Chapter 211

Winter Has Come (3)

The Undying King incident had broken out roughly thirty years ago.

The Undying King had arisen in the Kingdom of Balkan, and countless clergymen had been deployed to subjugate him.

However, they had been helpless before the greatest defining feature—and advantage—of necromancy: sheer numbers.

No matter how powerful the clergymen were, they were hopelessly outnumbered by the overwhelming horde.

That was why the previous Hero, the Mage King, and Kadir had been forced to infiltrate the heart of the enemy’s forces like a special operations unit.

While they infiltrated the heart of the enemy, the paladins held back the vast undead army by any means possible.

Title: We Were Just Meat Shields

They say we held the line, but we were basically just meat shields.

It didn’t help that the Undying King committed his entire army to El Dorado without even turning back.

└ Didn’t El Dorado lose half its military because of the Undying King?

└ Saying it lost only half is being generous. A lot of clergymen were cursed, and many others lost arms or legs. They effectively lost around two-thirds of their forces.

└ Besides, the Undying King was strangely fixated on attacking El Dorado. You could probably count Alfheim’s casualties on one hand.

└ Why else do you think the other nations personally helped rebuild El Dorado?

└ If anyone had invaded back then, they wouldn’t have been fighting El Dorado’s army. They would’ve made an enemy of every citizen in El Dorado;;

└ It gives me chills when I think about it. Back then, we assumed the Undying King attacked El Dorado because he was a Demon King.

└ Turns out El Dorado was the one that created the Demon King in the first place;

└ What if they end up creating another Demon King?

└ The Pope is already Demon King-tier, lmao.

Countless clergymen were sacrificed while holding back the horde, and the Undying King was ultimately defeated.

Although the incident left an indelible scar on El Dorado, their sacrifices had been noble.

They had vanquished evil for their homeland and to carry on the sacred mission bestowed upon them by the Goddess Ares.

As a result, while many of the veterans were left physically disabled, very few suffered mentally.

The people of El Dorado also honored their noble sacrifices and supported them in various ways.

Financial assistance, public honors, and respect for those who remained—the way the nation treated them became yet another source of pride.

At least, until the truth—shocking and utterly vile—was exposed.

"You bastards! My father was an outstanding paladin! He gave everything out of loyalty to El Dorado! And this is what he gets in return?! This?!"

"My mother was kinder than anyone else. I can still remember the sight of her walking away. Why did my mother have to be sacrificed?"

Some of the victims had been parents whom their children had admired and dreamed of becoming like.

"I always resented my husband for leaving me and our children behind! But why did my husband have to die?!"

"My wife wasn’t someone who deserved to die like this! She deserved to live longer than anyone!"

Others had been beloved partners with whom someone had sworn to spend a lifetime.

"Our son...! Cough! Our son... Why did our son... have to die...? Cough!"

"Bring my daughter back! Bring my daughter back!! Bring my daughter back!!!"

And others had been precious children whose parents would gladly have given their own lives to save.

They had firmly believed that these deaths had not been in vain, but the truth was cruel.

They had been victims of the nation’s sins.

It had been a preventable disaster, and their deaths had been worse than meaningless—they had been senseless deaths that should never have occurred.

Those who had dedicated their lives to the nation had been sacrificed to cover up that nation’s wrongdoing.

Who could possibly not be furious?

Who could possibly not grieve?

That was the nature of the protest currently raging throughout El Dorado.

The people were not struggling merely to survive. They were wailing because they could no longer contain their anger and sorrow.

"All these people..."

"...This is incredible. It already looked serious when I saw it on the Gallery."

Asella and Reina could now witness the scene clearly with their own eyes.

Even describing it as a sea of people would not do it justice.

The crowd filled not only the space before the Papal Palace, but also the plazas and streets beyond it.

Most of the city’s residents had ceased all economic activity and joined the protest.

They had only one objective: to force the Pope himself to admit his wrongdoing.

The people of El Dorado, who had always lived under the threat of Demon Kings, had a strong tendency to unite whenever the nation faced a crisis.

But historically, a crowd of this magnitude had almost never assembled.

That demonstrated just how far their disappointment in—and sense of betrayal by—the Papal Palace had gone.

And they still haven’t said anything...?

Even as Asella watched the terrifying tide of people, she recalled the Papal Palace’s response.

Thus far, its response had been as stubborn as it was consistent.

They insisted that they were right and that the protesters had been deceived—a lie no one would believe.

The more one heard it, the angrier one became. The Papal Palace was practically throwing more logs onto the fire.

"Asella, keep your hood on until the very end, just in case."

"What?"

"Your hair stands out too much. I look relatively ordinary, at least."

"You’re beautiful too, Sis."

"Oh my. Hearing that from you makes me happy. But I’m still not as distinctive as you, am I?"

That wasn’t true.

