Time passed quickly.
Living a routine that revolved like a hamster wheel, while the world kept getting worse.
Before I knew it, the weekend had passed twice, and the time had finally come for us to return to our normal lives.
“I heard you’re leaving tomorrow, Saintess.”
“Yes. It seems that time has flown by.”
The Saintess, who had stayed for a short period, finished her meeting with the King and visited various dioceses, and now she was set to leave for a foreign country.
I think it was Kram or Navre, though I didn’t catch exactly, but it was definitely somewhere not very friendly to us.
She was likely going to reorganize the church, which had fallen apart with the collapse of the Holy King’s Realm, and regain influence.
“It has been a pleasure, even for such a short time. I wish you luck and happiness in your future endeavors.”
“Yes, I also wish the blessings of the Goddess be with you, Instructor.”
Since the slap, I hadn’t taught any classes or tutored anyone, but still, as a priest, I had to offer at least a proper farewell.
I hoped that this naive young lady would one day wake up from her foolish dream.
She responded with an appropriately formal reply, and I thought that was the end of our connection.
But unexpectedly, perhaps because the Saintess still had lingering feelings, she made a final suggestion.
“Excuse me, Instructor.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Would you consider coming with me? You could quit the academy and join me.”
An impromptu recruitment.
I didn’t think I had made enough of an impression to receive such an offer.
“All of a sudden? The one who slapped me for speaking heretical words?”
“That… that was because what you said was too dangerous! If it had reached the ears of the Inquisitors, you could have been executed on the spot!”
The Inquisitors were mostly gone these days.
Unless it was in a region with a crazy cult obsessed with the Goddess of Hispania, you wouldn’t even encounter them.
Anyway, I nodded reluctantly.
I had indeed made a grave mistake according to the standards of this era.
If it had been someone else, my position as an instructor could have been at risk.
It was lucky it only resulted in a single incident of violence.
“Well, I don’t think a mere instructor like me would be of much help to you, Saintess.”
“That’s not for you or me to decide. Actually…”
She leaned closer and whispered in my ear.
“The Goddess said that she needs you.”
What the hell?
That damn woman dared to mention me?
“She said that having you will help in capturing a certain person, Ishmael, who’s active in the outside world.
She said only you can stop him and end this war.
She didn’t say it exactly like that, but I could tell that’s what she meant.”
The Saintess tightly grasped my scarred hand, which had been worn from labor.
Through the soft velvet gloves, I could feel the warmth of her bare hand.
“So, I ask you. Please help me. Together, let’s bring peace back to this world.”
I was frozen, unable to respond immediately to her shocking statement.
Seeing my hesitation, she smiled gently, as if she understood and was a little disappointed.
“If you’re unsure, take your time. Come find me whenever. I’ll ensure someone named Leamis is always welcome.”
She left the classroom and departed to join her companions—the envoy of the goddess’s religious order, composed of bishops, priests, and nuns.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t bring myself to sit down, replaying her words in my mind.
‘That goddess noticed my tracks.’
Damn it.
She knows I’m both Leamis and Ishmael.
I don’t know how or why the divine oracle was distorted to make the Saintess mistake me for an ally.
But clearly, she misunderstood.
How could the goddess, who named my identity outright, not know my history?
‘She even brought the Saintess to actively hunt me.’
The fact that she’s relying on human agents suggests she can’t intervene directly.
Or there are… constraints.
The Saintess hasn’t corrected the flawed oracle, so the goddess must be restricted from issuing orders freely.
Maybe time limits or conditions bind her.
Just as priests expend divine power to cast holy magic, perhaps the goddess too pays a price.
Whatever the case, her ability to manage the search for Ishmael on Earth is clearly lacking.
Which means, for now, I won’t be exposed.
“Fuck.”
I muttered the curse under my breath.
That bitch.
She tosses people into this world and now wants to clean up her mess?
If she’d dealt with me properly from the start, this shitstorm wouldn’t have happened.
She threatened me, abandoned me, and now plans to eliminate me?
Like hell I’ll take this lying down.
“I need to hurry.”
I’ll have to accelerate the release of the ideologies I’ve been preparing.
