The Deserter's Judgment
The paladin who had fled from the forest tried to leap to his feet the moment he spotted Yuk Eun-hyeong and his mercenaries. But his legs, drained from the desperate run, refused to hold him up. He couldn't rise no matter how hard he tried.
Yuk Eun-hyeong approached the fallen paladin. He was shirtless, his body wrapped tightly in bandages, but even through them, his muscles stood out sharply. His bulky frame and the jagged scars crisscrossing it gave him the intimidating presence of a massive beast.
The paladin fumbled desperately for his spear. But his hand grasped at empty air. He had dropped it in the forest during his escape. He had no means to resist. Facing the mercenary leader Yuk Eun-hyeong without weapons or holy relics was unthinkable for a lowly paladin.
Thud!
"Ugh...!"
Yuk Eun-hyeong kicked the paladin square in the gut. The paladin let out a strangled cry as he tumbled across the dirt. Mud caked his body. He looked utterly pathetic.
Even after such humiliation, the paladin kept his eyes fixed on the ground. His trembling gaze held nothing but fear—no pride as a cleric, no resolve, nothing.
"...You ran, huh? Even the nickname 'moth' is too kind for you."
Yuk Eun-hyeong glanced back and forth between the quivering paladin and the forest as he spoke. He held out a hand to his men, and one passed him a length of rope. Yuk Eun-hyeong bound the paladin tightly, then gave orders to his subordinates. Without a word, they grabbed the paladin by the hair and dragged him off somewhere.
Splash!
The mercenaries hauled him to a pit and tossed him in. The paladin rolled down into it, sprawling at the bottom. It wasn't deep, but with his limbs tied, escape was impossible.
"A paladin who deserted the battlefield. We'll discuss his disposal."
Yuk Eun-hyeong addressed his men. One glared down at the paladin in the pit, his face twisted in rage.
"...Do we need a discussion?"
"..."
The others nodded silently. They thought of countless comrades wounded or slain by paladins. No discussion was needed. Immediate execution was the obvious choice.
But Yuk Eun-hyeong shook his head firmly.
"The cult leader wouldn't have failed to kill a nobody like this."
"You mean he let the paladin live on purpose? Why the hell...?"
"For the Voodoo Cult and for us."
Yuk Eun-hyeong said. If the cult leader wanted, he could annihilate all enemies. He had that power. There must be a reason he left this one alive. Yuk Eun-hyeong guessed the leader was thinking ahead.
Killing all paladins would paint the Voodoo Cult as a target for Romanica. The enemy would return with greater forces, hunting Yuk Eun-hyeong's mercenaries. It could even spark a second Holy War.
The mercenaries understood and nodded. They wanted to kill him on the spot, but they knew it would only be fleeting vengeance, potentially causing massive long-term problems.
"...Then we'll have to use him as a hostage."
"Yeah. Or maybe convert him."
"Conversion's impossible. Romanica scum are brainwashed to a terrifying degree."
"Using him as a hostage has issues too..."
Even holding him captive could provoke a Holy War. Rescuing hostages would give the papal forces an excuse to attack. Conversion would be ideal, but this was a direct papal paladin. It wouldn't be easy.
"...We could torture him for info and release him. As a warning."
"That might be what the cult leader wants."
Yuk Eun-hyeong nodded. From Romanica's view, sparing Voodooists sowed future trouble. But from the Voodoo Cult's side, killing Romanica followers could do the same. Release might be an option.
Yuk Eun-hyeong pondered. Spare the escaped paladin or kill him? The very need to debate it felt bitter and humiliating. Paladins could slaughter Voodooists without worry. But Voodooists had to consider consequences when killing paladins. Romanica's power and status dwarfed theirs.
Splash, splash.
His grim deliberations broke as he stepped forward. With vacant, unfocused eyes, he peered down at the paladin and descended into the pit.
Thump.
Yuk Eun-hyeong seized the paladin by the throat.
"Guh, kkh...!"
The paladin thrashed in the grip of those thick arms. Pathetic gasps escaped his throat. Veins bulged on Yuk Eun-hyeong's forearms. The paladin's struggles weakened, his eyes glazing over, mouth slack.
