The young man, still somewhat immature, looked around with dazed, uncertain eyes. The forest was filled with shrill screams and chaotic cries like hell on earth.
“Ah ah ah!!”
Right next to him, another person collapsed, blood splattering. It was someone the young man knew very well. Just thirty minutes ago, she was kindly encouraging him, who was trembling with fear.
Her plump, kind body was lying on the ground, trying to struggle and stand up. But a scary monster quickly climbed up and tore off her entire shoulder.
“Ha ha!”
Tears filled his eyes and he quickly covered his mouth. The hands of the woman who used to own a bakery in the neighborhood, before being dragged here for unknown reasons, could no longer knead dough.
“……!!”
The monster clenched her arm and shook its head violently, causing hot blood to splatter onto the boy's upper body. The warm, fishy feeling of that liquid awakened his alertness.
He put strength into his frozen legs and tried to walk. And then, leaving behind the terrifying sound of chewing flesh and bones, he began to run away.
It's crazy.
This cannot be true. He tried to reassure himself that he was having a nightmare. And to wake up from this terrible nightmare, he ran, ran and ran.
But even though his chest hurt like it was about to burst, even though his legs were twitching like they were about to break, he still couldn't wake up. Furthermore, in front of him was blocked by a wall. It is a very high and steep fence, where it is absolutely impossible for humans to climb over.
“No, it can't be…”
He groped desperately at the wall, looking for an opening. However, even a child cannot get through those narrow and dense gaps.
Despair made his chest sag. But there was no time to struggle, a heavy feeling along with a strange growl came from behind.
“Please…”
His limbs were shaking, his knees were tired, his whole body lost all strength before he even realized it. He felt cold breath, mixed with the smell of blood, brushing through his hair. It's like smelling the fragrance before enjoying a sumptuous feast.
“Save me. I don't want to die yet.”
An animal-like cry escaped from the mouth of the boy who was clinging to the fence with both hands. Bloodshot eyes were fixed in that direction, where a lavish party was taking place on a high platform.
“Please… save me!!”
Under the exotic-style canopy, countless comfortable benches and cushions are placed for reclining. Several nobles were sitting there, leisurely sipping wine and laughing. They took the desperate struggle of the young man who was close to death as a snack.
"Hahaha! Look at that funny look."
"Who said that guy would be the last one left? What a waste of money!"
"I told you to choose carefully. Idiot, give me the money quickly."
Abominable laughter rang out along with money bags flying in the air. Noble gentlemen raised their glasses of wine and looked down from a high and safe place. They enjoy watching the deaths of lowly people pushed into the mouths of cannibal monsters.
Well, this is exactly what is happening in the realm of God worship. Fresh blood flowed from the boy's eyes as he looked up at the distant podium. As if it was a signal, the growling Kitan, licking its lips behind him, charged forward.
“Cough ah ah!!!”
Blood splashed, flesh and bones flying in the air. However, the pitiful screams were quickly drowned out and disappeared in loud laughter and the clinking sound of golden cups.
While everyone was laughing and joking, the black-haired young man sitting in the upper position suddenly stood up.
"What's going on? Where are you going?"
A person in the crowd who was giggling drunkenly noticed his move and called back.
"If you leave, the fun will be lost. Mirdal."
"Really?"
Mirdal turned around, looking towards the voice, whether it was sarcastic or clingy. On his white, aristocratic face, his purple eyes stood out in an unusual way.
“I have been unhappy for a long time.”
"This guy, that tone. Is it necessary to respond like that?"
The face of the young man holding Mirdal was distorted by the curt, harsh tone. With the impulsivity of youth combined with alcohol, anger flares up in just a split second.
"Hey, come here. Why is your personality like that?"
"Let it go, Charles. He's the noble Masaka."
Another young man in the group stopped him. And comforted him by pointing his finger at the growling Kitan, locked in the fence under the tower far away.
"Thanks to whom we can see such an interesting performance? Huh?"
"Richard, you're going too easy on that guy. Our status is no worse than his, you know?"
The person called Richard just laughed instead of answering. True to their words, the young people gathered here were mostly from noble families. Charles's mother, who was mumbling right in front of her, was originally a Princess of a neighboring Duchy, and Richard was also a distant cousin of the Grand Duke.
Maybe that's why? These people, who have not lacked anything since birth, cannot stand boredom and end up engaging in a dangerous pastime. Such was the brutal and vivid display of carnage presented by Mirdal.
They know clearly that they are doing something wrong. But if they were born to only be interested in such things, how can they be blamed?
