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“I didn’t think it would be easy, but…”

She muttered, clenching and unclenching her hands in frustration.

“His deformed body is resisting the penetration of my magic. This means my holy power can’t reach him.”

Iris let out a small breath. The remnants of her divine power hovered around the child’s body, crackling like lightning. The father’s blue eyes looked like he had lost all hope.

“Can you get rid of that?”

“If only my magic could penetrate it….”

With that, Iris rolled her sleeve again and placed her hand over the child’s right shoulder. His body had no sign of life, but the tentacles and veins that sprouted over the flesh occasionally pulsed.

“If it does, I should be able to heal him since the tentacles and his flesh are not one. Even if it doesn’t, I will find a way.”

Again, mana surged from her heart and rose, flowing down her arms and into her hands. Iris summoned the mana, this time more aggressively.

The black flesh and Iris’ divine power clashed again. Iris did not withdraw her power. The crackling sound was painful, like scratching a fingernail against a watery window. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead.

“I can do this.”

Iris repeated over and over as if casting a spell on herself. Wax dripped from the man’s candle. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the uneasy silence outside.

(The air is agitated.)

I could feel it, too. Something was about to happen where Bishop Andrei, Marianne, and Arjen were now, though I couldn’t see it through the window.

***

A bone crunched. The woman’s eyes rolled back in her head, half unconscious. Her legs lost their shape with a single hammer blow. Teacher supported her back as she was unable to utter a word of pain. Tears streamed down the woman’s face while she writhed in pain.

“Well done, that was very brave of you.”

Teacher placed his hand on the woman’s leg. Black, ominous energy rose from his hand. Like the waters of the abyss, it began to wrap around her leg. The woman’s gasping breathing subsided.

“This is where we learn our lesson.”

“The pain is only temporary.”

His voice was sweetly seductive as he turned to the people behind him. He looked at the woman and held out his hand. She took it, her eyes blurry with ecstasy. The tears of pain were replaced by the joy that twisted with her expression. Teacher tightened his grip on her hand.

“The reward is eternal.”

Teacher helped the woman to her feet and walked over to the people lined up behind her.

“Now, brother, what did you seek medical attention for?”

“I…had a broken arm.”

The young man replied, involuntarily holding up his right arm. A smile tugged at the corners of the Teacher’s mouth.

“Do I need to help you with that?”

“No.”

Without hesitation, the man slammed his arm onto the floor, took the hammer, and smashed his right arm again. Once, twice. His arms didn’t break, nor did he scream in pain. Teacher snatched the hammer from the man and swung.

He bent down to ease the man’s pain. Marianne turned to Bishop Andrei, glaring at him for orders, but he only shook his head slowly. The next person. The one after. People sprawled out on the floor, reopening wounds that had been healed. The ones later became more and more willing to harm their bodies.

Razors slashed arms, hammers crushed ankles, and knives pierced bodies. The one who had his eyes healed was stabbed with an awl. A thick fluid mixed with blood and the vitreous of his eyeball trickled out.

“Good. Very good.”

Teacher said, removing his hand from the face of the eye gouger. His eyes caught the next person. The ghostly woman’s face hardened as she looked at the people before her. Teacher tilted his head to the side, watching the reaction.

“You’ve only been here briefly, haven’t you?”

The woman shuddered and nodded yes.

“What were you treated for, sister?”

“…I was pierced…in the side…by rubble.”

“I see.”

Teacher nodded emotionlessly and walked toward a corner of the brewery. He picked up an iron pipe on a floor strewn with barrels and tubes, the end of which was cut as sharply as a bamboo spear. The woman stared at it for a long moment when he held it out.

“If you don’t like it, you can refuse. However, I doubt if I, or any of my brothers, can show mercy to such a person.”

Teacher’s voice sank eerily. The woman’s arms trembled, and she reluctantly accepted the pipe. Her hand holding it was shaking. Marianne was agitated.

“Now, Sister. Make your choice. If you need my help, just say the word.”

The woman’s eyes flickered frantically. Teacher’s gaze was binding her, not allowing her to look elsewhere. The woman lifted it high as if she were going to stab herself. As Marianne shifted, ready to stop her, someone stepped in front of Marianne, Andrei, and Arjen. A man with a similar aura to ‘Teacher.’

“Our church has watched your movements for a long time, Inquisitors. We are deeper into the world than you realize.”

The man said in a sarcastic voice. Andrei looked at the curving blades of the cultists in front of them.

