Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Ah, Damn You, God

Had they heard the commotion?

As the prison door, which had been tightly shut, swung wide open, Sir Lyon stepped inside.

He glanced around at the scene before him and his expression hardened. Shortly after, the smoke dissipated, and Kamel Blazer entered, covering his nose with a handkerchief.

Kamel briefly gazed at the shaman whose head had exploded, then turned his eyes to me.

His look was one of questioning.

I had no explanation to offer. After all, this was what I woke up to.

Still, I had something to say.

There was something I had mentioned earlier.

"I told you it would be useless, didn't I?"

“Was this your doing?”

“I did nothing. It was only his protection that spared my life.”

With a sneer—

For the first time, I flashed a rotten smile at Kamel.

I just felt like doing it.

As if in response to my smile,

“Lyon.”

“Yes.”

“Go and bring more shamans.”

What the hell is with this bastard?

At Kamel’s order, Lyon soon returned with three more shamans in tow. From their appearance and the sinister aura they exuded, it was clear that they practiced black magic.

I couldn't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

How are there so many shamans gathered in just one territory? Especially these black magic practitioners, notorious for their individualism, were rarely ever seen together like this.

Which meant one thing—they were certainly staying by Kamel's side in exchange for something.

‘Did he recruit the shamans right after his return? But how?’

Shamans were not people who could be swayed by money. What could Kamel, merely a noble at the time, have offered to keep these shamans at his side?

‘...No way.’

Suddenly, memories of Kamel's ruthless behavior during his noble days came flooding back.

The massacre of several villages.

And the missing bodies.

I had thought his behavior was insane even back then, but if it was all for the purpose of recruiting shamans, then this bastard was truly out of his mind.

He had used human lives as payment to keep them close.

‘No wonder his father sent assassins after him.’

Of course, it was my rotten luck to be one of those assassins. And that misfortune was still ongoing.

“To whoever extracts this man’s memories, I’ll give an entire village.”

I was right.

This merciless bastard, who treated the people of his lands like mere objects, was now after me.

“Kehehehe, I’ve been short on sacrifices anyway.”

“This one’s mine. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Can’t you see the corpse of Corotoni whose head was blown off? Don’t take him lightly.”

A village could house up to a thousand people.

The offer was so overwhelming that the shamans, each revealing their greed, approached me as if they were about to devour me whole.

In such a situation, there was only one thing I could do.

"Ah, damn you, God."

I found myself calling out to a god I never cared for or even believed in. I could only hope that some sort of divine responsibility would kick in after being thrown into such a situation.

One of the shamans took a step forward and stood in front of me.

He looked up at me with bloodshot, drug-addicted eyes and laughed.

You creepy bastard, you’re terrifying.

Jingle— Jingle— Jingle—

What is it now? Bells?

The small bells in the shaman's hands rang noisily.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Ggaaahhh!”

The headache started again.

* * *

Thud—!

"......."

Kamel was left speechless as he witnessed the shaman’s head explode.

He stared at the shaman who died in the exact same manner as the first one, his thoughts growing more complicated.

Just as the assassin had said, the man had done nothing. It was as if the shaman had taken his own life.

‘Is this what you call protection?’

Kamel furrowed his brow.

A protection spell that causes a shaman’s head to burst? He had never heard of such a thing.

It wasn’t a power he had encountered in his memory either.

“Ggaaahhh!”

Shortly after, a second shaman tried a different method but suddenly clutched his head and began rolling on the ground.

His eyes turned upward, and drool began to drip from his mouth as if he had gone mad. Moments later, his body went limp, and his chest stopped moving.

He was dead.

Kamel quickly called out to the only surviving shaman, an old man.

“Rengua.”

“You called for me?”

“Change the orders. Don’t go after his memories. Find out what this protection is.”

“I will give it a try, but...”

“If it looks too dangerous, stop immediately. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Understood.”

Rengua was the most skilled among the shamans Kamel had recruited.

