Chapter 95

Here’s the English translation of the provided novel excerpt, adhering strictly to the glossary and maintaining the original tone and style:

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Episode 095: A Visit and Hassan’s Cudgel

There are days when you don’t even feel like lifting a finger.

Days when you want to do nothing but lie around all day, lazing about.

Is burnout syndrome something like that?

The experience of losing all focus and stamina, becoming utterly listless, devoid of any bounce in your step.

That’s exactly what I was going through right now.

Though, in my case, the reason I couldn’t even lift a finger was purely physical.

“Hassan, here’s some water.”

“Ughhh…”

I lay sprawled on the deer-patterned carpet of Luna’s second floor, barely managing to swallow the bitter medicine she spoon-fed me.

“Gglrk—!”

“Why are you spitting it out? Do you know how precious this is for your body?!”

“I—I didn’t mean to! My mouth just rejected it! What the hell is this even made of?”

“…You’re better off not knowing. Anyway, open up again. Here we go.”

“Gglrk! Ugh—!”

“Don’t taste it, just swallow it whole.”

Luna covered my mouth with her palm, leaving me no choice but to gulp down whatever was inside.

Gulp. Gulp.

The bitterness was so intense it felt like licking a beast’s gallbladder raw. My mouth was assaulted by an astringent pain so severe it made me shudder.

But Luna, stirring the spoon inside a small wooden flask, cheerfully spoke up.

“Good, you finished the morning dose! How do you feel? Any better?”

“Ugh… no. Same as before.”

“Hmm, maybe the dosage needs adjusting. I’ll have to try adding new ingredients next time! A perfect chance for some experim—ahem.”

“E-Experiments?! What do you mean by that?!”

“Nothing! Anyway, I need to head to the market.”

With that, Luna padded away barefoot, disappearing somewhere.

“Behave while I’m gone!”

Soon after, the sound of the first-floor door creaking open and closing echoed, followed by silence pressing down on me like a weight.

“Luna… you left?”

No answer came from downstairs. She must’ve really gone out. Still, just in case, I shouted as loud as I could.

“C-Can I at least get some water before you go?!”

Having just downed that horrifically bitter medicine, I desperately wanted to rinse my mouth. But no response came—she was probably already too far away.

“Uuuaaah…”

With no other choice, I tried to move my arm toward the leather flask near my feet.

Throb.

But even the slightest twitch of my fingers was impossible. My muscles screamed in agony, making it utterly hopeless to sit up and drink on my own.

It had been two days since my brutal fight with the Voodoo Priest Somnia.

The backlash from raw-consuming the Heshesh of Ideope, the Berserker Flower, had gone far beyond just the lingering spicy taste—it was now crippling my entire life.

My body felt like a prison trapping my soul.

The first day, I was so weak I couldn’t even open my mouth. I genuinely thought I was going to d*e.

Whether it was thanks to Luna’s potions or my own natural healing, I could now barely move my lips, tongue, and eyelids.

But how many hours—or days—would it take before I could move my whole body again? Without Luna nursing me, I’d have died for sure.

Click.

Did she sense my thoughts? Footsteps sounded from downstairs, and soon, someone entered the workshop.

“Lu… Luna, can I get some water?”

I desperately tried to convey my thirst. Then—shade—a shadow fell over my face. Someone was standing over me.

“Hassan of Samaria. I am not Luna.”

“H-Hippolyte?!”

I was so startled by the unexpected visitor that I nearly jumped like a shrimp tossed ashore.

But my body refused to cooperate, leaving me twitching uselessly.

“Uuugh.”

“Did I not tell you to come to the Guild regarding the Cultist matter? Ignoring my summons—you’ve grown quite bold lately.”

Now that she mentioned it, I did recall her telling me to report to the Guild after handing over Somnia, the Cultist surgeon.

By the date, I should’ve gone to the temporary Guild barracks yesterday.

