Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Innocent Prisoner (3)
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Kadim began massacring the prisoners just as he had the soldiers.
There were more of them in number, but it didn't take much more effort to deal with them. Their arms were bound in heavy iron chains, leaving them unable to move freely.
"Huff, huff... Why, why are you doing this? What did we do wro— Gah!"
"Aaaargh!!"
"Urk, guh... Please... spare..."
Pfsh!
However, the buffs were gradually fading, and it was becoming impossible to crush them with his bare fists alone. Kadim thrust his spear into the prisoners' hearts or bashed their skulls with rocks to end their lives. Corpses littered the plain like shattered sculptures.
Kadim hadn't killed the prisoners because they were heinous criminals. If anything, by the weight of their sins, he himself—who had slaughtered over a dozen soldiers—was far more wicked. The idea of a greater sinner judging lesser ones was absurd no matter how you sliced it.
He killed them simply for this reason: the same as with the soldiers. To leave no loose ends.
If I let these prisoners go... They'd surely spread word of what they'd witnessed far and wide.
No amount of intimidation or threats would work. A drunkard's mouth opens as easily as a whore's legs. A few drinks at any tavern, and they'd be boasting wildly about the tale. About a certain barbarian who drank demon blood and butchered the paladin and his soldiers.
Kadim knew little about this world as yet. But in a place that arrested people just for being heretics, it wasn't hard to imagine the consequences if such rumors spread.
At best, a wanted poster or bounty on his head. At worst, a squad of high-ranking paladins might be dispatched to hunt him down.
...I can't risk that yet.
The witnesses to the scene had to be eliminated. Kadim hunted the prisoners methodically, like a clerk stamping documents or a butcher slaughtering livestock.
He had dealt with all the others. Now it was the turn of the last one, cowering and trembling beneath the bushes. Kadim gripped his spear sharply and approached slowly.
"M-Me? I swear I haven't done anything wrong, my lord! Please, I beg you, spare m— Urp, blegh, urp!"
Overwhelmed by terror and tension, the prisoner vomited. Bile surged endlessly from his gut, tears streamed down his face, and his pants had long since been soaked through at the crotch.
Kadim didn't strike him down immediately out of pity for his pathetic state. He simply recalled that the man had provided some information earlier.
It made little difference whether he killed him now or extracted more info first. Kadim set his spear aside for the moment. The merchant sobbed piteously and bowed his head repeatedly.
"Th-Thank you... Thank you so much for sparing me, my lord. Sniff, huhu..."
"I have a few questions. What's your name?"
"Duncan. Duncan Wheeled, my lord. I'm from Moltena in the Free City Alliance—a traveling merchant peddling wares here and there. Sniff, I was wandering near the border when I was falsely accused and unjustly captured. If you just let me go, I'll never set foot anywhere near here agai—"
"No. I have no interest in your sob story. Answer only what I ask from now on."
"Guh... Yes, sir!"
Kadim continued with his questions.
"Elaborate on what you said earlier."
"Wh-Which part...?"
"About Lucaonia becoming an empire. In my memory, Lucaonia was a kingdom. Has it always been an empire here since its founding? If not, when did it become one?"
Duncan couldn't help but shoot him another puzzled glance, forgetting his own dire situation. How could this barbarian say such a thing when Lucaonia had been an empire for ages?
Then it hit him—the answer to his own confusion.
Yes, a barbarian. This man might truly be from the wilds beyond the mountains. Unlike the barbarians settled on the continent, those beyond the range might have been cut off from news for centuries.
But he'd been told to only answer questions, so he couldn't pry. Duncan meekly responded.
"This year is Imperial Year 248... meaning about 248 years since the founding emperor established the Lucaonia Empire. Before that, Lucaonia was indeed a kingdom."
"...Imperial Year? What year is that in the Continental Calendar?"
"Uh, well... I'm not sure? The old calendar isn't used much anymore... Around 1130, maybe?"
The barbarian warrior's eyes narrowed sharply.
The most common calendar on the continent had become ancient history? Kadim couldn't stay composed. He clenched his fists and fired off questions in rapid succession.
"What's the current state of the continent? Why has the Elga Church fallen so low? What happened to the Magic Realm?"
If Duncan had been an ignorant brute of a criminal, he wouldn't have been able to answer all that. Fortunately, the worldly merchant could provide at least some insight.
Three hundred years ago, the Lucaonia Empire unified the continent. But now, it was effectively divided into three powers. The Elga Church had grown during the demon incursion but had since declined. As for the Magic Realm, no one who entered ever returned alive, so its status was a mystery...
Kadim furrowed his brow.
No one returned alive from the Magic Realm? He could accept that he'd vanished beyond the rift, but what about his other comrades who'd slain the archdemon alongside him?
"Gale, Melissa, Gordon, Cyril. Ever heard those names?"
"...No, my lord? First time hearing them. Uh... Melissa rings a bell, though... Wasn't the first Lord of the Magic Tower named Melissa...?"
Kadim closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead.
The heroes who conquered the Magic Realm and felled the archdemon, forgotten? It didn't make sense. He began to doubt if this was truly a continuation of his first playthrough.
But the most important question was this.
"Then why in blazes did demons overrun the continent?"
As he spoke, his tension eased somewhat. Duncan recited his answer calmly.
"No one knows for sure, my lord. Some say it's Elga's punishment on a corrupt world. Others claim a mad archmage opened a gate to another realm. There are tales it's a harbinger of some colossal evil descending soon. But who's to say what's true? The real answer lies only behind the eyelids of the almighty god above those clouds."
"..."