“Now, brothers and sisters, look at this. These people from the Holy Land have come here to do us harm with evil in their hearts. They will capture and tie us to their church’s basement chairs.”

Teacher began to ramble again.

“They claim to be the servants of a merciful God, yet they have no mercy. They will crush your breasts with a heated iron, stab your thighs with an awl, and hold you over burning flames. They will torture you, asking you if you are possessed by the devil, if you are in league with him. If you cannot withstand their torture or tell them a lie, they will hang you or burn you alive.”

The people began to murmur. They began to turn hostile gazes toward the three of them, not thinking about the harsh abuse, breaking, and tearing bodies caused by Teacher earlier.

“There must be others still hiding in the town.”

“We will find them.”

“We will catch them and bring them to you.”

The shouting grew louder. The doors opened, and people began to rush out. There was madness in the eyes of the townspeople; they screamed their fury, nearly breaking down the brewery’s doors. Teacher opened his arms wide and looked at the woman with the pipe.

“Let us now show our unity, that we will not be cowed, that we will not give in to the lies and deceit that ignore our suffering!”

The woman’s eyes were blurring. The gazes of her worshippers urged her onward to her death. Teacher smiled.

“Now, do you know what to do, Sister?”

Take that spear, and stick it in your side.

Then, out of the darkness, a flash of metal was all some could see.

“Huh?”

There was a single swing. But the slash went through dozens of people. Blood. In the darkness, blood as black water. It gushed into the sky and fell to the ground, creating a sea. The arms of the cultists who had stood on their feet flew into the air.

Teacher looked down at his severed left arm, then slowly raised his head and looked around. The uproar he had caused died down as quickly as it had been gagged.

“…Huh?”

A man shambled out of the darkness and the crowd, exuding a chill, a power that overwhelmed even his darkness. The man had a sword drawn. Blood dripped from his blade.

“This is an even more disturbing sight than I thought.”

Arjen stepped to the center of the room. He looked at the shivering woman holding the pipe with a disapproving glance, then snatched it from her hand and tossed it into a corner of the brewery. It clattered to the floor.

“You go sit in that corner.”

Arjen waved the woman away, and she gave him a dazed glance before backing away. Marianne walked over and put an arm around her shoulders.

“Nice of you to take care of all the interruptions, by the way.”

Arjen’s voice overwhelmed everyone in the room.

“You evil worshippers are even dumber than I thought.”

Teacher jerked back, his face contorted. The blood pouring from his severed left arm formed tentacles and shot toward Arjen. He frowned and raised his sword, but before he could do so, a swarm of light-wrapped beasts flew out and caught the tentacles.

“Well, you certainly have some skill, and if you hadn’t moved so quickly, I might have been in a bit of trouble.”

Bishop Andrei popped his knuckles and stepped to the mercenary’s side.

“Marianne, you will get the lady out of here. Once she reaches safety, go reinforce the other side. We’ll clean up this place.”

Marianne nodded and led the woman outside. The wide-open doors of the brewery slammed shut behind them. Andrei looked up at Teacher.

“You are certainly out of your minds.”

Teacher’s upper face was covered in tentacles and flesh, like the boy marked by the Disaster. Tentacles akin to an octopus wriggled from the arm Arjen severed.

“You’ve already lost all semblance of humanity.”

“Khhhhh… Foolish choice, choosing to fight us at night.”

Teacher raised his hand, and the bodies of the worshippers began to twist and turn, morphing into grotesque monstrosities. Some were a mix of grasshopper and man, while others sprouted scales on their bodies like snakes.

“What do you think?”

“I’ll tell you.”

Arjen muttered, putting aura into his sword. He glanced back as he did so. Iris would be healing the child. It wouldn’t be long before they were discovered.

This is how the world works, after all. It doesn’t change by chance and luck. It doesn’t laugh at your honest struggles. He didn’t know how the Hero’s party would react to an onslaught of villagers, but he didn’t know how long they would stand idly if harm came to Iris.

“…Yeah. I feel it this time.”

Angry at the Hero, Arjen swung his sword toward the cultists.

Translator’s Corner

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I change minor details in the story based on what I feel is correct. However, I may have made a mistake with how Arjen feels about Elroy. The final line in this chapter is supposed to be, “Arjen faintly felt his hate toward the Hero grow as he swung his sword.” I made their situation a bit worse, as it made sense then. So yeah, keep that in mind.

-Ruminas