Journey to the North - 3
In Ludmilan Village, I had three tasks to handle.
Imprint the existence of the Nidhog Cult on the protagonist.
Find and secure the Rune Fragment hidden somewhere in the village.
Save as many villagers as possible.
That was the plan, but after Garum unexpectedly dug up that note, the last task vanished from my mind.
'Whether the note's contents are true is unclear...'
But my gut told me they were.
When I saw the torn edge of the paper, it was obvious it'd been ripped from a diary.
The villagers would've already disposed of the victims' belongings. The writer must've tucked the note between their teeth, hoping no more victims like them would suffer—desperate to preserve the truth.
It was too earnest to dismiss as fake.
'Worst case, I can cross-check it against info the others gather to verify.'
Three days—not too long, not too short.
All I had to do was uncover the truth and squeeze out maximum gains.
As my lips twitched into a grin at the intriguing turn, Garum trotted up to me. It spun in circles before sitting, clearly fishing for praise.
"Good job."
I scratched under its chin like a chin rub, then pocketed the note. After a brief moment of silence to honor the unjustly slain, I stood.
Sadly, I couldn't fulfill the note's wish to spread the truth across the empire. Instead, I planned to hold a festival here in three days.
May it properly commemorate the countless victims.
A bit removed from Ludmilan Village stood the assembly hall.
An outsider arrived at the building just as villagers gathered for the meeting—not dragged in by zealots, but walking in boldly on his own two feet.
The village chief, top dog of Ludmilan, greeted him.
"Today, I have someone to introduce to everyone. Or should I say, a new brother?"
"I'm Ketchup, servant of Narald, the creator and father of all. Pleased to meet you."
"Brother Ketchup has donated a whopping 100 gold coins to support our activities. And he's even offered to fund missionaries spreading Lord Narald's gospel across the empire. Give him a big round of applause!"
Clap clap clap!
The hall filled with the villagers' applause.
Basking in the cheers, Ketchup officially joined the cult.
Not even blinking at shelling out 100 gold, his true identity was, of course, Hines Altesia.
A single dot under his eye served as his meager disguise, but the insular Ludmilan folk had no clue he was the Altesia heir.
"Thanks to Brother Ketchup's donation, we're flush with cash. I plan to expand our operations with this capital, but anyone have better ideas? Raise your hand."
Hines's mind brimmed with ways to grow the cult, but he kept quiet.
His goal wasn't strengthening the Narald Cult, after all.
As he observed silently, one villager shot up a hand.
"Chief, I have a great plan."
"Lara, I expected as much from our smartest member. What's the plan?"
"What our cult lacks most is military power. Kidnapping northern travelers for steady sacrifices works for now, but it won't last forever."
Hines stared intently at Lara mid-rant.
His gaze held disillusionment, betrayal, glee— a whirlwind of emotions.
She wasn't his favorite, but he'd been one of the players who'd proposed to her and seen her ending.
Seeing Lara boldly stand among the zealots, Hines chuckled casually.
"So, use the funds to build up everyone's strength?"
"Weapons and armor flowing into a quiet village like this would draw suspicion. We need to recruit skilled fighters loyal to our cult."
Goosebumps prickled Hines's skin as he heard Lara's words live.
It was the red pill revealing every "heroic" act from the main heroine as facade.
Seducing the protagonist to revive the Narald Cult, crushed by rival cults.
Even the epilogue—building a new nation on the fallen empire's ruins with the protagonist—flashed in his mind, making him shudder.
Her as queen, casually sacrificing humans.
'And post-cult collapse, no one surpasses the protagonist in power...'
If she'd charmed or brainwashed the king into following her, it'd mean an unstoppable cult kingdom.
Lara had to be eliminated.
At minimum, I couldn't let the protagonist "save" her scenario play out.
'It should be about time...'
Hines checked his pocket watch.
Just then, a vigilante burst into the hall.
Behind him, as he flung the doors wide, black smoke billowed from the village.
"W-We have enemies... Gahk!!"
