Chapter 75: Chapter 75

All around them was an endless plain.

The sky of Northland was far higher than that of the Empire. The summit of the snow-capped Gigantes Mountains on the horizon nearly touched that sky.

After leaving the lakeshore, the party crossed the plain in silence. Each of them bore their grief heavily, their steps labored.

'Ha, just when I thought I could catch my breath for a moment...'

Rev, head bowed, let out a sigh as deep as the earth. Ashan, who had been attacked by the assailants, was a friend of about the same age. He had also been an avid reader of Rev's works.

'We didn't even have time to mourn.'

He knew better than anyone that death always came suddenly, yet let his guard slip.

Wandering refugees with nowhere to stay or return to.

A band of defeated soldiers whom no one would shelter.

Rev lifted his head, reflecting bitterly on their miserable reality.

There was a more serious problem right in front of them.

The two walking at the front of the group.

'Both of them are out of it.'

Asriel on the imperial mainland, Dakir in Northland.

In each region, the status of these two gods was unrivaled. It would be no exaggeration to call them monotheistic deities. Even if Tarok, the demon god, was head and shoulders above the lesser gods, he still was no match for the two.

'How could there be followers of the Holy Church in Northland?'

The assailants had spoken Northlandic, and given the chaos, no one had realized their true identity.

But as he lay dying, the assailant had produced a Holy Church relic that everyone immediately recognized.

'Simon even had a seizure.'

Michelle had fainted on the spot, memories of persecution by the order rushing back.

'... Tascar must feel even worse.'

He had known Tascar for quite some time now. While they hadn't talked much back in the safe zone, he had always felt a certain sympathy since they both couldn't go back to their homelands.

Tascar often used to say:

Northland. The land where the descendants of Dakir lived. Warriors of proud spirit did not seek benevolence or salvation from their god.

Rev sighed once more and shot a sidelong glance at Ran beside him.

He, too, had his shoulders drooped.

'But seriously, what's wrong with Ran?'

Rev had been watching Ran closely for a while now. He planned to use him as the protagonist for his next work. Since Ran had never confided in him, the only way to learn about him was through secret observation.

'I've never once seen Ran pray in the Holy Church manner.'

The Holy Church was the state religion of the Empire. Except for a handful of ethnic minorities, most imperial citizens believed in the Holy Church. Even if they had varying degrees of faith, they'd at least offer a brief, formal prayer once a day.

Of course, the Empire was vast, with a great diversity of people. Some had weak faith, and even among non-demons there were those who hated the Church. After the civil war, many people had turned from the Holy Church, disillusioned and disappointed, choosing apostasy. Even Terrence had declared himself unaffiliated due to personal conviction.

Rev had always assumed Ran was one of those types.

So he couldn't understand why seeing believers in Northland would trouble him so deeply.

'Ugh, honestly, I don't understand it at all.'

As he started to avert his gaze, he locked eyes with Ran, who was glancing back at him.

Ran spoke, looking toward Terrence.

"Let's rest for a bit."

The group settled to rest, each in their own way.

Ran stood some distance away, staring vacantly toward the far horizon.

Not all of Northland was frozen wasteland. They'd prepared for harsh cold, but this level of chill was still bearable. Tascar was certainly doing a good job as their guide.

He wished the unpredictable climate was the only surprise.

The Northmen called out to Lord Asriel in their own tongue.

A wave of confusion swept over him. It was a strangeness no words could convey.

'I've never heard of the HQ attempting a missionary strategy in Northland.'

From the start, the mainland church had no intent of converting Northland. They saw it as a primitive world to be conquered and ruled under their Lord's name.

'After the war, Northland would be the next target.'

Rumors had spread within the Special Unit that the Emperor would invade Northland to turn public sentiment outward and settle the postwar turbulence.

Ran found that plausible.

He'd suspected some tacit deal between the Emperor and the mainland church seeking to expand its influence.

He still believed the rumors were true, but now his speculation had changed.

If the church started a war of conquest, the Emperor could drive the final nail into the Holy Church's already shattered prestige, and then gain justification to eradicate the church once it lost its religious function.

In the end, only the Emperor would profit.

'... Anyway, it isn't a plot by the mainland church.'

So then, who had sown the Holy Church's seed in this land of savagery?

'Quersa is a holy land.'

The reason Quersa had become an independent archbishopric was solely to preserve the will of Lord Asriel and praise Him purely.

It bore no social responsibility or role, so proselytizing was meaningless. The origins of the mainland Church began with separating those functions from Quersa.

At any rate, a holy site was just that—a holy site.

... Cyrano had been exiled for violating this very taboo.

'It's confusing, but for now, getting to Ortega comes first.'

They still had a long way to go. Ran steeled his resolve.

He turned toward the group.

Ran let out a short breath. Before him were people worn out to their core.

They had come seeking a new home, half with hope, half with dread—only to lose a companion as soon as they arrived in this unknown land.

Their empty gazes were fixed on a time further in the past.

Driven by a cause for their people, chasing the illusion called "divine mandate," they had come all this way.

What remained in the end was a life of relentless exile, a heartache at having no place to rest anywhere in the world.

Simply bodies that breathed.

"Sigurd. You should lie down."

Amid it all, Sigurd's morning sickness was growing worse. Terrence busily moved among them, checking on her and the others' conditions.

Ran glanced away, watching Iel bravely following after Terrence and trying to stay cheerful.

He nudged Tascar's foot with his toe.

