Malphegor
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MoP: Ch. 117
🕑 Added 2025-05-19 19:32:08 +0000 UTC---Third POV---
When Gavin was racking his brain, preparing to persuade them once again, Apple abruptly stood up and interrupted him, "Alright, this job is clearly some cushy position Viktor set up for you. You don't have to do anything."
He leaned against a monster's bone that conveniently reached his chest and added in what he thought was a considerate tone: "This teleportation array hasn't been used in who knows how many years. No one's coming. Just pretend you didn't see anything. If we die, we'll carry ourselves to the church!"
Thor nodded furiously without even lifting his head. "Exactly... Wait, huh???"
Noticing the array's patterns growing brighter, his eyes widened, and he yanked Apple by the arm. "Whoa! Apple, come look at this!"
Apple, who was yanked so hard that his bone cane slipped, stumbled and almost fell to the ground. But in the next second, he too saw the glowing array growing as bright as a lightbulb, his jaw dropping wider by the second. "Whoa! The array's actually activating? Could it be that you're a genius?"
"No, it's lighting up on its own."
"!!!"
Three seconds later, a lean, dark figure fell from midair.
Thud!
The figure quickly got to its feet and assumed a defensive stance. The man, carrying a blade, tried to conceal the alertness in his eyes. "Excuse me, is this the territory of The Watchers?"
A suffocating silence followed.
Thor slowly turned his head toward Apple. "Are you a jinx?"
Apple was more confused than anyone. "I'm never setting a flag again!"
Meanwhile, some players snapped out of their shock and noticed subtitles translated on their interface.
"Whoa! This NPC knows who we are?! I'm heading to find Viktor right now!"
"Me too!"
"Don't fight me for the quest!"
A group of players darted off without hesitation. When it came to competing for quests, no one was more professional than them.
Soon, the man with the blade was searched and brought to the Lord's Residence.
---
Looking at the lean old man tied up like a prisoner, I sighed helplessly as I untied him myself.
Through the players' perspective, I confirmed that the man was just a low-level mage, artificially boosted by low-grade potions. I had instructed the players to bring the man over but didn't say to treat him like a prisoner... Still, it was surprising that he didn't resist at all, letting the players fool around as they pleased.
Since the man had arrived with good intentions, I would reciprocate with equal goodwill. I decided to hear him out.
I resumed my seat of authority. "Outlander, state your purpose."
Still preoccupied with my skeletal hand, he snapped out of his daze, swallowing nervously.
I could practically read his thoughts. Well, it was not hard at all, they were mostly the same.
Under my probing gaze, he struggled to look but dared not stare.
I couldn't help but justify myself. "Let me clarify, I've always been a peace-loving person. Where did the rumors about cruelty and bloodthirst come from?"
I recalled two hundred years ago when the rumors painted me as someone getting pummeled by the Churches. It was only by ambushing the heavily wounded gods after the war that the Age of Gods came to an end.
How had the rumor evolved so quickly, even upgrading my strength along the way?
Noticing the terrified look in the man's eyes, I leaned forward slightly, revealing my skeletal head glowing with blue flames from the shadows, my jawbone spreading in what might have been a grin. "Live long enough, and you'll naturally learn a bit of everything."
"My apologies, Lord... Lord Necromancer? Perhaps you'll recognize this!"
The man anxiously pulled out a silver-white blade shard from his pack, lowering his head and offering it with both hands.
Though marred by cracks and broken in half, it was once a peerless sword.
Before Edgar used it to forcibly interrupt the resurrection ritual, it had indeed been such a blade.
"Continue."
"Half a month ago, a paladin handed this to me, asking me to guard the teleportation array in exchange for his protection. He said if the array were activated and he didn't return within three days, I could bring this to seek refuge with you."
So it was Edgar's handiwork!
I had only sent him to buy seeds and recruit a few townsfolk willing to venture into the Great Oak Forest. How had that turned into half a month of radio silence and now trouble landing on my doorstep?
When I received the players' message earlier, I thought the Churches had caught wind of our activities and launched an attack. It turned out the leak had come from within.
I pondered for a moment before suddenly recalling something. "You're called Fuki?"
The man was flattered and nodded quickly. "Yes, that's me!"
It really was the local bigshot Edgar had mentioned, operating near the Hollow's Edge. His story seemed credible.
After he cautiously explained everything, I finally pieced together the chain of events.
The teleportation array's forest-side coordinates had been arranged by Edgar. He had also used three slots for joining The Watchers to commission Fuki to guard the array.
"Actually, just two slots would have sufficed. The paladin said you had already agreed to take in my two granddaughters..."
"...That does sound familiar."
I recalled the one time Edgar had relayed a message after leaving, mentioning he had found two civilians willing to forego divine blessings. I had indeed agreed to let Edgar bring them back.
Through the spell of Truth-Telling, I confirmed he wasn't lying. For now, I saw no issue with taking them in.
"Do you know where Edgar went?"
Fuki hesitated. "Thirteen days ago, he said he was going to save someone. I don't know anything else."
"In Nary Town?"
"That's correct."
"Do you know the specific location or details about who he was rescuing?"
"He never mentioned it."
Could there be other Watchers trapped in the Great Oak Forest? And captured, no less?
A small frontier town like Nary shouldn't have had the strength to restrain him or capture any member of our organization.
There must be another force involved behind the scenes.
This was a serious problem… The current players still needed time to grow and were far from being able to confront any of the churches' forces.
I must quickly call back the four players from outside!
While opening the game forum to update the four players on the mission, I marked the task of finding Edgar as completed.
At the same time, I continued questioning Fuki.
