325 Price of Sin #2
Human hunter Desros.
They are a criminal organization formed by the convergence of numerous illegal small groups.
It’s a brutally cruel group, known by all, yet aside from their name and extreme wickedness, not much is revealed about them, and the rumors surrounding them are all over the place.
As far as I know, Skargard was one of the higher-ranking officers among them.
Having many hunters at his beck and call, dragging people from everywhere to make them gladiators— this was impossible without significant influence.
According to what I’ve overheard, they even have some kind of connection with the central government, so it seems even the local officials turn a blind eye to Skargard’s affairs.
Of course, at the time, I had no leisure to care about such facts.
I was preoccupied; training as a gladiator, covered in bl**d-streaked sand, leaving my mind blank.
And then, suddenly, an enigmatic challenger appears— a Samaritan with black hair beneath a white pelt!
Killing magnificently, dying horrifically—!
Not bad physique? Should comfortably last until Act 5. I’m putting my vote that he dies in Act 7.
Amidst the irregular sounds ringing around me, a long-forgotten sensation is awakening. Along with that comes the uncomfortable feeling of chains or shackles on my free body.
So, after all the turns and twists, it’s back to the arena?
But unlike when I was trembling with fear standing by the stage before, I oddly feel an overflow of strength within me now.
This strange heat, this humid, foreign-smelling surrounding—it all feels like it’s tuned to me, and it makes my body seethe with power.
It gives me confidence that I could achieve anything or do anything now.
Clank, clatter—.
Far ahead, the door in front of me, that dark passage, is making loud metallic sounds. It must be the iron gate opening.
Cacit, Cicat-. Kerrangh, uuuuhhh-.
And then, a truly horrifying green demon appeared.
With a skull helmet and bone jewelry, swinging a studded club wildly—it seems utterly consumed by a malevolent will to destroy something immediately.
Let the first act commence! As usual, the green novice hunter Groolz-. Even in Act 1, the most casualties happen here-.
Ignoring the strange voice of the commentators echoing strangely around this underground square, I looked into the eyes of the green monster slowly approaching me.
Gaarrrgh, ugh…
“Get lost if you don’t want to d*e, idiot.”
Geruh…
“I’m giving you a chance to act wisely.”
Ugh…
Did he understand me? The goblin adorned with the bone trinkets just turned his back and returned to the darkness from where he came, back to the iron cage.
Clank, clack.
What, what’s going on here? Groolz, who would even fight lions, has forfeited the match!
What’s going on? Did you give that goblin some herb or something, and now he just walks away like this? A goblin that would even take on trolls twice his size…!
I can sense the crowd’s bewilderment. They probably can’t believe their eyes at what just happened.
But this was entirely expected.
No matter how fierce the dog, it can’t overcome the dog catcher. Watching my father, who ran the Health Center, boil many ferocious dogs alive left an indelible impression on me.
They bare their teeth, curl their tails, and even urinate in fear.
Since I’m a naturally gifted goblin executioner from Iron Tier, it’s no wonder goblins tremble in fear when they see me.
The fear hormones goblins release in their d*ath throes, the ominous sensation of d*ath itself, seem to be etched deeply within my being.
Useless goblin child. Quickly, open the cage for Act 2. Let the wolves out.
Wait, the cages are already open, but they’re not coming out.
What? d*mn it all, you’re all useless. Then open the next one! Anything, just get that disgusting looking guy out of my sight!
The sound of Skargard talking with people nearby reached my ears clearly. Beyond that darkness, I heard the shivering of many things trembling in fear.
The pungent smell of ammonia.
The increasingly erratic breathing.
The claws scratching iron cages.
This could very well be called a pheromone of fear and terror.
These murmurs emanating from the iron cages hidden all over this underground area affect even those watching from above.
I, I think I need to leave here.
Me too, I remember something urgent now. Our daughter is about to be born!
Everyone scrambles, quickly, quickly. Don’t push!
Soon, the crowd hurriedly starts dispersing in every direction. Intense chaos erupts, and the cries of people pushing and falling all around become distinct.
How can people be so dumb and inadequate…?
“You seem smarter than him, Skargard. Come down here and talk to me. And by today, vacate this place.”
Vacate? What makes you think you have the authority to tell me to leave? This arena is mine. My kingdom, built from the ashes with great effort!
No matter what, it’s someone who lacks fear.
Still, I understand his courage to some extent.
Liches, the ultimate dark priests of Plutonian sorcery and magicians who supposedly transcended d*ath for immortality.
They’re compared to living eternal flames, yet they’re treated as monsters that require a group of silver-collared adventurers to form a suppression team.
They’re arduous opponents because they create their own mazes, control traps and underlings, and command superhuman magic beyond human capability.
But I knew Skargard well.
He was neither a magician nor a priest of Pluto.
Just a malicious supervisor.
So, there’s probably a reason why this guy looks so menacing now. I pondered deeply about the cause.
Why did Skargard turn into such a shadowy evolution figure?
Perhaps he purchased some kind of cash item?
I thought it was a fairly plausible hypothesis, considering how the things Skargard draped over his skeletonized body looked like precious treasures at a glance.
