Chapter 114

Chapter 114 - Manufactured God

The mercenaries got goosebumps looking at the corpse still wriggling with a dagger stuck in its head.

-When facing the undead, unconditionally crush their heads. Even if it is a Death Knight, it's over if its head is smashed.

-It's not like they have brains, though?

-I don't know the principle either. It's just something like a providence of the world.

An era where the distinction between faith dedicated to gods and belief in the laws of the world is ambiguous.

The grand principle that anyone dies if their head is destroyed. That became the foundation for mercenaries to confront supernatural beings stronger than themselves, including monsters.

A pagan god shaking that belief drew out fear even from the most experienced veterans.

However, to Eugene, it was merely a sight that made him face the existence of a god more directly. The pitiful flailing in fear of the destiny of sinking to a place deeper and darker than now.

Thwack!

As the blade of Final Autumn struck the corpse's back, the wriggling ceased. The mysterious aura filling the room was also absorbed into the goddess statue—no, it disappeared as if banished.

"It is over."

The mercenaries inside the chapel felt a sensation as if the goddess statue was sobbing for a moment. Only emotions of resignation were contained within that.

* * *

The pagan friars all died, but their identities could be grasped through the captured slave traders.

"Slave traders who originally started out as a religious group. That is interesting."

Marvas, who arrived after safety was secured, stroked his beard while looking at the golden goddess statue.

Having passed through winter and spring after escaping the spiritual flames, his beard had grown past the stage of prickly. Having achieved the wish he dreamed of for thirty years, he seemed to be in a good mood.

"The Goddess of Tolerance, Vanas. She isn't exactly an evil being."

Eugene flicked the leg of the goddess statue with his finger. Observing it properly now that he had the leeway, its appearance was extremely provocative.

Standing with one leg bent while scantily clad emphasized her curves, and her buttocks and breasts were also very voluptuous.

She held a scale in her left hand and a binding rope in her right. The tools held in the hands are important symbols that determine an identity as a god.

"The mercenaries said she turned her own followers into immortal monsters?"

Immortal was just a word; it was strictly a forbidden power defying the laws of nature. Naturally, side effects followed in some form.

Something like a shortened lifespan was a lucky case. Because sometimes the soul was gnawed away and corrupted into an undead. It is a representative authority bestowed by evil pagan gods.

"For something like that, a god cannot force it unless the believers want and accept it themselves, can they?"

"That is true, but the very fact that she tries to bestow such a blessing makes her a dangerous being, you see."

"Even though it's called a miracle of immortality, its purpose is different from what evil gods bestow. It was for tolerance, not struggle."

"What do you mean by that?"

Since he came down belatedly, Marvas had only heard a brief explanation. He knew less than Eugene, who had interrogated the slave traders from the beginning and heard the story.

"Vanas has existed since ancient times, an era far more barbaric than now. Just like her alias, she is a god who protected prisoners defeated in war and occupied villagers from the victors."

The world today is just as harsh to the defeated. However, it cannot be compared to ancient times when even moral perspectives were not properly established.

Because it was a hopeless era where even rituals offering human sacrifices weren't particularly considered evil acts.

"However, right before being buried and forgotten in the waves of time, her divinity was resurrected while being served by a minority tribe."

"That minority tribe must be this slave trader clan, correct?"

"Yes. In a situation where her existence was about to be extinguished, she had to grab onto even a lifeline like this."

From a goddess spreading mercy, she suddenly fell to becoming a lackey for slave traders.

"That binding rope wasn't originally her symbol either, but something the slave traders arbitrarily attached to her."

"That is correct. For a god with few believers, sometimes the tail wags the dog."

"What would she originally have been holding?"

"Who knows. Wouldn't it have been something like wheat filled with grains or a bowl containing ointment? It's up to imagination. She must have been wearing clothes properly compared to this as well."

The current Vanas could be seen as analogous to a queen bee.

A queen bee receives the devoted service of worker bees, but in some aspects, she is also an egg-laying slave.

If she slacks off for even a moment, she is urged by the worker bees, and if there is a problem with her reproductive ability by any chance, she is purged immediately.

Among ancient gods with only a handful of believers remaining, cases prolonging their lives this pitifully were not rare.

Deviating from the domain of divinity they originally oversaw from the beginning to be processed according to the desires of the believers.

"The blessing of immortality was also originally meant for warriors who protected their villages from invaders. So that those who suffered fatal wounds could share a final embrace with their families."

"These bastards used that for their own battles."

"Yes. Originally, it was a blessing that only granted enough stamina to converse for a few minutes. The slave trader clan managed to..."

Pausing for a moment to think of the appropriate word, Eugene soon opened his mouth.

"...Improve it so it could be applied to combat. Over several centuries. Although the side effects are so massive that it should only be used restrictively in final situations."

"At this point, isn't she more of a being close to the direwolves raised here rather than a god?"

