Chapter 30: The Priest of Decay...?
Huh...?
Huh...?
It’s not a long story. Nor is it complicated.
Back when my mother was still squirming alive, I crammed her hand into one of the two slots in my inventory. The overwhelming presence I felt every time I touched it was too burdensome. As a stateless wanderer, I was unwelcome everywhere, too afraid to stay long in one place lest someone discover I worshipped an evil god. It was all baseless fear, but back then, I clung to useless worries like barnacles.
I scraped by day to day.
On days I earned nothing, I starved.
Fortunately, this body kept moving even when half-starved.
I once considered becoming a mercenary but lacked the resolve to kill. Hurting myself terrified me more than killing others.
So I faced my second winter. A year had passed, yet my life hadn’t budged an inch.
Still living day to day.
Then, during a vicious blizzard, I met my savior—Santus.
Fleeing the city as usual from imagined threats, I encountered bandits. I escaped their chase but got lost in the mountains. With no knowledge of winter survival, I trudged eastward toward the rising sun, hoping to find a road.
I starved.
And starved.
Until my tireless body finally collapsed. Just before losing consciousness in the storm, I saw a flicker of light.
That’s how Santus found me.
He was a man straddling middle and old age—moderately cheerful, moderately grave. When I awoke, he joked about almost having to dispose of a corpse for free. He asked nothing, only telling me to stay until ready to leave.
A priest of the Goddess of Sustenance and a graveyard keeper outside the city.
Learning he was a priest nearly made me bolt—but free food and shelter kept me rooted.
Once recovered, I learned corpse-handling from him. Guilt over mooching his meals drove me to help.
One day, I casually asked why he’d saved me.
He smiled.
"I just wanted to."
That smile carved itself into my heart’s deepest chamber.
Santus helped others relentlessly, insisting reasons were unnecessary. I grew to mirror him.
Another winter arrived after a peaceful year. I thought this life wasn’t so bad. Truly.
Then, while shoveling snow, I found a man collapsed like I’d been. I saved him as Santus taught me.
I shouldn’t have.
That damnable mage bastard recovered, confessed to worshipping an evil god, then shredded me with magic.
I died. Or so I thought.
When I awoke, a disembodied hand from my inventory was caressing my cheek.
Then I saw the aftermath of my mistake—Santus’ mutilated corpse.
It was all my fault. Had I left that mage to die, Santus would’ve lived.
I buried Santus, then stuffed his priest robes into the newly vacant inventory slot.
I needed power. In this world, peace belongs only to those strong enough to defend it.
Mercy is wasted on the unworthy.
The hand squirmed mournfully from the inventory, its concern palpable. Seeing it, I finally acknowledged the vocation I’d avoided—
Priest of Decay.
I accepted myself as such.
Wheeeeeeeeng!
I swung the Butcher, pure murder condensed into steel.
"Whoa! Dangerous!"
Riverkel’s shout summoned divine shadows that latched onto me. Mere shadows.
I pushed harder, tearing through them as the Butcher thirsted for blood.
"Die!"
Riverkel bared white teeth in a grin, stomping his right foot.
"O Scales of Judgment!"
A hammer of white light crashed toward me—the Church of Redemption’s "Hammer of Retribution."
Light smashed into me. Divine shockwaves racked my body.
Cough.
Blood surged up. As I spat it out and steadied myself, Riverkel laughed:
"Your divine aura doesn’t belong to the Goddess of Sustenance. Yet her blessing on those robes functions perfectly..."
He smirked.
"You’re a fellow evil god worshipper!"
That bastard.
"Shut up!"
"Did I strike a nerve?"
"I said SHUT UP! Mother!"
Reality warped. A colossal Decayed Giant tore through space, roaring:
—GRAAAAAAAAH!
I revved the Butcher. Metal teeth whirred.
Today, I’d kill that ungrateful mage.
Riverkel grinned up at the giant.
"Neat trick! Perfect for replacing my missing left arm!"
No words needed. I charged, the Gate of Decay blazing as I swung the Butcher in an arc toward his throat.
"You’re fantastic! Really!"
A violet-haired woman—previously bisected—wedged between us, arm outstretched.
Flesh and blood sprayed as she blocked the Butcher with one sacrificed arm, smiling brightly.
"You and I—"
"Move!"
Wheeeeeeeeng!
I took her head off mid-sentence, lunging at Riverkel. He pointed behind me, laughing.
Something yanked me backward. Aborting the strike, I pivoted and shredded my attacker—another violet-haired woman.
"Always so fiery!"
A third version peered over Riverkel’s shoulder, grinning.
"How many times can you die? I’m dying to know!"
They mocked, but they weren’t my only allies.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The Decayed Giant’s steps quaked the earth.
—GRAAAAAH!
Its fist descended to crush them. Riverkel muttered, and a violet barrier intercepted the blow.
CRASH!
The shield shattered like paper, but they dodged back. A red-haired observer finally shouted:
"If we’re all evil god followers, why not negotiate? Just take what you need!"
"No! Absolutely not!" the violet woman shrieked. "I’ve waited too long!"
Riverkel smirked.
"I’m game, but our friend here isn’t. Right?"
I gripped the Butcher, its vibrations stoking my rage.
He was right.
Tonight, Riverkel dies.
"Now."
BOOM.
The Giant roared, charging at my command.
Thud.
A man rolled across the ground from Sajita’s club strike. Dakia stared at the body.
"He’s... not dead, right?"
"Not yet," Sajita replied shortly.
Crack!
Carmen’s scabbard dropped another madwoman. He winced.
"To the lord’s castle! Now!"
Chaos had erupted when the violet barrier enveloped the city. Citizens turned rabid, infecting others through bites. The party abandoned their inn, fighting toward the inner citadel.
Dakia struck with her sheathed sword, felling another madman.
Almost there.
Then despair—the citadel gates lay shattered, walls smeared with gore. The madness hadn’t spared the nobility.
Sajita wordlessly swapped his club for a spear.
"Sajita?"
"We kill now," he said, turning to the princess. "To survive, we butcher them all—men, women, children. Meat is meat."
He charged into the horde, shield and spear crushing skulls. Dakia and Carmen drew blades, following.
Dakia swung blindly, feeling flesh part. No time for guilt—third kill, fourth.
They carved through the madness.
Huff.
Sajita burst forward, the citadel gates in sight. Through the chaos, he spotted Marknak battling a giant.
Adjusting his grip, he planted his legs—muscles coiling like springs—and hurled his spear.
Crunch!
Riverkel grinned, deflecting the Butcher with magic.
"Got anything new? You’re so—"
His head exploded.
A spear quivered in the ground where he’d stood.
I stared dumbly.
"What... just happened?”