Kadim clamped his mouth shut for a moment. He'd gleaned enough information. Putting it all together, the conclusion was clear.
This place... is probably the continent about 300 years after my first playthrough.
No other explanation fit.
Kadim gazed vacantly at the ground. His shadowed expression twisted spasmodically, like the parched wasteland itself.
Not content with being exiled from his original world, he'd been cast out from the era he'd finally settled into. The knowledge in his head was now centuries out of date. He had to accept that everyone he'd known—those still fresh in his memory—had turned to dust.
An outcast from reality, a dropout from time, a stranger among strangers.
Kadim looked up. His chest felt crushed by house-sized lumps of lead. His eyes fell on the obsessively slaughtered corpses. Fundamental doubts clawed at his mind.
Was there any reason to keep slaughtering countless lives like this, guzzling vile demon blood, suppressing the mind-eating madness?
With no guarantee that any of it would get him back to reality?
If he somehow reached this world's ending, maybe 'New Game++' would appear. Then, god forbid, 'New Game+++' after that. An endless cycle, fresh in its futility every time.
The Atalans, Kadim's kin, had a legend.
Brave warriors who spent their lives honing their axes with blood were granted a chance after death to battle Atala, the god of the great wilderness and struggle. Inflict even a tiny wound on Atala, and they could enter the warriors' paradise of endless war and revelry.
Kadim didn't know if it was Elga, Atala, or some other absolute being that had trapped him here. But given the chance, he wouldn't settle for a scratch—he wanted to hack off limbs, smash skulls, devour hearts, and rip out entrails.
A distant wish.
Kadim gritted his teeth. Then he leveled his spear at his own throat. Duncan cried out in panic.
"Wha— My lord! What are you doing?"
Starting the journey anew would mean endless regrets dragging at his heels. There was no better time to meet death.
Worn out by the aimless trek, the barbarian closed his eyes gently. He hoped the afterlife wouldn't be an inescapable room scrawled with 'Game Over.'
But just as he poised to drive the spear deep into his throat.
What next after slaying the archdemon? Hmm... Maybe build a tower to teach magic?
A comrade's words from the first playthrough flashed through his mind.
Kadim's eyes snapped open. He asked Duncan,
"You said you've heard the name Melissa?"
"Uh... Y-Yes. Not certain, but I think the first Lord of the Magic Tower was named Mel... Meliza? Melissa? Something like that."
"Where's the Magic Tower?"
"The Magic Tower's in Vesta, the easternmost city in the Free City Alliance. This is imperial territory in central continent... Without a horse, even at top speed it'd take two months, my lord..."
Duncan sensed ill omens. Two months was optimistic; with variables, it could stretch to three or four. He shot a desperate glance, praying the barbarian wouldn't ask for a guide.
Kadim gave a wry smile. He'd hoped for no lingering regrets, but his ankle was already snared. Toward the mage girl from ages past, lugging a book as big as herself, he muttered a light complaint.
Damn fool. Why'd she have to say that... Can't even die in peace now...
Melissa had the habit of recording everything, trivial or not. If she was the one in his memories, she'd surely documented in detail what happened after he vanished.
Now he couldn't rest without confirming it.
The barbarian warrior lowered his spear. Then he made the request the merchant dreaded.
"As a merchant, you know the roads, right? Guide me to the Magic Tower. The fastest route possible."
"Y-Yes? B-But my lord, I have family waiting back home. I can't waste time just guiding y—"
Duncan trailed off. Kadim stared blankly at him. He wasn't unsympathetic to the merchant's plight. If he wanted the job done, fair pay was in order.
"I see. Then for your compensation, I'll give you the most precious thing I can offer."
"Wh-What might that be, my lord?"
"Your life."
Hic! Duncan's face drained of color as he hiccuped.
He'd forgotten in the heat of answering. If this barbarian's mood soured, he could snap his neck like a reed. No choice now.
Before departing, they gathered their gear and scavenged necessities. Duncan reclaimed his bag from the paladin and sighed in relief. Kadim rummaged through the corpses for usable weapons.
The paladin's spear was the prize he coveted most. That chilled blade would qualify as rare-grade in game terms.
The problem? It was a Blessed Weapon.
Blessed Weapons, consecrated by Elga's priests, could only be wielded by the paladin it was bestowed upon. Anyone else would trigger a rejection response, as he'd seen earlier. Regrettably, he had to leave it behind.
...If only I could've brought the axe from my first playthrough.
Even if he had, it'd vanish the moment he crossed over here. No way they'd reset his body while leaving his gear. Kadim clicked his tongue briefly and moved on.
Soon he found a decently intact sword in the decurion's belongings. He tied it crudely to his waist with a leather strap. On this moonless night, leveraging another of his unique traits would hone this blade into something quite serviceable—not quite a Blessed Weapon, but close enough.
He didn't forget to collect blood from the demon's corpse. Less effective than fresh blood, but better than nothing. He hoped never to need it, but preparation was key.
His preparations complete, Duncan came scurrying over, bag bulging on his back. His clothes were still stained with vomit and urine. Kadim frowned slightly.
"Wouldn't it be wise to change? Plenty of spare clothes over there."
His thick finger pointed at the corpses. Duncan blanched and shook his head vigorously.
"N-No, my lord... I'm comfortable in this... I can wash the filth at a stream..."
"Very well, then."
With that, the two set off.
The merchant stole glances at the barbarian while leading the way. The barbarian followed with indifferent steps. The day was waning; the sun, which had peeked slyly at the world, now lowered its gaze below the horizon.
A long shadow stretched out before the pair, their backs to the sunset.