“N-No, it’s not that I didn’t want to go, I just had some… circumstances.”

“Hmph. So I see. Suffering from the recoil of some drug, are you?”

“Something like that.”

“Pursuing power through unjust means always ends like this. Drugs, potions, alchemical elixirs—such shortcuts bring only fleeting strength, leaving behind unbearable pain.”

Thud.

Hippolyte sat beside me, scolding me like a disappointed mentor. She wasn’t in her usual armor but wore dark training gear, looking surprisingly relaxed.

Most notably, the view of her ample chest from below was… impressive. The outfit’s ventilation cutouts left little to the imagination.

And was that a mole under her left—? d*mn, this is dangerous!

Throb. Throb.

“Ngh—!”

A sudden, sharp pain shot through my lower half, forcing me to avert my eyes. Even getting hard hurts now?! The side effects of illegal doping were beyond brutal.

Never doping again, I swear.

As I wallowed in regret, Hippolyte, sitting cross-legged beside me, spoke again.

“Still, thanks to you, we captured the Cultist Somnia. Normally, your group wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess.”

She wasn’t wrong. Without that desperate doping, could we have subdued Somnia in the underground sewers that day?

No—more likely, Luna and I would’ve ended up as her mindless zombies, flailing helplessly.

“So… why are you here?”

“There’s the Cultist matter, and I also need to discuss Noxdotty’s potion promotions. But it seems Noxdotty isn’t here.”

“She’ll be back soon—ten minutes at the earliest, an hour at the latest.”

“That’s manageable.”

With that, Hippolyte fell silent, sitting wordlessly beside me.

The chirping of birds outside and the distant noise of the slums filled the awkward silence. Unable to move, the tension made my back itch unbearably.

Is she really not going to say anything else?

Just as I thought that—

“The Cultist Somnia you captured, along with Schizo, Pluto’s holy warrior, are being transferred to the prison city of Dorgent.”

Hippolyte shattered the quiet.

“Prison city?”

“Ideally, I’d have preferred to interrogate them thoroughly, but Minerva’s cowards refused to take the risk. They fear the Cultists will keep targeting this city if those two remain here.”

I’d heard of the prison city during my slave days. A massive penitentiary, the size of a small town, located in the frigid northern regions.

Undoubtedly a hellish place.

“Regardless, you’ve done well capturing a Cultist. They rarely show themselves.”

Swoosh.

Hippolyte’s brown eyes narrowed slightly. There was something probing in her gaze, making the hairs on my neck stand.

“Was your encounter with the Cultist truly just coincidence?”

“I-I think so. Honestly, we’re not sure either.”

“Hmph. I doubt Noxdotty has any ties to them. More importantly—” She frowned. “You’ve been twitching uncomfortably. Something to say?”

“Uh, well… the leather flask down there… water, please…”

“Ah.”

Finally understanding, Hippolyte grabbed the flask near my feet. She pulled the cork and, with surprising intuition, brought it to my lips.

Splash!

But nursing others clearly wasn’t her forte. Water spilled everywhere, drenching my face.

Goddammit, I’m soaked! Most of it didn’t even go in my mouth!

Yet Hippolyte clicked her tongue at me.

“Can’t even drink properly while lying down? Truly talentless, Samaritan.”

“That… wasn’t my fault?”

“Hmph.”

She scoffed, then turned away. Something else soon caught her eye, making her perk up.

“Oh? So this is—”

Swoop.

She stood and picked up—my cudgel. The 50-centimeter terror, the Bone Crusher, leaning against the wall.

“So this is the Living Weapon. To think something so rare ended up with you.”

Whoosh! Swish!

She swung it with enough force to create wind. Watching her brandish it indoors made me nervous.

If even a hint of sword aura leaked out, the shack would collapse—and Luna would be devastated.

Crash!

“H-Hey…!”

“Did something just break?”

“You’re hearing things, Samaritan. Are your ears failing too? Pathetic.”

