Chương 165: The Mess They Left

We scurried away from the giant bat, creating an arc of squads on either side of it, containing it. I kept my spear pointed at it, for what good it would do. At least it couldn't fly away, with how we'd damaged its wing. Sure, I probably could have used my resonance Skill to pierce its flesh—wherever. My Skill was stronger than most of the Dupes' here. But I only had a spear and a crossbow. They left small holes. It'd be like trying to kill a human with a toothpick.

You could do it, of course, but it wouldn't be easy. Jaruwain's eyes still glowed. His head lurched back, and his mouth opened, revealing a maw of fangs.

"Watch out!" Sage yelled. Morph pulled me to the side, and just in time. A jet of steaming blood hissed out Jaruwain's mouth like dragon's breath. It splattered the ground where I had just been standing. Specks splattered, washing over the fleeing crowd. Two civilians melted on the spot, screaming. Jaruwain twisted, blasting his stream of steaming blood at the squad of soldiers beside us. The jet hit one, boiling him inside his scale mail, but the others darted away.

I needed to do this quickly, before anyone else got hurt and all my witnesses ran away. We'd have to work as one. In a split second, I considered using another Art, pulling the bat's head down to our level again and giving us a target (the back of its neck), but its neck muscles were tensing. It had learned from my first attack, and it would pull away even sooner than before. We wouldn't even land a single hit. Jaruwain, however, probably didn't know that I could angle my Art.

Though I had used it to pull away a few of the Seerservers bearing the raft, it had been the middle of a battle, and far away from him. To disorient the bat, I pulled its head to the side with a targeted, single well. Its head wrenched away, the gravity well tugging it in a direction it wasn't expecting. The jet of steaming blood cut off. While the bat staggered, trying to recover, I used yet another single-well Art to fling myself upward.

I angled it forty-five degrees away from myself, launching myself over the beast's head. One last use of the Art dragged me down atop the bat's back, and I impacted with such force that no amount of physical resistance could stop me. The bat couldn't fight the force of the impact, and its head slammed straight into the ground, neck brought low. Disorientation combined with a physical impact bought us more time, especially as I used a resonance Skill to pierce the beast's flesh.

The rest of the Dupes surrounded the beast, leaping in, aiming for the back of its neck. It tried to thrash, but it was too late. Axes bit its skin, swords cleaved muscles and tendons, spears ripped the wounds open wider, and the beast fell still. Its flesh dissolved, shifting back to its old form—Jaruwain. I pushed through the crowd of soldiers, navigating to the comparatively frail body of the old seer, then kicked him over onto his back. He still didn't move, but these people were dangerous.

There was a chance he was playing dead. I turned to Romance, who stood across from me, and said, "Take off his head."

"It would be my pleasure, sir." Romance raised his sword, then brought it down with a heavy swing and a resonance Skill, freeing the man's head from his shoulders. It took five swings, leaving a ragged cut at the neck.

"Order," I said, motioning to another Dupe, "get a spear, and impale that head. Hoist it up at the edge of the ceremony grounds. Romance, use your squad to make sure Tunmod stays. Everyone else, go calm the crowd, and make sure they come back." As the Dupes rushed to fulfill my orders, Elf whispered, "So I take it he wasn't a seer, after all?" I shook my head.

"A druid of some sort. A druid-cultist."

"He drew the maegen of all the nearby creatures," Sage provided.

"It gave him a temporary boost in strength."

"It was no match for Sir Levi, though," Romance said.

"Is there anything he can't just kill?"" Yes," I said, putting immense stress on the word.

"Hinlaw. Who I also happened to really piss off recently, and who I will need to still somehow defeat soon, given the fact that he's not going to stop attacking me. This is probably just going to make him more angry."

"Was he responsible for this?" Romance asked.

"Directly?" I shrugged.

"I don't know. But I know who we can ask." Of the Dupes who hadn't scattered to carry out my orders, all our heads turned toward Tunmod—even of the two Dupes from Romance's squad who held him in place. I marched over, holding my spear tight, then pointed its tip up against Tunmod's neck. It broke skin, and a trickle of blood beaded on the tip of the spear. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Wh—what do you want to know?" Tunmod stammered.

"I'll tell you anything!"

"You aren't going to die with as much dignity as Jaruwain or his servants, are you?" I asked.

"Or even the soldiers who you made throw their lives away to try, pitifully, to stop us?" My eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Well, then. Who appointed you?"

"Lord Hinlaw."

"There you have it," I said.

"He didn't tell me— He didn't order me to kill you!" Tunmod tried.

"That's coming next. When he finds out what you've done to me, and what you've done to his lands, he will be enraged."

"But you did try to have me killed," I said.

"Was it on the cultists' orders?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"You were going to interrupt their source of energy. You still are!"

