My Villains Chapter 89
- Mother’s Warrior (3)
“Ugh… This really hurts.”
Whether it was cracked or broken, my nose throbbed painfully every time I touched it.
“So that’s your conclusion? You had that dog fight in the street just for that?”
“…Dog fight, you say.”
The girl floating in the air while holding onto her cape’s edge sneered condescendingly.
“If that wasn’t a dog fight, then what was it? Even beggars wouldn’t fight like that. Is pride that important?”
“…I told you it’s not about pride. What else could I do when he said he won’t take orders from a weakling? Had to convince him even if it meant a dog fight.”
Making that excuse, I grabbed Utequais’s ankle and dragged him along.
Utequais, the other protagonist of the dog fight, was knocked out cold and beaten to a pulp.
With my strength at 24 thanks to equipment effects, I had been beating him for nearly 5 minutes – it’s remarkable he’s still alive.
Thud.
When Utequais’s head hit the cracked stone, I pulled his arm irritably.
There was a dangerous ‘crack’ sound, but… Whatever, his body was already in tatters anyway.
Ellen looked down at Utequais with an uneasy expression.
“So, is this okay? What if he goes wild again after we heal him?”
“We can just beat him up again, can’t we?”
“…Are you serious?”
Well, what should we do?
The only reason I was able to take down Utequais was because I struck first and luck was on my side. If we fight again, could I win?
“Well, if things don’t work out…”
“…Don’t work out?”
“No, never mind. Let’s go for now.”
When we arrived at the church, we had to wait about an hour before we could meet the priest. It was the same priest who had sold us the covenant.
“You’re back. Who’s the patient?”
“This guy and me.”
The priest, with dark circles under his eyes, massaged his neck while examining me and Utequais’s wounds.
“This one looks like a heretic.”
“Ah, he’s from far west, they say.”
“Hmm. Just so you know, heretics must pay not only offerings but also ‘jir’.”
“Jir? What’s that?”
Instead of the priest who looked at me as if I should know better, Ellen whispered the answer.
“It just means they charge more money for heretics. Not everyone in the Middle World believes in the Light Religion.”
Ah. So convert if you don’t want to pay extra, is that it?
“That’s relatively moderate. I thought they’d just cut off the heads of all heretics.”
“Well, they did that fifty years ago. Back then, anyone could become a holy knight if they brought about five hundred heretic heads to the church.”
Speechless, I watched as the priest asked irritably.
“So? Are you going to get treatment?”
“Then, how much jir does this guy need to pay?”
“One silver coin for entering the Hall of Light, another for meeting with a priest, one more for leaving the hall peacefully, and two silver coins as offering for treatment. Five coins in total.”
“F-five coins?”
Both Ellen and I gaped in shock.
“Hey, this is expensive, right?”
“Of course. In Ireland it would’ve been just a couple of copper coins at most…”
The priest, who had been quietly watching our whispered conversation, frowned and pressed us.
“Our church sets the jir according to the bishop’s guidelines. If you have complaints, take him and leave.”
“If we leave now, do we not have to pay?”
“What nonsense is that? You’ll still have to pay three silver coins of course.”
…Damn it.
The priest healed us while reciting prayers in a voice that sounded almost like his last words.
“…Let your healing come through this foolish servant’s hands, *nngh*”
A white flash slowly flickered from the priest’s hands and enveloped me and Utequais.
Hmm. It seems he’s squeezing out all the holy power he can, but somehow it feels lacking. The effect isn’t as good as last time either.
But with so many injured people in the church, and the priest looking like he might collapse any moment, I couldn’t complain.
I touched my realigned nose bone and suddenly spoke up.
“Ah, would it be possible to get more covenants?”
“…Covenants are only made when there’s excess holy power. What do you think about the current situation?”
“…I see.”
As I paid the treatment fee with a bitter smile, Utequais regained consciousness. His face was still a mess, but his limbs seemed fine.
“Ungh.”
“Already awake?”
“…Darran tanka?”
Utequais raised his upper body, wiped his blood-covered face with his palm, and blinked.
“How about it? Ready to follow quietly now?”
“…I lost. It was a cowardly fight.”
“Oh, really? Want another round if you can’t accept defeat?”
When I put my hand on Hrunting’s pommel, Utequais quietly looked up into my eyes. Then he slowly shook his head.
“No. Cowardice is strength. You didn’t use evil power. I accept defeat.”
“Hmm.”
This guy seems to think I didn’t use blood techniques…. Well, I guess that’s fair since I didn’t use any visibly obvious skills.
“So what’s your conclusion? Will you follow me or not?”
Utequais slowly stood up and stretched his body as if doing morning exercises.
