TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 55

Realizing the visitor came with ill intent, Jacques immediately reached for his sword.

But just as he drew it, a golden light flashed before his eyes. Without any chant, without the slightest warning, a blinding ray struck his shoulder, slicing through his right arm like lightning.

A searing pain tore through him, blood gushing wildly from the severed wound, dyeing his robes scarlet.

His detached right arm, still tightly gripping the longsword, was flung away by the momentum of his draw. Blood splattered across the jeweled hilt and the sunburst emblem before the arm fell to the ground with a dull thud, lifeless.

The blond man who had severed his arm looked down at him with haughty disdain.

“Since you already know who I am, human—do you not kneel before me?”

Those gilded eyes were cold, as if looking at a corpse.

Gasping for breath, Jacques clenched his teeth and bore the pain.

Of course, he would never bow to such a being. With mockery in his voice, he sneered:

“I just never thought Your Eminence would descend from your holy throne and come all this way just for me.”

So, the Sun God feared the truths he had uncovered—so much that he came in person, instead of sending a subordinate.

Clearly, he dared not let the world know the truth.

A guilty conscience.

Jacques sneered inwardly.

The Sun God ignored his taunts and asked coldly:

“Who are your accomplices? Who else knows? How much have you told the Holy Son?”

“Only me.” Jacques felt a foreboding chill.

The Sun God studied him, as though weighing the truth of his words.

“No matter. Whoever is connected to you, I shall deliver divine punishment upon them. None will escape. When they are burned to ash—or turned into monsters—they will not utter what should remain unspoken, nor continue your investigation.”

His tone was flat, indifferent, the words spoken like a simple fact—as though this was far from the first time he had done such a thing.

Jacques’ pupils shrank sharply.

Flashes of Albin, Little Black, and Zeman filled his mind.

Bastard—!!

With a surge of fury, he unleashed all his magic in physical form. Even without his sword, the manifested blades of mana wove into a dense, inescapable net, striking at the golden-haired man.

At the same time, Jacques made his escape.

He knew this was an enemy he could never hope to match. He had to get out. He had to keep the children safe.

And he had to leave behind enough clues for someone, someday, to expose the gods’ conspiracy.

The golden-haired man did not so much as flinch. The sunlight intensified, gilding his hair with divine radiance, sanctity incarnate.

Before that brilliance, the dense net unraveled instantly, vanishing into nothingness.

The rays then became countless spears of light. Under the blazing sun, Jacques had nowhere to run. The spears pierced his clothes and body, blood bursting forth like a fountain, staining the world red.

The light spears vanished, and Jacques’ body, no longer under control, rolled down a slope, leaving a long trail of blood behind.

Twisted into a grotesque shape, his body convulsed, blood gushing endlessly from his wounds.

The Sun God stepped through the blood to the cliff’s edge, looking down coldly at the dying human.

“The defier of gods shall suffer divine punishment.”

Orange-red flames flickered into being beside him, his golden hair rippling in the heat.

The fire fell to the earth, spreading in an instant into a raging inferno, engulfing all living things, swallowing the entire forest in a sea of flames. Animals fled in terror as disaster descended.

The Sun God left, indifferent.

After his departure, Jacques lay on the ground, staring blankly at the sky.

The noonday sun was blinding. The stench of burning flesh and forest filled his nose. He struggled, wanting to rise—but could not move even a finger. His voice came out weak, a dying whisper:

“Zeman… Albin… Little Black…”

His eyes, fixed on the sun, sank slowly into darkness.

Just before he lost consciousness completely, a faint, chilling hiss reached his ears—the sound of a serpent.

Among the fleeing animals, a small green snake slithered swiftly. Its emerald scales reflected the firelight like gemstones.

【Albin, where are you…?】 Emerald hissed as it searched the burning forest.

Not long ago, Albin had promised to take him to the tower to see the sunrise. But when Emerald woke up, he inexplicably found himself in a familiar forest—with no trace of Albin anywhere.

Strange. Weren’t they supposed to go together?

With no sense of human calendars, Emerald had no idea what was happening. He had wanted to ask Padma, the clever one, but after searching for ages, he couldn’t find him.