"The Watchers forbid praying to the gods. Can you and your two granddaughters truly abide by that?"
Edgar had personally verified the two granddaughters, so they should not be a problem. But Fuki, who was no longer young and grew up receiving church education as an Aeltia native, faced a much greater challenge. Giving up the power bestowed upon him and starting anew at his age was akin to cutting his life in half.
Could he really have such resolve?
His smile turned bitter. "As long as I can survive, giving up this power that was borrowed from the gods, what does it matter?"
"You've got quite a perspective," I remarked. "Yet, if that were truly the case, there wouldn't be only three of you refugees agreeing to join."
He had come to Honeyvale Town alone, clearly showing his distrust of The Watchers. Joining use meant entirely forsaking the "Divine Blessing," that miraculous fallback said to grant any wish.
Given our poor reputation in recent years, it hardly inspired confidence among refugees that they'd have a secure chance of survival.
"I want the truth. What happened out there that made you willing to gamble on The Watchers, even before Edgar returned?"
I withdrew my "necromancer's smile," crossed my legs, and adjusted my posture.
"Based on the bard's tales of me, there's a high probability you'd be killed the moment you came uninvited."
His expression froze, and the atmosphere turned heavy. Realizing his flattery had failed, he slowly wiped the emotions off his face.
"But I gambled right, didn't I?"
"You are not the bloodthirsty and brutal god-slaying maniac the church makes you out to be."
He closed his eyes briefly before continuing. "I chose to join simply because staying out there would mean certain death! Abel has gone mad!"
Abel was the mayor of Nary Town.
From Fuki's tone, it was clear he deeply despised the man.
I remained silent, patiently listening. It turned out that after the two impulsive monks who had ambushed me on the Frostwind Plains met their demise, Abel had gone on a rampage.
He raised taxes recklessly, expanded farmland without any scientific basis, and spent exorbitant sums hiring high-level magicians to help him survive the harsh winter tides.
Meanwhile, he secretly captured refugees from the wastelands in large numbers, intending to use their lives to delay the tide's arrival when things spiraled out of control.
I leaned forward, intrigued. "Someone is actually breaking the Anti-Demon Pact set by the Radiant Church? That's bold!"
The Anti-Demon Pact: Monsters are the foremost enemy of all intelligent species, and no race may provide sustenance to them in any form.
A monster's food, of course, was other intelligent beings. Refugees wandering the wastelands might be an eyesore, but feeding them to monsters only strengthens the next tide.
The pact was created and enforced by the Radiant Church, with nearly all intelligent species' churches, except for the semi-intelligent goblins, pledging their support. If anyone was caught violating the pact, they would face a joint bounty from all affiliated churches, barely better than The Watchers' situation.
Fuki forced a wry smile. "As long as no one discovers it, who's to know?"
He was right. The wastelands were rife with dangers, not just from wandering monsters but also from ferocious beasts and raptors that killed many refugees regularly. No one truly cared about the ever-increasing number of refugees on the wastelands.
This was how Abel's actions had gone unnoticed.
Having lived on the wastelands for over a decade, Fuki was highly sensitive to refugee movements, which allowed him to glimpse part of the truth. But as a refugee himself, he was doomed to be unable to report it to the church.
Even if he did, it wouldn't make a difference.
The Anti-Demon Pact, strictly enforced when first enacted, had deteriorated into a gray area over the past 600 years. Sacrificing fellow humans to feed monsters in exchange for survival had become an unspoken rule or gray industry.
As a refugee, his only choice was to find his own way to survive.
I nodded while listening, murmuring under my breath, "So, the upper echelons of humanity have decayed to such a degree?"
These past years, I'd been preoccupied with forbidden magic and evading the church's pursuit, severing ties with human society. But learning that the Anti-Demon Pact had been twisted into a gray industry due to its severe punishments still shocked me.
Perhaps the flaw in monsters' territorial range restrictions was too obvious. Each tide only slightly shrank their territory, insignificant against the vastness of Aeltia. As a result, nobles and bishops hiding in royal cities or other safe zones had begun to downplay the threat monsters posed.
"Such cursed complacency," I sighed.
If the tide affected only those short-sighted nobles and monks, I would've gladly let them face the consequences of their actions firsthand.
"Aside from you, no other refugees volunteered?"
"They… need more time to think it over…" he mumbled.
After all, nobles weren't the only ones harboring false hope. Not everyone shared his pessimism and caution. Since this was merely a gray area, Abel still exercised restraint and dared not capture all the wasteland refugees at once.
The limited manpower in Nary Town made it impossible anyway. Thus, the remaining refugees gambled on being among the lucky survivors.
Hollow's Edge was already dangerous enough and far from Nary Town.
They believed Abel's reach might not extend there.
With a sigh, Fuki revealed his true intent.
"Yara and Mila are still too young and haven't undergone the magical aptitude test yet. This is the best time for them to abandon the path of divine prayer and pursue alternative training. And I'm old. But to care for them, what's the harm in sacrificing what little power I have left?"
Refugees were often outlaws or individuals deemed unfit for even the lowest tier of citizenship. The odds of being highly valued among the notorious Watchers were slim. But if it meant watching his two granddaughters grow up, that was enough for him… I admired the old man's willingness to leap into the fire for them.
Just as I was about to nod in acknowledgment, something struck me as odd.
"Wait… You said they haven't undergone the magical aptitude test yet?"
I looked up, staring incredulously into his eyes.
The magical aptitude test was a free evaluation performed on every child, regardless of status, at the age of six.
Could it be that his granddaughters were under six years old?! If so... How can they help me?