Even that simple gesture was so threatening that the injured patients and clergy around us scattered in fear.
Really, no matter how many times I see it, I can’t get used to his enormous size. How did I manage to beat someone like this?
Although Utequais was well over 2 meters tall, he had so much flesh and muscle, and his waist was so long and thick that his arms and legs almost looked short in comparison. Because of this, rather than human-
“W-what is that?”
“He’s huge…. Looking at his features, could he be a half-ogre?”
“Looks like he’s with that bloodied swordsman.”
“Birds of a feather…”
They were trying to whisper, but….
I can hear you, you bastards. And ‘birds of a feather’? There’s a limit to rudeness!
Just then, Utequais suddenly spoke up.
“I, heard Mother’s words.”
“What?”
What’s this random nonsense now?
“Will join you. Will take orders.”
“…You’ll take my orders?”
“Right.”
Getting beaten to dust and then becoming a subordinate? Just like that?
“What did this ‘Mother’ say?”
“You, use evil power. Mother’s words, cannot relay.”
“That evil power nonsense again…”
Though I made a displeased face, Utequais ignored it and added, “Have conditions. I, have right to refuse, right to challenge.”
“What does that mean?”
“I, follow Mother’s will. You, go against Mother’s will, I cannot follow.”
“…Can’t help religious matters. That aside, what’s this right to challenge?”
“You, won, give orders. You, lose, I am free.”
“If you beat me, you become free?”
“Right.”
…I don’t see any particular reason to refuse.
“Well, fine. Let’s do that.”
When I simply accepted his proposal, Ellen, who had been looking up at Utequais suspiciously, suddenly spoke up.
“Just warning you in advance, if you do anything even slightly suspicious, I’ll burn you to ashes immediately.”
“Hey, Ellen. Even so-“
“What? These barbarians need to be educated early. Hey, Hatanka or whatever. Did you understand?”
At her sharp threat, Utequais snorted.
“Mind your own business, little girl.”
“…What did you say?”
“I am father, have daughter. My daughter, bigger than you. Be respectful.”
“How dare an uncivilized barbarian-“
“I, Hatanka, Mother’s warrior. Not uncivilized. You, witch, use trickery. Uncivilized.”
“Y-you pig, are you done talking?”
…This Utequais guy seems like he’s going to be a troublesome companion.
No, being troublesome is one thing, but what if he suddenly backstabs me?
My anxiety subsided somewhat overnight.
Because through last night’s dream, I confirmed that a new tab had been added to the character sheet. The third character sheet’s protagonist was, naturally, Utequais.
As soon as I opened my eyes at dawn, I immediately started scribbling with charcoal on the floor.
Name: Hatanka Utequais
Level: 16
Class: Berserker
Stats:
Strength – 29(57)
Agility – 12(14)
Health – 17(24)
Magic Power – 10(10)
Skills:
Blunt Weapon Tattoo (Pas) 5pt
Veil’s Protection Tattoo (Pas) 5pt
Night Sky’s Blessing Tattoo (Pas) 2pt
Iron Seal (Pas) 1pt
Rhino Strike (Act) 1pt
Berserk (Act) 1pt
Utequais’s character sheet was almost exactly as I had expected.
In gaming terms, he was built to focus on strength to increase attack power while securing survivability through tattoo skills.
To roughly explain the skills…
“Ugh, uuugh!”
While I was examining the floor in the blue dawn light filtering through the window frame, groaning sounds came from somewhere.
“…Ellen?”
Ellen, who had been sleeping on the opposite bed, was already drenched in cold sweat. Clenched teeth, furrowed brows, desperate head movements…
After quickly scattering the writing on the floor, I approached her.
“Ugh, ah, aaargh!”
“Ellen, Ellen! Wake up!”
Ellen, who had been writhing with clenched teeth, opened her eyes while gasping for breath.
“Huff!”
“Get a hold of yourself. Are you okay?”
“P-Phoenix?”
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s wrong suddenly?”
Her eyes, tainted with fear, glanced once at me holding her shoulders, and once around the narrow room. Realizing we were alone, relief washed over the girl’s face.
“Haah, ha, haa.”
“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”
A small nod. Ellen, who had already sat up, was trembling slightly with her hands clasped at her chest.
Feeling sorry for her hunched shoulders, I unconsciously pulled her close.
Ellen quietly buried her face in my chest. Her rapid breathing began to calm down.
“Feeling better?”
“…Yeah.”
Still keeping her face buried, Ellen continued in a small voice.
“I’m fine. I think it’s because I haven’t been meditating lately.”
“Meditation? Why would meditation- ah.”