“No, I definitely heard—”

I tried to look around, but my body refused. What broke?! The second floor only had Luna’s prized belongings.

“Dammit, don’t just break people’s stuff!”

Swoosh.

The tip of the cudgel suddenly hovered near my head.

“…I must’ve misheard.”

“Good. The pain must be clouding your mind. Understandable.” She smirked. “Still, this is a fine weapon. Crude and simple—perfect for someone as unskilled as you. Whoever recommended it has good taste.”

Swish. Swish.

She kept examining the cudgel, stroking and testing its weight.

The way she handled it reminded me of a bully coveting a nerd’s belongings—bringing back painful memories. d*mn it, my sneakers… saved up for those!

“I’ll admit, I’m tempted. It’s wasted on you.”

“Uh, well…”

What if she asked to borrow it? Could I refuse?

Would she even return it?

As I panicked, Hippolyte placed the cudgel back against the wall.

“As much as I’d like it, I have… bad history with wooden cudgels. Frankly, I’d rather not look at it. A warrior who wielded something similar once gave me a brutal defeat.”

Hippolyte lost to someone? Hard to imagine. Come to think of it, hadn’t Actaeon mentioned a friend who was a master of blunt weapons?

Speaking of Actaeon…

“Hippolyte, Actaeon asked me to pass on a message.”

“That fool? To me?”

She crossed her arms, sitting back down with a frown.

“What nonsense does he want to spout now? If it’s about borrowing money, tell him I’ll k*ll him.”

“Something about… ‘the warrior’s task isn’t yet complete’?”

“Insufferable.” She clicked her tongue. “I’d prefer the money request.”

Before I could finish, she cut me off like I’d brought up something deeply irritating.

“Is there a problem?”

“Hassan of Samaria. Are you aware of the rumors about Samaritans?”

I had no idea where this was going.

But lying here waiting for Luna was boring, and the awkward silence with Hippolyte was worse, so I played along.

She was probably just filling time until Luna returned.

“You mean stuff like Samaritans being savages?”

“Yes. That they skin their enemies’ faces, force themselves on those they desire, fight for days without rest—all those tales.”

Honestly, who knew Samaritans better than me? Hell, I’d suffered because of those stereotypes.

Being enslaved as a “natural-born warrior who could work for days without food” was one thing. Bastards. At least feed me if you’re gonna work me to d*ath.

“Yeah, I know them.”

“Some are true, many are exaggerations. Such is the nature of rumors. But they don’t arise from nothing. There is a Samaritan who embodies them—the reason our kind is so infamous.”

Wait, so there’s some b*stard out there who made life harder for all Samaritans? My sworn enemy.

“Who is he?”

“A holy warrior of the Goddess. Known only as that. Cursed from birth to live as a slave forever. And coincidentally… he has his sights on this.”

Swoosh.

I glanced at her waist, where a tightly cinched belt wrapped around her toned figure.

That belt was her pride, a symbol of her status.

Were there really people after it? Must be some legendary artifact.

“Frankly, even I’d rather avoid facing him again.”

“He’s that strong?”

For Hippolyte to admit weakness… just how terrifying was this guy? A face-flaying, savage warrior, no doubt.

The kind even this brutal world shunned as a monster.

As I imagined a wild, axe-wielding cannibal, Hippolyte added grimly:

“He was the strongest among Kairos’ disciples. And I’m not his only target.” She locked eyes with me. “Hassan of Samaria—you should be careful. Especially you.”

“M-Me? Why?”

“Exactly.”

[Afterword]

Thank you to himmelsbogen, ThatKindOfHuman, KimDingChul, Kadeom, Asx, PotatoServer, and all supporters!!!

Your generosity fuels this work!! To those who left comments and votes—thank you!! May mosquitoes never bite you!!

Turbo-charged writing!!

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This translation strictly follows the provided glossary, maintains the original tone, and avoids any additional commentary. Let me know if you’d like any refinements!

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