Heavenly Lord Of The Blue Turban (2)

However, Azadine was not speaking empty words.

Ever since acquiring a large number of copies of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth, Azadine had been constantly absorbing magical power.

Even Doneor’s group, who had slaughtered the ogres, had not been able to stand against Azadine.

“No, but these bastards…”

At that moment, Komosal stormed in, fuming, looking for Azadine and Gisua.

“You bastards! What were you thinking, putting that huge weird elephant in front of the shrine?!”

“Elephant…?”

It seemed he was referring to Scott’s masterpiece, the Corpse Abomination.

Its appearance was so grotesque they had covered it with a waterproof tarp, and perhaps because of that, everyone simply thought it was an elephant.

“Miss Gimela is calling you! Get your asses over there!”

“Ah, by the way, Brother Komosal. Did you come with just five guards?”

“Don’t ‘brother’ me, you bastard! I don’t remember ever calling the likes of you my brother!”

The moment Komosal said that—

Azadine rushed at his guards and gripped their carotid arteries with both hands.

“Urk?!”

“Guh?!”

As soon as Azadine’s hands clamped onto their necks, the guards collapsed unconscious.

“What the—?!”

“This bastard’s showing his true—”

But Gisua cast a blood spell and knocked out another guard, and Shati also used magic to render one unconscious.

Before anyone realized it, only Komosal was left standing.

“Huh?”

“Well then, Brother Komosal. First, let me ask you about the potion. Did you tamper with the one sent to Korasar?”

“W-What are you talking about?”

“Over in the Korasar region, the Blue Turban brothers went berserk and turned into monsters. Even the refugees died along with them… so I’m asking if you know anything about that.”

“I-I don’t know! I—”

“In that case, the current theory is that when too many people who’ve consumed the Blue Turban potion gather in one place, their power overloads. If that’s true, we’ll have no choice but to preemptively remove everyone who’s taken it.”

“…?!”

“He means he’ll kill them.”

“Are you insane? You think someone like you can kill all the Blue Turban brothers—”

“What we brought isn’t an elephant.”

“……”

“That’s a beast of calamity that Messengers the end.”

Azadine spoke of the Corpse Abomination using the most metaphorical and ominous description he could think of.

Because he didn’t offer a proper explanation, Komosal had to rely on his own imagination—something that, more than any torture, effectively planted despair.

“It’d be best if you spoke the truth, Brother Komosal. This man has uprooted rampaging Nether beasts like pulling weeds.”

“Just who the hell is he? An Arbiter?”

“No. He’s Azadine, Second Messenger of the Emperor.”

“Gasp?!”

Hearing the title “Messenger of the Emperor” made Komosal flinch.

“Second Messenger… T-That’s a high-ranking title, isn’t it? The S-Slayer of the Holy King!”

If he’d still been the 108th Messenger like before—at the bottom of the hierarchy—revealing that Azadine was a Messenger wouldn’t have been so terrifying… but now, just knowing he had become the Second was enough to chill someone to the bone.

“Right. Speeds things up, doesn’t it? Now, shall we start pulling out some fingernails as we chat?”

“Ugh…”

“Because of your tampering, people who took the Blue Turban potion had to kill their own families. Do you know how many of them took their own lives afterward? Even after we treated them, they died from the guilt. When I think of their deaths, I want to slowly roast you from the soles of your feet, inflict the agonizing burns of melted flesh, and leave you to rot alive in feverish, septic torment.”

Komosal recoiled at Azadine’s disturbingly vivid and realistic threats.

“Y-You have no proof!”

“Just saying that makes me more certain.”

As Azadine held out his hand, Scott handed him an iron poker.

“It’s not hot enough yet, boss.”

“Yeah? We’ll need to heat it more then. Fire it up. Let’s start with the fingernails.”

Azadine gripped Komosal’s fingernail with his bare fingers.

“What, you think you can pull out a nail with your hands—?”

Komosal scoffed at Azadine’s attempt, but in the next instant, he let out a scream so loud it seemed to rip the air.

Azadine’s grip was so powerful that even though it looked like a light pinch, it was as firm as an iron clamp, and he actually yanked the nail.

The nail couldn’t withstand the pressure, split vertically, and blood gushed out.

“Guuurgh?!”

Komosal writhed in agony. It was an unbelievable show of strength.

“Hm, didn’t pull cleanly—just cracked it. But maybe that’s even better. Should I tear a bit more?”

When Azadine reached for another nail, chills ran down Komosal’s spine.

“W-Wait! Hold on!”

“Why?”

“W-What if I admit it? If I tell you the truth, will you let me go?”

“If you speak the truth, of course I’ll consider leniency. There’s no way you tampered with the potion alone, right?”

“Y-Yes, that’s right. It was… the Heavenly Lord’s will.”

“The Heavenly Lord’s will? Why?”

“The Heavenly Lord once sailed to Korasar and tried to proselytize there. He was humiliated. Since then, he’s believed that Korasar is too primitive to understand the principles of Blue Heaven.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

The expansion of the Blue Turban Party had, in large part, been aided by Vthuma’s malaria-like endemic plague.

There was no such disease in the Korasar region, so no matter how hard they tried to proselytize, it was bound to fail. When anything besides the King’s Church or angel worship was seen as heresy worthy of death, who would listen?