Losing him would be a huge setback to Kamel’s future plans, so he made sure to prioritize his safety.

Rengua stood two steps away from the assassin, clutching a crystal orb, and began chanting several incantations.

With each chant, Rengua's reactions varied—sometimes his brow furrowed, other times he tilted his head in confusion, or clutched his chest, and at one point, even coughed up blood.

After some time, Rengua removed his hand from the orb and looked at the assassin with a pale face, then turned to Kamel.

“The protection only reacts to mental interference.”

“Explain.”

“If we try to shock his mind or soul, a fierce backlash strikes us shortly after. That’s likely why the shamans’ heads exploded or why they went mad.”

“And besides that?”

“As you can see, I’ve tried casting several curses…”

Kamel’s gaze shifted to the assassin.

The assassin was trembling, foaming at the mouth, and writhing in pain as he let out agonizing screams, twisting his body as though he were an insect being crushed.

It seemed to be the effect of the physical curses cast on him.

Kamel nodded. The protection only worked against mental attacks; physical damage was another story. However, it was the mental protection that mattered most.

‘Not someone to be underestimated, is he?’

Kamel heightened his vigilance against "him."

Though his identity remained a mystery, it was clear now that this assassin was no easy target.

If “he” were to become an enemy and support Elletor, things could get very troublesome.

“Is it impossible to extract his memories? I can provide whatever materials or sacrifices you need.”

“...Well.”

“Speak honestly. There won’t be any punishment.”

“My skills are too lacking to tamper with his memories. If the Witch of Ordor Forest were involved, it might be possible…”

At the mention of the witch, Kamel let out a short groan.

The Witch of Ordor Forest.

There were many witches living in the Ordor Forest, but only one was known as the Witch of Ordor.

Indeed, she might be able to do it. But Kamel’s current power was far too weak to attempt to recruit her.

Summoning her might end with him being devoured instead, so Kamel quickly dismissed the idea from his mind.

“Remove the curses and heal him. There’s more I need to hear from that assassin.”

“Yes, understood.”

Having failed to extract the memories, Kamel now shifted his focus to using the assassin as a medium to approach "him."

While Kamel pondered his next move, Rengua swiftly moved to lift the curses. There were quite a few curses placed on the assassin, and if Rengua didn’t act quickly, the man could end up permanently crippled. Though now free from his chains, the assassin remained incapacitated from the intense aftereffects of the curses.

Kamel, watching the scene indifferently, stood up from his seat.

“Tch. It seems talking today will be impossible.”

“I apologize. He should recover by tomorrow.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow. Lyon, dispose of the bodies.”

“As you command.”

As Kamel and Rengua left the prison, Lyon called in the soldiers to deal with the corpses.

Once Lyon had stepped out, and the remaining soldiers were busy cleaning up the blood on the floor, the assassin regained consciousness.

“Ugh…”

“Oh? Looks like he’s awake.”

“What’s he mumbling about?”

“Go check.”

“M-me? Why?”

“Stop being a coward. Can’t you see his hands and feet are cuffed? We were ordered to report immediately when he regained consciousness, so we have to be thorough.”

With his spear in hand, the soldier cautiously approached the assassin, who was muttering with his head lowered.

“Fo…od…”

“What?”

“Food, you bastards, I’m hungry…”

“......”

I was alive.

And for whatever reason, this time, they didn’t ignore my words. Food was brought to me.

Though I was starving, the quality of the meal in the basket was unexpectedly high.

The bread was soft, the soup sweet and warm. Freshly roasted pork was served alongside a bottle of wine, meant for after the meal.

Even compared to modern food, it didn’t fall short.

This wasn’t the kind of food commoners would have access to. Judging by the quality of the meal, I could tell what Kamel thought of me.

‘At least it seems like I’ve survived for now.’

From the looks of things, I wouldn’t be killed outright anytime soon.

After all, Kamel’s true target wasn’t me, but "him."

