HPV 63

The middle-aged man had another notable feature—his deep, benevolent gaze lit up when he saw Yurichen.

“It’s an honor to meet a priest of the city.”

He was a follower of Gaioh who possessed divine power.

The man welcomed each member of the group one by one.

But when his eyes met Banwes’s, he froze, mouth slightly agape.

The deep crow’s feet around his eyes lingered for a while.

Compared to the usual reaction of those with divine power when encountering a half-monster, his was remarkably calm and composed.

“He must be a companion of the priest as well. Welcome. While you are with us, you are our guests, our family.”

He soon smiled warmly, a genuine smile.

It was the first time anyone who recognized Banwes had welcomed him so kindly.

I thought I saw the sleeve I was holding onto tremble slightly.

Even Paronai couldn’t hide his surprise.

“We were already reinforcing the roofs because of the hail,” the man said.

“There’s an empty hut over there. Would you like to use it? It’s not large, but it should comfortably fit five people.”

There were actually six of us, but when we checked the hut, it looked like it could squeeze in one more.

Of course, the “one more” wasn’t Bzhan—it was me.

I was thinking about the original game, where the Hero’s party only had five members.

“Is this area usually a frozen wasteland?”

While the group was unpacking, Penzey asked the man.

“No. The snow and cold were brought by the snow-mountain monsters who’ve settled here. We’ve been fighting them for several months now.”

It was the influence of the Black Dragon in the northern regions.

Possessed by a demon, the Black Dragon’s mere presence drove not only people but monsters southward.

Creatures forced into territories they normally wouldn’t overlap had no choice but to fight.

Travel across the mountain was impossible in such weather.

Nor could we go back down the way we came—we were trapped.

Helping subjugate the monster clusters and safely crossing the mountain afterward was the conclusion Yurichen had come to.

The middle-aged man thanked us for our cooperation.

“Please rest and recover from your journey. Once you’re ready, come to the hut next to the stone monument and let us know. I’ll head out first.”

I chose to stay behind in the hut.

Not that I had said anything—the group had decided on their own.

And it didn’t stop there.

Paronai slyly dragged Penzey out of the hut.

Then, thinking I couldn’t hear, whispered conspiratorially:

“Let’s leave Banwes here with Ria too.”

The reason he added next was ridiculous:

“They could use a little more time alone, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t hear Penzey’s response, but it wasn’t the kind of suggestion the mage would bother to oppose.

“Bzhan, don’t you follow Ria either. Come monster hunting with us.”

The boy made a terribly sulky face, but eventually the hero pulled him along.

Yurichen, being practical, would have agreed that leaving the frail me and the one who could protect me behind made sense—but he seemed somewhat reluctant, probably because Banwes had recently lost some of his trust.

Still, he decided to trust him in the end.

An hour later, the hut felt desolate, as if Banwes and I had been abandoned in a vast, empty outpost.

I let everything unfold naturally, recalling the events of the original game.

Originally, Banwes was supposed to refuse to help that middle-aged man, but now I’ve set the stage so he won’t.

Setting up the situation where Banwes would be separated from the others and left alone.

Across the hut, the man sitting with his legs stretched out met my eyes.

He hadn’t said a word; he looked peaceful, almost serene.

A wave of guilt washed over me, and I quickly averted my gaze.

The wind howled outside, eerie and desolate like a beast’s death cry.

I was exhausted from climbing the mountain in the cold, but I couldn’t sleep. I mustn’t fall asleep.

At some point, Banwes lifted his head.

Sensing a presence outside, he masked his face and hid his eyes, sharpening his instincts to stay alert.

And he sensed it: someone was approaching the hut.

It was the middle-aged priest who should have left with Yurichen.

“Istan, someone’s inside,” one of the villagers following behind called out, trying to stop him—but the man, now so excited he barely noticed someone like me, charged in.

Where had that gentle, dignified man gone? His pupils dilated wildly, his mouth hung open.

