Chapter 114: The Created God
Chapter 114: The Created God
The mercenaries felt chills as they watched the corpse twitch even with a dagger embedded in its head.
-When dealing with undead, you must always destroy the head. Even if it's a death knight, once the head is smashed, it's finished.
-But they don't even have brains, do they?
-I don't know the principle either. It's probably just one of the world's fundamental laws or something.
It was an age when the line between faith offered to the gods and belief in the laws of the world was blurred.
The cardinal rule was that anything died if its head was destroyed. That principle gave mercenaries the foundation to face monsters and other supernatural beings stronger than themselves.
A heretical god that shook that belief could frighten even the most seasoned veterans.
But to Eugene, the sight only forced him to look more directly at what a god was: a pitiful being struggling in fear of sinking somewhere deeper and darker than where it was now.
THUNK!
When the blade of Last Autumn drove into the corpse's back, the twitching stopped. The Mystic energy filling the room also vanished, as though absorbed—no, banished—into the goddess statue.
"It's over."
The mercenaries inside the chapel felt for a moment as though the goddess statue was weeping. Within it lay only an emotion of resignation.
The heretical friars were all dead, but through the captured slave traders, they were able to ascertain the group's identity.
"So these slavers began as a religious group? Interesting."
Marbas, who had arrived after the area was secured, stroked his beard as he looked at the golden goddess statue.
His beard, grown through winter and spring after he escaped the spiritual flames, had passed the prickly stage. He looked to be in a good mood, perhaps because he had achieved a wish he had dreamed of for thirty years.
"Vanas, the Goddess of Tolerance. She's not exactly an evil being."
Eugene flicked the goddess statue's leg with his finger. Now that he had the leisure to observe properly, it was an exceedingly sensual figure.
She stood bare with her weight on one leg to emphasize her curves, her hips and breasts both voluptuous.
In her left hand she held scales, and in her right, a binding rope. The tools held in the hands were important symbols that determined a god's identity.
"The mercenaries said she turned her own followers into undying monsters?"
Though called undying, it was a forbidden power that clearly defied the laws of nature. Naturally, some form of side effect followed.
A shortened lifespan was the best-case outcome. Sometimes the soul was eaten away and the recipient degenerated into an undead. It was a typical power granted by heretical evil gods.
"But a god cannot force such a thing unless the believer desires and accepts it, can they?"
"That's true, but the very act of being willing to bestow such a blessing makes them a dangerous being."
"Even if it's a miracle of immortality, its purpose is different from what evil gods grant. It was meant for tolerance, not conflict."
"What do you mean?"
Marbas had arrived late and only heard a brief explanation, so he knew less than Eugene, who had been grilling the slavers from the start.
"Vanas has existed since ancient times, from an era far more savage than now. As her epithet suggests, she is a goddess who protected prisoners defeated in war and the inhabitants of occupied villages from the victors."
The present world was harsh to the defeated as well. But it could not compare to ancient times, when even a proper sense of ethics had not been established.
It was a hopeless era when rituals involving human sacrifice were not even considered particularly evil acts.
"But just before being buried by the waves of time, her divinity was revived as she received the worship of a certain minority tribe."
"That minority tribe must be this slave trader clan?"
"Yes. With her existence on the verge of vanishing, she had to grab whatever lifeline she could."
She had gone from a goddess who spread mercy to a mere pawn of the slavers.
"That binding rope was probably never her symbol originally, but something the slave traders attached to her arbitrarily."
"That's correct. When a god has very few believers, the roles of master and servant sometimes become reversed."
"What would she have been holding originally?"
"Who knows. Perhaps a sheaf of wheat full of grain, or a bowl containing salve? It's a matter of imagination. She would also have been properly clothed, more than this."
The current Vanas could be considered similar to a queen bee.
A queen bee receives the devoted service of worker bees, but in a sense, she is also an egg-laying slave.
If she showed even a moment of laziness, she was prodded by the workers, and if she had any problem with her reproductive ability, she was purged immediately.
Among the ancient gods with only a handful of believers remaining, it was not uncommon for them to eke out such pitiful existences.
They strayed from the divine domain they had originally governed and were reshaped according to their followers' desires.
"The blessing of the undying body was also originally meant for warriors who defended villages from invaders. So that those who suffered fatal wounds could share a final embrace with their families."
"And these bastards used it for their own battles."
"Yes. Originally, it was a blessing that only gave enough strength to speak for a few minutes. The slaver clan modified it until it could be used in combat..."
Eugene paused briefly, searching for the right word, then soon opened his mouth again.
"They refined it over centuries. The side effects are so severe that it can only be used sparingly in a last-resort situation."
