360. Rovers and Plunderers (5)
A rural village on the coast of the North Sea of Mardun was burning. Not just the farmland, but even the massive wooden fence connecting the nearby residences was completely engulfed.
Aeren watched it all with a bitter gaze, then roughly kicked a villager who lunged at her. The villager rolled on the ground, gasping for breath.
“Divine punishment… you’ll receive divine punishment…!”
“Right. You deserve divine punishment.”
Unlike most Northerners, Aeren could clumsily speak the Southern language. Thus, she felt her emotions tangled as she heard the screams and lamentations echoing around her.
Raids weren’t uncommon in inter-tribal battles, and Aeren was no peace-loving idealist with her head in the clouds. She was a Shieldmaiden, an avenger, and now, the King of the North.
The wheat harvested here would soon become the North’s food supply. The North was starving, dying. What was happening here now was exactly what had happened in the North.
The civil war caused by Yarl, who had allied with demons, had polluted the land, and the population capable of farming had drastically diminished during the war. The devastated land was beyond counting, and there was neither the technology nor the infrastructure to prepare stockpiles or engage in agriculture.
That was a year ago. Now, it was as if they were facing their first winter since then. Given the North’s situation, Aeren had accepted Fernandez’s invitation to divert the discontented gazes of the Yarls.
But…
“This is dishonorable.”
That was the problem. The North’s civil war? Like the moment their ancestors charged into battle against demons, shouting “Valhalla!” Their battles were struggles for survival and honor.
But where was the honor in this plunder? She looked around with troubled eyes. The Northern warriors all seemed no different from her.
“Yarl, the signal has been raised.”
“Retreat.”
“Yes!”
A red flower bloomed on the wooden board held by the warriors. The warriors, who had been looting the granary and plundering food, immediately shouldered their sacks and began running in the same direction.
The retreat location, rally point, entry time, and retreat alarm. All of it was encapsulated in the tactical signal. Implemented by Freya and coordinated by Fernandez. The signal, used during the Northern civil war, had now become surprisingly sophisticated.
That was the discontent.
‘With this kind of power, fighting head-on wouldn’t be difficult.’
Wasn’t there a better use for this power than just plundering farmland and retreating just before the enemy’s defensive forces arrived? Aeren clicked her tongue briefly.
‘Well… if that were the case, this harvest wouldn’t have been possible.’
If they had been treated as mere mercenaries, the North would have been plunged into even greater chaos. The warriors here now were elite soldiers drawn from various tribes, essential for surviving the winter.
If they had been pointlessly consumed in a Southern expedition without gaining any food, the North’s situation would have worsened. Aeren was a Yarl, and personal honor was clearly lighter than the survival of the nation. Now was the time to judge based on practicality rather than emotion.
She glanced at the old face of the villager staggering to his feet, then turned and left the village.
* * *
Deep in the night, in the shadowy forest, gasping for breath. Daryan wondered why he was still alive. Had his body been defiled beyond the point of no return? Had he been cursed for killing a cleric?
If so, it was a joke. The heavenly gods, who ignored all pleas for salvation, had cursed him, a mere individual, to punish him.
“Cough…!”
He roughly wiped the bloody foam bubbling at his mouth. The excessive bleeding made his vision blurry and his head dizzy. With trembling hands, he tightly gripped the broken spear shaft embedded deep in his stomach and yanked it out.
-Thud!
“Ugh…!!”
Black, dead blood splattered. Injuries that would have killed a normal person three times over crisscrossed his body. From the abdominal puncture to the long gash on his chest, the torn wound on his right shoulder, and the half-severed cut on his neck.
Dead blood and yellow pus flowed, and a fever that seemed to melt his flesh swept through his body. To put it bluntly, he was dying.
Five days.
The wounds neither healed nor worsened for five days. During that time, he remained preserved, dying. If not a curse, there was no other explanation.
