Chapter 123: Village of the Condemned

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Each time Rock slams his forehead against the ground, it feels as if the entire mountain quakes.

After the third head-butt, Rock lifts his tear-streaked face and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“M-my nose is broken!”

“Talking back to a Transcendent? You’ve got some nerve! Want me to swap your left and right brains with a spell?!”

“N-no, never! I’m sorry!”

Does it even have a brain? Does it even know what one is?

While the party brushes off the dust they picked up in the underground tunnel—or just sits to catch their breath—they watch the scene unfold.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Nureumdol! B-but my friends call me Nureum!”

“Nureumdol… Cute name.”

“Thank you!”

“Why use such a cute name? Doesn’t suit you, does it? Are Transcendents a joke to you? From now on your name is Jjangdol—‘Chunk of Rock.’”

Nureumdol stares, clearly unhappy.

“Need me to change it with a spell? I could carve ‘Jjangdol’ across your forehead!”

“No, ma’am! Thank you, ma’am! It’s an honor to receive a name from a Transcendent!”

He throws himself flat on the ground in gratitude—no, in terror—now Jjangdol.

Rihanna sidles up to Isaac and whispers,

“Did Sharen treat you like this too?”

“She had her intense days, sure—but mostly she just sent me on errands. Like buying her snacks.”

While Sharen finishes putting Nureumdol-turned-Jjangdol in line, the others squat in a loose circle to decide what to do next.

“First priority is finding a way back,” Isaac begins, and everyone nods.

Living here forever is out of the question; returning to their original world is objective number one.

But they all know what must come first:

Supplies.

“We need to rest somewhere—eat, patch ourselves up,” Silverna says evenly, though the urgency behind her words is obvious.

The northern soldiers are in rough shape, and Uldiran keeps drifting into long, faint-like sleeps, barely speaking when awake.

When they ask Jjangdol if there’s any place to rest, he eagerly points in one direction.

“Th-that way. There’s a village.”

A village?

Could it belong to the Transcendents?

‘Where did Sharen wander off to?’ Isaac wonders—only to see her already perched on Jjangdol’s shoulders.

“A Transcendent village?” she asks.

“N-no, ma’am! No Transcendents live there!”

“Ack—! I almost fell!”

“S-sorry, ma’am!”

As Jjangdol shakes in panic, nearly dumping Sharen to the ground, he keeps talking—fear makes him very cooperative.

“So what kind of village is it exactly?” Isaac presses, brow furrowing.

“I-it’s a village of the condemned! A place for those who committed crimes near Transcendent territory—or who fell out of favor and were exiled. They’re no longer allowed to call themselves Transcendents. It’s quiet most days, but watchers do come by now and then.”

Isaac grins.

“Sounds perfect.”

From the rear, Silverna murmured, and the rest of the party clearly shared the same thought.

They had Rihanna and Sharen—two people easily mistaken for Transcendents.

With those two up front, walking into the village would look perfectly natural.

Sliding down from Nureum-turned-Jjangdol’s head, Sharen announced:

“Starting today, you’re a mount as well as a rock!”

“…A mount?”

“Problem? You useless lump—”

“N-no, ma’am! An honor, ma’am!”

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Jjangdol banged his forehead on the ground again.

Maybe that really is his version of thinking, because he suddenly frowned and looked up.

“But… if you’re Transcendents, you must know Benhaim Village.”

A hush fell. Eyes darted back and forth.

“Hey!” Sharen never takes a break.

“Doubting a Transcendent, are we? Keep back-talking and you’ll get a taste of real sorcery. Want me to turn you into sand right here and now?”

“No, ma’am! I’m sorry, ma’am!”

Isaac couldn’t remember a time when Sharen had been this useful. He almost applauded.

***

They trekked down the mountain; soon the outline of the village came into view—a wooden palisade, clusters of packed-earth houses in an unfamiliar style, making it obvious they really were in another world.

No people showed themselves, but Rihanna said she could feel plenty of presences.

