Ch.6767. People Waiting for Help (3)

“You still seem displeased with it.”

Bishop Andre said, peering at Aryen’s face. Aryen suddenly touched his lips and clicked his tongue. The bishop observed him for a moment before turning his head forward, as if having lost interest.

“There are no wrong choices. If the hero and Isis’s plan succeeds, it could be the ideal choice. Well, since you act as if you have little interest in worldly matters, I wonder if you’re even indifferent about the current situation.”

Aryen rubbed the hilt of the sword at his waist.

“Then my choice would become relatively cowardly.”

“I shouldn’t deny that cowardice in front of the hero. The hero isn’t a coward like us; after all, he’s the one who achieved the ideal that everyone desperately wanted. Unless you’re just comforting yourself while mulling over this situation alone.”

Bishop Andre tucked daggers and concealed weapons into his garments. The feeling of blades against flesh triggered something in the bishop’s mind. A cigarette butt—who knows which one of the day—fell to the ground. The bishop frowned and picked it up. A faint orange ember remained.

“We’re looking at the lesser evil rather than the worst, while the hero is trying to achieve the best rather than the second best. Just because it’s the lesser evil doesn’t mean there’s no evil.”

“I don’t understand why someone tasked with saving the world would seek such an irresponsible ideal.”

“You’re still mistaken, Aryen.”

The bishop shook his head, denying Aryen’s words.

“The irresponsible ones are us, not the hero. We who cut away the small for the sake of the greater, and continue cutting endlessly—we are the irresponsible ones. Those who try to understand the weight of what’s cut away can never bring themselves to cut. Have we ever once tried not to cut something away?”

A twisted smile appeared on Bishop Andre’s lips.

“Since you and I have always had no choice but to cut away, and since we’ll continue to do so in the future, we’ll never know.”

The bishop rose from his seat. The sun had completely set, and twilight was crawling from the horizon. The remaining blue in the sky was buried under black shadows.

==

The night in Barktins was terrible.

There was no sky. Only darkness existed in the void where the sky should have been. There was no romance like moonlight reflecting on the sea or light rising on rippling black waves. I pulled my hood over my head and looked back. Isis and our party were waiting.

“Isis should ride on George’s back. We’ll need to move quickly.”

Isis nodded. I gestured for Daphne to come closer. She wouldn’t be able to move as quickly and stealthily as we could.

“…Eh, me too?”

“I’ll carry you myself.”

“What do you mean ‘carry’ a person?”

I hoisted Daphne onto my back. She seemed flustered, waving her hands in the air before carefully placing them on my shoulders. Looking over at Isis, I saw her lying flat on George’s broad back like a board on the floor.

“You remember the location, right?”

“Of course.”

Suddenly feeling someone’s gaze, I turned to see Marianne staring at me—or more precisely, at Daphne being carried obediently on my back.

“What?”

“…”

Marianne didn’t answer and just turned her head away. Then she started ahead of us. I watched her retreating figure slowly moving away.

“As midnight approaches, people will come out to the streets and head for the brewery.”

Bishop Andre spoke in his usual voice. The bishop was wearing a shabby hood.

“One hour. Remember that it must be finished within that time. If any unexpected situations arise during that time, I’ll ask the hero to handle them.”

Bishop Andre then melted into the darkness and disappeared. Only our party remained, except for Marianne. I adjusted Daphne on my back with a slight bounce. Her hands gripped my shoulders with dissatisfaction.

“Let’s go.”

My steps weren’t light. The night seemed to be trying to swallow me rather than conceal me. Without light, not even shadows formed. The ground felt heavier than usual beneath my feet. Ignoring that unpleasant sensation, I moved forward and landed on the collapsed ruins overlooking the village.

“They’re starting to move.”

George said, watching the gathering crowd of people. One by one, people were opening doors from the shacks in the village and coming out to the streets. We stared blankly at the scene for a moment. There was no vitality in the people’s gait. It felt like watching rotten wooden blocks walking with arms and legs. I shook my head to clear my mind. There was no time to feel pity for them.

“Let’s hurry.”

No words were needed. George and I simultaneously pushed off from the ruins and jumped down into the village. With no wind, we had to be careful even with the sound of running. We leaped across rooftops like thieves and landed on the street.

“Let me down now.”

Isis’s voice was heard. When George released his hands, Isis put her feet on the ground and stared at the door in front of her. As she approached the doorway, seemingly gathering her resolve, the door of the shack suddenly opened, and a familiar face peeked out.

“Holy Lady? And…”

It was the woman’s husband, the man we had met first. The man looked at us and couldn’t hide his confusion, opening his mouth in surprise. Isis looked up at him and exhaled briefly.

“I’ve come to help you, to treat your son.”

The man stood holding the door with a blank expression, then quickly opened it wide and gestured for us to enter.

“Quickly! Come in.”

Clunk. The door closed behind us, and the man rapidly closed all the windows in the house and took out a candle to light it. The stench of people and some unidentifiable smell in the house cruelly stabbed our nostrils. With each movement the man made, the smells mixed and created new odors.

Click.

The candle was lit, and the man with his unkempt beard turned his head toward us. His expression harbored a trace of distrust and fear.

“They hate light. If you shine light at night, they appear from somewhere in a flash and scream at you to put it out. It’s been at least a month since there’s been any light in this place at night. Even the moon doesn’t rise much anymore.”