Up until now, they had watched slave fighters fight countless times, or release hungry lions into the circular arena. But whatever you say, the most interesting thing is still this game. Of course, it also comes with equally great risks.
Responsibilities of the nobility. Those born as nobles have a duty to protect commoners. But Mirdal and his friends captured the lowly people, throwing them as bait to Kitan.
Just because I wanted to have fun.
Richard is not stupid. If the secret of this gathering is revealed, they will certainly be prosecuted according to the law. Even parents who have had headaches because of their spoiled children cannot save them this time.
But it's okay. The person who will be in the most trouble if this is exposed is none other than Mirdal.
Fortunately, Mirdal has both the ability to cover up his actions and the forces behind him. Masaka was rarely born into a noble family, in that regard, Mirdal could not help but be considered an extremely lucky existence.
So, being friends with Mirdal is not bad. Even though he sometimes seemed annoyed for no reason, it was completely worth enduring.
“You really won't stay a little longer? Mirdal.”
The intimate invitation, containing the dark intimacy of those who share the same crime, rings out tenderly. Mirdal seems open-minded but actually has quite deep feelings for his friends. Therefore, he could not ignore the clever invitation of his close friend Richard.
“I really want to, but I can't.”
Mirdal replied in an annoyed tone and clicked his tongue. Purple eyes, characteristic of the Russell family, wrinkled with worry and discomfort.
“Beatrice caused trouble.”
"Beatrice? Is that your sister?"
Mirdal cursed softly as an answer. Then he kicked over the flower pot placed next to the high platform and left.
“Oh, you crazy guy.”
Richard chuckled, but Charles, standing behind him, watched and shook his head.
“Anyway, it's a bad time.”
Even though it wasn't what he should have said, it seemed like Main God Hashba was nothing special. An existence created to protect humanity from Kitan ended up like this.
Charles pouted as he watched Mirdal's back disappear. After that, he accepted the glass of wine his friends gave him and drank it all. The remaining dark red blood stains on the fence were quickly washed away by wine.
“You are here, young Ha Mash.”
The one who warmly welcomed Mirdal, who suddenly barged in, was none other than Bishop Krunhal. He drew the sign of the cross on his chest and squinted his eyes and smiled.
"Yes."
Naturally, Mirdal was not amused. An elderly mandarin with wrinkles around his eyes, even smiling could not make him feel happy.
"You seem to be busy lately. I see your footsteps seem sparse."
When the welcoming attitude didn't work, Bishop Krunhal withdrew his smile. Seeing him pull the corners of his lips, looking disappointed, Mirdal immediately frowned and got straight to the point.
“Are there any missing ingredients?”
His attitude was clearly: don't talk nonsense, get to work. When someone old enough to be his son had such an attitude, Bishop Krunhal's face was also disfigured with dissatisfaction.
"To be honest, that's true. You know, the work we are doing is for Masaka. Just like the Saints in history, great sacrifices are necessary for a noble goal."
Hearing those words, Mirdal frowned. Noticing his unwillingness, Bishop Krunhal deliberately raised his voice sternly.
“Glorious Ha Mash, surely you are not the one to have sympathy for them.”
“Me?”
"If not, that's fine. But please don't forget. They are trash that don't deserve your Ha Mash's mercy. This is something even Lord Hashba has approved, so you don't need to feel unjustly guilty."
"Don't worry about useless things. I'll soon package a batch of trash harvested from my territory and send it here. Feel free to use it as a sacrifice or whatever material you want."
Mirdal said decisively. And with a sarcastic expression, he asked Bishop Krunhal.
“So, where is my sister?”
Bishop Krunhal frowned and pointed in one direction with his eyes instead of answering. Mirdal usually disliked Krunhal, but this time, he completely agreed with that unpleasant expression.
It's true that you've lost your mind because of men.
Mirdal felt extremely uncomfortable thinking about the muscular idiot being imprisoned in the dungeon. If it wasn't for Beatrice, he would have killed that guy neatly a long time ago.
The timing was terrible. Scared after the previous incident, Beatrice did not want to stay at home anymore but went to the Temple to rest. And then, she encountered Michael sneaking in here with the intention of serving justice.
Believing this was fate, Beatrice insisted not to kill him. Thanks to that, both the Temple and Mirdal felt extremely uncomfortable at the same time.
That thing is also flesh and blood.
Mirdal felt ashamed because his sister was not Masaka or anything else. Your Russell family has long had a close relationship with the Temple. Therefore, Mirdal must also fulfill his duty.
“Don't worry, Bishop Krunhal. I'll handle it myself.”
How long will a descendant of the Border Earl Family last against a Kitan? A cold smile flashed across Mirdal's face.