Since Padma often disappeared, Emerald wasn’t too surprised. He just kept searching for Albin’s trail.

Had they abandoned him?

The little snake felt wronged.

Recently, though, he had noticed his own name carved into a stone in the forest.

Though Padma often called him a “stupid snake,” even Emerald knew that rocks didn’t just grow the word “Emerald.” It had to be a message someone left for him.

He kept searching. But suddenly, fire broke out across the forest.

And then—he caught Albin’s scent on a gravely wounded human.

Emerald circled the dying man. He heard him weakly call Albin and Zeman’s names, and he also smelled baked apple pie from his body.

Diving into the man’s pack, Emerald found and gulped down a piece of apple pie.

It was Albin’s cooking!

He had eaten so much human food that worms no longer appealed to him at all.

There was no mistake—this man definitely knew Albin.

【Where’s Albin?】 Emerald asked, circling the man.

But the human couldn’t understand monster-speech. Even if Emerald turned into his human form, the man seemed too far gone to respond.

Resting his head on the tip of his tail, Emerald thought.

He wasn’t really interested in saving humans—but this one might know where Albin was. He might even be close to him.

Fine. He’d keep him stored in his belly for now.

If the man turned out useless, he could always eat him later.

Emerald transformed into a massive green python, opened his jaws wide, and swallowed Jacques whole in one gulp.

“Hic~”

Wagging his tail, he shifted back into his elegant little snake form.

He slithered deeper into the burning forest, his figure vanishing into the smoke and fire.

【Albin~ where are you~】

Ever since receiving Jacques’ letter asking for support in Thorn City due to the sudden appearance of monsters, Zeman had set out at once.

A mere handful of monsters was nothing Jacques couldn’t handle.

If Jacques was calling him there, it likely meant something else was going on.

Since their last argument, much time had passed with no contact. Zeman had no idea what Jacques now thought of him.

Perhaps Jacques had given up on persuading him?

But when he called for someone to prepare a carriage, he was stunned to learn that the Pope had already departed for Thorn City yesterday.

For no reason at all, a sense of dread welled up in Zeman’s heart.

Why would the Pope go to such a place? Thorn City was not under the jurisdiction of the Sun God’s temple—in fact, to a certain extent, it was considered forbidden ground by all temples. It was written into the scriptures as a land forsaken by the gods, a place that priests avoided as if it were a plague.

It wasn’t that Thorn City was too chaotic for the temples to care about.

On the contrary, it was because there was no temple influence there that fugitives and various shady powers had taken root, and even nobles treated it as a haven for tax evasion. Over centuries, it had evolved into what it was today.

Especially knowing that Jacques—who opposed the Sun God—was also there, Zeman’s unease grew heavier.

He abandoned the carriage, mounted a horse alone, and rode through the night straight toward Thorn City.

When he entered the city, he questioned the guards and learned that the Pope had gone to a nearby forest. He immediately turned in that direction.

On the way, he came upon a village engulfed in flames. Alarmed, he rode closer to investigate.

The fire painted the sky red, staining everything around with a bloody glow. From the village came the constant crash of collapsing houses, mingled with the popping of burning timber, creating a terrifying symphony.

Memories of fire surged in his mind. Zeman frowned—he disliked this feeling.

It was strange. Thorn City did not worship the Sun God, but why was no one trying to put out the fire? Even if the villagers feared divine wrath, they should at least be fleeing. Yet on his way there, he hadn’t seen a single soul.

Until finally, at the edge of the burning village, he saw a figure.

The blond man’s back was like the blazing heart of the flames—upright, imposing. His ornate robes fluttered in the wind. Several corpses lay at his feet, and in his hand he held a bloodstained longsword, gazing at the burning village as though admiring a masterpiece.

“Your Holiness,” Zeman immediately dismounted and bowed.

As his head lowered, he caught a clear glimpse of the sword.

Inlaid with gorgeous gems, and bearing the unique mark of an Oath Knight.

—It was Jacques’s sword.

Zeman’s eyes trembled. He snapped his head up in shock.

The Sun God turned, casting him a playful glance. But there was danger in his eyes.

