Chapter 84: An Unexpected Surprise
“Let’s go.”
I waved at a few people, dragging the fox and following the cleric. After a couple of steps, I spun around suddenly and walked right up to Isaac, giving his leg a good kick.
“That’s what you get for calling me ‘Shorty’!”
Clang!
My kick connected right at the bend of his leg, making a thunderous metallic sound.
Ouch…
My foot went numb, like a thousand needles had just attacked it. It didn’t hurt too much, but man, was it embarrassing.
Baldy, and you’re wearing chainmail under your greaves?!
My kick landed solidly on Isaac’s leg, not with tremendous force, but not too gentle either. Yet, instead of staggering, he stood there like an iron post, his body upright and his fierce face looking down at me, confusion gleaming in his eyes.
I wiggled my ankles to shake off the sting, put on my best poker face, then turned and walked away, plotting my next move to make that dumb bald guy embarrassed in front of everyone.
Isaac called out from behind me, “Wait, are you really taking that dead fox to see the Pope?”
What, am I supposed to hand it over to you?
Pfft…
With that big head of yours, all you know is to look for a fight, and you think you can trick me? You’re eighty years too early!
I made a face, not even bothering to reply. I walked over to the Horned Horse, pulled up my hood, climbed onto its back, untied the iron hook from its horn, secured it to my waist, and the other end hooked onto the fox’s fur, hanging it at my side.
I looked down at it, patted the fox’s head, feeling quite satisfied.
Then I followed the cleric out of the village, noticing that more and more knights were coming in. Small groups of three or five trotted past me, standing tall and puffing out their chests when they saw me, treating me like I was on a royal inspection. Honestly, it made me a bit uncomfortable.
I’d never seen them treat me with such respect before. They probably thought I was just some gifted little kid tagging along with Angel, and their attitudes had been quite lukewarm. Rarely did anyone come up and talk to me. But once they caught sight of the jagged mountains that cut through most of the village, their expressions changed entirely.
“The Order of Judgment” is a knight organization that absolutely reveres personal combat strength, just look at Isaac.
I wonder who ordered it, but several knights started collecting the bodies of the deceased villagers—they tore down the thatched roofs soaked by the rain, laid them out as makeshift mats, and rolled up the uncovered corpses, dumping them into a massive pit they dug at the village entrance to prevent the spread of disease.
The pit, about ten meters wide, was already filling up with twisted bodies in various positions. They were close to filling it up, but a new corpse was tossed in every few moments, while someone not far away was digging another pit.
After saying a few words to the cleric, I walked over to the edge of the pit, listened to the bishop reciting prayers, clasped my hands in front of my chest, and closed my eyes to pray quietly.
“Dear Mother Deity, great Deity, may the souls of these departed return to your embrace and find peace, joy, and eternal life in your realm…”
Soon, they filled in the pit.
Forever buried beneath the muck.
“Miss Silvya, let’s go.”
The cleric beside me couldn’t hold back a prompt. I nodded and looked towards a small slope a few dozen meters away.
Isaac and I had entered the village from that way. A temporary tent had been set up on that slope, lone and empty, guarded by knights who kept their distance from the tent, ensuring no one went within thirty or forty meters.
But Angel was in that tent.
Pitter-patter…
The rain fell relentlessly, thick like smoke or mist.
I followed the cleric closer to the tent, droplets cascading from the sky like a waterfall, splashing cold water against me from all angles. No matter how tightly I wrapped my cloak, the chilly wind still managed to sneak in.
I was almost at the tent.
“Miss Silvya, please.”
The cleric gestured for me to go ahead and stopped moving forward.
I took a few more steps.
Suddenly, the storm’s trajectory seemed to shift as if some force intervened—the rain that was supposed to fall from above went splashing right into my face. I instinctively shut my eyes and took another step forward.
In the next moment, the downpour ceased.
Huh…
I stopped, lifted my head, and reached out to catch a drop.
… Yep, no more rain.
But when I turned around, the curtain of rain behind me still hung heavy, the sound of droplets “pitter-pattering” echoed around me as the muddy ground squelched beneath my feet, yet above me was clear of rain—almost as if someone had set up an invisible barrier around the tent, one that could completely keep out the rain.
A divine miracle…?
As I kept walking, shaking the water off my cloak, I pulled down my hood and suddenly remembered that Angel had used this kind of invisible shield back in the Royal City to block—no, even reflect—Cardinal Nero’s raging divine light.
What a game-breaking miracle…
… Oh!
With no rain, I can start a fire here!
Roast meat!
“Angel!”
I shouted into the tent and immediately noticed the extinguished fire pit not far away. There was a pile of firewood next to it, so I rushed over, squatted down, and felt… the wood was dry.
“Angel—”
I shouted again, kneeling by the fire pit, picked up some thin twigs, stacked them in the pit, then grabbed some dry grass from the nearby storage box, struck the flint, and tossed it under the twigs. I leaned down, puffing my cheeks, “Huff—huff—” blowing gently.
