As we passed through a street lined with luxurious houses, the ancient-looking walls surrounding the temple loomed grandly before us.
Sian stood leaning against the temple wall with his arms crossed.
With his naturally handsome face, he looked like he was posing for a photoshoot.
In other words, he had the kind of face that made women swoon.
…Honestly, I was a bit jealous.
If I had a face like that in my past life, wouldn’t life’s difficulty level have dropped from “nightmare” to just “hard”?
“Sian! Over here, over here!”
As soon as Haru spotted Sian, he waved his arms enthusiastically like a golden retriever wagging its tail.
“You’re late. I thought you ran off to avoid paying me back,” Sian grumbled.
“Maybe I should have just run off without paying,” Haru replied.
“If you did, I’d chase you to the ends of hell.”
As Haru and Sian bickered, a priest named Cruyff approached them.
“You’ve arrived. Haru, Sian, and Tiamat—it’s been a while. How have you been?”
For some reason, Cruyff suddenly put on a warm, fatherly expression and reached out to pat my head.
I smacked his hand away with my tail.
Ugh… I got chills. It felt like every hair on my body was standing on end.
When I glared at him with pure disgust, he looked genuinely taken aback.
His reaction was like that of someone who had just been bitten by a stray dog they thought they had taken care of.
What exactly did he think our relationship was? Did he really believe we were on good terms? Unbelievable.
Cruyff rubbed his hand as if it hurt from my smack.
Honestly, I wanted to break his arm. If there had been no witnesses, I might have.
No evidence, no crime, right?
“Haha… Looks like Tiamat doesn’t like being touched.
Even my hand got rejected.
Don’t take it too personally,”
Haru said, trying to ease the tension.
“Ahem… It’s fine. Anyway, shall we head inside? I’ll explain the request on the way,”
Cruyff said, quickly changing the subject as if he couldn’t afford to get angry in front of Haru and Sian.
“The request is actually quite simple. Most of the knights have left the temple on missions, so we’re short on security for the festival celebrating the god’s birthday. With the recent increase in witch activity and other disturbing news, some of the higher-ranking priests have been getting a little paranoid. Oh, forget I said that last part,”
Cruyff said, sounding just like a regular office worker complaining about his superiors.
I guess all workplaces are the same.
“Anyway, there shouldn’t be any problems. No one would be crazy enough to attack the temple during the god’s birthday celebration. You just need to stand around, kill some time, and then go home with ten gold coins in your pocket. Easy job.”
“Then why hire us for such a simple task?” Sian asked, thinking it over.
“We were originally going to hire the Adventurers’ Guild, but those brutes would probably cause more trouble than they prevent. And asking the military isn’t an option because of… well, let’s just say relations between the temple and the army are a bit strained lately. The Magic Tower doesn’t care about these things either.”
“But then, by chance, a beastmaster from the Euphoria family arrived—someone with both a solid reputation and proven skills. And Sian, you’re a magician who graduated from the Magic Tower, right? That should be more than enough firepower for a security job.”
Then, as if he had just remembered something important, Cruyff added with a playful smile,
“Oh, and there’s one more reason. We want you to get familiar with our temple in case you ever need to make a contract with a demon in the future.”
Cruyff chuckled.
It sounded like a joke, but I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.
Given his merchant-like greed, I had a feeling he wasn’t joking.
He definitely picked the wrong career—he would have made an excellent businessman.
“Well then, I have some things to prepare, so I’ll take my leave. Feel free to eat good food and drink as much as you like,”
Cruyff said before disappearing into the crowd.
As we approached the festival grounds, I glanced around.
Priests in black robes were gathered in small groups, chatting away while holding plates in one hand and either forks or wine glasses in the other.
As I stepped into the festival grounds, I worried that my presence might dampen the mood.
But to my surprise, the priests paid little attention to me, despite my being a demon.
They were too absorbed in their celebrations to care.
