Chapter 26 Tenderness
A figure in a tattered gray robe walked out from the depths of the alley.
The man was tall and thin, with only his pale chin exposed, like a ghost emerging from the fog.
Sita tightened his grip on the axe. The other man looked weak, a weakling who could probably be killed with a single blow, like the screaming civilians and slaves who wouldn't flee. Moreover, the other Black Whale mercenaries were lurking nearby, ready to descend upon them at any moment—but for some reason, an inexplicable fear seeped from the depths of his soul, like a stone wall permeating with water on a rainy day.
"Good afternoon." The man said in a very pure and authentic local accent. His voice was hoarse and low, and his age could not be judged.
"Who the hell wants to say good afternoon to you?" the mercenary leader said viciously, no one could tell he was feeling uneasy. "You pretentious piece of shit."
But the other party seemed not to hear the vulgar insult at all.
"I want to know about the 'Dragon's Nest Treasure'." His voice was very calm.
"You're much braver than those other idiots. You actually dare to ask me directly." Sita breathed a sigh of relief, a ferocious smile on his face: "But why the hell should I tell you?"
"No, I'm not asking you. You don't have to speak." The man said coldly, raising his head slightly. Behind the wide hood, Sita once again felt a sense of inquiry that seemed to penetrate deep into the soul. "You dived into the waters near the Temple of Poseidon last night, landed and entered the temple, and didn't meet up with the others until noon. The night belongs to the God of Night and Death, and the priests of the Temple of Poseidon will not see outsiders, but you went in anyway. You could have knocked out those priests, but you didn't—you weren't seeking money or lives."
What was he talking about? Sita stared at him in horror, then found herself furiously frightened and retreating again and again as the other party approached step by step.
"The Poseidon Temple in Graybridge Harbor sits atop a massive rocky outcrop. After receiving an oracle, the Poseidon priests would carve it onto a whale's rib and then sink it into the sea beneath the temple. You dived down to see what you were looking for, but didn't find it. You didn't have a scraper to scrape off crustaceans, so perhaps it was a new whale rib? You thought the Poseidon priests would receive a new oracle soon, but they didn't. Confused and anxious, you even ventured into the temple to see if the priests hadn't yet carved it..."
"--Shut up!"
Sita swung his battle axe at the man, but the other party spoke too fast and he still couldn't stop those horrifying words from coming out.
"You once unexpectedly saw the Poseidon Oracle, perhaps due to a high tide. Is it related to the Dragon's Nest treasure? No, the so-called 'Dragon's Nest treasure' is a lie you fabricated. You hope to use it to fabricate a motive for your actions and draw everyone's attention to the distant sea."
The battle axe whizzed towards the neck, and the gray-robed man did not dodge, but Sita was shocked to find that the tip of the axe could only barely reach three fingers away from the man's body, and could not be pressed down any further. He was forced to listen to the man casually spit out the horrifying conclusion.
"—The oracle you saw stated that a time-limited 'treasure' would appear in Graybridge Harbor. However, the oracle was too vague, and you didn't know what it was."
The leader of the Black Whale Mercenary Group was as pale as a corpse, with beads of sweat the size of beans oozing from his head.
This man was definitely a sorcerer, he thought, or perhaps one of those crazed followers of the long-dead goddess of fate, Lamodo. The mercenary leader wanted to rally his men to deal with him—but all he heard was a weary comment of "boring and clumsy." Then the burly man suddenly grabbed his own throat, gasping for breath, and knelt before the gray-robed man.
The heavy battle axe fell from his hand without making any sound - the battle axe seemed to be held up by an invisible existence. Another person walked out from the shadows, and behind him were other mercenaries of the Black Whale Mercenary Group, floating as close to the ground as the battle axe, and they didn't know whether they were alive or dead.
"Professor, is he still useful to you?"
In the pain of suffocation, Sita heard the visitor asking the gray-robed man in a casual tone, as if asking how to deal with kitchen waste.
"No more," the professor said coldly. "You can interrogate him again as a precaution, although I don't think he knows anything more useful. Do whatever you want, don't worry about me."
In the end, he was kicked out gently.
Nova stood at the entrance of the alley, looking up and staring at the flock of light gray birds flying across the narrow sky.
It was very quiet deep in the alley, so quiet that it was eerie. No sound of flesh breaking or wailing or screaming could be heard - it was true that those favored by God did not like the smell of blood, but the good thing was that the other party should not cause any blood to bleed, making the crime scene difficult to clean up later.
Nova found himself unconsciously assimilated into this world. Although he was equally indifferent to others, even to his own life and death, he didn't directly ask his companions whether to torture someone—even though they most likely had a life on their hands and were trying to kill him—and he calmly considered how to help them clean up the mess later.
After all, he is just a mediocre person who is driven forward by the shackles imposed by the outside world.