The man held up the candle and illuminated the inner part of the room. And I could see a child lying on a makeshift bed, covered with a blanket.

“My son is over there.”

The man illuminated the inside with the candle. I could then tell where most of the stench was coming from. The left side of the blanket-covered bed was grotesquely swollen. That must be where the right arm the child had received was located. The man carefully lifted the child’s blanket.

“My God.”

“…This is insane.”

Daphne and George muttered simultaneously. Flesh and tentacles covered the child’s neck. It was like a tumor growing by feeding on the child’s life. It was hard to tell if the child was conscious or even breathing. Perhaps he had become like soil, merely growing tentacles. Isis approached the child with a composed face.

“It’s getting worse by the day. Now those things seem to be growing by the hour. As the child’s appearance becomes more grotesque, my wife is becoming mentally unstable, enjoying it.”

The man put down the candle and knelt.

“I don’t know why you suddenly came here, but if you’re willing to help us, I’ll do anything. Holy Lady, please save our son.”

Isis raised her hand. Golden light was gathering in her palm. Though it had the same nature and form as magic power, people had a separate name for the Holy Lady’s power.

Divine power. That holy and sacred strength.

“Ilroy.”

Isis looked at me. Her blue eyes shone in the light of the candle and divine power. They were still imperfect and unstable eyes.

“Please guard outside.”

But they were also the eyes of someone who had vowed not to regret again.

“…Of course.”

Isis turned around and immediately placed her hand over the tentacles growing on the child’s body, infusing them with power.

==

The number of heresy inquisitors Bishop Andre brought wasn’t many. Four people he judged to be skilled enough: Aryen, Marianne, himself, and the deputy commander of the heresy inquisitors. The bishop followed the woman guiding him with an empty smile as he lined up at the brewery.

“You really came, Internal Affairs Officer.”

Bishop Andre nodded, and the woman joined the line of people entering the brewery with familiar steps. The brewery gaped open its maw. People began to disappear into the darkness of the brewery in a line, cramming in one after another.

Focus. Always be conscious of me.

Bishop Andre sent that signal and then entered the building. The sound transformed the footsteps of entering people into echoes with no escape route.

Clunk.

The brewery door closed firmly. People began to sit down on the floor as if nothing was unusual.

Thud. Thud.

As soon as the brewery door closed, the ‘teacher’ entered. Bishop Andre unconsciously tried to look at him intently, but as all the residents began to bow their heads, he lowered his head along with them. What could be heard was the sound of a thick book being placed on the podium.

“Thank you for gathering here again today, brothers and sisters.”

Flip, flip. The ‘teacher’ left only his greeting and flipped through the book, then suddenly closed it with a thud.

“Today, I’d like to conduct the sermon a little differently than usual.”

Thud, thud.

The sound of the ‘teacher’ leaving the podium could be heard. He looked around at the residents kneeling on the floor, then opened his mouth.

“I heard that outsiders visited this village recently.”

The sound of the ‘teacher’s’ clothes rustling could be heard. He seemed to have his hands behind his back. Then he slowly continued speaking as he moved his steps.

“Especially yesterday, I heard that believers of the light god, followers of the Blue Orthodox Church, visited this village. And even a ‘Holy Lady’ of very high status.”

His voice was cold and heavy. Bishop Andre sensed that something ominous was about to happen.

“Today, I want to directly ask how well you understand our beliefs, my teachings.”

Thud, thud. The ‘teacher,’ who had been walking with his hands behind his back, suddenly stopped and raised his voice.

“Now, among you, those brothers who received healing directly from the Holy Lady when she visited the village for relief activities, please raise your heads and look at me.”

Silence fell. It was like a moment of hesitation among the people. And the ‘teacher’ was someone who knew how to use silence. He stood still in his place, maintaining silence until the residents raised their heads. The longer the silence, the heavier and more stark it becomes. When people reached the point where they could hear each other’s breathing, they finally began to move.

Rustle.

One person raised their head. It was a woman sitting in front of Bishop Andre. And starting with her, people began to raise their heads one by one.

“Your honesty is very pleasing to see.”

Despite his words, his voice didn’t sound pleased at all.

“Please come forward and form a line. And the rest of you brothers, raise your heads and look at me and these brothers.”

Bishop Andre raised his head. In front of the line of people stood the ‘teacher.’ The ‘teacher’ moved toward the woman and, taking her by the shoulders, looked into her eyes.

“Do you remember what was treated?”

The ‘teacher’s’ voice had a resonance that seemed to penetrate one’s insides. The woman nodded with a dazed voice and opened her mouth.

“My left leg was broken, and the Holy Lady healed it.”

“Is that so?”

The ‘teacher’ sighed deeply as if regretful.

“I’ve repeatedly told you that such power is ultimately deception and our enemy. How can you not understand?”

And then he raised his head again. Somehow, the ‘teacher’ was now holding an iron hammer in his hand, though no one saw where he had taken it from.

“Break it.”

The woman took the hammer.

“Return that leg to the state it was in before that power defiled it.”

Silence fell. The woman nodded and raised the hammer with trembling hands. Bishop Andre could see both fear and determination in her eyes.

“Are you afraid?”

“…No.”

“Then, let me help you directly.”

Bang.

The hammer struck down on the woman’s left leg.