A few frowned upon seeing me, but they were the minority.
I sighed in relief.
I hated being the center of attention—especially for negative reasons.
The atmosphere was lively, so much so that the voices of those nearby were drowned out by the noise.
A whole pig had been skewered from snout to rump and was slowly roasting over an open fire, its skin crisping into a golden brown.
The priests, drawn by the mouthwatering aroma of meat, had gathered around, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Some of them were already heavily intoxicated, stumbling and spilling food from their plates, bumping into each other in a chaotic mess.
Their robes—meant to be pristine—were stained with meat juices, making them look filthy.
The ground was no better, covered in trampled scraps and dark red stains, a mixture of food and blood.
In the dimly lit corners, I even caught sight of male and female priests groping each other like drunken lovers.
Were these people really priests? They were having the time of their lives, behaving like college students on their first night of heavy drinking at an MT**.
“This is an absolute disaster. Are they even priests?”
—Shouldn’t they be acting more dignified?
—This is like watching middle-aged hikers getting wasted on a mountain trip. LOL
—LMAO, I know exactly what you mean.
Sian, apparently sharing my thoughts, frowned in disgust.
“Well, at least the food looks good,”
Haru commented, licking his lips.
The scent of sizzling meat was tantalizing, and the way the food was arranged made it all the more enticing.
“But why are there so many flies here? Isn’t this a health hazard?” Haru asked.
Indeed, flies were buzzing around, landing on people’s heads and perching on food.
But the drunken priests, too lost in their revelry, didn’t seem to care.
They just kept shoveling food into their mouths, ignoring the pests entirely.
“Alright, listen up!”
A young priest suddenly climbed onto a platform at the center of the festival grounds.
He was visibly drunk, swaying slightly as he held up a pig’s severed head in one hand.
Even in his intoxicated state, why was he holding a pig’s head? The sight was ridiculous, and the surrounding priests snickered at him.
The priest, undeterred by their laughter, clutched the pig’s head tightly.
“What a glorious day! We feast upon meat and drink to our heart’s content!”
Some priests continued eating, uninterested.
Others chuckled, amused.
A few clicked their tongues, unimpressed by his antics.
“I have brought my closest friend here to be offered to our great god!” he continued.
“I even gave him a name! What was it again…? Ah! I remember now. His name is Schwartz!”
“Schwartz! You’re honored to be sacrificed to our god, aren’t you? Oink oink! See? Even Schwartz is happy to be an offering!”
The crowd erupted in laughter at the priest’s absurd performance.
“Now! Let us pray in celebration of this blessed day and for our dear Schwartz!”
“And finally, let us give thanks to our great god, who has blessed us with such a feast! O mighty one, forgive our sins!”
Cheers erupted, and the young priest gestured for even louder applause.
But then, the cheers began to fade.
A chilling sensation crept over me.
The festival’s noise died down, replaced by an eerie silence.
Something felt… wrong.
I turned my gaze back to the young priest on the platform—just in time to see his arm begin to rot.
His flesh sagged, as if melting away, and chunks of it sloughed off, transforming into writhing masses of maggots and swarming flies.
The flies rose into the air like a dark cloud, blotting out the sky.
Maggots rained down, squirming across the ground, forming what looked like a writhing, pulsating mass.
The decay spread rapidly.
The priest’s entire body was dissolving, flesh sloughing away like wax near an open flame.
And yet, despite his body breaking apart, he laughed—maniacally.
The pig’s head slipped from his grasp, rolling across the stage.
Then, with one final grotesque grin, the young priest’s head rotted away completely, detaching from his body and tumbling to the ground.
The maggots engulfed both his severed head and the pig’s head.
They crawled into every orifice—his eyes, his nose, his ears—devouring his flesh from the inside out.
The holes grew wider, the decay more grotesque, until eventually, it became impossible to distinguish which head belonged to the priest and which belonged to the pig.
To be continued…