In particular, the glint of the black pearl ring on his dry hand caught my attention.
“Before you leave, hand over everything you own.”
Muttering, good. Your wastefulness needs to be reiterated once more.
Swishh-.
Skargard waved his hand in the air. Then, with a crunching sound, something started to approach me from out the depths.
The only thing you own that’s useful. I know you’ve been waiting to see— let’s make it happen.
Clank, clatter-.
When the sound of heavy metal scraping against the sandy floor spread out loudly, I could soon make out a black-haired figure emerging from the darkness.
A plain wooden mask covers his face, and strange writings adorn the bandages tightly wrapped around his gaunt body, making him look like a mummy.
In actuality, he’s no different than a mummy.
“Castor-.”
He’s the man who was already pierced and killed by me, after all.
Though he’s transformed into an utterly pitiable sight, I recognized the traces of the friendship I once had with him.
Geeerr…
To be exploited until d*ath and even afterward, bound as a slave. It’s heartbreaking seeing the chains and shackles around his arms and legs.
Had that fire not broken out on that day, it might have been me here, in this exact spot.
Geeerr…
My thoughts became chaotic as I observed Castor swaying in front of me. In the end, I had to ask.
“Did you create him like this?”
It took some effort to resurrect him. The corpse damage was severe. But he’s the most useful one, worth the extra effort.
“I didn’t know you had talent in necromancy.”
Neither did I. Who would’ve thought we’d reunite like this? Who would’ve guessed that on that day, the fire you caused would burn everything I had?
“Thinking you wouldn’t be able to escape the fire, how are you even alive?”
A laugh, khahkhahh, echoed in response to my question.
With his skull, his red glowing eyes flickered faintly, then burst into flames.
I suppose it’s because I’m useful. I wasn’t done yet. That’s how I found this dungeon amidst the flames enveloping my whole body, and obtained the treasure.
“Treasure? Do you mean that ring?”
Your sharp eyesight impresses me. Yes, this is the ring of the high ascetic monk. It raises the dead and makes them into slaves for infinity. No betrayal, no intent to light fires.
Graaah…
It’s disappointing seeing him barely make those growling sounds, but isn’t that sufficient? They’re slaves that don’t eat and don’t request payment.
As I listened, the situation became clearer.
That day, while everyone fled in a panic, this guy discovered this dungeon and claimed the treasure. It explains why I’ve been haunted by never-ending nightmares while he’s quietly accumulating power underground.
Of course, what’s pressing now isn’t about him.
The reason I wandered the forest.
The reason I survived that day, the debt I owed— it’s more urgent to settle that first.
“Castor, I’ll let you rest now.”
I gazed at the man swaying in front of me. The faint glowing red eyes behind the mask were deeply pitiful.
Hurry up, fight! Fight, Castor! You owe me that much for bringing you back to life!
….
This guy might be my friend, yet he’s also not the friend I knew.
Necromancy isn’t about bringing the deceased back to life but rather reviving the wrecked body to resemble the living— it’s an illusion.
My friend’s soul isn’t in this body.
It must be somewhere in the Underworld, at the end of this labyrinth.
Undead— without the essence of soul, only the spirit remaining in the body, mimicking past actions. At the current state, there’s no trace of his former strength in this form.
Thinking about it this way, the initial confusion slowly subsided and a cold clarity began to engulf my mind.
I raised my finger and struck him with all my strength. Piercing his chest, the feeling of shredding his heart was unusually vivid.
Swishhh—.
The gaunt man collapsed into my arms.
Without any intention to resist his d*ath, he felt at ease, like a tired person lying down on their bed.
Hotzhan—.
Just then, a raspy voice came from beneath the wooden mask. It was unlike the voice I remembered, as weak and powerless as the sound of the wind.
…Here, matches… set fire to the barrels… along the escape route…
But what he’s saying is something deeply buried in my memory. Like replaying an old record, he’s repeating what he said at his last breath.
These are the inscribed memories on the body.
And to the north, cross the sea, into the black wilderness to find my younger sister… My younger sister’s name is… Juno…
With that, he stopped speaking. That day, as well, at this point, his breathing ceased.
I couldn’t hear the rest of his words then, and buried it in the back of my memory due to daily commitments.
Considering it wasn’t the kind of memory I wanted to revisit, you could call it an act of escape.
Swifff—.
Just then, a dry hand reached close to my face, trembling as it handed over something.
Give this to my younger sister… Juno’s glory, Gloria. Tell her I didn’t abandon her… Please deliver it.
It was a peculiar necklace made of bones and small stones. But it was also a continuation of that day’s events.
I realized now, two years later, things I failed to hear and understand that day.
My friend, Hassan… Go to the black wilderness… This prison is too small for us Samaritans… Communist manifesto… So funny… Set the fire definitely…
“Sure, I’ll light it for you.”
Poussss—.
Unable to endure the limits of his body, he turned to powder scattering in all directions. The sight resembled dandelion seeds, making my eyes itch.
“Elpride, I have one favor. Once everything is over, set fire to this place, this Colosseum.”
Even as I spoke, my eyes chased after Skargard, who was attempting to escape.