Tascar, who'd been crouched down, lifted his head. The shock still hadn't left his face. Guilt and resentment mixed on his features. Dark circles hung under his eyes.

Ran beckoned him aside with a thumb jerked behind him.

The two moved a good distance from the others.

"How long are you going to be ?"

Ran leaned against a gnarled old tree as he spoke. He felt a craving for a smoke.

"... What do you mean?"

"Are you going to keep acting like you're dead?"

Tascar couldn't even look Ran properly in the eye. He knew he was being pathetic.

But it wasn't a shock one could brush off with mere bravado. A Northman had taken his own life, seeking salvation from a god other than Dakir. Tascar could still hear the man's final words muttered at his ear.

They might not have been of the same tribe, but Tascar too was Dakir's descendant—a fellow Northman.

"Get a grip, tascar. Don't you see the people you brought with you?"

This wasn't a situation where anyone could take care of anyone else.

Though he wanted to say as much, tascar swallowed the words.

"You only met one person. That was near the mountains, too. Anyway, getting to Aburota comes first. We can assess the situation there. If you want to look dumbfounded then, be my guest."

Lord Asriel told his followers to love everyone. Universal compassion—for Northmen too, of course.

... He wanted to say as much to Tascar, but bit his tongue.

"What happened while I was gone?"

"You don't need to be so hung up on things you can't control."

"I can't believe you're saying this. As a man with no god, you can't understand how I feel."

"... Maybe. But I know exactly what needs to be done right now."

A lonely wind swept by. Ran licked his dry lips, hiding his complicated feelings. Tascar let out a heavy sigh and turned away.

At the edge of his vision, he spotted a low mound.

Northmen's eyesight, accustomed to the open plains and snowy fields, was far superior to that of imperial folk.

Tascar narrowed his eyes. Beyond the mound, he could see a line of people crossing its flank.

Tascar murmured. Ran looked that way too.

They were dressed similarly to the assailants seen by the lakeshore. Behind them, five or six people were strung along on ropes.

Tascar's mouth made a tense, squeaking sound.

Ran and Tascar pursued them.

They delivered a message about the situation to the group, instructing them to follow behind slowly and specifically reminding Rev to ensure Iel's safety. Official source ıs n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net

All this caused some delay.

As they hurried in pursuit, tascar said,

"If you're so concerned, why didn't you stay behind instead of coming with me?"

"That won't do. If you get in trouble, I'll be in trouble too."

Of course, that was just an excuse. Ran wanted to find out what was really going on more than anyone.

"Unbelievable. Anyway, don't worry too much. The safe zone folks might be weak, but they've at least wielded swords before. We finish this up quick and bring just one of them out."

"We shouldn't rush in. There might be remnants. Let's wait for the right moment."

"Good. Better to sort things out thoroughly while we're at it."

A sharp glint returned to Tascar's eyes. For the first time in a while, he looked spirited.

Before long, they drew close to the assailants. The two slowed, catching their breath, and followed tightly through the undergrowth, taking care not to be spotted.

Four black-robed figures were leading people whose heads were covered in black cloth, their wrists bound with rope.

When one person stumbled, the others fell with them, all tied together.

The assailants made no attempt to help them up; instead, they dragged them along like livestock.

Tascar growled under his breath. Ran's eyes widened in shock as well.

"Do we keep watching?"

"You really are a cruel imperial."

Ran was just as uneasy. Some among the captives were small—clearly a child by the size.

After a short distance, the assailants stopped again. The awkwardly shuffling captives tumbled forward once more.

One of the assailants looked up at the sky. The edge of his hood cast a deep shadow over his eyes.

"... This is the direction of Quersa."

He spoke in Northlandic.

Ran froze. He couldn't believe his ears. Goosebumps crawled all over him.

"We shall execute judgment. Brothers and sisters."

His voice was a dark baritone, like those of the lakeside assailants. At the instructions of the remaining assailants, the captives were made to kneel in a line.

Tascar, peering through a gap in the bush, muttered,

"What...what are they doing? What the hell?"

"Shh. Quiet. Don't move until I say so."

Tascar was seething. He shot Ran a glare.

Tascar involuntarily caught his breath.

Ran wore a face Tascar had never seen before. Veins bulged along his jaw, and his usually light brown eyes had faded to an even lighter shade. It looked as though light was boiling within them.

"Unmask the sinners."

Their faces were revealed one by one. All ages and genders were mixed among the six.

A woman's bloodshot eyes darted from side to side before stopping on a boy kneeling directly in front of the gang leader.

One of the assailants standing nearby kicked her in the face.

"Don't speak rashly."

The beating was brief. He gripped her hair, forcing her upright by the shoulders.

The ringleader raised a sword high. It was an imperial-style blade.

"I solemnly declare that your souls now stand at a crossroads."

The tip of the sword descended, pointing at the boy's neck.

The boy trembled as if seizing, urine running down his trousers.

Though she had been beaten badly, the woman thrashed desperately. Her kin cried out for each other in agony.

The assailant continued his proclamation, unconcerned.

"Child. Swear that you will gladly become a child of the Lord. Say Amen. A—men."

The sword tip was rising again.

Tascar could take it no longer and turned his head toward Ran.

"Damn it, how much longer?"

A moment later, a wet, slicing sound resounded right in front of them.

The Nachal blade swung by Ran cleaved the assailant's body clean in two.

**New Names, locations, skills, and Techniques**