Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: Followers of the Forgotten God (7)
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A good tavern carries the sweet scent of liquor mingled with the nutty aroma of snacks.
Such places are always brimming with laughter and raucous singing. Anyone who loves food and drink visits regardless of age or gender. Sure, there might be the occasional drunken brawl from some heavily intoxicated fool, but it rarely escalates to serious injury or a major incident.
A bad tavern reeks of acrid tobacco smoke and the stench of whores.
These dives are filled either with angry shouting or the gloomy, decadent whispers of the depraved. The patrons are mostly gamblers, junkies, johns, hookers, and scheming thugs. Tables echo with constant profanity and lewd banter, and every now and then, brutal fistfights or knife fights break out.
Even so, this place wasn't the worst of the worst.
The absolute worst taverns reek of thick blood and the smell of death.
Schwick-crunch!
This tavern had just transformed from a bad one into the absolute worst.
"Urghaaaaagh!!"
Heads rolled across the floor, their owners oblivious even in death. Intestines trailed messily from torsos severed clean by blades. Mangled chunks of flesh, unrecognizable as any particular body part, were splattered everywhere.
Over a dozen thugs had lost their lives in an instant. Beneath the merciless axe and sword of a savage barbarian. If they'd known this was coming, they would've offered polite guidance instead of swinging their weapons first—but regret always comes too late, no matter how swift.
Kadim wiped the crimson streaks from his face and approached the last surviving thug.
"Where's your boss?"
"U-urgh, urghaaaaagh...."
When he'd first heard that question, the thug had spat back, "He went to scout your fuckin' grave, you bastard," before swinging his flail with bravado.
No amount of gold could make him that bold now. Just hearing that deep, rumbling voice drained the strength from his limbs. As Kadim pressed the axe blade against him, the thug soaked his pants and thrashed like a bug drowning in oil.
"Urghaaaaagh! In the basement! He's in the basement!! The boss is down there! Take the stairs in the corner and you'll see him right away!! Please don't kill me!! Please, just spare m—"
Crunch-crack!
"Thanks. Rest easy with your comrades."
Kadim stepped past the thug toward the corner stairs. The man's skull split clean in two, and he crumpled to the floor.
The basement was a murky den that could pass for either a brothel or an opium lounge—you couldn't tell which. Thick smoke hung everywhere, and the brick-walled rooms were littered with stained beds yellowed with bodily fluids, undergarments, shattered bottles, and clay pipes. It might've been a versatile spot for either vice.
All the rooms were empty save for the one at the far end, from which came a clamor of voices. As Kadim waited by the door, heavy footsteps thudded closer, and a man burst out with his lower half fully exposed.
"What the hell's going on up there to make all this racket... Ack!"
Thud!
Kadim slammed the man to the ground and pinned him. Pressing his knee into the thug's back turned the man's eyes bloodshot.
"Guhk, u-ugh...."
"Kyaaaaagh!!"
"Kyaaaaagh!!"
Kadim glanced inside the room. Five naked women lay sprawled on the bed. He nearly let out a snort of disbelief. So that's why no one had come rushing out despite the chaos upstairs.
The boss of the thugs barely managed to twist his head and glare at Kadim.
"Who the fuck are you...? Who sent you, you bastard...?"
"...Sorry to interrupt your fun. I'm here to ask if you know anything about the Night Raven branch."
"...!"
The boss flinched, shoulders trembling. A clear contrast to his clueless underlings. Kadim shifted his knee to the man's lower back and bore down harder.
"Spill everything you know before I make sure you can't call yourself a man anymore."
"Aaaagh!! You fuckin' bastard!!"
The boss twisted his torso and drew a dagger from his bosom, swinging wildly.
But it was futile resistance. Kadim seized the man's wrist first and snapped it like a twig. The dagger clattered harmlessly to the floor.
"Gaaaaagh!! Gyaaaaagh!!"