Taking even a single step required superhuman endurance. Just twisting his waist brought pain as if his nerves were being scraped with a knife. Walking barefoot through a forest with sharp thorns couldn’t have been more painful.
“Won’t you kill me?!!”
He shouted at the sky. Staring directly at the moon. According to the teachings of the Shield Church, the moon is another face of the sun. When the sun’s light passes to the opposite side of the material world, its traces collide with the mirror of the sky, creating the moon’s glow.
The church had taught him this for years. ‘Behold, the Lord watches over you even in the darkest night, embracing you.’
Then answer me! Daryan shouted at the moon with despair-filled eyes.
“Do you want to cause me more pain?! Fine, go ahead!! I see fear in your actions, in your tricks! Do you want me to break? Do you want me to give up from these wounds? Do you want me to groan, to beg you for mercy?!!”
His boiling shout echoed loudly. He knelt, tears streaming down. From the moment he killed innocents under the Emperor’s orders. Perhaps from the moment he couldn’t resist the demon’s command, his fate had already been sealed.
But he believed. He believed the Emperor’s death would ultimately bring greater ruin. Even if he had refused the order, the Emperor would have achieved his goals, so he thought it better to prevent indiscriminate slaughter with his own hands.
It was possible. The pro-Emperor Dukes and corrupt nobles feared him, the cathedral knight. Daryan had subdued them by force. The people they consumed were clearly fewer than those who would have died from war and famine.
In a territory of two hundred thousand, when a lord became corrupt. Without Daryan’s intervention, that lord would have devoured the entire population. Daryan stood behind such beings. To survive, they had to be satisfied with one person a week.
Evil was still evil, but only the minimum necessary evil was allowed. That was what Daryan had chosen. Even if it meant dirtying his hands, even if it meant tainting his life, only the minimum necessary evil.
But what was the result?
‘How many died in the civil war after the Emperor’s death?’
Daryan wasn’t skilled in administrative calculations…
However, even the numbers he confirmed with his short-sighted vision were dozens, hundreds of times more. It wasn’t just about the warriors who died during the war. The granaries to feed tens of thousands of soldiers, the bases and farmlands destroyed by those soldiers during the war, the lands and cities.
War doesn’t just take soldiers. The civil war caused by the Emperor’s death led to the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. People who lost their homes became bandits, attacking their own kind, and refugees died on the roads from cold and hunger.
If it had stopped there, fine. Daryan could have accepted it. The pain of removing a rotten abscess. The Empire’s strong supply network would surely save them soon. If the next Emperor was competent enough, it was entirely possible.
‘Temple of the Gods……!!’
The Church was different. Every village that colluded with the Emperor, or was suspected of colluding, or was in the path of the Emperor’s advance, was set ablaze. Did they neglect to stop the wicked from killing the innocent? Yes, that’s true. But the Church?
What right did they have to burn, chase, and tear apart the innocent? Because the gods wanted it? According to their slogans, because the gods desired it?
“No more! It can’t be!! No more!”
He shouted like a madman. If there are gods who desire human death, how are they different from demons? And if it’s to save people, what’s wrong with shaking hands with demons?
-Clunk!
An old ring rolled out of his pocket. His gaze, which had been fixed on the moon, hurriedly turned to the ground. A thin, white finger rolled away. A severed finger, still wearing the ring.
‘I can’t die yet……!!’
He gritted his teeth and stood up. When he set fire to the Inquisition Office in the Dragonspine Mountains, he waited for death there. He watched as the furious Inquisition Officers charged at him, waiting for death.
And then, a finger pierced by a crossbow quarrel flew at him. The ring on the finger was familiar. It was Sairi’s. A graduation ring from the Imperial Magic Academy.
“Karlomano Pavilosuuuuuu!!”
His anger pierced the sky. His right arm, drained of strength, surged with unholy energy. He roughly knocked down the Inquisition Officer charging at him and turned his eyes to find Karl, who had fired the crossbow from the forest.
