Game Mind of a Medieval Modern Person - Chapter 171



Only Noblemtl

171. Beyond the ritual of half-marriage, even in the land of bitter cold and blizzards, there is one weed that grows stubbornly.

This weed, with its tenacity to grow even on barren soil, has fascinated most people.

Hunters called this weed the mark of the hunting god.

Whenever I looked at the remains of a hunted animal, I always saw sprouts sprouting.

Warriors, on the other hand, call it the promise of the god of war, and sorcerers call it the gold of a traveler.

It would be natural for life to sprout in a battlefield littered with corpses and stained with blood, but this weed was particularly bad.

The warriors believed that this weed symbolized the new, prosperous society that would emerge after the war.

I understood the background and reasons why the fight had to happen, and I considered it to be a testimony from the god of war promising chaos that would lead to a more just world.

However, the shamans believe that this weed is a favor bestowed by the agricultural god Chimal, who symbolizes the traveler who quenches his thirst with blood and the earth that is always thirsty.

To the agricultural god Chimal, war was an act of those born with the blessings of the earth to quench the thirst of the earth with their own flesh and blood.

A providence in which grace is exchanged and circulated for the benefit of one another, rather than one side unilaterally exploiting the other.

The sorcerers claimed that Chimal sprouted this weed for those who kept and followed the providence.

It is not clear whose claim is correct.

One thing is certain: the people who use this weed most usefully are sorcerers.

The ‘Traveler’s Gold’ is used in mysterious rituals that even warriors shun, calling it sinister and strange, and hunters frown and retreat.

However, the great chieftains who had gathered to perform the ceremony were all frowning.

Knock, knock, knock.

Inside the wooden chapel, the sound of mortar and pestle being struck echoes.

The four chieftains who surrounded the deerskin-covered altar were silent, their lips tightly shut.

The grass-chewing, curly-bearded Bateson, the white-browed Toryon, and the twisted, drunken Hariat were all looking at each other with the same gaze.

Suspicion and delusion, wariness and contempt…

The only exception was the ever-calm Chieftain, Silver-Maned Wolf Cloak.

But Noki, the sorcerer with eyes as clear as ice, did his job without paying attention to these gazes.

After pounding the traveler’s gold coins with a mallet on the altar where the acrid incense burner emitted smoke like a damp mist, Noki finally took out the oiled leather bag hanging from his waist when a greenish sap more toxic than the stink bug began to leak out.

As the strings that bound the bag were released, the vivid, pungent scent of blood filled the surroundings.

Noki carefully let a sip of clean, bright red blood flow down the entrance of the leather pouch.

At first they didn’t mix.

The blood and the green juice were separated into layers, like oil and water.

But soon, the flowing blood and the light green juice began to mix.

Then Noki looked down at the juice that was changing into a strange color and chuckled.

“The great gods have permitted it. Come forward, one by one.”

“…”

“Hehe. Is this old man really that bad?”

The first to react to the unpleasant laughter was Curlybeard Bateson.

He spat out the grass roots he had been chewing and sat up, picking up the wooden cup in front of him.

Bateson walked up to the altar and glared at Noki.

“Ariaba really died?”

“To spy on the living is the realm of greedy gluttony. The only thing a traveler can see with his gold coins is those who lie down on the earth, so it is certain.”

“You idiot. You believe everything the Chieftain says, so that’s why you’re like that…”

The only one who spoke up was Bateson.

As Bateson took the juice mixed with blood, the other chieftains followed him.

Chieftain Silver Wolf Cloak’s turn was last.

And as Wolf Cloak stood before the altar, this time the sorcerer Noki whispered softly.

“The gods have high expectations for their chieftain.”

“….”

After a while.

The chieftains respectfully held up wooden cups containing juice mixed with blood in both hands.

Everyone looked uneasy.

Nevertheless, I was ready to drink.

As soon as Noki realized that the chieftains were ready, he lifted the mist incense burner and recited the sutra.

“Father of the scaled ones, Lord of the heavens, Thunder God. I wish to see the last drop of blood that your great-son Aryava shed during his lifetime.”

At that moment, the blood in the wooden goblet began to sparkle subtly.

It’s not just one thing.

All four chieftains witnessed the strange transformation.

A bright blue color that is neither lime nor crimson.

Even Toryon, who had been silent until now, was startled, and Harriet, who was drunk and twisted, frowned.

“This is.”

“Isn’t that the color that represents starlight from outer space?”

At that moment, Bateson turned his head without realizing it.

Where Bateson’s gaze stopped, there was the wolf cloak still looking down at the glass with an expressionless face.

“Chief. You know something.”

“Batesson, I’m conscious.”

“Shit.”

The one who stopped this commotion was the sorcerer Noki.

Before Noki’s voice could grow louder, he shook the mist incense burner more roughly, quickly filling the chapel with damp smoke.

“Ravenous gluttony, embrace us in your dark and free stomach. Hide us from the eyes of those who would steal, and show us what you have seen!”

The color changes again.

Every time the incense burner shook and the smoke grew thicker, the blood in the goblet returned to its original color.

Noki, who noticed this change even in the smoke, shouted urgently.

“Ariaba was killed by an alien starlight. He doesn’t want Ariaba’s spirit to return to this world! Drink quickly, before Ariaba is completely taken away!”