"Kyaaack!"
A sword pierced the gasping vigilante's heart from behind.
The black-robed figure yanked it free, flicking off the blood.
"No wonder the village felt eerily empty—you were all holed up here."
Screeech!
The robed man blew the whistle around his neck.
An arrow from a hall vigilante pierced his forehead, but the signal reached enemy ears.
"Half of you evacuate through the back! The rest, hold here!"
The chief barked orders while prepping his own rear exit.
Yet no one protested, following blindly—Hines was impressed.
Religion really twists people into self-sacrificing zealots.
Good thing he was an atheist.
"Brother Ketchup, can you fight?"
"No, I'm just a merchant—no combat experience."
Hines offered his palm.
Smooth, callus-free.
Noting the chief's disappointment, Hines dangled a tempting offer.
"But my hired guards are waiting nearby. Best to link up with them."
"Can they be trusted?"
"I paid top coin for them. I swear on Lord Narald—they're safe."
"Fine. Let's get out and meet your guards!"
The chief grabbed Lara and other key talents, bolting out the back.
Screams echoed from the front, but the zealots didn't look back.
They didn't get far before Nidhog cultists encircled them.
Among the encirclement loomed Isaac Saint York, one of Nidhog's elite knights.
"Found the remaining heretic remnants. Eliminate immediately."
In mortal peril, the chief was about to beg when Hines bellowed.
"Hey, you! Who're you calling heretics?!"
"You lot, obviously. Idolaters worshiping a nonexistent god."
"You seem like religious nuts yourselves. Who're you following to pull this immoral crap?"
"The evil dragon Nidhog, who'll purify this filthy world."
"Ha! Worshiping a non-god. A lizard famous for whoring itself out to carriages, no less!"
"K-Ketchup, brother!"
"Lord Nidhog isn't some lowly dragon! She's an elegant beauty with jet-black scales!"
In the direst straits, Hines kept provoking—the chief fidgeted anxiously.
No chance to beg now.
Undeterred, Hines pressed on.
"Female? You guys see dragons as sex objects? Ugh! Dragons live thousands of years—that's not just old, it's rotten, you granny-loving scum!"
"...Kill them."
Deeming further talk pointless, York pointed at Hines and ordered the slaughter.
Hines grinned and slipped into the huddled zealots.
Hidden in the crowd, pinpointing him grew tricky.
Nidhog followers hacked through obstacles, hunting him.
Panicked zealots scattered for survival; Nidhog pursuers gave merciless chase.
Screams rang nonstop—the chief, mid-beg, lost his head too.
"Where's the bastard who mocked Lady Nidhog? I want his corpse desecrated!"
"We gathered the bodies, but no sign of him. Probably slipped away with the escapees."
"Find him at all costs and drag him to me!"
"Yes, sir."
York threw all subordinates into pursuit for Hines.
He sat crushing corpse piles, awaiting returns.
But he sprang up soon enough.
Boom! Crash! Kaboom!
Explosions rocked the forest where zealots fled.
Realizing the trap, York raised his whistle—
"Guh?!"
A dagger split it, nicking his philtrum.
"Nice, Coco. Your throwing's improved a ton."
"Ehehe!"
"You little...!"
Hines emerged from behind a rock with Coco.
Earlier, amid the crowd, he'd shadow-stepped out via pre-planted Coco.
Then sacrificed zealots to isolate the enemy leader.
York fell for the bait, creating Hines's ideal setup.
"Don't expect any subordinates to return alive. Forest's rigged with traps."
"So what? Better for me—I'll kill you myself!"
"I'm not alone."
"That brat's your hope? I'll crush her personally!"
Thud!
York slammed his massive greatsword down.
Darkness erupted from the blade, engulfing the area.
His mad laughter echoed through the cold, sticky void.
"Hahaha! In the darkness granted by Lady Nidhog, no one sees but me! Think you blind fools can beat me?!"
"Coco."
"Ung?"
"Remember the smell?"
"Yup!"
Your counter, asshole.