Maybe even our organization’s plans.
Before the Saintess realizes her mistake, I’ll push this world past the point of no return.
*****
Meanwhile, around the same time.
Deep in the mountains of the Kram Empire.
“Move faster, you maggots!”
Carts piled with ore and stones lurched forward, hauled not by horses or oxen, but by human hands.
Some pulled, others pushed—muscles straining against the weight.
Those who paused from exhaustion were met with relentless violence.
“Keep walking unless you want to die! Move the stones, you trash!”
A whip cracked through the air like a snapped clothesline—commonplace, yet bone-chilling.
Swish—thwack!
“Aagh!”
The sound of leather tearing flesh.
A prisoner’s back split open, blood soaking ragged clothes and pooling on the ground.
The victim stifled their scream, teeth gritted.
To cry out would only invite more pain.
To evade the looming threat of punishment, he quickened his pace again—clenching his teeth until they ached, arms straining with effort.
“What’s that bastard up to? Slacking off somewhere!”
Thud!
A laborer collapsed mid-push, knees hitting the ground as the cart halted.
The guard, who had been viciously kicking him, suddenly frowned.
The weight beneath his boot felt unnervingly heavy.
Not how a living body should feel.
Prodding the stinking, sweat-soaked worker with his foot, the guard grimaced and jerked his chin toward others.
“Already dead. You there—haul this corpse away.”
Boys waiting with empty carts shuffled forward.
They hoisted the body onto a cart, groaning as they trudged toward the distant pit dug into the earth.
Meanwhile, the laborers—no, the detainees—kept their heads bowed, hauling stones to the furnaces far ahead, where waste rock was separated from ore.
Only upon reaching those hellish flames could they briefly unload their burdens and escape the agony.
But this “escape” lasted mere seconds before the cycle repeated until sunset.
Stones mined this way piled into a nameless, artificial hill, growing steadily larger.
It would keep rising, as it always had, until this atrocity finally ended.
One day, perhaps, this mound would earn a name: a grave for all who perished here.
And given the mass grave already gaping beside it, the title would be fitting.
“Damn, forcing these disgusting freaks to work is torture. Feels like it’s staining my soul.”
“Just hang in there. At least we’re better off than the poor bastards on the front lines.”
“True enough.”
And the overseers supervising all of this?
They felt no guilt.
They chatted idly, as if living an ordinary day, indifferent to the piles of corpses piling up before them.
Why?
Were they innately wicked?
Born as vile trash?
No.
The reason was simpler:“There’s a twisted thrill in beating demon spawn.”
To them, the detainees were not human.
They were demons.
We were humankind.
How could beings of a different race ever be treated as equals?
The authorities had declared it:They were an evil breed.
A race that defied divine will, unforgivable and beyond redemption.
Thus, anything done to them was justified.
Killing, beating, stabbing, stealing—all acts were permitted.
They were sinners, born with irredeemable evil, destined to die.
“Let’s go grab dinner. I’m starving.”
“Hold on. Let’s give a warning first. Hey, maggots! We’ll be back in 30 minutes—keep working! If we catch even one of you slacking off, you’re dead!”
After hurling threats, the guards snickered among themselves and wandered off.
The remaining demons continued their work, swallowing their resentment deep inside.
After all, there might still be watchers lurking in the shadows.
Thousands of demons dragged from across the empire perished this way—not only here but in other mountain ranges and nations too.
The “welfare” provided to them was no better than garbage.
Dozens crammed into a single dwelling, with no sewage system to speak of.
Cramped, filthy living conditions bred disease, and the people were constantly starving.
The rations doled out by the camp overseer were pitiful: shriveled potatoes, meager scraps of bread, and rotting rye.
Fuel to survive the freezing nights was scarcely provided.
Though labeled a “ghetto” for demons, it resembled an execution chamber more than anything.
No one could endure more than a few years here.
The place had clearly been designed from the start to never let its inhabitants leave alive.
“Save us. Or just kill us.”
“Anyone, please.”
In this hell where life and torment were one, the demons prayed endlessly.
For a savior—in any form—to break this cycle of agony.
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