"It isn't quite to that extent. Because whether it be the slave traders or the priests, their faith at least truly seemed genuine."

The fanaticism burning in the pagan friars' eyes, and the prayers earnestly offered by the final believer. The devotion contained within them was certainly not an attitude looking at a tool.

Even if twisted, they too must have once been a nomadic people placed in a desperate situation. And while sincerely hoping for salvation, they must have encountered and served Vanas.

"Then what are you going to do? Will you melt it down?"

"I am deliberating."

The mercenaries kept glancing at the goddess statue. After Eugene's holy sword banished the wicked aura, their fear disappeared.

What remained was an artwork of a beautiful and obscene, yet somewhat sorrow-tinged figure.

Gold and seductiveness. It was a given for the mercenaries to be drawn to the appearance where the two harmoniously fused.

"Rampage?"

The Dwarf centurion Rampage, who had been observing the goddess statue here and there with tools, nodded.

"It is 99.9% pure. It is a perfect lump of gold."

"I can feel the aura of mystery still flowing inside."

Unlike the marvelling Dwarf, the summoner seemed to be feeling anxious.

"Even a put-out campfire takes time until the embers completely die down. If just left alone, it won't last long anyway."

Eugene made a decision.

"Pack the goddess statue. I will take it to the castle."

"Well, if you place it in that castle, there shouldn't be any issues."

Marvas also nodded.

If a ruined god was a pebble, the Moving Castle was a massive lake. The emitting power of mystery and its weight class differed to a degree defying comparison.

A symbol containing powerful divinity or mana would also not be able to flex its power inside the Moving Castle. Let alone a dying god; it posed absolutely no danger.

* * *

Cassandra's subordinate female warriors made the slave traders search for hidden goods, putting collars on their necks and ordering them around like dogs.

Because even though the mercenaries had swept through once, truly valuable things were hidden in secret places.

"If we tell you everything, y-you will spare our lives, right?"

"Hnnn?"

"Please..."

"I woooonder? Won't it depend on how you guys act?"

Beam, beam.

To the questions of the hard-working slave traders as guides, the female warriors answered with radiant smiles.

Figures overflowing with a decadent beauty that well-suited the expression "sweet poison." There was certainly value for the slave traders to have forcedly captured them.

However, the slave traders receiving the smiles felt as if a blade was approaching their necks. Because their eyes were not smiling at all.

Yet they weren't in a position to press for answers here. If they did, a whip held in another hand would fly mercilessly down on them.

Sure enough? When all searches were concluded, the outcome awaiting the slave traders was 'cook the hound when the hare is caught.'

"You cannot do this to us! We helped so diligently!"

"Please grant us mercy! I merely received orders!"

Those with low ranks mainly used their superiors as shields.

"If you just spare my life, I will dedicate my loyalty! It will definitely be of use to everyone!"

Middle managers who possessed reasonable abilities and had no direct responsibility attempted to bargain.

"You people are making a mistake."

The leadership who had attempted to escape through the secret passage maintained composure. They seemed to have realized that death was waiting anyway.

"Do you have some reliable backing or something?"

"Hmph!"

Only a snort returned to Eugene's question.

"Well, we have plenty of time. We can interrogate them slowly."

When Eugene nodded, a punishment halfway between interrogation and execution began.

It would be one thing if they simply lost a battle and were captured as prisoners, but the situation involved scheming with hired adventurers to trap innocent warriors.

In these cases, customary law grants the right to exact any kind of retaliation. Even highly reputed priests or nobles could not arbitrarily intervene in this alone.

* * *

A certain amount of time passed.

"Aaaaargh!"

"This is a bit severe. Should I tell them to show mercy around here?"

Rex, standing nearby, checked the mood at the cruel methods of Cassandra and the female warriors.

To be honest, by his standards, it was nothing, but they could no longer adhere strictly to the tribe's ways like in the past.

Because he didn't want them to be seen as a barbaric breed to Eugene, who was shifting from an employer to a liege lord.

"They made you wage a grueling fight, even drinking urine, didn't they? Wouldn't it feel refreshing to permit revenge until their anger is fully resolved?"

"Don't they look too vicious in your eyes, Sir Knight?"

The female warriors executing the punishment were exuding an intensity that would cause even a sailor who had roamed the seas for hundreds of days to shrink back.

There probably couldn't be a more fitting idiom than "man-eaters" to describe them.

"As long as she is good to me, it's fine."

"You are truly an eccentric person as well, Sir Knight."

Perhaps it is because of such an aspect that they could get along well with him.

"On another note, it would have been nice if we arrived a bit earlier."

Eugene scanned the slaves lined up with terrified faces on the other side. Mostly in the age range of their teens to twenties.

There weren't many. Because it had not been long since their regularly conducted trade ended.

"They seem to be in quite a good condition for slaves. I was expecting a messy appearance wearing practically rags."

