Chapter 26
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: The Accused
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Late at night, with moonlight pouring through the tower's glass ceiling, the group sat around a small wooden table in Amella's room, downing mugs of beer.
“Ahh, that’s refreshing.”
Kyle, who had already emptied his mug, wrinkled his nose and let out a ragged breath. One of his eyes was swollen shut—the result of asking why a woman living alone had such a rotten smell in her room when they first entered, which earned him a beating from Amella.
“Drink up. For tonight, you don’t have to worry about a hangover.”
“Haaa…”
Amella’s cheerful words were met with a sigh from Kyle so heavy it seemed the ground might collapse. She tilted her head.
“What’s wrong? Does it still hurt that much?”
“No, it’s not that… It’s just sinking in that this is really the end.”
Amella chuckled softly at his unexpected words.
“Don’t tell me you’re sad about it. About the end of a journey where we woke at dawn, traveled until sunset, and had monsters and demon minions pop out at us left and right?”
Kyle waved his hands dismissively.
“Hey, come on. It’s not that. It’s just… what we’ve built, you know… Hey, Luon, are you just going to keep drinking beer like that?”
As the conversation suddenly turned to him, Luon lowered his mug and spoke.
“Are you trying to say camaraderie?”
Kyle trailed off as he dipped his mug into a large wooden barrel full of beer.
“That’s not quite it either…”
Just then, Amella spoke.
“What will you two do from now on?”
Though she said “you two,” her gaze was fixed on Luon.
Luon answered succinctly.
“I’ll go wherever my feet take me.”
“Right, I knew you’d say that.”
Amella turned her head to look at Kyle.
“And you?”
“Well… I haven’t really thought about it.”
He kept glancing at Luon, a clear sign that he wanted to follow him. But when Luon remained silent with a blank expression, Kyle let out a soft sigh.
“Let’s talk about this later, shall we? It’s not like we’re splitting up right this second.”
He raised his beer mug high, trying to lift the mood.
“How about a toast? It’s been a while.”
***
Looking down at Kyle, who was dead asleep with his face planted on the table, Luon quietly rose to his feet.
He did a quick check of his gear and was about to open the door silently when someone rustled and sat up.
“Kyle’s going to be disappointed, you know.”
Luon tilted his head as Amella approached, stretching.
“You weren’t asleep?”
“I just woke up for a moment.”
As if realizing how unconvincing she sounded, Amella gave a small laugh.
“You didn’t seem like the type to leave amidst goodbyes, so I pretended to be asleep and waited. Guess I was convincing, huh?”
With that, she took out two bottles and handed them to Luon.
One was a red potion made from troll’s blood, which Luon was familiar with, but the other, a potion with a brilliant violet hue, was new to him. He tilted his head as he accepted the bottles.
“This is my personal payment to you.”
“Personal payment?”
As Luon stared down at the violet potion, Amella said with a smile.
“Don’t worry. It’s not poison. You can drink that one right now.”
“Is that so?”
Flicking the cap off with his thumb, Luon immediately downed the contents of the bottle.
No sooner had the viscous liquid slid down his throat than his heart began to pound at an incredible rate. Luon asked.
“What is this?”
“It’s something that makes your bones and muscles stronger and tougher. It would cause a dramatic change in an ordinary person, but with your physical abilities, the difference might not be that great.”
Contrary to Amella’s concern, Luon felt his strength and stamina stats increase slightly and smiled, pleased.
“No, this is more than enough.”
“Are you leaving now?”
“As you can see.”
“You’re impossible.”
Amella shook her head and said.
“Once you’re out of the tower, just walk straight ahead. If you walk for a full day, you’ll reach the village where we rode the hippogriff.”
“I’ll do that.”
Luon nodded and added one more thing before turning to leave.
“When that woodcutter wakes up, tell him I said I hope we meet again.”
“Alright, I will.”
There was no more small talk to be had. Luon and Amella clasped hands briefly, and that was their farewell.
As she watched Luon descend the spiral staircase, Amella murmured softly.
“Farewell.”
***
“How strange.”
Luon marveled at how the land, which had been flat just a moment ago, had transformed into a steep cliff. He stretched out his hand.
After confirming that his hand, passing through a transparent barrier, vanished from sight as if severed, he turned his head.
He might have reason to visit this place again someday, so he meticulously scanned the surrounding terrain before heading down the desolate mountain path. He paused and glanced back.
*It might get a bit lonely for a while.*
He had thought his wandering life had stripped away much of the feeling of lingering attachment, but seeing himself unconsciously turn back, it seemed that wasn't entirely true.
But as always, he began walking forward again.
***
*Thirsty.*
Becky moved her parched lips with great effort. No matter how much she rolled her dry tongue, only moans that failed to form words escaped her mouth.
The ropes that had stolen her freedom dug deeper into her tender skin with each passing moment, inflicting terrible pain.
“Filthy wench.”
The middle-aged man who spat a thick glob of saliva at her feet as he passed was a hunter from the village with whom she had once shared idle jokes.
“Die, witch!”
