Chapter 4. The Innocent Prisoner (3)
Kadim, just like with the soldiers, began slaughtering the prisoners as well.
There were more of them, but the effort required to deal with them was not great. Their arms were completely bound in iron chains, leaving them unable to move freely.
"Huff, huff, w-why, why are you doing this! What did we ever do wro— gkh!"
"Aaaaargh!!"
"Ugh, kuhuhh... s-save m—."
Thud!
However, as the buff gradually wore off, beating them to death with bare hands was no longer feasible. Kadim drove his spear into the prisoners' hearts or smashed their heads with rocks, cutting off their breath. Corpses lay strewn across the plain like shattered sculptures.
Kadim did not kill the prisoners because they were shameless, heinous criminals. Judging by the weight of sin, he himself—having butchered more than a dozen soldiers—was far more vicious. For a greater sinner to judge a lesser one was absurd, no matter how one thought about it.
He killed the prisoners for one simple reason. The same reason as with the soldiers—to leave no future trouble behind.
'If I let these prisoners go... they'd surely spread word of what they saw in every direction.'
No amount of threats or intimidation would work. A drunkard's mouth opened as easily as a prostitute's thighs. After just a few drinks at a tavern, they would surely get carried away and boast about their exploits—about some barbarian who drank demon blood and massacred holy knights and soldiers.
Kadim still knew very little about this world. But in a place where people were arrested simply for being heretics, it wasn't hard to imagine what would happen if such rumors spread.
A wanted notice or bounty would be the least of it. In the worst case, a unit of high-ranking holy knights might be sent in pursuit.
'...I can't afford to take that risk yet.'
All witnesses to the scene had to be erased. Like a clerk approving documents, like a butcher slaughtering livestock, Kadim mechanically hunted down the prisoners.
All the others were dealt with. Now, the last one—cowering beneath the bushes, trembling violently. Kadim leveled his sharp spear and slowly approached.
"I-I really didn't do anything wrong, my Lord! Please, s-save me— uuegh, ugh, uuegh!"
Overwhelmed by extreme fear and tension, the prisoner vomited. Bitter fluid surged endlessly from his stomach, tears streaming down his face. The front of his trousers had long since been thoroughly soaked.
Kadim didn't refrain from stabbing him immediately out of pity for such a pitiful sight. He merely remembered that this man had provided some information earlier.
Whether he killed him now or squeezed out more information first made little difference. Kadim lowered his spear for the moment. The peddler sobbed miserably and bowed his head to the ground.
"Th-thank you, truly thank you for sparing my life, my Lord. Ngh, uhuhh...."
"I have a few questions. What's your name?"
"D-Duncan, Duncan Wheeled. I'm from Moltana in the Free City Alliance, a traveling peddler who sells goods here and there. Hngh, I was wandering near the border when I was falsely accused and unjustly arrested. If you just let me go, I'll never come near this place agai—."
"I'm not interested in your story. From now on, answer only what I ask."
"Gk— y-yes!"
Kadim continued his questioning.
"I'd like you to explain something you mentioned earlier."
"E-eh? W-what...?"
"That Lucaonia became an Empire. In my memory, Lucaonia was clearly a kingdom. Was Lucaonia here an Empire from the moment it was founded? If not, when did it become one?"
Duncan couldn't help but look at him in confusion, momentarily forgetting his own dire situation. Just how long ago had Lucaonia become an Empire for this barbarian to say such a thing?
Then it dawned on him—the answer lay within his own doubt.
Yes, a barbarian. This man truly might be a barbarian from the wasteland beyond the mountain range. Unlike the barbarians who had fully settled on the continent, those beyond the mountains might have lost contact with the outside world hundreds of years ago.
Still, having been told to answer only what was asked, Duncan dared not inquire further. He simply replied obediently.
"This year is the 248th year of the Imperial Calendar... which is to say, about 248 years have passed since the founding year when the first Emperor established the Lucaonia Empire. Before that, Lucaonia was definitely a kingdom."
"...The Imperial Calendar? Then what year would that be by the Solar-Lunar Calendar?"
"Uh, um, well? People don't really use that ancient calendar anymore... maybe around the year 1130?"