“Finally,” he breathed.

Banwes rose instinctively.

The moment he did, the man’s murderous intent flared.

Banwes was no stranger to being targeted by people he didn’t even know.

If he had turned and smashed through the hut to escape, he might have gotten away—

But Banwes didn’t leave me behind.

He reached out to grab me—and that moment’s hesitation cost him.

“…!”

I fell from his arms with a thud.

The crushing force of divine power pressed down only on the blood of demons and monsters, forcing Banwes’s head into the ground.

Istan’s head seemed to glow with a dark, heavy divine power.

When he gave a bright, childlike—and chilling—smile, his handsome face twisted into something completely demonic.

“At last, you’re passing through this place. It’s so good to see you. Truly, I’m so glad.”

The joy of finally achieving a long-cherished wish filled his chest.

His voice trembled with heavy emotion. Banwes, forehead pressed to the ground, didn’t move.

Even though I knew this would happen,

I was startled by the sight of him collapsed and instinctively reached out—only to have a cold spearhead aimed at my throat.

“Stay still…”

One of Istan’s loyal followers restrained me.

I was an unknown variable, someone who didn’t exist in the original story. I tried to gauge what they planned to do with me.

If I had been seen as a threat, they would have simply slit my throat rather than just threaten me like this.

In other words, they had no intention of killing me.

Their options were either: to silence me, or to persuade me.

It seemed Istan had chosen the latter.

“Do you even know?” he sneered.

“What kind of true nature that bastard hides while traveling with you? Listen to me.”

There was no longer a shred of dignity in the man who spoke, grinning twistedly.

Istan’s hometown had been a small village in the north.

Thirty years ago, it was raided by an orc unit.

One woman who survived that terrible plundering didn’t even last ten months before dying.

In Istan’s eyes, the man kneeling at his feet was a demon that should not have been allowed to live.

“He… he looks just like Marien. Even more than I, her brother…”

Tears welled up and rolled down Istan’s cheeks as he mumbled like a madman. He laughed and sobbed by turns, filling the hut with eerie, broken cries.

The fine features, the lines by the eyes—it wasn’t hard to spot the resemblance between the two.

Istan and Banwes were uncle and nephew.

And this was the first time Banwes had ever heard anything about his birth mother from someone who had known her.

“This monster fed on Marien’s life. Even after the mother died, the thing was born anyway. That monster, drenched in its mother’s blood, crawled away the moment it was born!”

Even though Banwes had the strength to shake off the divine power and rise, he remained kneeling, unable to move.

Istan had not used his divine power to save the weak—he had mastered another, far darker technique: the most heinous crime that could be committed with divine power.

He had burrowed into Banwes’s mind and planted suggestions.

For a very long time, he had existed solely to kill Banwes.

His hatred, malice, twisted attachment to his sister, and madness—he was now injecting all of it into Banwes.

As Banwes’s forehead was forced into the floor, his mask slipped off.

His red eyes, completely stripped of pupils, seethed with a hellish sea of blood.

‘Filthy, vile monster.’

‘I am a monster who should not exist.’

He plunged a blade into his own soul.

It felt like worms writhing inside his body.

His limbs were cut off, his flesh shaved thinly as if by a razor.

‘You must die.’

‘I must die.’

Banwes had to break free of this himself. Even if he lost everything in the process—even if he could no longer keep his sanity intact.

I could only watch as a bystander. Because…

No.

There was no “because.”

—You are the one who tamed him. Therefore, you must take responsibility.

That’s what Yurichen had told me.

I disliked the word “tamed,” but I accepted its meaning.

I had formed a “relationship” with Banwes. I had to take responsibility. I had to care for him, so that he would not collapse.

And honestly—

I wanted to say it myself.

Ignoring the spear at my throat, I looked straight at Istan.

“It’s pathetic to blame someone for their birth. No one is born because they want to be. When you decided to pass judgment on him, he was nothing but a newborn, capable only of lying down or crawling.”