Yuk Eun-hyeong kept squeezing. Crunch! Convinced the breath was gone, he released the throat. The corpse slumped into the pit. He shook off his hands and climbed out.
His men watched in tense silence.
"If it's a disappearance instead of death, it'll be fine."
Yuk Eun-hyeong pointed at the limp body and continued. "Strip him—his clothes might come in handy. Burn the corpse and dump it in the sea."
His voice was as calm as ever, even a faint smile on his lips. No one would believe he'd just killed a man. But to Yuk Eun-hyeong, the paladin wasn't human. So it wasn't murder.
*
Rumble...!
The hail summoned by Ha Ye-jin poured relentlessly. Every chunk avoided So Do-jin, targeting only the cult leader. So Do-jin looked up at the clouds, then at the descending hail—red with blood and fire. The miracle of Revelation.
A fearsome, perilous miracle even high priests hesitated to use. No, it wasn't mere recreation. It was an unprecedented wonder never seen before.
"..."
The hail battered and buried the cult leader, forming a mound of crimson ice where he stood. Then it stopped. The mound remained even after the clouds vanished.
So Do-jin and Ha Ye-jin stared silently at it. An unnatural stillness followed the storm.
Ha Ye-jin collapsed, legs shaking from the miracle's backlash. Her head throbbed, breath ragged, drowsiness and vertigo assaulting her. But she forced her eyes open, fixed on the mound. The cult leader didn't stir.
Ha Ye-jin smiled. "...Got him!"
Thud.
An ominous boom echoed from the ground. Whoosh! Flames plummeted from the sky, engulfing the mound. The hail melted into black ash amid roaring fire.
From the smoke, ash, and dancing inferno, a figure emerged, staff in hand. The cult leader pierced the blaze. The flames had burned only the hail—his staff, mask, and poncho unscathed.
He strode toward Ha Ye-jin, flames trailing him.
"..."
He stopped inches from her face, staring silently for minutes, as if studying her. The heat from his flames scorched her skin; each breath burned her throat. Terror shook her.
Drip, drip.
Blood trickled from under his mask, staining the dirt crimson. Without harming her, he turned and limped back to the forest, staff thudding.
Ha Ye-jin stared at the blood. What happened? Why spare them? Why retreat bleeding? He wasn't unscathed, but he could have killed them. Yet he left.
She couldn't fathom it.
"So Do-jin—!!"
A voice boomed from the rear lines—the snake-ravaged direction. So Do-jin took deep breaths; the spell's aftereffects lingered. Calming himself, he turned. John, presumed dead, stood alive, calling him. Dozens of paladins advanced behind.
John had called reinforcements. While they tended the rear wounded, he rushed over.
"The cult leader—did you take him down?"
"...He got away. Or rather, I lost him."
Strictly, the cult leader had let them go. John nodded with respect. Guilt pricked So Do-jin; he averted his eyes.
"How'd you call reinforcements? The rear had snakes..."
"That snake? Just a shed skin from midway."
"What?"
"After wiping the rifle squad, it shed and returned to the cult leader."
John bowed his head. "...The front-line paladins entered the forest on their own, terrified of the skin."
"..."
So Do-jin dropped his gaze. The cult leader hurled his staff to summon the snake, crushed the rear rifles, left the skin. Front-liners, unaware, pressed into the forest to avoid it. All a ploy to lure them in.
John looked at the dense forest. "What about those who entered? Any come out?"
"No. Not one."
So Do-jin shook his head. "Then we'll search with reinforcements..."
Whoosh!
A fierce wind blew. The cult leader's forest shook. Massive roots and leaves shrank in the gale. Created in an instant, it vanished the same way.
Dozens of grotesque sculptures remained. John, So Do-jin, Ha Ye-jin, and the paladins stared.
"Ah, uh, ah..."
"I repent, I repent, I repent..."
"My fault, my fault, my fault. My..."
All who entered were bound cruciform by thin plant tendrils, writhing helplessly, muttering nonsense. Some recited prayers, others Bible verses endlessly. Tears or drool on their faces.
"..."
Their murmurs and whispers scattered on the wind.
(To be continued in the next chapter)