"At this rate, isn't it closer to a dire wolf they were raising here rather than a god?"
"Not to that extent. Whether slavers or priests, their faith itself seems to have been genuine."
The fanaticism blazing in the heretical friars' eyes and the desperate prayer of the last believer contained genuine faith, not the attitude of people looking at a mere tool.
Though distorted, they too had once been a wandering people facing desperate straits. They would have met and served Vanas while earnestly longing for salvation.
"Then what will you do? Will you melt it down?"
"I'm considering it."
The mercenaries kept glancing at the goddess statue. Once the unholy energy had been banished by the holy sword Eugene wielded, their fear had vanished.
What remained was a beautiful, sensual work of art with a trace of sorrow in its pose.
Gold and allure blended together harmoniously. It was only natural that the mercenaries were drawn to it.
"Rampage?"
Rampage, the dwarf centurion who had been observing the goddess statue this way and that with a tool in hand, nodded.
"It's 99.9 percent pure. A perfect lump of gold."
"I can still feel a flow of mystical energy within it."
Unlike the awestruck dwarf, the summoner seemed uneasy.
"Even an extinguished campfire takes time for the embers beneath to die down completely. If left alone, it won't last long anyway."
Eugene made his decision.
"Take the goddess statue. I will bring it to the castle."
"Indeed. If it's kept in that castle, there shouldn't be any particular problem."
Marbas also nodded.
If the fallen god was a pebble, the Wandering Castle was a vast lake. The difference in the Mystic power they radiated and in their sheer scale was beyond comparison.
Even symbols containing powerful divine or magical power would be unable to assert themselves inside the Wandering Castle. Much less a dying god—it posed no danger at all.
The female warriors under Cassandra placed leashes on the slave traders, driving them like dogs to search for hidden goods.
This was because even after the mercenaries had swept through once, truly valuable items had been hidden in secret places.
"If I tell you everything, you will spare us, won't you?"
"Hmm?"
"Please..."
"Who knooows? Wouldn't it depend on how you behave?"
Beaming.
To the questions of the slave trader eagerly guiding them, the female warriors answered with radiant smiles.
The sight overflowed with a decadent beauty that made 'sweet poison' feel apt. It was easy to see why the slavers had gone to such lengths to capture them.
But to the slave trader receiving the smile, it felt as if a blade was being pressed against his throat. This was because their eyes were not smiling at all.
Yet he was not in a position to press them for an answer either. The whip held in their other hand would fly without mercy if he did.
As expected, once the search was complete, the slavers were discarded after outliving their usefulness.
"You cannot do this! We helped you so diligently!"
"Please, mercy! I was only following orders!"
The low-ranking ones mostly used their superiors as shields.
"If you spare my life, I will serve you loyally! I will surely be of use to you!"
The middle-manager types, who were reasonably competent and bore no direct responsibility, attempted to bargain.
"You are making a mistake."
The ringleaders who had tried to escape through the secret passage maintained their composure. They seemed to have grasped that death awaited them regardless.
"Do you have some reliable backer?"
"Hmph!"
Eugene's question was met with nothing but a snort.
"Well, we have plenty of time. We can take our time hearing you out."
As Eugene nodded, a punishment that fell somewhere between interrogation and execution began.
If they had simply lost a battle and been taken prisoner, that would be one thing. Instead, they had conspired with adventurers hired for money and lured innocent warriors into a trap.
In such cases, customary law granted the right to inflict any form of retaliation. Even a priest or noble of high renown could not arbitrarily mediate this.
Some time passed.
"Gyaaagh!"
"This is rather harsh. Shall I suggest they show some mercy at this point?"
Standing beside him, Rex gauged the mood as Cassandra and the warrior women went about their brutal work.
Frankly speaking, by his own standards, it was nothing, but he could no longer cling to the tribe's old ways as he had in the past.
It was because Rex did not want Eugene, who was becoming their lord rather than merely their employer, to see them as barbarians.
"They forced your people through a brutal siege, even to the point of drinking their own piss. Shouldn't we let them take enough revenge to get it out of their system?"
"Do they not seem too cruel in your eyes, Sir Knight?"
The warrior women carrying out the punishment radiated enough menace to make even sailors who had spent hundreds of days at sea shrink back.
The idiomatic expression that they were man-eaters could not have been more fitting.
"As long as they're good to me, what does it matter?"
"You are a strange one yourself, Sir Knight."
Perhaps it was because of this very aspect that they could get along so well.
"That aside, I wish you'd come a little sooner."
Eugene swept his gaze over the slaves lined up on the other side, their faces frozen in terror. Most were between their teens and twenties.
The number was not large. It was because it had not been long since they had concluded their regular dealings.
