Chapter 177
Chapter 177
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 177
Chapter Title: Special Operation Report: Snake Hunt
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*
“Yarl! ‘That one’ is coming!”
A clan warrior ripped open the tent flap, shattering the silence hanging in the barracks. He hesitated for a moment in the heavy air where the two were glaring at each other in silence, then strode straight toward Aeren.
“That southerners’ coming, Yarl.”
“I heard. Where is he?”
“Near the north gate. Shall I bring him here now?”
“No, I’ll go myself. Lead the way.”
Aeren shrugged on his coat and nodded. Gunnar chuckled.
“Impressive guy.”
“You mean escaping that hellhole alone?”
“Not just that. He’s coming from the north gate. He must’ve detoured on purpose to let us know there are no enemies in that direction.”
Gunnar nodded and rose from his seat. He rolled his shoulders and strode confidently ahead of Aeren.
“Shall we go meet this famous southerner ourselves?”
*
A boisterous crowd stood at the village entrance by the checkpoint, staring at him. Fernandez spotted Kirhas Hearttaker galloping toward him from afar and smiled.
“Benefactor! Thank goodness you’re safe!”
“Did you doubt I’d make it back in one piece?”
“Of course not! Haha… But who’s that behind you…?”
Kirhas pulled up short just before embracing him. With a flap of the cloak, Freyja hopped down. Standing before Kirhas and the crowd, she proudly raised both arms.
[If this body may speak! The greatest among the great Vanir gods. Half of Einherjar pledge loyalty to this body, leader of all Valkyries! Yes! I am Freyja Vanadis! This body—]
-Poof!
A burst of blossoms exploded vibrantly beside her in an instant. Petal buds shot up through the snowflakes, blooming in unison at her gesture, transforming the checkpoint into a flower-strewn meadow in a flash.
[Worship me if you like!!]
Kirhas stepped back, glaring at the exuberant Freyja. Benefactor with another woman…? She looked up at Fernandez with eyes tinged with betrayal.
“Benefactor, what is this—no, is that woman some kind of crazy… witch?”
“Sadly, she’s a real goddess, Kirhas.”
“A god…? A goddess?”
Kirhas narrowed her eyes at Freyja. She felt an ambiguous presence—something strangely slippery, yet somehow less than an ordinary person’s—leaving her confused.
Abel approached from afar and plucked a flower with a flick. Smiling brightly, she tucked it into Freyja’s hair.
“Long time no see, Vanadis.”
[Lindbrum!! Even more astonishing in person! How are you still alive? I’m so glad. What on earth happened?!]
Freyja beamed and hugged Abel. Abel laughed, stroking her hair. She soon looked up at Fernandez.
“You must’ve had it rough.”
“You too.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Can I hear what happened?”
“I’ll explain once everyone’s gathered. No troubles on your end?”
“Thanks for worrying. You must be tired—let’s head inside.”
Just then, the crowd at the entrance buzzed, parting down the middle. A woman with lion-mane yellow hair blazing, her gaze piercing the heavens with unyielding spirit. Aeren.
The clan warriors bowed in submission and stepped back. Feizashi Wildcast clicked his tongue at the sight.
-Impressive. That woman’s awakened a good chunk of her former power, huh?
‘Different case from Pieranel of the Great Wilderness. Makes sense in a land rife with crises.’
The best way to build soul quality and karma was through experience, and the purest experience came from crises. Aeren’s soul was that of a great angel. If even a fraction awakened, no ordinary person could handle it.
Fernandez turned to the unfamiliar man standing beside her. The man was staring back.
‘Hm?’
After locking eyes for a long moment, the man suddenly raised his axe and hurled it.
-Kwaaaang!
A strike that tore through the air. Fernandez swiftly drew his greatsword from behind and deflected the trajectory. His clothes and hair whipped in the force, snow scattering everywhere.
He gauged his numb hand, spun, and sheathed the sword. The hostility faded quickly. The man stared at him in a daze.
*
The moment the crowd parted and he saw the southerner, Gunnar’s ingrained survival instincts screamed. He was captivated by the southerner’s salt-and-pepper curls and the gloomy blue eyes flickering within.
‘Damn, what the hell…’
Gunnar had sharp eyes. In other words, a sharp eye for people. He instinctively grasped others’ essences, not just their appearances, but in a more spiritual realm.
Thus, he’d sensed something off about this city’s southerners. They acted jovially and boldly, but caution had sprouted in him. Warriors blessed by gods swarmed, and even the frailest girl radiated a divine presence.
Then, the ‘southerner’ they’d all awaited, whispering of nonstop—the apparent leader of the southern warriors—arrived. Gunnar’s heart pounded with fighting spirit and wariness.
And he met him.
‘That’s a monster.’
The world seemed to darken at the sight of his face. The goddess leaping from his pack was shocking, but nothing compared to seeing Fernandez.
Vision dimmed sharply; it felt like only he and the monster existed. Leading his clan against Hazat Kazal’s demons, demonic presences were familiar to him.
But this man. The emotion from Fernandez was too pure for a demon—cold, calm, with low-simmering killing intent and madness blazing from the abyss.