Nova Brody couldn't even recall his name in the other world. His hometown drifted further and further away, and the past twenty years of his life felt almost like an illusion... The only good thing was that he could still think, constantly think. He was no longer trapped in the black and blue images on those large and small polyester film bases. His brain was free and healthy, instead of gradually losing its ability to perceive, being strapped to a hospital bed, becoming a living corpse.
The tip of his tongue licked the glove again, the black-haired young man frowned and moved the fingers that were unconsciously against his lips away.
Behind him, he heard the movement of another person, who stopped beside him. Nova sniffed the air carefully—the smell of the sea in the port city, the stench of feces, urine, and corpses common in the dark alleys, the faint scent of blood, and the cool, clean breath of the God's Blessed One himself.
He didn't ask what happened to the mercenaries. Instead, another person took the initiative to explain to him: "Those people killed innocent people. I have already dealt with them."
Under the "tactics" of the God-favored Ones, the mercenaries wished they could bring up all the times when they snatched candies from their companions as children.
"Why are you explaining this to me?" the professor asked calmly. He believed he was not naive enough to demand that those scum be brought to justice.
Azuka tilted his head and looked at him - perhaps it was because his professor treated others with a kind of equality and respect that was incompatible with this world?
In a world ruled by gods, human life is worthless. During the last century's divine wars, sacrificing hundreds of thousands of lives to the gods in exchange for their protection was commonplace. Priests were butchers, and commoners were like livestock. Even in the relative peace of today, the lives of the common people are still less valuable to the nobility and the church than a set of porcelain or a copy of a canon.
Even Azuka himself cared only about those close to him. In his previous life, when he and his companions learned of the fate of the people of Fishtail Street, the most they would do was help kill Count Samman and the Commissioner of Public Security. This was already the heroic ranger described by the bards, a man who hated evil and enforced justice. Who would be so completely empathetic as the professor, putting their reputation, lives, and future on the line against his own?
It wasn't emotional pity, nor was it naivety. He just did it as a matter of course, treating those civilians who were ignored by everyone as people like him.
Was this a mark left on him by another world? Azuka thought, it was something unprecedented, something enough to make one tremble. He seemed to understand the professor's obsession with his homeland. The God-Favoured One even wanted to see for himself what kind of world it was that could give birth to such a powerful and bright soul.
Some people would have a despicable desire to destroy clean and beautiful things, but the Savior was not one of them. He did not want that shining soul to dim or be damaged in his hands - after all, he had witnessed it once before, and it left a deep shadow on him.
"...You are a gentle person." Azuka finally said half-jokingly, "I don't want my allies to think that I am an unreasonable murderer."
His professor paused, as if wanting to comment on the "gentle" assessment.
"...Of course you're not."
In the end, he quickly changed the subject: "The Glorious Church and the Sea God Temple are both looking for something. Let's go to the Sea God Temple first."
…
The Radiant Church of the King's City hosted visitors at the Church of Light. The local mainstream faith wasn't the God of Light, leaving the only remaining church in the area in a dilapidated state. Even after urgent repairs, it still looked "too rough."
Other priests had many complaints about this, but the Cardinal rejected Count Saman's other proposals, so they had to compromise and live together with the students attending the St. Bartholomew's School of Magicians in the moldy, crowded and narrow old monastery in the church.
When Percy Brody came back, he looked dazed and walked straight to his room. He didn't respond when someone greeted him along the way. He closed the door and threw himself on the bed.
He calls me Percy He calls me Percy He calls me Percy…
The black-haired boy suddenly covered his face with the pillow. In the few times they met since childhood, his cousin rarely called him by his name. All he got was a cold and polite nod or an emotionless glance.
At first, he thought that the other party hated him, which made sense logically. Out of sadness, anger and a vague sense of guilt, he even deliberately avoided meeting his cousin. However, as time went on, Percy found that his cousin seemed to have a dead face towards everyone, no matter what their status was.
His father scoffed at this, thinking it was the foolish and ridiculous arrogance of a young man, but Percy was secretly happy at that time. Even he himself could not tell whether this joy was because his cousin's threat was reduced again, or because his cousin did not actually hate him.
Percy hugged the pillow until it was deformed. But later he realized that his cousin was not incapable of smiling or talking in a friendly way - it was just that the person he was talking to was not him.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor, and Percy quickly jumped out of bed and straightened his appearance. When the person who came in carelessly opened the door holding a newspaper, he saw an elegant and self-possessed black-haired aristocratic boy.
"Mr. Bateman, where are your manners?" Percy Brody raised his pointed chin and asked coldly in a long tone.
Tron Bateman, his old rival and perennial second-in-command, has always been resentful that the Brody family's collateral descendant has become the head of the second grade.
"Don't be so pretentious, Mr. Brody. The teacher isn't here right now." Bateman waved the Graybridge Harbor Breaking News, his eyes flashing with excitement and ill intentions. "This is really explosive news—about your cousin. You must want to know."
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Polyester film base: commonly used film for X-ray films
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