"Who leads them?" I demanded.

"Jaruwain led this branch!" Tunmod sputtered.

"Please! I can be useful. I can still help you—""Yes, right now. How widespread is this problem of cultists?"

"There are bands of them all across the Domain! The Blood Tear Order is much larger than him!"

"Who's their leader? Branches imply there's a central branch. That means there should be a leader, yes?"

"I don't know! Please, Sir Levi, I don't know!" I pulled my spear away. He was probably telling the truth. If only I had a Subtle Man here with me to help tell, but then again, the Subtle Men weren't going to work with me.

"Of this branch, where are the remaining cultists?"

"They'll scatter, with Jaruwain dead," Tunmod assured me.

"You won't have to worry about them ever again."

"Perhaps. Why'd you do it? I hear this place was doing quite well before you took office and ran it into the ground. And there's no reason it shouldn't be thriving. The front lines could use potions more than ever, and you could be making a killing."

"I was promised wealth and power," Tunmod spat.

"Just the same as any of the Warlord's portreeves." He leaned forward, straining against his captors. His eyes went wide. Was he starting to realize that I wasn't going to spare him?

"Let me tell you something. We're not here with a grand plan. I can't speak to whoever appointed us. I did this for me. And it would have worked, too!"

"You would've gotten away with it if it wasn't for those darned kids, is that it?"

"What?" I knelt in front of Tunmod.

"Yes, yes, maybe you did this all for the wealth. But you're still rotting this place from the inside out. I was at Oschester, you know that? I saw firsthand what a traitor will do for a pound of silver."

"I could make you very wealthy…" Tunmod tried.

"Did you listen to nothing I just said?" I demanded.

"I'm not particularly concerned about sceats right now. It's not like I can spend them if the world is overrun by orcs."

"But you can live a good life, run to the far corners of the world! And you'll surely die before the darkness consumes everything!" Tunmod thrashed, but being a mortal man, he couldn't do anything against the strength of a Dupe.

"You're a Dupe. An Atoning, even! What has Gate ever done for you? Your soul just…popped out here!"

"Mine did, maybe," I said.

"It doesn't matter. It's about duty. There are people out there who didn't have a choice where they were born, and who won't get a second chance when they die. What would you say to them?

'Whoops?' Well, I'm sorry if I think I could actually make a difference, if I actually feel a call of purpose." Tunmod didn't reply to that. At least, not coherently. He sputtered and thrashed, begging, because he probably knew what we were going to do. I turned to the ceremonial raft, motioned to the boy, and ordered, "Free him, but don't ruin the ropes. We'll still need those." Romance and Anchor rushed over, teasing the knots loose and pulling the ropes away, and Brawl pulled the boy away. He barely moved.

Surely, he was exhausted from all his thrashing and struggling.

"I think the river spirits could use one last sacrifice, couldn't they?" It seemed like a fitting punishment for Tunmod, after all that he'd done, and all the people who he'd hurt in these lands. How many people had the cultists taken away? How many innocents had they tortured and mistreated? It was probably too gentle, considering what I'd seen last night.

"I've never taken a life!" Tunmod shouted.

"I haven't hurt anyone! Be kind, sir!"

"Not with your hands," I countered.

"But you're far from innocent." By now, most of the crowd had shuffled back into the ceremony grounds, moving hesitantly toward us. The Dupes of the 294th protected us, surrounding us, but the crowd seemed far more curious than angry. I turned to face them, though I kept my spear pointed at Tunmod.

"With him, the ceremonies and sacrifices end. If you want to hold a festival, we can do that. What about the floods? Well, we need to get some people working again. I say we dig a floodway and build better retaining walls. We can figure out some proper flood protection, can't we?" No response. Oh well. If I was in their place, I probably wouldn't have replied, either.

"You don't have to live under his tyranny again," I continued.

"We'll make sure the cults are gone, and yes, I will be leaving for the front soon. But your city will be protected. I'll make sure the local guards fall into line. And when I'm done my training, I'll be back. That's a promise." The crowd was still silent.

"Put him on the raft," I ordered. Romance's squad lifted the struggling Tunmod, forcing him over to the raft, then tied him down to the chair. For good measure, they put the ceremonial headdress on him. We pushed him out to the river, and the raft spun down the stream, bobbing in the current for a few minutes, before it disappeared over the edge of the waterfall. Silence reigned for a second longer, then a single cheer. Someone near the edge of the crowd shouted, raising his fist in the air.

A ripple of cheers rolled through the crowd. Not everyone, but enough. I dipped my head to the crowd, then backed away. With Tunmod gone, there was still plenty more to do. In fact, much more to do. I only had a few more days before I had to leave again, and we had a massive mess to clean up.