A faint laugh echoed from the forest.
“Sir Schryke! What good is dying here? If you want to save this girl, follow me!!”
Gritting his teeth at the shout, Daryan had no choice but to shift from a fight to die to a fight to escape alive. Even as his body was riddled by the furious Inquisition Officers, he managed to save his life and escape that hellish forest.
But Karl was a master of escape and concealment. By the time they found his trail, he had already fled a full day’s distance. A long chase ensued. On the fifth day, he had been running through the forest without a drop of water or rest.
“Kill the gods, kill the demons, save humanity……!”
The madman muttered. One step. Even an ordinary person, no, even a thoroughly trained elite would struggle to endure the pain, yet he took another step.
“Kill the gods…… kill the demons…… save humanity……!!”
Another step. And another. Without stopping, again and again. For five days, for dozens of kilometers. Running straight toward his goal at a speed faster than a healthy human walking on flat ground—
“Kill the gods! Kill the demons! Save humanity!!”
Buried faith, misguided beliefs, and extreme actions. But believing only in that one thing. With the stance of a temple knight who drew his lance for his beliefs, step by step.
Humans don’t need gods or demons. Humans don’t need immortals. The gods don’t love humans. If they did, they would have killed themselves long ago.
The existence of gods only makes humans powerless. Humans must walk, think, and desire on their own. They must. The existence of gods forces humans to live lives of begging and pleading.
Demons are no different. They are essentially the same. Hell and heaven are just ambiguous boundaries based on humans, and immortals hold no feelings for mortals other than mockery.
So, kill the gods, kill the demons, and save humanity. The material world belongs to humans, and no other being can dare covet it.
[Do you think you’re human?]
A dry laugh echoed in his ear. Daryan looked around with bloodshot eyes. Nothing was visible in the desolate forest.
“Who are you!!”
[Do you think you’re human, Daryan Schryke? Who has such power, what human could breathe and move with such wounds? It’s not something mere will can explain. You know it too, don’t you?]
The voice laughed mockingly. Daryan didn’t stop walking, gripping the sword hilt.
[Then what will you do? Let’s say it works as you say. After killing all the gods, all the demons, what remains? You. This hypocrite, this puppet. You are but a tool woven by fate, and at the end of that thread is us. You are a toy created for our needs, and even that wasn’t necessary. You thought you moved for your beliefs, but even that thought was just an act of serving us.]
“I live as myself, and I die as myself. You, a nameless echo, will never have anything over me! Call me a toy. Call me a puppet! Think I served you, moved for you!! That will be your epitaph!!”
[You don’t know who I am, nor can you even explain who you are. Foolish, stupid beast. I wonder what lies at the end of your struggle. Your expression after realizing the truth will be a delightful spectacle. We watch you. Always, everywhere, at any moment. Kill me? I am everywhere, and nowhere! The wind, the sun, the fields, the rivers! Time itself, and your fate! Try to kill me. The only way is your own death!]
“I sense fear of me in your words. A mere echo, you admitted your own failure the moment you spoke to me. If you truly thought me a mere toy, you wouldn’t have cursed my fate. You see me as a threat.”
Daryan’s eyes burned like a predator’s, fixed on its prey. His feverish, pain-filled eyes cooled, and he stared into the darkness, shouting word by word.
“You asked me how? That I have no way to kill you? That I don’t know what you are! Fine, god, demon, whatever. There’s only one way to kill you!”
-Slash!
He swung his arm, cutting down a tree in front of him. The giant tree fell with a loud crash.
“Those who beg to beings other than humans themselves. Priests who seek faith and offer their souls, and demon worshippers! If I slaughter them all, what can you do? If no one in the material world fears you, knows you, or reveres you anymore. You will be nothing more than insignificant fireflies!”
Kill the demons, kill the gods, save humanity. The madman muttered again, and began to move forward.
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