Reina’s appearance was distinctive enough in its own right.

Asella was simply so dazzling that she couldn’t argue the point.

"For now, let’s find a way to reach the front row. We need to hear what those bastards are spouting."

"All right."

If it were up to her, Asella would have preferred to remain quietly hidden until the protest ended.

The darkest place was always beneath the lamp. The Papal Palace probably could not imagine that the Hero was currently in the capital.

"Excuse us. Coming through."

"Excuse us."

The two women pushed their way through the turbulent sea of people.

The farther forward they went, the louder the protesters’ voices became.

It seemed like the slightest mistake could cause a major accident, yet there was surprisingly plenty of room to move.

"—$%0%$!"

A voice magnified through amplification magic reached their ears.

It appeared they were finally approaching the front lines.

Asella pulled her hood even lower, just in case.

When they finally reached the front row, a voice entered her ears.

—Everyone, you are being deceived! We have never once spoken a lie!

It was a voice steeped in falsehood.

Perhaps because amplification magic was being used, every word came through with perfect clarity.

Disgusting.

The thought arose in Asella’s mind without her realizing it.

Trust in the Papal Palace had already hit rock bottom following Ludwig’s revelations.

Was there truly an even deeper bottom than that?

She found herself wondering.

How did El Dorado end up like this...?

Just as Asella’s emotions grew even more turbulent—

Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!

Disciplined footsteps sounded from before the doors of the Papal Palace.

Asella’s senses were exceptionally keen, allowing her to identify precisely where the footsteps were coming from.

"H-Huh?"

"Th-The paladins? Why are the paladins...?"

The voices of those standing in the front row, which had been filled with rage and sorrow, abruptly turned to confusion.

"Everyone! Form ranks!"

A heavily armed order of paladins had positioned itself before the protesters.

There was nothing particularly unusual about paladins standing between the protesters and the Papal Palace.

There were safety concerns to consider, and violence could potentially break out.

However, having an entire army—not merely a few paladins—block the protesters’ path was unprecedented.

"That lunatic Pope even mobilized the army?"

"I-Is he really trying to start a civil war?"

"Ares preserve us. How did El Dorado come to this...?"

The worst possible scenario naturally surfaced in the protesters’ minds.

The same was true for Asella.

She fixed her eyes on the troops and reached for her holy sword.

If the worst happened, she planned to step forward and protect the citizens herself.

"Beloved citizens of El Dorado! Please, hear me out!"

Fortunately, the troops made no move.

Instead, a single clergyman stepped forward from among them.

He was no ordinary clergyman. The ranks of the clergy could generally be distinguished by their attire.

In particular, their rank could be identified by the shape of their hats.

The clergyman before them was wearing a rather tall, elongated hat.

"A-A cardinal?"

"A cardinal came out personally?"

A cardinal stood directly beneath the Pope in the hierarchy.

With a cardinal personally stepping forward, the protesters could not help but become confused.

And that was precisely what the Pope’s faction had been aiming for.

"We are well aware that you are disappointed in us. However, we have never spoken falsely to you."

The shameless lie nearly made the protesters erupt, but the cardinal continued.

"More importantly, we have recently uncovered an even more shocking truth. All of you are currently... under a curse!"

"What? A curse?"

"What’s this nonsense about a curse all of a sudden?"

"If the Pope’s very existence counts as a curse, then I suppose we are."

The declaration was so wildly unexpected that the protesters were equal parts bewildered and dumbfounded.

Asella was no different.

She was also quite knowledgeable about curses.

Only members of the clergy could dispel them, and the stronger a clergyman’s divine power was, the greater their ability to break curses.

"Remnants of the wicked Undying King still remain! The Undying King created undead through numerous methods. If things go wrong, every one of you could become undead as well!"

"W-What? U-Undead?"

"We could become undead? Is that true?"

It was a shocking claim—that they could become undead while they were still alive.

The people immediately began checking themselves and asking one another for confirmation.

The retired soldiers were the first to step forward.

"...What he says is true. I saw it clearly with my own eyes."

"The Undying King’s necromancy was powerful enough to turn even living beings into undead."

As testimony poured forth from the veterans, the citizens grew even more anxious.

But Asella had her doubts.

If they were cursed, couldn’t the curse simply be lifted?

That was what clergymen were for, yet the Papal Palace had done nothing.

Instead, they were only heightening everyone’s fear. No matter how she considered it, something was strange.

"Therefore, you must undergo purification! If you remain gathered like this, there will be nothing we can do!"

So cooperate with us.

Disperse the protest.

Otherwise—

"If you refuse to comply, we will have no choice but to resort to extreme measures to prevent the curse from spreading."

Clank!

At those words, the paladins stomped their feet in unison.

It was unmistakably a threat.

There were even archers standing behind them. The sight plunged the protesters into profound confusion.