The sinister smile that had been snickering just a moment ago was nowhere to be found.

Noki’s voice, filled with desperation, woke up the hesitant and wary chieftains.

The chieftains drank the blood in the cup without hesitation.

And the moment I closed my eyelids and opened them.

They were able to experience firsthand how Ariava died.

***

The ritual of half-marriage was a success.

But it was only half.

Originally, it was a ritual that could summon the dead and have a conversation with them, but there was an obstacle.

Even the interference was not physical but spiritual, and surprisingly, the enemy Lux Stella herself intervened.

In the end, Ariaba never returned from death.

Instead, Ariaba tried his best to show what he had been through, and thanks to this, the chieftains realized what Ariaba had seen.

“…”

Neither the curly-bearded Bateson, nor the white-browed Toryon, nor the twisted, drunken Harriatt could bring themselves to speak.

After hesitating for a while, it was Toryon who spoke first.

“…When I heard that Ariaba had died, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand.”

Toryon shifted his gaze as he put down the empty wooden cup.

To the chieftain who still remains silent.

“The Thunder God would not let his beloved warrior die so easily.”

“…”

“But now that I’ve seen and experienced it like this, I know for sure. Before the scales grew, a bright blue light flashed from the wound.”

You didn’t leave it alone.

After saying that, Toryon began to glare at the chieftain with fierce eyes.

“It looks like the incarnation has been blocked.”

“I was more concerned about the other side than that.”

The one who blocked the subsequent investigation was Hariat.

“Seeing the warriors who fought against Ariaba, I think the rumors may be true.”

“Rumor? Is that more important than the Thunder God’s power being blocked right now?”

“I guess that would have been the case if it had just been a rumor.”

Harriet was pressing her outstretched head with her left hand and forcing open her heavy eyelids.

It was because I was concerned about the rumors that had recently begun to spread among the warriors going back and forth to the battlefield.

Hariat looked around at the other chieftains with slightly bloodshot eyes and opened his mouth.

“The Warrior King has been resurrected.”

“…what?!”

“It was a rumor that some of the sorcerers who were performing the ritual of reconciliation on the slain warriors testified. The warrior among warriors who broke the power of the war god called immortal, the nameless warrior king, returned to keep the oath he had sworn…”

Harriet rolled her eyes as she muttered.

Chieftain’s Silver Wolf Cloak.

To test the opponent who stubbornly keeps silent.

“Chief. I don’t know about anything else, but you must tell me whether the Warrior King’s resurrection is true.”

“Really? Is that Ground Warden warrior who wielded that hammer the resurrected Warrior King!?”

White-Eyed Toryon accepted the rumor Hariat had spread as if it were true.

A warrior who was able to block the great warrior Ariaba, who was favored by the Thunder God, with only his skills and no real protection, could only be called a warrior king.

I was asking with half confidence.

But the one who answered before the chieftain was Bateson, who was resting his chin on his hand.

“White Eyebrows, don’t insult our ancestors.”

“Huh. Our heart-breaker, who was heartbroken by the loss of his friend, is after my heart this time?”

“A ground squire warrior who wields a sledgehammer. He’s certainly a good man, but he’s not a warrior king.”

Bateson stated with a calm expression.

“The warrior king defeated our ancestors. He just held on. And he had someone with a spear to help him.”

“Hmm. The Warrior King may have been more idealized than we thought. There may not have been a warrior as great as Ariaba, or perhaps some of our dishonest ancestors may have justified their defeat by forcibly embellishing him…”

At that moment, Wolf Cloak, who had kept his lips tightly shut until then, opened his mouth.

“He is not a warrior king.”

Silver Mane Wolf Cloak.

Having been chewing on stories about warrior kings since childhood, he became close with the tribe’s shaman, Noki, and performed countless ceremonies of reunion.

The target is the warriors who led the invasion of the fallen kingdom 600 years ago.

Among them are the old great warriors who were once called Immortals.

The ancient warriors prided themselves on being immortal and considered death a trivial thing, but they never considered that they would become the anvil that would pickle their opponents.

In fact, it was a natural thing.

Three years of organized resistance by the fallen kingdom ended in a futile attempt to protect the refugees.

Who would be wary of the warrior king’s army, which had already lost most of its soldiers and was comprised of a small number of guerrillas and no more than 300 soldiers at most?

If Wolf Cloak hadn’t performed the ritual of half-soul, he wouldn’t have known.

“If he had been a warrior king, he wouldn’t have lost that many. Even with the miracle of the thunder god Ariava used, the ground-guardian warrior who swung the iron mace lost too many.”

“Even that guy only died about twenty times? Chieftain, no matter how highly you praise the Warrior King, isn’t that too much?”

The three years of organized resistance by the fallen kingdom were more than enough.

“If it was just that much, the gods would not have wanted a warrior king.”

The fact that the number of great warriors who died during the last two years when the warrior king began hunting in earnest was greater.

“but.”

Wolf Cloak continued, adding:

“If the Warrior King has been resurrected, then it is only natural that I should not be left by his side.”

The wise and prudent chieftain realized through this ritual what the gods desired.

The straight-nosed sorcerer, Noki, was sitting on the altar with his back to the ground, looking at the sight with satisfaction.

Episode 172