands."
"...!!"
"Wasn't what I wanted, but necessary to prevent a greater catastrophe. Killing him didn't close the rift, though. That's why I'm off now to find a solution—and track another comrade's whereabouts."
"...".
Breaking the suffocating silence, a chilling counterquestion emerged.
"Fine... say it again. What do you want my strength for?"
Hendark froze, utterly dumbfounded.
There wasn't a shred of falsehood in what he'd just heard.
This man had truly sacrificed even a comrade he cherished more than life. With his own hands, to avert greater disaster. His tone was utterly flat, but imagining the agony and torment involved was all too easy.
Soon, bone-deep self-loathing and shame flooded in.
Unable to protect his own disciples, turning a blind eye to the Archbishop's atrocities right before him, even foisting the duty to safeguard the weak onto others... What noble Knight of Elga? What guiding star for the lost? He was nothing but a feeble coward unworthy of even gazing at the light.
Hendark abandoned persuasion. This man already bore burdens far beyond human limits. Saving his disciples and halting the war and sacrifices—he resolved to handle it alone somehow.
At that moment, an unexpected presence appeared from behind.
"Th-th-th-that! S-Sir Knight of Elga! Is it really true the empire's Knights of Elga are invading the alliance?"
"...!"
Hendark's shoulders jerked involuntarily. Lost in thought and off-guard, sure—but for a top-tier Knight of Elga from the church to have his back exposed? He whipped around in disbelief.
There stood a grubby little man draped in a black sackcloth.
"That's true, but... who might you be?"
"I-I'm Duncan Wheeled, sir! Your comrade's companion! M-More importantly, if the Knights of Elga invade the alliance, do you know which city they'll hit first?"
Glancing and confirming via stigmata that he was indeed Kadim's comrade, Hendark replied.
"Hmm, no need to guess... They'll target Delruta, the nearest major city at the border. After that, probably follow the Golden Highway to Galentana..."
"Wh-what did you say - !!"
Duncan's eyes rolled back.
He bellowed at a high-ranking Knight of Elga without knowing what he'd done wrong. After hearing "Delruta," he saw and heard nothing else. Like a mouse struck by lightning, the trembling merchant's lips whimpered the names of his family, whom he'd sent ahead to that great city.
"Yu-Yulia...! Dunsen...!"
*
At that very moment, in a grand mansion in Delruta.
A rather peculiar banquet was unfolding in the dining hall.
More like a feast for a tycoon's revelry than a mere meal. Glossy whole roasted pork loin, duck confit with crackling pastry-like skin, fragrant soup simmered with truffles and rare vegetables, fresh seafood dishes rare inland... Exquisite fare that common villagers might never taste in a lifetime overflowed the groaning table.
But it wasn't for lofty tycoons or noble guests.
Only the servants, maids, kitchen hands, gardeners, cleaners, and slaves—the lower folk—savored it. Half wept in感動 as they wolfed it down to fill empty bellies; the other half poked at it nervously, stealing glances.
And to those pokers, without fail, came a question from the woman at the head table.
"Mr. Dundur, is the food not to your taste by any chance?"
"...Pardon? Oh, no, ma'am! Goodness, how could it not be!"
"Ah, thinking of your children, I suppose. Don't worry. You have two daughters and three sons... five in total, right? I'll set aside separate food for them later..."
"N-no, it's fine... Ah, no... Th-that's... Sniff, thank you! Truly, thank you, Mrs. Wheeled! I'll never forget this grace, even in death!"
The soot-covered chimney sweep bowed frantically, at a loss. Watching, Mrs. Wheeled—Yulia—smiled gently, half joy, half pity.
The widow from Molta scraping by on day labor while awaiting her runaway husband had overnight become one of Delruta's—"the Golden City"—wealthiest noblewomen. Even squandering tens of thousands of luden daily, her fortune wouldn't run dry until her snot-nosed son grew old and died.
Adapting to sudden wealth wasn't smooth. This meal was a case in point. Seeing such abundance at first, Yulia recoiled like a priest spotting devil worship traces. She scolded the butler for the waste and ordered simple village fare thereafter.
She realized her mistake seeing her staff wither day by day.
'B-Butler...? Why does everyone look so gaunt and pale lately?'
'W-well, ma'am... They mostly eat leftovers after the master dines... But your tastes are so frugal...'
'...'
Tightening belts like in her debt-ridden village days wasn't the answer. She immediately restored lavish meals, and lately even gathered all staff for communal dining.
She was adapting to tycoon life her way... but couldn't fully indulge as she'd vaguely imagined. A persistent lump always weighed on her heart.
"Hoo..."
Yulia gazed out the window, thinking of someone. A goateed rascal who earned this fortune yet left her penniless. Sensing her mood, staff poked the gluttonous ones' sides, and the meal proceeded in subdued quiet.
As it wound down, her son Dunsen beside her jumped up shouting.
"Hey, Mom! Uncle's here, Uncle!"
Someone had indeed come. Though "uncle" was hardly fitting.
A colossal frame brushing the ceiling, savage shoulders and arms, shaggy beard, bulging eyes... A copper-skinned giant radiating suffocating intimidation entered the dining hall. Staff gasped in unison, choking on air.
His looks screamed he'd flip the table and demand all the money... yet the Atalain giant was exceedingly polite.
"Pardon the intrusion during your meal. Should I return later, Mrs. Wheeled?"
"Oh, no, it's fine. We'd just finished anyway."
Yulia received him courteously. Dunsen fearlessly rushed up and clung to his pant leg.
"Whoa! The uncle who lost to Dad, who lost to Dad! Lost to Dad and Uncle Kadim too—Uncle Goltaran!"
"...".
Goltaran—the man once called Agon’s Furious Horn—gazed down at the pint-sized merchant lookalike and sighed deeply.