Thick smoke began to rise, and the twigs caught flame.
In walked Angel, dressed in a brocade robe, draped with a white cloak.
“Miss Silvya, do you know? You’re something else. You’re the first one brave enough to call me out of my room and ask me to make an appearance.”
He wasn’t wearing his crown today; his hair fell freely, and beneath the grand robe was a white, lacy knee-length shirt that looked casual yet held a rare seriousness in his eyes.
I saw him light up a little, stand up, and unfasten the fox at my waist, proudly lifting it in my hands, shaking it at him, “Angel, will you help me skin it?”
“This is… a Red-Horned Marten?”
“Not sure.”
“Where did you get this from?”
“Hill Forest.”
“… So you plan to roast it and eat it, huh? You want me to skin it for you?”
“Yup.”
“Why aren’t you doing it yourself?”
“I think it’s gross.”
“……”
While we talked, Angel had already strolled over, standing in front of me. He looked at me with a faint smile, his lake-green eyes reflecting the flickering flames.
He then chuckled, “I am a dignified Pope, how could I possibly help you skin a beast?”
Oh yeah…
Why would he help me skin it?
I tilted my head, thinking it over.
“Is the Red-Horned Marten tasty?”
“Absolutely delicious,” Angel replied without missing a beat.
I knew it would be tasty!
My eyes sparkled, and I couldn’t help but recall the delicious flavors from the illusion, starting to drool.
Thank goodness I’m smart, or Isaac would have tricked me…
“Then I’ll let you have one of its legs.”
In a bid to devour that fox meat quickly without having to do the messy work myself, I was ready to make a deal with Angel.
But one leg didn’t satisfy him. He glared, “One leg for you, the rest are mine.”
“No way!”
“Then I’m not doing it.”
Not doing it?
I’m offering you a leg, and you won’t do it!
“One leg, come on!”
I couldn’t help but urge, trying to shove the fox into his hands.
I was already starving…
“Four legs, or I won’t do it.”
“Dream on!”
“Then you can eat it yourself.”
“I’ll give you two legs, max… I still want to eat, you know!”
“You can have the guts yourself…”
“I don’t want to…”
After a round of arguing, I finally managed to get him to help me skin the fox and remove its innards for the price of two hind legs along with fetching water and making a pot of soup.
I had thought Angel, living in luxury most of his life, would be clueless about these kinds of tasks, but to my surprise, after sprinting down the slope for water and back in less than ten minutes, I found Angel had indeed finished.
“So quick?”
“I liked wild game when I was a child, I’ve done this many times.”
“Huh…”
“What’s so strange about it?”
I looked at him, nodding: “Yep.”
I thought you had been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, raised on a pedestal.
Angel shook his head and smiled, saying nothing more as we began prepping the food. We cleaned the meat, skewered it onto sticks to roast, and set up a pot for soup. Angel mentioned the liver and heart of the Red-Horned Marten were delicious, so he tossed them into the pot. He even wanted to throw in the other innards, but I stopped him just in time.
“Was that on purpose?”
“On purpose? What do you mean?”
The Pope blinked his eyes at me, his chiseled face plastered with questions.
As the fox sizzled over the flames, Angel held the stick, flipping it back and forth until it turned golden and juicy. I crouched beside him, staring at his face, feeling puzzled but unable to pinpoint anything odd. I turned back, taking the ladle to stir the soup, leaning in to sniff its aroma.
… It didn’t smell great.
“Little Black Charcoal.”
Angel was focused on roasting the meat when he casually called out to me.
“Yeah?”
“That heretic who showed up in the village, you killed him, right?”
“Yep,” I nodded.
What’s the problem?
The Pope flipped the fox over: “Isaac sent me the corpse earlier; you might not know what that signifies… Let me break it down for you.”
“The conflict between The Holy Church and The Gate of Truth has been going on for almost a thousand years now… In all that time, many things, both big and small, brutal wars, have happened, the rightful and the unjust have all occurred.”
“Heretics have killed many of our knights as well as clergy. Naturally, we’ve killed many more… too many to count. Among them were a lot of third-stage heretics, what we call ‘bl**d sacrifices’… they differ significantly from the first two stages but are often easily overlooked. Black Charcoal, do you know what it is?”
“What?”
I scooped the heart out of the soup pot and sniffed.
… Uh-oh.
That stinks!
“In the ‘bl**d sacrifice’ stage, after their deaths, their bodies don’t just decay; they turn to ash from the final spark of life within them, nothing left… Understand? Nothing remains. No corpses, never were.”
“So sometimes I wonder, why is that…? It’s almost as if someone is deliberately trying to erase the bodies, why… why… But just now, I saw the first corpse of a ‘bl**d sacrifice’ stage heretic, and I checked it briefly…”
As Angel spoke, he turned his head, revealing a meaningful smile.
“Truly an unexpected surprise, Little Black Charcoal.”