The unsettling part was the sensation—shared by Silverna and even Sharen—that eyes were watching from behind shuttered windows.

“We’ve arrived…” Jjangdol whispered, head bowed.

Sharen slid gracefully from his shoulders, great-sword resting across her back.

She glanced at her older sister.

“Want me to handle this, Unnie?”

She clearly wanted to.

Rihanna shook her head and stepped forward.

“No—I’ll do it.”

Isaac agreed. The more someone talks, the easier it is to trip over a lie; taciturn Rihanna was the right choice.

A quick glance behind: every Northern soldier looked exhausted.

The usually cheeky Sharen was pale, conversation had dried up, Silverna’s cheeks were hollow, and Uldiran hardly seemed to breathe.

And everyone was hungry.

Mind and body were at their limit; they had to secure shelter and food now.

“I’m counting on you, Rihanna,” Isaac said.

She answered with a small nod, then strode into the village at the very front.

Isaac had told her to conserve her crimson aura, but right now a little spectacle was exactly what they needed.

Scarlet energy blazed from her whole body, spiraling into the night sky and yanking every unseen gaze toward her.

“Let the steward of Benhaim present himself to greet me!”

Her voice rolled out, low and resonant.

As if waiting for the cue, a hunched old man emerged. His face resembled a goat’s—clearly a Transcendent, yet lacking their usual hostility.

“I-I am the steward Rancelon. N-never did I expect a scion of the Primitive Blood to grace this humble place.”

Remarkably, Rancelon showed not a trace of enmity toward humans.

For Isaac, whose worldview insisted Transcendents could never be friendly to humanity, it was nothing short of shattering.

There isn’t a single Transcendent who doesn’t hate humans.

—Or so everyone believed.

Yet the way Rancelon and the unseen on-lookers watched the sudden outsiders showed nothing more than curiosity—no malice, no murderous intent.

“Prepare food and a place for us to rest,” Rihanna demanded, as if it were only natural.

That very nonchalance made her words all the more convincing.

“O-of course! I shall see to it at once!”

“We’ll be staying several days. Make sure everything is done properly.”

“Yes, ma’am! But… do you require provisions for the humans behind you as well, or shall we—ah—cook them?”

Rihanna turned a blank stare on him; the pressure in the air doubled.

“They are sacrifices for an upcoming ritual. I need them brimming with life, but the journey is long. Keep them healthy so they don’t die beforehand.”

“Ah! Understood!”

Accepting her explanation, Rancelon scurried off, calling villagers to their tasks.

Moments later, smoke curled skyward from the far side of the village.

***

“…You’re good at this,” Isaac whispered, sidling up.

“I was a little tense.”

“Maybe that’s why it worked. You never break expression—makes you twice as convincing.”

“Is that praise?”

“Highest praise.”

Whenever Rihanna gets nervous, her face freezes—something that had led Isaac to misread her before. He remembered their very first night vividly.

Just then, Rancelon hopped back over. Spotting Isaac beside Rihanna, he scowled.

“How dare a sacrifice stand beside one of noble blood! On your knees—crawl on all fours!”

Isaac was momentarily lost for words. He could tell from the man’s eyes he didn’t truly mean it; Rancelon kept darting hopeful glances at Rihanna, hungry for her approval.

‘Maybe I should just kneel—’ he began to think, but Rihanna hooked an arm through his and pulled him close.

“He is my slave,” she said coolly.

“...”

“A slave I’m fond of. Touch him and you answer to me.”

Rancelon’s eyes flicked left and right; then he bobbed his head so fast it was a blur.

“Ah! I—I see! My apologies! I shall see that he is well cared for!”

With that he fled, clearly baffled by the eccentric tastes of “highborns.”

Isaac looked at Rihanna; she scratched her cheek and muttered,

“Sorry.”

“No… given the circumstances, it made sense,” he replied.

There was nothing to nit-pick in a situation like this.

At his answer Rihanna edged one cautious step closer to him.

– – The End of The Chapter ––

 

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