"For slaves, they're in pretty good condition. I was expecting filthy people dressed in rags."
"That is because they were not for sale as oarsmen or miners. These slavers dealt with high-end clientele. If the wrapping is poor, the price drops."
"You know your stuff."
Rex and the tribal warriors grinned.
"Raiding slavers was something our tribe did from time to time. Good exercise, good money, and loyal servants who owe you a debt. There are benefits all around."
"Which of them could fetch a ransom?"
"No chance. There are few slavers mad enough to abduct a noble family's bloodline."
"They tried to kidnap your tribespeople by the hundreds, didn't they?"
"Our House may be treated almost like nobility, but we're still a wandering mercenary group. We're outsiders and a different race. We're dangerous, but still the sort of target someone might gamble on for a chance at a fortune."
Had Eugene not been with them, they would not only have failed to rescue them in time, but they would have had no means of penetrating this deep into Samur.
Two tribal warriors stepped forward before the slaves.
"The slavers who kidnapped you have met their end at our hands. But we are not philanthropists. We cannot simply let you go. Even if we did, you would only be cast out into the world with no money, no food, and no connections."
Among them, a fierce-looking man with a rugged build and a knife scar on his face shouted.
Half of the rescued slaves were frozen in terror, while the other half listened with cautious faces. It was because his words were not exactly wrong.
All of them had been abducted from faraway places and had no material or personal base here.
A future of starving to death in the wild or being eaten by wild dogs, wolves, bears, or other monsters was by no means strange.
Even if they entered a nearby village, peace would be hard to come by. They would become vagrants under constant suspicion, or they would be worked to death with their wages slashed due to local hostility.
"But if you come with us, we promise you a peaceful and stable future. We will provide you with food, drink, clothing, and a place to rest. If you wish, we can even teach you skills."
This time, a middle-aged woman of slender build spoke. Her face was kindly and her voice soft.
Of course, one could feel that her body, like that of the Black Hand Tribe, had been terrifyingly well-trained.
"We will fairly compensate you for your labor, and with it, you may buy your freedom. If you choose to leave then, you may leave, and if you stay, you are also welcome."
Beside the middle-aged woman stood a beastkin maidservant.
A healthy, confident-looking maidservant with a good complexion. The clothes she wore were also fine. What that implied required no further explanation.
After the man and woman finished saying what needed to be said, they gave the slaves time to talk among themselves.
At first, they hesitated, gauging each other's reactions, but soon they gathered in small groups and began to whisper.
"Good cop, bad cop?"
"What is that?"
Rex looked puzzled at Eugene's murmur.
"Uh... carrot and stick?"
"Aha!"
This time, he understood at once.
People were much the same everywhere, judging by the existence of a proverb with the same meaning.
The slaves made their decision quickly. Without a single exception, they said they would follow the army. They climbed onto the carts along with the gold and silver treasures, the spoils of war, and the golden goddess statue.
Those who had come as guests were released as they were, given minimal arms and traveling expenses. Since they had a base nearby, that would suffice.
"Would it not be cleaner to squeeze a ransom out of them or simply kill them?"
Rex smacked his lips as he watched them trudge away.
"It's not like they're our sworn enemies. Besides, we need people to spread the word about what happens if you touch your clan. So that this kind of thing doesn't happen again."
Anyone who harmed the Clan would be pursued to places they thought impossible to reach and smashed to pieces. Rumors like that could protect the Clan more securely than steel armor.
"There may be some who do not know their place and try something foolish."
"It doesn't matter."
Eugene shrugged.
"If they seem easy, crush them. If they seem tough, we just leave. It's not so different from the life you've maintained until now."
"That is true."
Living in the castle, they often felt as if they had become a settled people. But in essence, nothing had changed from the life of a wandering tribe.
"And since we hold their dirty laundry, there might be a place to use it later."
Eugene was not expecting much from that part, either.
"That reminds me, I'm curious about one thing."
"Ask me anything."
"Do your people believe in a god as well?"
Though they had known each other for a long time, the dark elves did not seem to particularly lead a religious life.
They had a culture of holding rites and paying homage to great warrior ancestors, but it was not to the extent of being called religion.
"We do not. There was a time long ago, but we cast aside our faith when we were split off, as if banished, from elf society in the distant past. Why do you suddenly ask?"
"I was thinking it might be an amusing pastime to toss some feed to a being that's fallen into my grasp."
"Excuse me?"
Eugene looked at the dire wolf receiving chunks of meat from Homi.
His gaze passed over the puzzled face of Rex and stopped at the golden goddess statue.
To Eugene, who wielded otherworldly power more formidable than anyone else's, a fallen god was not an object of awe. Like a spirit, it was simply something to research or bargain with.