The barbarian warrior's eyes trembled slightly.
The calendar most commonly used across the continent had become an ancient one? He couldn't maintain his composure. Clenching his fist tightly, Kadim fired off questions in rapid succession.
"What's the current state of affairs on the continent? Why has the Elga Order become like that? And what about the Demon Realm?"
If Duncan had been nothing more than an ignorant brute, he wouldn't have been able to answer any of this. Fortunately, the well-traveled peddler could at least provide shallow explanations.
About three hundred years ago, the Lucaonia Empire unified the continent. But now, in practice, the continent was divided into three parts. The Elga Order had expanded its influence in response to the outbreak of demons, only to end up as it was now. As for the Demon Realm, no one had ever returned alive from there, so no one knew what was happening....
Kadim frowned.
No one had ever returned alive from the Demon Realm? Even if he himself had disappeared after crossing the fissure, what had happened to the other companions who had defeated the great demon with him?
"Gale, Melissa, Gordon, Cyril. Have you ever heard these names?"
"...No? Never heard of them, my Lord. Uh... Melissa sounds vaguely familiar, though... wasn't the first Tower Lord named Melissa...?"
Kadim closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Heroes who had conquered the Demon Realm and executed a great demon, forgotten. It made no sense. He began to wonder whether this world truly followed on from the first cycle at all.
Still, the most important question remained.
"Then why, exactly, did demons start running rampant across the continent?"
As he spoke, some of the tension drained away. Duncan answered calmly.
"No one knows that either, my Lord. Some say it's divine punishment descending upon a world where Elga has fallen. Others say a mad archmage opened a gate to another world. There are even whispers that it's an omen of some monstrous evil soon descending upon the world. But no one knows which, if any, is true. The truth exists only behind the eyelids of the omnipotent god above the clouds."
"...."
Kadim pressed his lips together for a moment. This was enough information. Putting it all together, one conclusion emerged.
'This place is... probably the continent about three hundred years after the first cycle.'
No other conclusion made sense.
Kadim stared blankly at the ground. His expression was shadowed. A face resembling the arid wasteland twitched convulsively.
As if being cast out of his original world wasn't enough, he had now been expelled even from the era he had finally found footing in. The knowledge in his mind had become centuries-old relics. He had to accept the fact that everyone still vivid in his memories, people he hadn't even been separated from for long, had returned to a handful of dust.
A castaway of reality, a straggler of time, an outsider among outsiders.
Kadim lifted his head. It felt as though house-sized slabs of lead were crushing his chest. The bodies he had compulsively slaughtered entered his vision. Fundamental questions clawed at his mind.
Was there any reason to keep living—slaughtering countless lives like this again, drinking the revolting blood of demons, and suppressing the mind-eroding madness?
There was no guarantee that no matter what he did, he would ever return to reality.
If he somehow reached this world's ending, maybe then a "New Game ++" would appear. And after that, if the accursed god deigned to grant it, perhaps a "New Game +++" would follow. An endlessly repeating cycle, always fresh in its cruelty.
Among Kadim's people, the Atalans, there was such a legend.
Brave warriors who lived their entire lives sharpening axe blades with blood were, after death, granted the chance to fight Atala, the great god of the wasteland and of struggle. If, in that battle, they managed to inflict even the smallest wound upon Atala, only then would they be allowed to enter the warriors' paradise, where war and feasts never ceased.
Kadim did not know who had imprisoned him in this world—Elga, Atala, or some other absolute being. But if given the chance, he didn't want to inflict just a small wound. He wanted to tear off that being's limbs, smash its skull, devour its heart, and rip its entrails apart.
A distant, unreachable wish.
Kadim clenched his teeth hard. Then he raised the long spear and aimed it at his own Adam's apple. Duncan cried out in alarm.
"H-huh? M-my Lord! What are you doing?!"
If he set out on another journey, countless lingering regrets would surely grab at his ankles again. If he was to face death, there was no more fitting moment than now.
The barbarian, weary of a journey without promise, gently closed his eyes—hoping that what awaited him in the afterlife would not be a windowless room with the words "Game Over" written on it.