I stuffed the last piece of bread into my mouth.

The stench of blood filled the air, and I

had seen corpses with their heads blown off. Yet, somehow, the food still went down easily. It seemed I had subconsciously begun to adapt to my surroundings.

‘Though I doubt I’ll ever adapt to the pain I felt earlier.’

The shamans’ curses were truly horrifying.

In fact, the memory of being whipped by a torturer now seemed like a fond recollection, which spoke to how severe the pain from the curses had been.

‘Who would have thought I’d experience a curse like this in real life…’

Still, I had gained something.

Rengua, the shaman.

I knew his name.

He was a key figure in Kamel’s black magic organization, "The Nest of Shamans."

And I heard him mention something about me.

‘Mental protection…’

He said I had an ability that absorbed or reflected mental attacks.

A kind of counterattack, perhaps?

I wasn’t sure how much shock I could handle and reflect, but it was undoubtedly a useful ability. It was the reason I was still alive.

‘The problem is that I’m absurdly weak…’

A few minor physical curses had nearly sent me to the afterlife.

No matter how strong my mental defenses were, I could still die from a single slash of a sword.

‘Aura Level 1.’

I had only just awakened my ability to sense mana.

My combat strength was laughable, enough to be overpowered even by minions of a villain’s underlings.

‘Why am I suddenly tearing up?’

In this world of villains, I was basically the weakest there could be.

In a world where strength meant survival, I would be dragged around by anyone stronger unless I found a way to overcome it.

‘I need a way to get stronger, fast.’

As I pondered, I found myself dozing off. With my stomach full, sleep came easily. I must have been more exhausted than I realized.

* * *

“Wear this.”

When I woke up, Lyon was standing before me, accompanied by a female servant. She handed me a set of plain clothes, and the state of my current attire came to mind.

It was a mess, for sure.

My clothes, soaked in blood and grime from the torture, were nothing short of rags.

I desperately wanted to wash, and as if reading my mind, the servant brought over a basin of water and began to wipe me down.

‘Why the sudden kindness?’

I was suspicious of Kamel's motives, but I didn’t refuse the hospitality.

The treatment Rengua had applied reeked of herbs, and the smell was overpowering.

Thanks to Rengua’s care, however, my body had recovered enough that, even though only a day had passed, I no longer felt discomfort when walking.

It was like being given a disease and the cure at the same time, but I couldn’t help feeling bitter that I had to be thankful for even this.

Once I had changed into the clean clothes, Lyon opened the iron door.

“Follow me.”

I trailed behind him, stepping out into the corridor.

The endless hallway, lit by torches, was lined with countless iron doors. The underground prison seemed to be made up of single-person cells.

When we reached the end of the corridor, I saw a staircase and thought I might finally get to see the sun.

‘Huh?’

But Lyon led me down the stairs, not up.

Why were we going deeper underground, not up to the surface?

This was a prison, wasn’t it?

“Where are we going?”

“......”

As I had expected, Lyon didn’t answer. Swallowing my curses, I continued to follow him.

The third floor underground?

The fourth?

The prison was deeper than I had thought.

I continued down the spiral staircase, all the way to the bottommost level. When we finally reached the last floor, Lyon knocked lightly on the large iron door before us.

The iron door creaked open slowly.

And then,

—"Save me!"

—"Aaaah!"

The sounds of screams spilled out.

Along with the stench of blood and filth.

‘No way, this can’t be…?’

The moment that thought crossed my mind, the door fully opened, revealing the scene inside.

“...Shit.”

I cursed involuntarily.

Unlike the quiet, solitary prison cells above, this place was filled with countless prisoners, creating a scene of utter chaos.

The long corridor was lined with iron bars on both sides, with a massive number of people locked inside.

As soon as they saw me, they began begging for their lives.

At the end of the corridor,

Kamel Blazer was waiting for me.

Standing before a grand banquet table, lavishly set for a feast.