‘Besides, your doctrine is pretty transparent, honestly.’

From what Azadine had read in the Blue Turban scriptures, the main doctrine emphasized family harmony, claiming that all who wore the Blue Turban were children of Blue Heaven—brothers who should share wealth harmoniously. It was all nice-sounding rhetoric.

In religions like this, however, the minor doctrines mattered more than the main one.

Rather than core dogma, people fixated on petty rules like “don’t eat shrimp” or “men can have multiple wives.”

In that regard, the Blue Turban Party was clearly a cult. Its growth was thanks to the potion that cured endemic diseases like malaria, not the power of its teachings.

“So your plan was to expand the Blue Turban Party into Adirov, where malaria is rampant, and trigger berserk outbreaks? And once the berserkers attacked people, Count Lantarique or the King of Korasar would have to step in. Since normal troops can’t handle Nether-bound creatures, their forces would be burned through.”

“Y-Yes.”

“So that means… was the King of Vthuma involved too? Wait, then fortifying this earthen wall…”

When Azadine had heard of the ogre incursions during his journey here, he assumed that strengthening the defenses was a measure against them.

But now it looked more like preparation for war.

‘These lunatics… We should be uniting, but instead they’re itching to devour each other? Even though the kings are all part of the same Yaegas god tribe?’

Azadine was horrified to realize that the Kingdom of Vthuma was preparing to invade Korasar—and the Blue Turban berserkers were just the vanguard of that plan.

As someone bearing witness to the Age of Jupiter, Azadine couldn’t understand why they were squabbling like pigs in the mud.

It was like blocking the only exit in a burning house just to stab someone you didn’t like. To think that nobles of the supposedly cultured Yaegas god tribe would do something so self-destructive.

“Does Gimela know? She’s the Heavenly Lord’s daughter.”

“Miss Gimela opposed contaminating the potion. That’s why I acted on my own…”

“Really? You’re not just covering for her because she’s the Heavenly Lord’s blood?”

“Ugh, no. This was all part of the Heavenly Lord’s grand plan! I didn’t do it alone—”

“So the Heavenly Lord was involved too?”

Azadine toyed with the Blue Turban priest’s staff.

He didn’t know how much of Komosal’s testimony he could believe, but if true, then the cult leader—the Heavenly Lord—was directly responsible for the Adirov disaster.

“I’ll have to meet the Heavenly Lord. But first, let’s see his daughter.”

Azadine turned to Scott.

“Scott. Time to doll up.”

“I mean, I already am prettier than most flowers.”

“……”

Gimela’s residence was the castle of the Count of Kimalhazi.

Surprisingly, even inside the castle, everyone wore the Blue Turban, suggesting the Party had a firm grip over the County of Kimalhazi.

“This is the Blue Turban Party’s holy land, right?”

Azadine asked Gisua.

“Yes.”

“Is there any relic related to the Grimslone of the Swamp?”

“That, I’m not sure.”

“They must’ve built a sanctuary at the spot where lightning struck it, right?”

“Shall I show you later?”

“Let’s get the negotiation done first.”

Azadine stepped into the castle of Count Kimalhazi.

“Huh?”

But Gisua led them into a part of the castle that was clearly the women’s quarters—where the Count’s wife, mistresses, and children lived.

“Miss Gimela is the Countess of Kimalhazi.”

“…Then she’s not exactly a ‘Miss.’ Wait a minute, that means…”

Azadine recalled how Gimela had looked Scott over so intently and grew flustered.

“Happens all the time,”

Shati chuckled slyly.

A moment later, Gimela appeared holding a child who looked about three years old.

“You’ve come. Gisua, and… Adan?”

“Yes.”

“Why does Komosal look like death warmed over?”

“Miss, that’s…”

“We tortured him.”

Azadine held up Komosal’s hand. The fingers with torn nails had been treated with medicinal paste.

“Oh dear. That’s why I told you not to. Contaminating the Blue Turban potion was foolish.”

“A lot of people died or fell into despair because of that.”

“But I was really against it. Komosal acted on his own.”

“According to Komosal, it was the Heavenly Lord’s will.”

“Hmm. Harboring resentment toward the Heavenly Lord… doesn’t sound very priestly, does it?”

Gimela realized Azadine held hostility even toward the Heavenly Lord, and gave a knowing smile.

It was Gisua who protested in Azadine’s place.

“Even if he is the Heavenly Lord, tricking me into distributing such a potion is unforgivable.”

“Sorry, Gisua.”

“But before that—what exactly did they do to contaminate it?”

“Hm?”

“What did they add that caused people to turn into rampaging Nether-bound creatures?”

“Nothing much. Normally, Grimslone sap cures all swamp diseases. But if you mix it with Grimslone’s blood…”

“They go berserk?”

“Right. Or they become a priest.”

From how she said it, it seemed that those who could retain their sanity after becoming Grimslone’s thralls were selected as priests.

That was why Gisua found it absurd that he had been stripped of his title and it had gone to Azadine.

‘Still, even if that’s the case, announcing to the world that becoming a Nether thrall makes you priest-worthy isn’t exactly wise, is it? He can’t deny giving me the priesthood now. Wait… isn’t Gisua just using me?’

Azadine understood the Blue Turban hierarchy—and gave a bitter smile.