The boss screamed until his voice broke. Once the pain subsided, he whimpered through bloodshot, teary eyes.
"Hic... Wh-what are you...? One of those demon slayers...? The savage warriors under 'Agon's Furious Horn'...?"
"Fine. Looks like you don't want to stay a man after all."
"Guhk! Ask those bitches! Those whores are the cultists from that damned cult...!"
Sudden glints of steel interrupted the boss mid-sentence.
Whish-thunk, thunk-thunk-thunk!
"...Hrk!"
The darts missed their mark in blood. Kadim had anticipated the attack and slammed the door shut.
He peered through the splintered gaps. The naked women now wore black masks and gripped throwing daggers in both hands.
He nearly snorted again. So they moonlighted as cultists of the Forgotten God on top of whoring. Their earlier screams must've been an act. They had time to don masks—why not throw on some clothes?
Still, they were far better trained than the kidnappers he'd encountered before.
Rattle-crash, crunch!
"Kyak!"
"...!"
Kadim kicked the door open and hurled his axe, splitting one cultist's head. The rest swiftly vanished into blind spots without a peep. Even then, they flung daggers through the door crack—better than most assassins.
Whish!
Kadim tilted his head to dodge. He looked down at the boss impassively.
"Gutsy bunch. Taking on five at once."
"...That's why I grabbed a dagger too."
Thud, thunk, thud-thunk!
Daggers were no match for them, clearly. From somewhere, the cultists now fired crossbows. Potent bolts shredded the wooden door to splinters and sprayed outward.
One bolt struck Kadim's hand with a thunk. The cultists cheered triumphantly.
"Judgment upon the 'Demon Slayer'!"
"Ruin to the 'Source of Calamity'!"
But it wasn't a hit.
Whish-whoosh, thunk!
"...Huh?!"
The bolt flew back into the forehead of the cultist who'd fired it. The others followed suit. They hurtled back with the same taut force of the bowstrings, embedding into the women's bodies. The cultists panicked, wondering if their foe had a crossbow too, eyes locked on him.
He didn't. Bare hands.
Kadim was catching the incoming bolts barehanded and hurling them back like darts.
Whish-whoosh, whish-whoosh, thunk!
"...!!"
Their eyes widened as the truth dawned.
They couldn't help but doubt their own eyes, even staring right at it. If they'd had time, the cultists might've composed themselves alongside their sisters and desperately prayed to the Forgotten God for aid.
No such luxury. By then, their bodies were pincushions.
Whish-whoosh, thunk!
"Kyak!"
The last woman's mask shattered as an arrowhead pierced her temple. All the cultists were dead.
Crunch-crack, crunch-crack, crunch-crack!
Kadim retrieved his axe and methodically finished off the fallen cultists. No more signs of life nearby. This didn't seem to be the main lair of their "Bishop."
No choice but to interrogate the boss. The man trembled like a condemned prisoner facing the gallows.
"Wh-what... 'Demon Slayer'? You're that guy...? The one who butchered every demon on the Golden Highway...?"
"..."
Kadim paused to recall. Come to think of it, the defensive line soldiers had called him that. Puzzled how even these lowlifes knew, he nodded.
The boss exploded in frustration and bowed his head to the floor.
"Fuck! Should've led with that! If I'd known sooner, I wouldn't have resisted like an idiot! Hold on, I'll tell you everything I know about those heaven-cursed cult freaks! Forgive my rudeness—this arm's payment enough, just spare my life, Demon Slayer sir!"
"..."
Kadim furrowed his brow, unsure if the plea was groveling or brazen.
*
As the sun dipped low, near the Galentana city gates at the seized goods warehouse.
Men clad in Agon's traditional loose woolen robes filed inside. Attendants and guards ringed the warehouse, blocking intruders. The guards lined up under their captain snapped crisp salutes.
"Loyalty! New knowledge and boundless prosperity upon this land!"
"Loyalty! New knowledge and boundless prosperity upon this land!"
