Chapter 250: The Sufferer

“Two years ago, when you opened the port here, the magicians who had originally been researching that power left one after another, and chaos began to spread. At that time, only I remained by Viscount Youn’s side, serving as his adviser-magician. A year ago, it was Sir Bevan who contacted me.” Varo said.

“A short while ago, Sir Bevan hoped that I could handle Viscount Youn’s Sacred Relic. Only then did I realize that you were preparing to kill him. Since there was no way to delay time, I simply brought out his Sacred Relic.”

“This is my sincerity, and also another transaction. I will give this Sacred Relic to you, and in exchange, his corpse after death will belong to me.”

Agamemnon and Oscar exchanged a glance, then after a moment of thought, Agamemnon asked, “What is inside his corpse?”

Varo said, “Nothing much, I only modified his body a little, making it able to properly contain the power of a god. It is already close to the final stage, only one step away from completion. I do not wish for the body I nurtured for two years to be destroyed just like that.”

Oscar asked, “Do you want to steal the power of a god? Or do you intend to drag a god down?”

Varo said, “That has nothing to do with you.”

Oscar laughed.

Agamemnon said, “Then, I refuse this deal.”

Varo fell silent.

Agamemnon reminded him, “You can choose to return this instead.”

Varo spoke, “I hope that the bishop who baptizes me will be Bishop Marl. I wish to receive the protection of the Great Cathedral of Adrian.”

Agamemnon nodded and said, “That is your right. You may decide it for yourself, there is no need to use a Sacred Relic as a transaction.”

After receiving his answer, Varo disappeared from the spot. As for the Shield of Saron lying on the ground, he did not even glance at it.

Agamemnon furrowed his brows and asked Oscar, “Do you know his origin?”

Oscar said, “Who knows? For a magician, lifespan is just a number. Who knows how many years he has lived already? Those who once knew his background are probably long dead.”

Agamemnon asked, “After modifying a person’s body to contain divine power, what could be done?”

Oscar said, “There could be many things done, but as long as it involves gods and divine power, it is absolutely dangerous.”

Saying this, Oscar rubbed his hands. “Since he abandoned it, destroying the corpse would be a waste.”

Agamemnon said firmly, “No. His body must be destroyed. Even if it cannot be destroyed, it must be sent into the Burial Mechanism.”

Oscar clicked his tongue and said, “Such a waste.”

Agamemnon ignored him. After regaining a bit of strength, he stood up, looked at the Shield of Saron on the ground, and said, “He did not take this Sacred Relic with him?”

Oscar answered carelessly, “For magicians, what they pursue is the unknown, the past, and Mystery. Not this kind of thing that serves no purpose other than destruction. As long as magic power is accumulated in sufficient magnitude, the destruction caused by a magician far surpasses that of a Sacred Relic.”

Agamemnon said, “Then take it back, evaluate this Sacred Relic, and give him the corresponding gold coins as payment.”

Oscar laughed. “Haha, are you going to measure the value of a Sacred Relic with gold coins? Such a thing has never been done before.”

Agamemnon said, “There had also never been commoners defeating armies led by knights, nor had commoners ever killed nobles.”

Oscar was stunned.

Agamemnon continued, “I want to see Priest Landon. Can you still bring me over? In the end, it will still require him to wrap things up.”

——

The knight was named Belendir Guerrero, and the day before yesterday, he had been conscripted by Viscount Youn to fight. His opponents were a group of commoners from York Territory.

Landon had tried to dissuade him, but the knight only said it was his duty. Before leaving, he entrusted his family to take good care of Landon, then departed.

The Guerrero family was a hereditary knightly family under Viscount Youn. They held a fief outside the town, but in these past two years, Viscount Youn had ordered the knights loyal to him to live within Forth Town.

The fiefs were not reclaimed. Knights were still allowed to appoint people to manage them, but the knights themselves and their blood relatives had all been summoned back to Forth Town.

Taking care of Landon was a woman, around twenty years of age, with a plump figure. She had once had a husband, but her husband had died in battle last year. This woman of the Guerrero family had returned to her clan with her three children.

Her voice trembled as she spoke to the bedridden Landon, “Those commoners should have already encountered the lord’s knights.”

The latest news from the front had not yet arrived, but a few days earlier, word had spread that those commoners had cut through everything without resistance on their way here, leaving her frightened.

Before leaving, Belendir had specially called her aside and told her that their family would likely be destroyed, but the bloodline of the family must not be severed. Therefore, no matter who accused her, no matter what requests this dying priest had, she must fulfill them. She must survive.

Just now, she had gone out briefly to gather some news. But upon returning, she discovered that the eldest of the children left to care for Landon had collapsed on the ground.

She did not even dare to scream, nor to weep for her child. She could only speak in a trembling voice the news she had gathered: “The beast-like sounds from the lord’s fortress that had lasted continuously stopped last night. But no one dares enter the fortress. Those inside—the lord’s kin and attendants—were all killed by the lord himself.”

