39
Reis kept turning his head to look at me, swapping out different monocles several times. The first few seemed normal enough, but the last one he pulled out was covered in intricate magical runes, more complex than the patterns on the blade of [Dawn]. Layered upon layers of inscriptions, some of which I couldn’t even recognize, but the attributes I could discern were at least at the orange tier. I had no idea what he was observing in me, but he remained silent throughout, his eyes brimming with excitement, as if I were a rare research specimen.
Mages tend to have this quirk. Hiller sometimes showed a similar obsessive enthusiasm when delving into magic.
…Wait.
When did I ever see Hiller researching magic? That doesn’t seem to be part of my supplemental memory pack…
Reis suddenly waved his arms, interrupting my fleeting thought. At some point, he had snapped out of his intense observational mode and was now pointing eagerly at a tavern, leaning forward with excitement: “That one! Let’s get some wine!”
It was a dwarf-run tavern, bustling even during the day, with the counter nearly full. I wheeled Reis over to a table in the corner, then went to the counter to buy a jug of their specialty brew. When I returned, Reis had pushed aside the candle holder and plates, pulling out a roll of parchment from who knows where, and was now furiously scribbling on it. I placed the jug on the table, but he didn’t even glance at it, completely absorbed in his writing.
“You don’t want it anymore?”
Without looking up, he replied absentmindedly, “Mm-hmm.”
“…Are you sure you don’t want it?”
“Whatever.”
—This guy is like a completely different person when he’s focused.
Seeing that he wasn’t going to snap out of it anytime soon, I poured myself a drink.
Dwarven alcohol is incredibly strong, with a taste that burns like fire. After just one sip, I noticed my health drop by 1 point—if I weren’t equipped with [Dawn], a few more sips might have left me bleeding internally…
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my glass. Reis’s face was full of alarm as he pressed both hands over the cup, covering it completely. “You can’t drink this! If you do—” He abruptly stopped talking but stubbornly kept his hands firmly on the glass, staring at me with wide, anxious eyes.
I was confused. “…Should I buy you another jug?”
He shook his head, quickly pulling the cup toward himself, even knocking his parchment and pen to the floor in the process. I bent down to pick up the parchment, not intentionally looking at what he had written, but I couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of a few words. Each letter was scrawled unevenly, in varying sizes, messy to the point of being illegible.
—I’ve never seen someone with handwriting this bad.
I rolled up the parchment and placed it on the table. Reis had already downed the cup of alcohol that was originally mine in a few gulps. The strong liquor, which had even reduced my health, didn’t make his face flush at all. He handed the cup back to me without any change in expression, then pulled a long, thin potion bottle from his sleeve and pushed it toward me. “Here, drink this!”
I stared at the murky green liquid in the bottle, unsure. “Is this… a potion?”
“It’s vegetable juice.” Reis wrinkled his nose, as if just saying the name made him smell something unpleasant. “My disciple gave it to me. I don’t want it, so I’m giving it to you!” He then proudly added, “I’ve heard that holy knights aren’t allowed to be picky with food!”
“…It’s true that we shouldn’t waste food carelessly.”
Despite saying that, I poured the dubious vegetable juice into the cup and took a sip.
“………………”
I quietly pushed the cup aside.
Reis, as if catching me in the act, gleefully pointed at me and accused, “You’re picky!”
“No, this isn’t ‘carelessly’ wasting food.” I tried hard to keep my facial expression neutral, but I wondered if my face had turned as green as the vegetable juice. If my health hadn’t stayed the same, I would’ve thought I had just swallowed a cup of poison.
He stared for a moment, then grumbled, “You holy knights are so troublesome. Even when you break rules, you have to make excuses. Why not join my Death Knights? We have exemptions…”
The Death Knights are structured similarly to the Holy Knights, with the supreme commander being the Pope. However, the true leader of the Death Knights is the vice commander. Their rules are far less strict than those of the Holy Knights, with only the most basic prohibitions, like “don’t kill the innocent”. And within the Death Knights, there’s a special system where a higher-ranking officer can grant exemptions from certain rules. As a result, their methods are far more unrestrained than those of the Holy Knights.
