Trapmaster (2)
The second time the Hero of Alchemy Eric and “that man” left me a message. Honestly, it pissed me off. It felt like I was living according to someone else’s script, completely against my own will. I don’t believe in fate. Yet someone keeps shoving it down my throat. You must reincarnate. You must become the Saintess. You must free Behemoth. You must prevent the Purification Device from falling into the hands of the Chaos Sect.
Was all of this designed by the Goddess of Light, Lumentis? Or was it “that man” who gave Eric all those orders? And why the hell did the Hero of Alchemy Eric follow “that man’s” instructions in the first place?
The letter contained the official name of the Purification Device and its exact location.
“This place… isn’t this where the dungeon that Trevor’s adventurer party recently discovered is supposed to be?”
When I asked Mint about the location of the Purification Device, that was her answer.
“They kept begging me to join their party! Because of that, I had to operate in other adventurer districts for months…”
“So it was all to get you to participate in excavating that dungeon.”
“Looks like it, timing-wise. I don’t know what this Purification Device actually is, though.”
On the way back to Minoris, I followed up my question about the Purification Device’s location by asking about Trevor himself.
“Captain Trevor? I’ve only seen him a few times. From what I hear, he started with a small adventurer party a few years ago, grew ridiculously fast, pushed out the existing groups, and took over his current territory. They say he’s the most upright and fair captain in Minoris? I don’t know why, but I hated him. The way he chain-smokes until his office is thick with smoke, and that look in his eyes when he stares at people… it gave me the creeps.”
“His eyes?”
“Hmm… how do I put it? He didn’t look at people like they were people. More like objects.”
That description felt way too familiar. It was exactly how the Clown looked at people. From the circumstances, it seemed Captain Trevor was either a member of the Chaos Sect or the Trapmaster in disguise. Since I’d never actually met him, I couldn’t be sure yet.
The condition for me to detect an Apostle of Chaos like the Clown or a Seed of Sin was to come into contact with them within a certain distance. I had to get close to the person, object, or whatever was connected to them. That’s how I’d been able to see or smell them before.
But what about the Trapmaster? What method did he use to spread the Seeds of Sin?
In all the months I’d been active in Minoris, I had never sensed anything. I’d never caught that rotting stench that could make your nose fall off, nor had I seen anyone carrying a seed inside their body. What the hell was going on?
There was no way someone (or some group) connected to the Chaos Sect would just leave me alone. Even though communication technology in this world was nowhere near Earth’s level, there was no way my disguise—using a fake name and dyeing my hair silver—had actually worked. That was exactly why I had originally planned to work completely alone.
The holy techniques I used were fundamentally different from those of ordinary priests. It was easy to fake silent casting by reciting unnecessary prayers, but the results were completely different. According to the guys from the Holy Front Knights, the blessings I gave were three times more effective than normal. That’s why I tried my best to keep the fact that my holy techniques were insanely powerful from spreading. Instead, I worked hard to build an image of myself as an abnormally strong priest.
It was while I was pondering all this that we arrived in the Trevor adventurer party’s territory in Minoris.
“Lady Lea, Lady Mint… this is…”
That was when I finally learned how the Trapmaster operated.
Goosebumps erupted across my entire body. Every cell in me screamed in alarm. Get out of here. Purify this place. Destroy it.
Adventurers were pointing blades at each other. Buildings were burning.
The Trapmaster’s method was the land itself. A Seed of Sin had been planted in Minoris.
Trevor—no, the Trapmaster—watched the distant flames with a satisfied smile.
Just a few hours ago, this had been one of the pillars of Minoris under his control. He felt no attachment whatsoever. After all, he had taken the territory precisely to turn it into this.
The past few years had been unbearably boring. To someone like the Trapmaster who had lived for a very long time, it was nothing more than a fleeting moment, but the human persona of “Trevor” he had been acting as was an incredibly dull man.
Living things shine brightest in moments of crisis. To survive, some betray, some steel their resolve, and some give up in despair. The Trapmaster took pleasure in observing such beings.
The human named Trevor whose skin the Trapmaster had stolen and worn was the complete opposite. A weakling who hated dying so much that he only wandered around the lowest-grade dungeons with his party. Not only that, he spent half of every dungeon haul on emergency supplies. For the original Trevor, becoming an adventurer had probably been the biggest gamble of his life.