The men were councilors of the Agon Faction, the new power gripping the city's reins.
They weren't here for menial seized goods inspection, of course. These past days, they'd been run ragged without proper meals or sleep. But this was too critical to ignore—they'd dropped everything and rushed here.
Inside, the stifling heat and nose-stinging odors made their heads spin. But trivial discomforts like heat and stench were instantly forgotten.
On a modest cart, piled mountain-high: severed demon heads.
"Hah... This... Hah, by Remillion...."
"Can't make sense of it... Didn't the empire's youngest Arch Paladin take down, what, twenty demons?"
"About that, yeah."
"This is double that at least? All by one person?"
Even forewarned, the shock hit hard. Councilors clicked tongues and buzzed with chatter. The murmurs showed no sign of dying down.
Clap. A golden-haired young councilor clapped to refocus them. Adonis, the de facto head of the Agon Faction.
"Gentlemen, no doubt about it. Who else could hunt this many demons? Surely no one here denies such clear proof?"
"..."
"The 'Demon Slayer'... has finally come to our city."
The councilors gulped in unison.
They'd turned crisis into opportunity. The demon outbreak became their ladder to dominance. They'd bolstered Agon's Furious Horn's forces and deployed them at the critical moment to end the rampage—nearly everything had gone to plan.
One unforeseen variable, though.
The Demon Slayer, a mysterious mercenary of unknown origin.
At first, mere rumor. Consistent testimonies from the subjugation team who'd witnessed him fell a greater demon lent it credence. Proof of the unbelievable feats solidified it, and all Agon Faction councilors thought the same:
We must recruit him.
Agon's Furious Horn was undoubtedly their star force. But no other Atalain warrior matched him. If they enlisted the Demon Slayer, he could become their second pillar, drastically boosting their combat power and influence.
Strong rivals remained: the entrenched university faction councilors who'd long held the city. If they snagged the Demon Slayer first and built their forces, Galentana's power struggle would devolve back into a muddy brawl.
With proof of his arrival dumped here, they had to track him fast. One councilor tilted his head at Adonis.
"Bringing these means he came for subjugation rewards, right? Why not head straight to council hall or admin offices...?"
"That's... a mystery to me too. But I've stationed men at every admin office in case he shows later."
"Shouldn't we move this cart? Leaving it here means the university faction will catch wind for sure... "
"Too late. They made a huge fuss entering the gates—they'd have to be blind not to know. Best we can do is find and approach the Demon Slayer first."
The dusty, rotten-smelling warehouse wasn't ideal for debate. But no complaints—they were pressed for time. Better decide everything here than hunt for a hideout.
As deliberations wrapped, an aide burst in panting.
"Emergency, councilors! Word just came: some Atalain mercenary's causing havoc in the underworld. We've dispatched council guards, but... the disturbance is big. Not easy to contain quietly."
Councilors' faces hardened like stone.
No need to explain why it was dire. They'd poured effort into subordinating the forces directly to council. Part of that: convincing the public Atalains weren't dangerous. If opinion shifted to "uncontrollable savages," they'd have to start over from scratch.
"A rampaging Atalain... Think it's the Demon Slayer?"
"No way... Why would he skip rewards to hit the underworld?"
"Probably university faction scheming. Grab some random Atalain merc, stir trouble, sway opinion... "
Adonis ground his teeth. He couldn't let rivals sabotage their cooked meal. He stormed out and barked at nearby warrior guards.
"You heard? Head to the underworld now, subdue the rampaging merc. Handle it quietly, no incidents—and dig out whoever's backing him."
"...Understood."
"Once done, poke around about the Demon Slayer too. He hasn't left Galentana. You were with the subjugation team—should recognize his face easy enough, Perun?"
The one-armed warrior closed his eyes briefly. The unforgettable vision replayed behind his lids. He pressed the crude hook hand attached to his severed stump to his chest and replied with conviction.
"Of course, councilor."