“Oh? And why are you here?”

“I heard rumors of monsters nearby. But why is Your Holiness…”

“I came to execute a heretic.”

A drop of blood slid from the glowing edge of the Sunblade. Firelight danced upon its surface like a struggling life, only to sink into the soil and vanish.

Zeman’s heart sank.

Jacques?

The flames before him were blistering hot, searing the air until it was almost impossible to breathe—yet what Zeman felt was cold. A piercing, merciless chill that cut straight into his heart.

Jacques had no quarrel with the gods. If not for him, Jacques would have had no reason to defy divinity.

He had died because of him.

Zeman’s spirit quaked, overcome by a grief and guilt beyond words.

He lowered his eyes to hide his turmoil, staring at the corpses on the ground.

“…And these people?”

What crime had these commoners committed, that the Sun God would slaughter them too?

“Anyone connected to a heretic must suffer divine punishment. Not a single one shall be spared.” The Sun God declared coldly, tossing the longsword before Zeman. He leaned close to his devout follower’s ear, delivering an oracle, bestowing upon him a sacred mission.

“My Holy Son, prove your devotion to me.” His hand rested on Zeman’s shoulder, his whisper like an icy wind that cut to the bone. “Execute every soul in this city.”

He knew Zeman had the power to do so.

And he fully expected obedience—for Zeman had already offered his body to him, becoming a blade in his hand. Like every other devout follower, he should submit, take every oracle as absolute truth.

What was slaughtering a few mortals?

He was a god. Humans existed to bear his wrath.

Zeman trembled, glancing sideways at him.

There was no compassion in the Sun God’s eyes. Ordering the massacre of a city meant no more to him than pouring boiling water onto a nest of ants.

This was the god he worshipped.

A sense of absurdity welled up inside Zeman, the flickering firelight bringing back memories of the fire from his childhood.

Could such a god really have protected him in that blaze?

His faith wavered.

Was this truly the god he and his foster father had devoted themselves to?

The Sun God’s extravagance and bloodshed in the past could be dismissed as a matter of temperament—he was no god of love, after all. The old tales of his battle with the God of Wine painted him as a stern and merciless ruler, one who brooked no defiance.

The Sun Temple was the only temple to have founded an entire theocracy.

Yet in the education Zeman had received since childhood, the Sun God was supposed to be the god of justice—the one who gave humanity hope and light in the darkness. The protector of mankind.

But now, slaughtering so many innocents, ordering a massacre of a city simply because of one heretic—was this truly justice? Truly glory?

Was this truly mankind’s protector?

The beliefs he had been taught for years clashed violently with the reality before him. Confusion overwhelmed him. It was as if he heard something shattering inside.

Why was the god described in scripture so utterly different from the being before his eyes?

If his devout foster father knew the Sun God’s true nature—knew that the Sun God was using his body to butcher mortals—what would he think?

And had he truly killed his dearest friend… for such a god?

What difference was there between this god and the monsters?

Why should he worship such a being?

For Zeman, the meaning of life had always been to be a worthy Holy Son, and one day a worthy Pope.

For years, everyone around him had told him so.

So he had obeyed the Sun God’s teachings—protecting humans, eradicating monsters, spreading faith, becoming a strong and radiant Holy Son. He had sought to be the Sun God’s voice on earth, hoping to win the god’s recognition and repay the temple’s grace.

But was it all just to earn the strength to cut down mankind when commanded?

A rift he could not comprehend tore at his heart.

Seeing his hesitation, the Sun God narrowed his eyes—sharp and searing like blades beneath the sun. There was danger, and reproach, in his gaze.

“It seems that heretic did tell you something.” The Sun God’s voice was cold, carrying a suffocating weight of disappointment and menace. “My Holy Son… Do you trust the lies of a heretic more than you trust me?”

Zeman sensed the hidden fear in him.

So Jacques had been branded a heretic because he had uncovered some secret of the Sun God?

Zeman raised his scarlet eyes to meet the figure before him. The image in his heart shattered completely. His voice was icy and sharp as a blade:

“…Who are you?”

He denied that this being was the Sun God he worshipped.

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