“Everyone in town has shut their doors tightly. They are all terrified. The knight from York Territory and the warriors he led are too ferocious. Even if one begs them for mercy, they will not spare anyone. They only use their weapons to kill everyone.”

“The head of the family took the others and fled back to the fief. Only I remain here with my three children.”

Finishing, the woman knelt on the ground, as though in prayer, and said, “My husband is already dead. My children are my everything. But now Bill is dead. Bin and Tina are still young. I beg you to spare them.”

“As long as you can spare them, I am willing to do anything for you.”

Her desperate plea was filled with hopelessness. Landon’s eyes trembled. He could not move much. His body was wrapped entirely in strips of cloth. They were nothing but ordinary cloth, and even the slightest movement brought unbearable pain.

Landon opened his mouth slightly, letting out a faint sound, “Bill is not dead. He only fell asleep. He is a good child. They too are good children. And you are a virtuous person, worthy of the Lord’s protection. Nothing will happen. Believe me.”

How could the woman believe it? She knew her own child. Bill was only five, an age of boundless energy. How could he have fallen into such a deep sleep in the short time she had gone out?

Her voice trembled and choked as she said, “They all say that this place has been struck by the Lord’s Exomunication. That all people here are sinners. That all must be purified, all must be killed.”

Landon’s body shook, filled with fury. “No, there are still many who pursue goodness here! Goodness can be born here! Evil here can be purified! This place should not be judged with final punishment!”

Tears glistened in his eyes.

Two years ago, he had been so passionate, arriving in this desert of Faith with a heart full of zeal.

He believed the road he walked was the correct one, and because of walking this correct road, he had gained happiness. Therefore, he thought himself fortunate, and thus obligated to share this happiness with others.

Just as he imagined, upon entering Viscount Youn’s domain, he was welcomed warmly by the local gentry. They seemed eager to receive the Lord’s teachings. They offered him the best food, the sweetest wine, and the most beautiful women of the village.

But Landon refused them all. He said that he had come to spread the Lord’s teachings, not to seek pleasure.

He said that he wished to establish churches in the villages, spread the Sacrament, and lead the believers in worship.

But the welcoming gentry told him that this was Viscount Youn’s land. They could not build churches here without the lord’s permission, or they would suffer punishment.

So, Landon took his leave from the hospitable gentry and journeyed alone westward, heading to Forth Town.

Yet upon arrival, he was forbidden entry. He also learned that the lord was away at war.

Barred from entering the town, with the surrounding villages also closing their gates to him, he had no choice but to go to the church outside Forth Town. He thought, “That is also a church. Surely we can share in communion there.”

But the priest had followed the lord to war. The only one there was a burly monk, who seemed not very bright.

Landon was beaten and driven away by this monk.

He could only wander outside the town. But he did not despair. After all, these people had not yet received the Lord’s teachings. And compared to the villages of the Theocracy, this place was still better—was it not?

So he wandered outside the town. When thirsty, he drank from streams. When hungry, he ate wild fruit. Though the lack of grain and meat made his body weak, every day he still ran to the town walls or village outskirts to loudly recite the Holy Scriptures.

Finally, perhaps due to his persistence, one night, someone secretly came to where he slept outdoors and gave him food.

Though they did not stay to listen to his sermons, Landon did not give up. At least this proved his efforts were not in vain.

So he preached even more fervently. And on later nights, people would come from time to time with food—children, elders, men, women, all kinds. Yet they always left after giving food.

Landon was content. He believed that as more and more were touched by his preaching, someday, someone would stay to listen even in daylight.

This lasted for half a year, until the lord returned. Then everything changed.

He was seized, tied to a crudely-made cross, whipped and tortured. He had never even seen the lord’s face.

Landon thought he might die. Yet he did not despair. He thought he had simply stumbled upon the correct path, but even in death, he would ascend to the Heavenly Kingdom and watch the next priest walk the same path.

But every time he was on the verge of death, his torment would stop. Perhaps they had grown tired of torturing him. In these pauses, those moved by his preaching would secretly bring him food at night, allowing him to regain some strength.

These were good, kind people.

Landon thought to himself, content. This was goodness born of his effort. This was longing for the Lord’s gospel.

But such good people were always captured by the sinful priests of the church and tortured to death.

Landon used his last strength to denounce them. But his body was so weak he could no longer wield Divine Word. He could only watch as those who had embraced the Lord’s teachings and walked the righteous path were tortured to death.

He hated these sins. But he hated himself even more—for lacking the strength to make more people hear the Lord’s teachings, for failing to let more goodness be born here. For failing to make this land, like York Territory, a place where sin dared not show itself.

Time passed. He did not know how long. At last, a knight rescued him. He believed this was the Lord’s mercy upon a disappointing child.

But he was filled with renewed determination. If he kept going, kept persisting, someday, goodness would grow on this land just as in York Territory, making sin cower away.

Then he heard it.

That this land had been struck by final punishment.

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