Chapter 172 - Battle for the Holy Land (2)

The coalition camp erupted in an uproar.

"End the ancient war...?"

"You’re telling us not to wipe out the Mountain Snailfolk?"

It was hardly a positive uproar. The commanders of the other races, who had been quietly listening to the Earth Spiritfolk Great Warrior, began venting their outrage.

"So in the end, you mean to side with the slave masters."

"What utter bullshit!"

"Is this why you’ve refused to join the war all this time?"

"You waited until both armies exhausted themselves, and now you intend to take all the spoils? Did the Mountain Snailfolk hire you? Have you no shame before the spirits of your ancestors?"

Accusations poured down in a flood.

The Earth Spiritfolk Great Warrior did not so much as blink.

"It matters not what you babble. We merely state our thoughts, neither adding nor withholding anything. The Fire River Council held twelve minor sessions and convened six grand sessions. Our unanimous conclusion is that [Driving the Mountain Snailfolk to extinction exceeds the bounds of rightful vengeance]."

"Traitors!"

"Put those chains back around your ankles!"

"Wait."

FLAP!

The bats hanging from the palisade fluttered their wings. Hundreds gathered in one place and, before long, formed a human figure. A Vampire draped in a pitch-black cloak—the evolved form of the Bloodsucking Race.

"I am Margrave Karajan of the Far Woods. I command sixteen hundred elite troops. My ancestors lived on the ceiling of Slimepolis, and my mother and grandfather fought in the previous expedition."

"... They really did become vampires?"

The Black Dragon leader looked unsettled, apparently unfamiliar with her race’s evolution. Of course, the children living in this world could not hear our voices.

"Warriors of the Wet Land. During the Great Escape, you were the first to flee Slimepolis. Though you were the first to take up stone axes and rise in rebellion, you turned your backs when the opportunity to finish off the Mountain Snailfolk finally came."

The noble of the Bloodsucking Race—a bloodsucking aristocrat—bared his teeth.

"According to legend, the Mountain Snailfolk’s pursuing army let you go for some reason."

"..."

"I find it suspicious. You adamantly refused to participate from the very first expedition, yet now you appear, clamoring for an end to the war. Did you not strike a secret pact with the Mountain Snailfolk long ago?"

"That was over half a millennium ago. Repelling the Mountain Snailfolk’s pursuing army was the achievement of Kekereukker and his faithful apostle, Gorke. Apostle Gorke rode on Kekereukker’s back and defeated thirteen Mountain Snailfolk soldiers in consecutive single combats."

Wow.

‘Our Gorke was elevated to an apostle?’

For some reason, I felt both proud and wistful. That little kid who’d called me a demon over and over because he didn’t want me hitting him had left his name in history.

"Moved by these duels, the commander of the Mountain Snailfolk’s pursuers withdrew his army of his own accord."

"Ha. How touching."

The bloodsucking aristocrat sneered.

"The duels of a noble prophet, and an enemy commander moved by them. Truly an epic fit to be sung of in legends. Perhaps because I am an inadequate, clumsy fellow, [A secret pact between two powers] interests me rather more than [An enemy commander’s admiration]."

The Earth Spiritfolk Great Warrior’s expression grew complicated.

"... It was far from honorable combat. Kekereukker had a cowardly, cruel side and forced Gorke to participate even though he did not wish to fight."

Huh?

"Until the moment of his death, Apostle Gorke repeatedly urged his people to remember: Kekereukker was not a benevolent transcendent being, but merely a friend who tried to look after us a little. His mouth was foul and his temper petty, so he was hardly a friend one wished to keep close."

Uh-oh.

"Yes. If anything, Kekereukker is our bad friend."

"Calling a god a bad friend! That is blasphemy!"

The Conforming Human commander shrieked. Yet the Earth Spiritfolk Great Warrior retained the mournful expression of a hedgehog suffering from hair loss.

"That is what our traditions say, so it cannot be helped. Kekereukker’s names include [The Foul-Mouthed Lion], [He Who Loves the Feel of Beating Someone], and [The Advocate of Violent Education]."

"..."

My fellow hunters gave me long, steady looks.

Uh, uh, uhhh.

Their gazes, their eyes... How should I put it? They seemed to suspect and condemn me. It had been a very long time since my dear companions had looked at me like that.

"Death King..."

The Black Dragon leader spoke.

"You... I didn’t think you were that kind of person. Were you going around beating the children where we couldn’t see? I’m a little shocked. Honestly, I’m very shocked."

"... They say a person’s true nature reveals itself when they become a parent and raise a child."