The child throwing a stone with a tiny hand was someone she had cherished since infancy.
In her muddled consciousness, Becky wondered how things had come to this.
No matter how she thought about it, again and again, everything had started when the woman named Sella came to the village.
The beautiful Sella’s looks were enough to completely dismantle the small village’s clannishness. She quickly took her place beside the village chief, who had been wasting away since his wife’s death a few years prior, and in an instant, she began to rule as the village’s true power.
Becky hadn't paid it much mind.
She had merely thought the woman had a strong stomach to be fawning over the old chief like that.
One late night, finding it unusually difficult to fall asleep, Becky stepped outside, thinking the night air might help.
And she saw it. The sight of Sella entering the home of Kun, the town drunk.
The timing could only be misunderstood, and Becky returned inside, her face flushing.
Having witnessed the unexpected tryst, she tried to shake the memory and struggled to fall asleep.
When she woke late, she heard unbelievable news.
Kun had been found dead in his home. And in a bizarre state, as if all the blood had been drained from his body.
Fear came first, but Becky resolved that she had to tell people what she had seen.
She approached the villagers swarming the scene of the tragedy and was about to open her mouth when,
Sella screamed.
“It was her! I saw that woman go into Kun’s house!”
As Sella shrieked and shed fat tears, the villagers all turned their heads toward Becky.
Becky’s memory of what followed was hazy.
Her hair being pulled, her clothes being torn, her hands and feet being roughly bound—those were the scenes she vaguely recalled.
*It wasn’t me. Sella is lying. She’s the real killer.*
No matter how she screamed until she coughed up blood, the only response was a torrent of curses and stones. Realizing this, Becky eventually fell silent.
The villagers, who trusted Sella with an unnatural conviction, followed her suggestion. Just as had happened to the deceased Kun, they sentenced Becky to die of dehydration. And so, the morning of the third day dawned.
*God, please help me.*
As she cried out to God in her fading consciousness, Becky suddenly realized the sunlight was no longer beating down on her face. She lifted her head.
A man with a massive frame stood there.
His face was obscured by the sun at his back, but she could clearly see his deep, unwavering black eyes.
There was no anger or disgust in those eyes, so Becky squeezed out a cracking voice.
“He… help…”
Instead of answering, the man took a waterskin from his pack and brought it to Becky’s lips.
As the water moistened her lips and trickled down her throat, Becky’s body trembled from the overwhelming sense of refreshment.
With life returning to her hazy eyes, she could see the man’s features clearly.
His great height, broad shoulders, and muscular arms with veins coiling beneath the skin.
A low, deep voice, fitting his intimidating appearance, reached her ears.
“What happened?”
At that question, Becky burst into tears. For the past three days, no one had asked her that.
After sobbing for a while, she composed herself and was about to speak when,
The villagers came pouring out.
“Who are you?!”
“Did you just give that witch water? Are you insane?”
“Get away from her, outsider!”
*What a mess.*
Luon let out a soft sigh. He had rushed to the first village he’d found in a while, only to discover a half-dead woman tightly bound and groaning in the village square.
The cruelty of it seemed to defy any reasonable explanation. All he had done was offer a sip of water and ask a single question, and it was enough to bring out every person in the village. It was impossible not to be taken aback.
The men shouting at him looked ready to charge at any moment.
And it wasn’t just the men. Women, children, and the elderly all rushed out, forming a large circle around them and starting to scream.
Having suddenly become the center of attention, Luon glanced at the woman cowering and curling her toes, then spoke.
“Why is this woman tied up?”
At his question, the people screamed as if having a seizure.
“She’s a witch!”
“She’s a demon who murdered an innocent villager!”
“She deserves to die the same way! The same way!”
Luon scratched his head. No matter how he looked at her, the trembling woman before him didn’t seem like a witch or a demon. Besides, how could ordinary villagers possibly subdue such a creature?
This wasn’t a matter of intuition; it was a situation that defied common sense.
But looking at the gleaming eyes of the people, it didn't seem like a conversation based on common sense would get him anywhere.
Luon let out a low growl.
“Will you shut your mouths?”
With that, he turned his head, his eyes sweeping over each of their faces.
Those who had been hiding behind the shield of the crowd swallowed hard and lowered their heads when they met Luon’s piercing gaze.
*That’s better.*
As silence fell, Luon gave a faint smile.
Just then, someone shouted.
“Who are you to persecute our villagers and help a witch?”
Turning his head toward the sharp voice, Luon saw a blonde woman with a voluptuous figure emerge from behind the slowly retreating villagers.
As Luon stared intently at the blonde woman, the tied-up woman’s panting voice reached him.
“…It’s her.”
The words were clipped, but Luon nodded briefly, as if he understood.
“I thought so.”
The holy sword at his hip was vibrating faintly. Luon immediately gripped its hilt, feeling the hostile emotion contained within.
He drew the sword without hesitation. The blonde woman screamed, her face pale.
“He’s in league with the witch!”
At her words, the once-quiet villagers were about to erupt in agreement when,
Luon spoke softly.
“Let’s drop the pathetic act.”