So when their eyes met, an indescribable terror gripped Gunnar, and he flung his axe.
-Kang!
Decades-honed axe throw deflected effortlessly; the monster’s blazing eyes seized Gunnar’s gaze, then his heart beyond. Gunnar ground his teeth and whispered to the flustered Aeren beside him.
“What the hell did you do?”
“What do you mean? Looks like you’re the one who did something, Gunnar. What rudeness toward my guest?”
“Guest? You brought a monster into your clan.”
-Hwaruk.
His vision brightened instantly. The pressure lifted; Gunnar blinked and found Fernandez already upon him, staring. A slender frame a head shorter, fragile enough to shatter with a tap…
“Monster, huh.”
At the whisper, Gunnar shivered at the smile on his lips. Fernandez extended a hand. As Gunnar stared blankly, Fernandez gripped his empty hand and shook it slowly.
“Uh, wha?”
“Nice to meet you. Your name?”
“Gu-Gunnar. Gunnar Vigardsen.”
“Let’s not make an issue of it. We’ve got bigger problems piling up.”
Fernandez patted Gunnar’s rigid back. Gunnar let out a small gasp. He turned to Aeren.
“Call the elders. I’ll explain the situation.”
“…Fine. Come to my tent. And check on your friends. They’re probably at the coast.”
Aeren glanced between Gunnar and Fernandez, then shrugged. Men. Always growling to establish pecking order upon meeting.
*
Zephys was honing his saint-metal longsword. The other inquisitors were polishing weapons or praying alongside him. The clan warriors eyed them warily, and not wanting conflict, they’d stayed on the coastal outskirts.
“Brother.”
Zephys paused mid-stroke and turned toward the voice. Fernandez approached the village entrance, kneeling on one knee.
“Grade-2 Heretic Inquisitor, Religiosa Demonica Fernandez Cerned. I request chastisement for omitting the operation report approval and dragging the brothers to this distant land.”
“Rise, brother. Uncalled-for guilt.”
Zephys extended a firm hand, gripping Fernandez’s shoulder. Fernandez bowed his head slightly.
“Only Demonica brothers came.”
“One Enmagicka brother too. He’s charting an astrolabe inside now.”
“The abbot personally assigned the mission?”
“Still sharp as ever.”
Zephys chuckled and nodded. From the moment Fernandez reported hunting a great demon, he’d anticipated tactical support from the Inquisition.
So he hadn’t requested reinforcements in the report because he knew few would survive—and that was why he knelt before Zephys.
-Why so glum? They’re useful pawns.
Feizashi’s words went unanswered. Fernandez eyed the approaching brothers. Restrained before Zephys, their faces brimmed with joy.
It stirred guilt. The kind from leading them to death. In that moment, Fernandez overlooked that the man before him was a 30-year Inquisition veteran.
“Pointless self-reproach, brother.”
“Brother Zephys.”
“The abbot already said it. No need to repeat.”
The night before departure, Beorn had summoned Zephys personally: ‘Whatever sacrifices come, endure them.’ If Fernandez’s plan to kill the great demon succeeded, it’d be the greatest check against the material world’s end.
Zephys’s reply had been the inquisitors’ brief prayer.
‘Heaven holds a place for us too, brothers.’
The Inquisition trusted Fernandez’s judgment. No choice—they couldn’t not. His achievements proved it. Thus, Zephys smiled and turned toward the red zone. None of the gathered inquisitors felt otherwise.
“I can’t guarantee your safety, brothers.”
“We seek not earthly peace and comfort.”
“It may not be glorious sacrifice, but wretched death awaiting.”
“Deus Vult.”
“Then, Brother Angelo, let’s begin the operation briefing.”
Fernandez stared firmly at Zephys. Zephys met his gaze and shook his head gently.
“You’re Angelo, brother. We are the blades of Lord Beitasser—and yours—in this mission.”
Zephys drew a scroll and steel rod from his robes, handing them to Fernandez. Beorn Shieldbane’s sealed mission writ.
*
Operation Task Force Team – Call Signs
1) Demonica, Fernandez Cerned – Angelo (A)
2) Demonica, Zephys Shiradast – Bardo (B)
3) Demonica, Fabiano Meidas – Carlo (C)
4) Demonica, Sergio Pilermo – Dario (D)
5) Demonica, Brand Chailos – Ermino (E)
6) Enmagicka, Sarbelio Alonto – Feliciano (F)
We shall burn the demons, the heretics, the witches.
Final Approval: Abbot of St. Bartholomew Monastery, Beorn Shieldbane.
*
Beorn’s quill had cracked the parchment, his anguish evident in approving the roster. Below, a line never in standard reports:
[Brother, our paths have always been one.]
[Pray we meet again.]
[Church relic permitted.]
Reading that far, Fernandez rubbed his stinging eyes. The hefty steel rod… Beorn’s cherished Dwarf Thundersower. One of few ancient relics left in the material world.
He carefully hung the Thundersower on his sword belt. Zephys beamed proudly.
“Now, let’s go burn some demons.”
“Yes, brother.”