"Because they weren't intended to be sold off as oarsmen or miners. These slave traders are guys who deal with luxurious customers. If the packaging is lackluster, the price drops as well."

"You know well?"

Rex and the tribal warriors grinned.

"Raiding slave traders is something our tribe often did. A chance to loosen up our bodies, earn money, and obtain loyal servants and maids who owe us a debt of the heart. It is good in many ways."

"Any among these who can fetch a ransom?"

"I doubt it. There aren't many slave traders crazy enough to kidnap bloodlines of noble families."

"Your tribespeople were about to be kidnapped by the hundreds, weren't they?"

"Even if our family receives quasi-aristocracy treatment, in the end, we are merely a wandering mercenary group. We are outsiders and our race is different, too. It is dangerous, but we are targets worth making a bold move for the sake of a windfall."

If Eugene hadn't been with them, they wouldn't have been able to rescue them in time, nor would there have been a way to penetrate deep into Samur.

Two tribal warriors stepped forward in front of the slaves.

"The slave traders who kidnapped you have met their end by our hands. But we are not philanthropists. We cannot just let you go. Even if we send you off like this anyway, you'll just be thrown into the world without money, food, or connections."

Among them, an intimidatingly built man with a vicious impression and knife scars on his face shouted.

Half of the rescued slaves listened while terrified, and the other half with cautious faces. Because he wasn't exactly wrong.

Since everyone had been kidnapped from afar, they had absolutely no material or personal foundation here.

A future of starving to death in the plains or being eaten by wild dogs, wolves, bears, or other monsters wouldn't be particularly strange.

Even if they entered a nearby village, it would be difficult to have a peaceful time. Becoming vagrants amidst wariness, or working to the bone having their wages slashed due to territorial behavior.

"However, if you come with us, we will promise you a peaceful and stable future. We will provide food, drink, clothes, and a place to rest. We can even teach you skills if you wish."

The one who spoke this time was a middle-aged woman with a slender physique. Her face was benevolent, and her voice was soft.

Of course, her body felt terrifyingly toned, befitting a Blackhand tribe member.

"We will pay you fairly for your labor, so you can buy your freedom with that. At that time, it is fine if you choose to leave, and staying is also welcome."

A maid from a Beastkin background accompanied the middle-aged woman beside her.

A healthy-looking maid overflowing with confidence and a good complexion. The clothes she wore were also excellent. What that implied required no further explanation.

After sharply ending with only what they needed to say, the man and woman gave the slaves time to talk amongst themselves.

At first, they hesitated while checking the room, but soon gathered in small groups of two or three to start whispering among themselves.

"Is it Good Cop, Bad Cop?"

"What is that?"

At Eugene's muttering, Rex was puzzled.

"Uh... Carrot and Stick?"

"Aha!"

This time, he understood immediately.

It seemed human societies were all similar. Seeing as idioms with the same meaning existed.

The slaves made their decisions quickly. Without a single exception, they said they would follow the army. They climbed onto carts along with the gold and silver treasures, spoils, and the golden goddess statue.

Those who had come as VIP guests were released as they were, given minimal armaments and travel expenses. Since they were people with foundations nearby, that would be sufficient.

"Wouldn't it be cleaner to extract ransoms from them or just kill them outright?"

Rex smacked his lips looking at those trudging away.

"Because it's not like making enemies out of us was their intent. Plus, we also need guys to spread the word about what happens if you mess with your clan. To prevent things like this from recurring."

Those who touch the clan are chased to places where it seems impossible to follow and crushed! Such rumors sometimes protect a clan more robustly than steel armor.

"There might be some guys who emerge trying to play tricks without knowing their place."

"It doesn't matter."

Eugene shrugged his shoulders.

"Smash them if they're easy, leave if it's difficult. It's not much different from the lives you guys have maintained so far."

"That is true too."

Living in the castle, there were many times they felt like they'd become a settled people. However, essentially, it was the same as saying nothing had changed from a nomadic people's life.

"And besides, since we have their weaknesses grasped, there may be places to use them later."

This part was not something Eugene was highly looking forward to either.

"Come to think of it, I have one curiosity."

"Ask anything."

"Is there a god you guys believe in as well?"

Although they had known each other for a long time, it didn't particularly seem like Dark Elves practiced a religious life.

They had a culture of holding ancestral rites and paying respects to glorious ancestors as warriors, but not to the extent of reaching the domain of religion.

"We do not. We used to, but we abandoned our faith when we split off as if banished from the society of Elves in the very distant past. Why are you suddenly curious about that?"

"Because I thought it would be an entertaining pastime to toss prey to an entity that fell into my grasp."

"Pardon?"

Eugene watched a direwolf eating a hunk of meat from Homi.

That gaze bypassed the puzzled-looking Rex and stopped at the golden goddess statue.

To him, who wielded the power of other worlds stronger than anyone else, a ruined god was not an object of reverence. Just like spirits, it was merely an object for research or transactions.