The Paladin glared daggers at me.

"How badly must you have tormented the goblins for such stories to survive, Death King? How much is there even to hit on a goblin’s tiny body? I hope you reflect on your actions..."

"No, no, no. Hold on! Stop! Wait a minute!"

I waved my hands frantically from side to side.

"This is unfair! I’m not that violent! You know that!"

"Well, you can be a little headstrong, can’t you...? Otherwise, why would stories like that exist?"

"I did hit him! But I used the [Possess a Dream] item to do it. You know, that item. The item! No matter how much you get hit in a dream, even if you die, it doesn’t leave any wounds, so I used it to teach him aura..."

"Good heavens. The goblin died in his dreams?"

The Paladin’s eyes widened. The others murmured among themselves too.

"Leaving no physical wounds and leaving psychological trauma are entirely separate matters. Mental scars may in fact be more serious. And teaching through beatings and death, of all things..."

"[The Foul-Mouthed Lion]..."

"[He Who Loves the Feel of Beating Someone]..."

"[The Advocate of Violent Education]..."

"No, hold on. When you put it like that, I really do sound like trash, but I’m not! I can’t say exactly which part is wrong, but I wasn’t that awful! Really! I was only trying to keep the little gobbies from losing their beautiful culture. Please believe me!"

"A textbook excuse..."

"The kind you find in cases of domestic violence..."

Ahh, ahhh!

My reputation! My image was being sullied!

My precious image as someone you could depend on anytime, anywhere—reliable, kind, and even capable!

"Hey. Who’s that supposed to be...?"

‘Me.’

"What a refreshingly insane bastard..."

While my noble image shattered to pieces, the multiracial coalition’s leaders were also staring bewilderedly at the Earth Spiritfolk Great Warrior.

"The descendants of rock salt are already notorious for being out of their minds, but..."

"Treating their own god so vulgarly—are they sane?"

"They truly are a breed beyond reason."

What was this? The Earth Spiritfolk had a strange reputation too.

Surely this wasn’t all my fault? No, it couldn’t be. Probably.

"Ugor."

The Earth Spiritfolk Great Warrior sighed.

"We have conveyed the council’s will. We shall not concern ourselves with how you receive us. But remember that we have come to end this war. Whether it is the Mountain Snailfolk or any other race, we will never stand by and watch their utter extermination."

"Ha! Do you think we’ll let you do as you please?"

"We always live as we please."

The Earth Spiritfolk Great Warrior turned his lion around.

"Bear this in mind. We are merely the vanguard. The council’s chair is coming with the main force. Lions who drink the rain and warriors who love fire are approaching. You would do well to fear them."

The Great Warrior addressed the soldiers under his command.

"All troops, move out."

The Earth Spiritfolk warriors moved as one. The coalition was left in a quandary. Stopping them would require a fight, but there was nothing to gain from fighting a force that was neither friend nor foe. Unable to act one way or the other, the coalition merely fingered their bowstrings and watched the Earth Spiritfolk’s retreating backs.

"Wait."

And then...

"Those bastards?"

When they saw where the Earth Spiritfolk were heading, the coalition soldiers stirred. Their leaders were aghast as well.

"Th-they’re setting up camp there?"

Right in the middle between the coalition camp and the Mountain Snailfolk’s Slimepolis.

The Earth Spiritfolk brazenly settled in a spot that looked to be within catapult range of either side.

"Uog. The soil here has decent viscosity."

"Just sticky enough to feel good."

"I’m tired from marching. Scrub my back."

A stream ran through the plain. The four hundred Earth Spiritfolk expertly kneaded the mud along its banks. They scrubbed one another’s backs and traced patterns on one another’s bodies. The leisurely, relaxed scene truly called to mind a summer vacation spot. A bathhouse had somehow sprung up in the middle of a battlefield.

Anyone who didn’t know better would think they’d just come for fun.

"That shamelessness..."

"Somehow, it feels familiar..."

"I feel like I’ve seen it quite often somewhere...?"

My fellow hunters looked back and forth between me and the Earth Spiritfolk.

What? Why?

I really had done nothing but good things for the children.

"Move according to the numbers you drew."

Once their baths were finished, two Earth Spiritfolk broke away from the ranks.

One headed toward the coalition.

The other headed toward the Mountain Snailfolk.

Just two warriors had occupied the paths of both armies.

"Ugor."

With a greatsword slung over his shoulder, the Earth Spiritfolk warrior stared down the opposing soldiers.

As if daring them to come.

"Th-those...!"