I never asked what Reis’s rank was within the Dark Church. I used to think he might be a bishop, but the way he casually referred to “my Death Knights”…
Could he be a member of the Death Knights?
The Holy Knights include mages, so of course, the Death Knights would have them too. But if he’s supposed to be one of their members, his freedom seems a bit too… unrestricted…
Reis seemed very pleased with his suggestion, leaning over the table enthusiastically. “Anyway, you’re not a Holy Knight anymore! You can join the Dark Church. I’ll even ask the Lord to lift the curse on you so you can be the vice commander of the Death Knights!”
—I never realized I was so popular. First, Selina offered me the position of vice leader of the Free Alliance, and now Reis wants me to be the vice commander of the Death Knights…
Wait.
“…You can tell I’m under a curse from the Dark God?”
Reis nonchalantly nodded, continuing his rambling. “The Lord may have a bad temper, likes to punish people, is ugly, talks too much, and is very petty… but if you’re willing to worship Him and manage to please Him, He’ll definitely bless you!”
“…”
Are you really okay talking about the Dark God like that?!
While I was at a loss for words, a serious voice suddenly spoke up beside me: “Sith is bad. You shouldn’t worship Him.”
I hadn’t realized someone was nearby, and the sudden voice startled me. Reis reacted even more dramatically. Runes flooded his monocle, and he warily turned to the source of the voice. Whatever he saw made his eyes widen to a near-comical size, like a cat’s. Dark winds instantly swirled around him, lifting him from his wheelchair. He floated in midair, his hands slipping into his sleeves, and when they reappeared, they were covered in dragon leather gloves.
—It wasn’t until that moment that I realized Reis wasn’t a mage after all, but an alchemist.
The one who had spoken was standing in the corner, and it turned out to be Luke, holding a balloon shaped like the Dark Pope—no wonder I hadn’t sensed anyone approach; he must have activated a stealth ability. With Reis’s reaction, the spirit companion also shifted into battle mode, sliding a scroll into its sleeve and pulling out a pair of dragon leather gloves. For the first time, it lifted its head to look directly at the floating Reis, the face beneath the hood hidden in shadow, illuminated only by the runes on the monocle covering one emerald-green eye.
I looked between Reis and the Dark Pope spirit—similar wasn’t quite the right word. They were identical.
“…”
I couldn’t believe it. “…You’re the Dark Pope?”
Reis’s wide eyes gradually returned to their usual state of calm. His downturned lips flattened into a straight line, and his expression slowly disappeared. When he wasn’t talking or smiling, that quiet, brooding aura came over him again. He glanced at the half-empty jug of wine on the table and casually admitted, “Yes, I am.”
“……”
40
I didn’t know how to react.
For a few seconds, fragmented images flashed before my eyes—indistinct shapes in the darkness, a wine jug rolling on a bed of straw, blood-stained fingers, a black wind blade, emerald eyes glowing beneath a hood… The memory package in my mind silently unfolded, and at the end of those card illustrations, the tag [Alvin & Reis] quietly emerged.
But I didn’t have time to examine it.
Reis’s gaze shifted back to Luke, filled with vigilance. He didn’t spare even a glance at his own spirit companion. The wind swirling around him howled sharply. His lips moved rapidly, and I instinctively drew my sword to stand between him and Luke, ready to defend against an attack. But he didn’t strike. His emerald eyes swept over me, then he suddenly retreated, a portal opening behind him, swallowing him in an instant. Within the blink of an eye, only his empty wheelchair remained.
“…”
I lowered my sword, neither speaking nor attempting to chase after him.
Behind me, the spirit companion exited its battle stance, pulling the scroll back out of its sleeve, though it didn’t start reading. Instead, it stared at the jug on the table—this look I recognized all too well. If I were to lift its hood right now, I’d probably see a face full of yearning.