Ellen had mentioned before that mages don’t dream much. Dreams occur when the gap between consciousness and unconsciousness grows large, but mages who habitually meditate have less of that gap.
But would skipping meditation for a few days immediately lead to nightmares? Does that make sense?
Could it be that the horrible experiences in the underground chamber are the problem?
“…It’s still before sunrise. Think you can sleep more?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Yeah? Then how about some warm water-“
“No!”
When I shifted my hips to get up, Ellen’s small hands tightly gripped my clothes.
“Ellen?”
“Just, just stay like this for a moment.”
“…Huh?”
Ellen murmured in a very small voice, almost pleading.
“Just… Don’t say anything.”
“Okay, I understand.”
After quietly looking down at Ellen’s crown, I let out a small sigh and lifted her up.
“Up we go.”
“Eh, ehh?”
When I adjusted my position, Ellen ended up sitting on my thigh.
“Isn’t this more comfortable?”
“I, um, well.”
She had frozen in surprise, but as my gentle hands patted her shoulders, she gradually began to relax.
As her breath resumed, it tickled my collarbone. A pleasant scent came from her crown resting against my neck.
A very familiar lime fragrance mixed with the scent of skin.
“Hey, Ellen.”
“Mmm?”
“How do you always smell so nice from your hair? Do you have some secret?”
“…There’s no secret.”
“None? Don’t you use perfume or special soap or something?”
“Well, when I was at the palace-“
Ellen, who was about to answer, suddenly lifted her head.
“You shouldn’t ask women things like that.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t casually ask women such things. It’s improper.”
She pressed her lips together, teardrops clinging to her long eyelashes. Her blue eyes held an inexplicably angry light.
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Pfahah!”
“…What’s so funny?”
“How is it not funny? *Hah* What propriety do we need between us?”
At my laughter-tinged question, Ellen’s expression stiffened slightly.
“What are we to each other?”
“Huh?”
With an expression so cold it seemed to emit a chill, Ellen asked again.
“What kind of relationship do we have?”
Unlike her expression, her eyes were trembling slightly.
Unable to find an answer, I stared down at Ellen. Her gaze, which had been gradually growing cloudy, soon began wandering aimlessly through the air.
My chest felt ticklish.
While I was trying to deduce the implications in her words, the timing for making a joke passed by.
To erase the awkward silence, I slowly patted Ellen’s shoulders.
How much time passed? The girl in my arms eventually fell into a deep sleep, breathing softly.
It was a welcome sound.
Among the Berserker’s skills, the most famous was, of course, ‘Berserk’.
A special technique that temporarily boosts strength, speed, and vitality at the cost of losing control of the character.
It’s the quintessential Berserker skill, a hidden card for when you’re facing death or an overwhelmingly strong enemy.
“…But you can’t use it? Berserk?”
“Not Berserk. Warrior, Mother, become one.”
“Well, anyway.”
After emptying three bowls of stew and finishing breakfast with beer as a palate cleanser, Utequais let out a loud burp.
“Ugh. What are you doing, you rude bastard!”
Leaving the shuddering Ellen aside for a moment, I asked Utequais again.
“That becoming one with Mother. Why can’t a warrior like you do it?”
“Becoming one with Mother, precious and noble thing. I, Hatanka, noble warrior. Still cannot do it.”
“But why?”
“Becoming one with Mother, Mother’s will. I, warrior’s moth-“
“You mean Mother’s warrior.”
“Mm, right. I, Mother’s warrior. Follow Mother’s will.”
From our conversation since early morning, I could understand the meaning of several words Utequais used.
First, ‘Hatanka’.
When he introduced himself as ‘Hatanka Utequais’, I naturally thought Hatanka was his surname. But it turned out to be not a surname but a title indicating some status or position.
The old man we met at the Salt River mouth was the previous Hatanka, and when he died, he passed the title of Hatanka to Utequais.
And, ‘Mother’.
As I had somewhat expected, ‘Mother’ referred to some divine being.
Well, even in the game, Berserkers would often talk about Mother’s wrath or Mother’s mercy. Recalling that nuance, Mother seemed to represent nature itself.
“But what does your going berserk have to do with this ‘Mother’?”
“Becoming one with Mother, not warrior kindling rage. Rage, Mother’s thing, precious.”
“Hmm. So Berserk is a noble act that requires Mother’s permission?”
“Sufficiently correct.”
“How do you get Mother’s permission?”
“Don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Right. Mother wants, Mother calls. When call comes, Mother and warrior become one.”
“…You’re saying it’s random activation, damn it.”
A Berserker who can’t use Berserk.
Hah, nothing surprises me anymore.