And then, just as he was about to drive the spear deep into his throat—
"After we defeat the great demon, what should we do next? Hmm, I don't know... maybe build a tower to teach mages?"
A companion's words he had once overheard in the first cycle flashed through his mind.
Kadim snapped his eyes open and asked Duncan,
"You said you'd heard the name Melissa?"
"Uh, y-yes... I'm not completely sure, but the first Tower Lord's name was Meli, Melija? Melissa? Something like that, I think."
"Where is the Magic Tower?"
"The Magic Tower is in Vestana, the easternmost city of the Free City Alliance. This place is the central continent, Imperial territory, so... even if we hurry with no delays, it'll take at least two months, my Lord...."
Duncan sensed something ominous. Two months sounded neat enough, but accounting for all the variables, the journey could easily stretch beyond three or four months. He sent Kadim a desperate look, praying the barbarian wouldn't ask him to serve as a guide.
Kadim let out a bitter smile. He had hoped to leave no regrets behind, yet his ankle had already been seized. Toward the distant past, toward the mage girl who used to carry around a book as big as her own torso, he muttered a quiet complaint.
'Damn it. Why did you have to say something like that... even stopping me from dying when I want to....'
Melissa had a habit of recording even the smallest details. If the Melissa in his memories was the same one, she would surely have left meticulous records of everything that happened after he disappeared.
Now, without confirming that, he could no longer close his eyes in peace.
The barbarian warrior lowered the long spear. Then, at last, he made the request the peddler least wanted to hear.
"You're a traveling merchant, so you roughly know the roads, right? Guide me to the Magic Tower. Take the fastest route possible."
"W-what? B-but my Lord, I—I have family back home. I can't afford to waste a long time just guiding someone...."
Duncan trailed off. Kadim stared at him blankly. He could understand the merchant's circumstances well enough. If he wanted someone to do a job, he would need to offer appropriate compensation.
"Is that so? Then as payment, I'll give you the most precious thing I can offer."
"A-and what would that be, my Lord?"
"Your life."
"H-hik—!"
Duncan hiccupped, his face drained of all color.
He had momentarily forgotten while answering questions. If this barbarian's mood soured, he really could snap his neck as easily as breaking a reed. At this point, there was no room left to choose.
Before departing, they took time to gather their belongings and search for necessary items. Duncan retrieved his bag, which had been taken by the holy knights, and breathed a sigh of relief. Kadim rummaged through the corpses, looking for usable weapons.
The most tempting weapon was, without question, the holy knight's spear. That spear, imbued with cold energy—if ranked like in a game—would easily qualify as at least rare.
The problem was that it was a "blessed weapon."
A blessed weapon consecrated by an Elga priest could only be used by the holy knight to whom it had been granted. If anyone else tried to wield it, a rejection reaction like before would occur. Regrettable as it was, he had no choice but to abandon the spear.
'...If only I could have brought the axe I used in the first cycle.'
Even if he had brought it, it would have vanished the moment he crossed over. Would any god leave equipment behind while resetting his physical abilities? Kadim clicked his tongue briefly and moved on.
Soon, he found a reasonably intact sword in the squad captain's belongings. Kadim roughly tied it at his waist with a leather strap. On a night when the moon fully hid its face, by using another of his unique traits, he could hone this sword into something fairly serviceable—even if it couldn't compare to a blessed weapon.
He didn't forget to collect blood from the demon's corpse either. The effect would be weaker than fresh blood, but better than nothing. He hoped he wouldn't need to use it, but preparation was necessary.
His preparations were complete. Duncan came trotting over with a bulging pack on his back. His clothes were still stained with vomit and urine. Kadim frowned slightly.
"How about changing those clothes? There are plenty over there."
His thick finger pointed toward the corpses. Duncan shook his head with a pale face.
"N-no, my Lord... I-I'm comfortable in these clothes.... If they're dirty, I can just wash them in a stream...."
"Is that so? Then, fine."
With that, the two set off.
The peddler led the way, constantly stealing glances at the barbarian's mood. The barbarian followed with indifferent steps. Before long, the day waned, and the sun—once peering lazily at the world—slowly lowered its gaze beneath the horizon.
Long shadows stretched out before the two figures walking with the sunset at their backs.