The army is taking such a hard line. Could we be the ones who are mistaken?

Even the shepherd boy eventually told the truth. Should we trust them just one more time?

While the protesters were growing restless, someone suddenly raised his hand.

"Hold on! Then let me ask you one question!"

It was a rough yet friendly voice.

The protesters parted to make way for the man who had spoken.

Thanks to that, Asella could clearly see his face.

Mr. Hans?

It was a face she knew well.

He was the man who sold fruit in the plaza.

He treated everyone kindly and was well-liked for his sense of humor.

He was also extremely well-connected. There was hardly anyone in the capital who had never eaten Hans’s fruit.

Hans confidently strode to the very front of the crowd and faced the cardinal.

"You said we’ve been cursed?"

"That is correct."

"I don’t know where you obtained that information, but I’ll believe you for now. However! All you need to do is determine whether I’m actually cursed. Go on, then. Prove it."

If he was cursed, they should prove it.

They were clergymen, after all.

It was a perfectly reasonable argument that left them no way out.

However, the cardinal replied in a deeply regretful tone.

"The Undying King’s curse is immensely powerful—and insidious. It is extremely difficult to detect, so it must be examined directly."

"Even someone of your power cannot do it?"

"Frustrating though it may be, I cannot. His Holiness must examine you personally."

In effect, Hans would have to meet the Pope alone.

Naturally, that entailed considerable risk.

But Hans merely snorted before answering boldly.

"That’s even better. I’ll go in myself."

"...."

The protesters fell silent at Hans’s declaration.

Despite their misgivings, they wanted to know whether the curse truly existed.

The Papal Palace had even mobilized the army and resorted to such forceful measures. Surely they wouldn’t go that far over a lie.

"Thank you for your cooperation. This way, please."

The cardinal bowed to Hans and guided him toward the entrance of the Papal Palace.

As Hans entered the building, the protesters’ fervor gradually began to subside.

"W-What should we do?"

"For now, I suppose we have no choice but to wait for Mr. Hans’s results."

"Everyone, let’s go home for now. We can use this opportunity to get our affairs in order."

The protesters dispersed.

Asella, however, remained until the very end, staring at the entrance to the Papal Palace.

Could the Papal Palace truly be telling the truth?

Those people, who had never uttered anything but lies?

She was uneasy.

Not yet, though.

She toyed with the hilt of her holy sword.

It was a blade she would never draw unless the situation demanded it.

After gazing silently at the Papal Palace, Asella turned away.

Reina, who stood beside her, did the same.

"Hey, Asella."

"Yes, Sis?"

"If Mr. Hans doesn’t come back tomorrow... what will you do?"

Asella answered Reina’s question without a moment’s hesitation.

"I’ll go inside. Secretly."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

A curse could be lifted quickly, provided the clergyman was sufficiently skilled.

Someone as powerful as the Pope should be able to lift most curses in no time.

Therefore, if Hans had not returned by tomorrow... it would mean something had undoubtedly happened to him.

O Ares...

Asella prayed desperately in her heart.

Please protect Mr. Hans.

While Asella was fervently praying—

"W-What is the meaning of this?! Are you people truly—?!"

"Shut up! Hurry and cover his eyes!"

Not long after entering the Papal Palace, Hans was subdued by the paladins.

He had a larger build than most people, but that meant nothing before the paladins.

They first restrained both of his arms, then covered his eyes with a blindfold so he could not access the Gallery.

Hans was dragged away to an unknown location.

He had never anticipated this.

"Let go of me!"

The paladins dragged Hans into an interrogation room.

The blindfold remained firmly over his eyes.

Hans raised his head toward the voice he heard before him and shouted fiercely.

"What is the meaning of this?! Do you truly believe Ares will forgive you for this?!"

There was no tremor in his voice.

There was only betrayal and fury.

But the cardinal seated before him did not so much as flinch.

Instead, he merely said:

"Now, from this moment onward, you are..."

When Hans heard the rest of his words—

"...a minion of the Undying King. Do you understand?"

"What...?"

He felt as though he had glimpsed the abyss beneath rock bottom.

Clunk—

"Hm?"

Grylls turned his head at the rattling sound.

In that direction stood the statue of Cain that had been inside the mimic.

It wasn’t as though the statue had moved on its own, so why had it suddenly rattled?

Did I imagine it?

There was something more important to focus on.

He stared intently at the fireplace.

He wasn’t the only one watching. The other animals had gathered around it as well.

"This should be enough, right?"

He took something out of the fireplace.

It was none other than a perfectly roasted sweet potato, its skin browned to perfection.

When he peeled it open, brilliant golden flesh was revealed within.

"Damn, that looks good."

"Piiiik! Piik!"

"I know. Just wait."

Nothing beat roasted sweet potatoes during a cold winter.

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