The Trapmaster turned around. Hundreds of mummified corpses, completely drained of blood, lay scattered across the ground. They had once been adventurers who arrived in Minoris with big dreams. Now they had a new name.
Sacrifices.
“Tsk.”
The Trapmaster clicked his tongue in clear displeasure at the gruesome sight. He absolutely hated when his plans went awry. Those hundreds of corpses were the result of that deviation. Originally, he hadn’t needed nearly that many sacrifices. Just about a hundred humans and one girl would have been enough.
The delay had come from failing to secure that one girl. It shouldn’t have been difficult. If necessary, he could have simply used force.
…If only that girl hadn’t started working with the thirteenth Saintess candidate.
The Trapmaster couldn’t understand the Prophet’s orders. Absolutely do not make contact first. That little bloodbag who had barely been born looked so fragile that the Trapmaster could pop her like a balloon with just a little squeeze.
Ha! Permanently destroying part of the Clown’s main body? What a fucking idiot.
“Apostle.”
A follower of the Chaos Sect approached and spoke to the Trapmaster.
“Is everything ready?”
“The life force of the sacrifices has been refined without issue thanks to the Immortal One’s arrangement. However…”
“However?”
“A powerful seal has been placed on it. It appears to have been designed so that it can only be opened with a specific artifact.”
Upon hearing those words, the Trapmaster grew furious. And he recalled a certain damned human he had fought long ago.
“Apostle, this…”
The Chaos Sect follower then handed the Trapmaster a single letter.
“What is this?”
“When the excavation was completed, we discovered a letter preserved with sealing magic.”
The follower took a breath before continuing.
“We did not dare open it. The recipient of the letter… was you, Apostle.”
The Trapmaster examined the letter he had received.
Hey, you pathetic loser who can’t even make a proper dungeon. Wash your neck and wait. I’ve sent the world’s cutest kid to smash your skull in.
— Super Genius Hero Eric —
P.S. What kind of name is Trapmaster? You can’t even set traps better than me, you hack.
“…The Hero of Alchemy. You motherfucking son of a bitch!!!!!”
It was pure pandemonium. The stench of burning and blood filled the air.
“I feel… weird…”
“Me too… Hey, you okay? You’re pretty frail, aren’t you?”
“Don’t call me that! I’ll kill you!! Hic! S-sorry! Wait, why am I apologizing?! This is all your fault, you bitch!”
“Whoa, whoa… what’s wrong with you? It’s like you have a split personality. Actually, now that I think about it, you’re suddenly talking really politely? Want me to smack you?”
So that’s how the influence shows itself.
“Both of you, stop. It looks like you two have some resistance. Focus. Otherwise you’ll get swallowed.”
The moment I spoke, Noah and Mint quickly regained their composure.
“Haa… fuck. Guess I can’t hide who I am anymore.”
I moved my holy power. Maybe because I was actively using it, the silver hair I had dyed with a magic tool began turning back into golden blonde.
Finding the location of the seed wasn’t difficult. But I needed to minimize the number of victims, even a little. In that case, I just had to spread holy power across the entire area. There was no problem with that.
I could use Imagery and Word of Command.
If there was one thing I had realized during my fight with the Clown quite a while ago, it was that the holy techniques I used became far more powerful when my will and voice combined. To other priests, it might look less like “no prayer required” and more like “prayer makes it stronger.” However, since I don’t pray to any god, I decided to call them Imagery and Word of Command.
Back then I had cringed hard at my own chuuni lines, but after experimenting a few times, the results were outstanding.
Damn it. Looks like I have to bring out my middle-school-second-year syndrome sensibilities after a long time. I hope Mint doesn’t tease me about it later.
I declare—
Within my domain, no one shall be corrupted.
The moment I took a single step, a golden radiance spread out around me. The adventurers who had been staring at each other with hazy eyes, swords pointed and stabbing, regained the light in their gazes.
I declare once more.
Without my permission, no one may die.
At this moment, this place shall become a sanctuary.
Those who had collapsed on the ground began to rise one by one.
…But there were some who did not get up.
They were already dead.
I cannot bring back the dead.
Not yet.
…Yes. Not yet.