Recognizing the meaning behind his actions and gaze, the coalition’s leaders flew into a rage.

"Such insolent bastards! Are they telling us to break through in single combat?"

"The Earth Spiritfolk are always like this! They spout lofty, antiquated words, but their actions are utterly barbaric!"

"We are knights who honor the sacred will of the guardian gods. How dare these mongrels babbling about bad friends bar our path!"

"Send out a champion! We need only send a warrior of our own!"

Before long, a fairy champion rode out on a white horse.

"You Mold bastard! Today I’ll bury your rotten stench beneath the earth!"

The champion was rugged and brawny, quite unlike an elf.

The Earth Spiritfolk warrior gazed blankly at the fairy charging toward him.

"My name is Urmu. I am descended from Great Warrior Gorgir, who played with Kekereukker. I am the Fire River Council’s six hundred and thirty-first-ranked warrior. What is your name?"

"I have no name to give the likes of—!"

At that instant, the Earth Spiritfolk warrior hurled his greatsword.

The enormous blade whirled through the air like a windmill.

"...you?"

Startled, the fairy raised his twin swords.

CLAAANG!

An enormous crashing sound rang out as the fairy was knocked from his horse. He had blocked the blade, but failed to cancel all its momentum, and his body went flying.

"Guh, hhk!"

Unable even to break his fall properly, the fairy screamed. Gasping for breath, he tried somehow to get up. But the Earth Spiritfolk warrior’s lion was already upon him. It pinned the fairy’s shoulder beneath a forepaw.

"Eek..."

"You would not give your name or ancestry. You know nothing of manners. Ugor."

THUD!

The Earth Spiritfolk warrior guided his lion to crush the elf’s face. In that moment, the nameless fairy’s head ceased to exist. Growling and snorting, the lion leisurely rubbed its forepaw against the ground.

The duel had ended in an instant.

NEIGH!

The white horse, now without a master, cried out and raced pitifully toward the far end of the plain. That alone might have made a reasonably picturesque scene, but...

NEIGH?

One of the Earth Spiritfolk threw a spear and brought down the white horse. The plain fell quiet. The spear thrower trotted over and dragged it away. As the coalition’s blank stares converged on him, he seemed finally to realize he had done something awkward and bowed politely.

"Sorry. I was hungry..."

"..."

"I thought it would be a waste to let it go like that. Meat is precious. That’s what I think, anyway. Keep dueling."

Then he returned calmly to the Earth Spiritfolk camp.

His bow had been impeccably courteous.

"..."

The coalition leaders gaped.

"That..."

"That dirty bastard!"

"Is there a more ignorant fucker anywhere under heaven?"

"Throwing his sword in an honorable duel! And he still calls himself a warrior?"

"If you don’t like it, throw your swords too. Ugor."

The warrior who had killed the fairy twitched his nose indifferently.

"Besides, we’ve always been ignorant."

"What?"

"From childhood, the older boys beat us up, telling us to master aura. We’re an inferior race, so if we can’t even use aura, we ought to die. They beat us so badly we’d rather they killed us, but their beatings are so exquisitely controlled that we can’t die. We get hit, and hit, and hit again, until at some point we awaken aura. Choosing one of the older boys who beat us and beating him up in return is the rite by which we are recognized as adults."

The Earth Spiritfolk warrior looked up at the sunset sky.

His bright eyes held a sorrow that words could not express.

"To think such an ignorant race exists... Even I, a member of the council, can scarcely believe it..."

"..."

"But it cannot be helped. This is the best method. There is no more efficient way to teach aura than suffering so terribly you could die. This is the very teaching Kekereukker personally bestowed upon the noble Apostle Gorke six hundred years ago."

The warrior mumbled.

"Borrowing Kekereukker’s favorite expression, we call this [The Fucking Aura Instruction Method]. It is truly fucking awful."

Behind him, his fellow Earth Spiritfolk responded in unison.

"Friendship over idols! Trust over faith! Fuck!"

"Fuuuck!"

"Fucking hell!"

The warrior nodded.

"Our people’s sorrow runs deep and wide. There are no gods in this world, only bad friends. So we must do better. We have no choice but to do better. You who once shared our ancient chains—cease trying to exterminate the Mountain Snailfolk."

"..."

"Or we’ll fucking kill you."

The plain fell silent.

I fell silent.

My fellow hunters did not.

"It’s the Death King..."

"That’s totally the Death King..."

"Death King, why are you over there?"

"Since when did you grow tusks and paint your skin green, Death King?"

Wait.

Seriously, what kind of image did they have of me?