—Reis had revealed so many clues: the dense dark energy, the wind element, the fact that the Dark Church’s high ranks hadn’t heard of him, his casual way of speaking, the phrase “my Death Knights”… He had dropped so many hints, yet I hadn’t put the pieces together. If I had observed more closely when Luke first summoned the Dark Pope spirit…
“Do you still want to drink this?” Luke asked, pointing at the jug.
I shook my head.
He picked up the jug and handed it to the spirit companion. The spirit immediately put away its scroll, didn’t bother with a cup, and started sipping directly from the jug. Luke’s floating bag and camera hovered beside him, bouncing happily with his mood, softening his otherwise ominous appearance, cloaked as he was in floating gear.
I glanced at his perpetually levitating cloak, then at the empty wheelchair Reis had left behind. Sighing softly, I tore my gaze away and turned back to Luke.
“…”
After staring at him for a few seconds, I finally remembered what I wanted to ask. “You… didn’t return to the church?”
“No, I’m heading to Layton City.” he replied, his voice wooden.
—Layton City, the location of the Dark Cathedral, was in the very heart of the Dark Church’s territory.
My eyebrow twitched. “Did you take on a mission?”
“Layton City holds something of mine, and I need to get it back.” Luke paused, then earnestly added, “Sith is bad, worse than the demon lord. The demon lord doesn’t toy with its food, but Sith does. You shouldn’t worship Him.”
The name “Sith” was as common among dark followers as “Luke” was among those who worshiped the Light, as it was the true name of the Dark God. I studied him more closely and noticed that in just a few days, his level had jumped by ten. He must have made progress in the main quest. But I didn’t understand what he meant by “Sith toys with its food.” Maybe players start to unlock memories of their divine nature as they reach a certain level.
I bowed my head and made a solemn promise. “My faith is only in the Light.”
Luke’s head jerkily bobbed up and down—suddenly, I realized his movements had become even more stiff. If he had seemed a little slow when I first met him, now he looked like a full-on puppet, one with poorly functioning joints, operated by a novice.
I wasn’t sure if his state was normal, but his level had increased, so I put my worries aside and suggested, “Going to Layton City alone is very dangerous. It’s better to return to the Grand Cathedral of Light first. Inform the Pope of your plan, and he can send people to escort you.”
“I’m not alone. I have my spirit companions.” Luke’s head tilted to the side with a faint click, his cowlick wobbling along with it. He confidently added, “Lots of spirit companions.”
“…”
Given that he had spent real money just to get cosmetic skins at the start of the game, I didn’t doubt his ability to drop cash in large amounts.
But he was still only level 40. Even if all his level 40 spirits banded together, they wouldn’t be able to take on a level 100 Pope or a level 110 Holy Son.
“Why not wait until you’re stronger before heading to Layton City?”
Luke stared blankly at me, slowly shaking his head. “There’s no time. I have to reclaim what Sith took from me.”
“…”
—The word “reclaim” didn’t quite fit with the teachings of the Light.
I had encountered the Savior’s stubbornness before, but this time, I sensed something different—that item seemed extremely important to Luke. I suspected that if he couldn’t retrieve it, he wouldn’t continue the main quest.
“Come with me.” While I was lost in thought, he spoke again.
“…” In that moment, many thoughts raced through my mind. In the end, I smiled at him, “Alright”.
I had stolen a divine prophecy from the Dark Cathedral in Layton City once before—going back again wasn’t a big deal. At least I’d be more familiar with it than others… Even if we were caught, I could rely on the bugs—no, the curse—on me to buy us a few minutes. That should be enough time for the Savior to tear open a teleportation scroll.
At least I was no longer the captain of the Holy Knights, a sinner of the Light now. Hiller wouldn’t need to go to great lengths to cover up my crimes.
Though it seemed that the grave I had planned wouldn’t be necessary after all…
Luke, still holding onto the spirit companion that was sipping from the jug, walked toward the door. I followed him, and as soon as he stepped out of the tavern, he stopped and turned back to ask me, “Which way is Layton City?”
“…To the west.”
Luke hummed in acknowledgment and started walking east.
“…”
—Could the real reason the Savior wanted me to come along be because he didn’t know the way?
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