HPV 8

Right then and there, I had to seriously decide whether Yurichen was lying to lure me in—or if he was telling the truth.

The insight of the god Gaioh surpassed any confession magic. Banwes, standing exposed as if stripped bare, would have had everything seen through by Yurichen: his past, his present, his immediate thoughts, long-standing traumas, even the secrets he wished to keep buried.

Which meant, undoubtedly, that no one knew Banwes better than Yurichen did. And yet…

Why is this so hard to believe?

Because it didn’t make sense, obviously!

Everyone in the game had a strong personality, sure—but Banwes was in a league of his own. The idea that he had mellowed because of me? Absurd.

No—let’s be precise. He hadn’t mellowed. All that hatred once directed at every human was now just concentrated on me alone.

Yurichen probably found Banwes’s appearance and attitude monstrous, so even though the man looked ready to kill me at any second, Yurichen interpreted that as “docile,” relatively speaking.

…But I didn’t bother pointing that out. No need to ruin Yurichen’s impression of me over a technicality.

Since I didn’t argue, Yurichen changed the subject. Remembering that it was just the two of us in this corridor, he took a step closer.

“Let’s see whether you’re truly capable of accompanying us to subjugate the black dragon. Look into my eyes.”

With that, he lifted his veil in front of me.

A bare face, unshielded even by glasses, was revealed. My limbs trembled instinctively. It felt like I was standing before a god. I thought I might burst into tears, or lose all sensation.

Where Banwes’s massive frame invoked fear and intimidation, Yurichen paralyzed with awe.

He means to say—how could someone who can’t even look upon a hero’s bare face dare follow this journey? No one in the hero’s party would be that ordinary, after all.

My legs nearly buckled, as if compelled to kneel and bow. I wasn’t strong-willed or physically resilient enough to resist. But I couldn’t back down here.

I had no choice but to use what I had.

The face, bright and cold like a fallen shard of starlight, subtly twitched.

I drew on the power of the woods, imagining it forming a thin, sheer veil between us. A layer of energy, delicate and intangible, spread like a film between me and Yurichen. Instantly, I could breathe. I could meet his gaze without flinching.

There was a time when I trained to become a vessel for a spirit. But I’d forgotten all of the scriptures I learned back then—I couldn’t even recite a proper prayer anymore.

Even so, I could still use the spirits power. That miraculous grace had remained.

Because I’d lived like a monk—enduring everything in dirty, foul-smelling places.

Among the believers, I was second only to Hancanera in spiritual affinity.

Yurichen stared at my energy for a while, then lowered the veil back over his face. The test was over.

“So the power of spirits must not depend on faith, it seems.”

He sounded almost incredulous that someone whose devotion was weak enough to consider serving another god could still wield this much strength. Was that a compliment? It had to be. Either way, it meant I was useful.

…Ngh!

The moment I released the power, I bit down on my lip just in time to stifle the cry.

That made three times now. Three times I’d felt this sharp, piercing pain through my ribs and heart after using spiritual force.

Thankfully, Yurichen had already turned away and didn’t notice. Sure, once the journey began, my fragility would be exposed soon enough—but I couldn’t let it show yet. I forced myself to calm my trembling breath.

Where was this pain coming from?

Could it be because I forgot all the doctrines? Is this divine punishment?

No one in the religion had ever experienced this, but… since things like that happened often in Gaioh’s temple, maybe there are similar cases?

Either way, it couldn’t hurt to try. On the way back to the temporary quarters Yurichen assigned me, I pulled aside a passing maid. I pushed her gently against the wall and made a quiet request.

“Hey… do you know anything about the Rohin faith?”

“Pardon?”

“Could you get me a copy of the scriptures?”

“Wh-what for…?”

The maid looked at me like I was some cultist trying to recruit her. Was it really that weird? Then I remembered—I was wearing Gaioh’s priest’s robes.

“I’m writing a warning notice about cults that worship spirits. Please help me out.”

It was the first time I’d ever spoken ill of the spirit aloud, and it felt so good. Like I’d gotten hooked on how freeing it was. The maid seemed to buy it and agreed to help.

…There we go. Reading it again, I’m starting to remember the prayers. It’s annoying, but if I want to stop hurting, I guess I’d better pray.

…But I wouldn’t realize until the journey began that this pain wasn’t something that could be prayed away. By the time I did, it was too late. The darkness came for me—with the intent to kill.

—

Before Yurichen met Riarun, deep underground.

What lay behind the bars was shaped like a man, but the way it writhed on the ground and let out pained growls—it was like some wild beast, or a grotesque monster.

“To reject the glory offered by Lord Gaioh… Truly, the half-blood is a monster.”

A cold voice sliced through the silence between them. The veiled man looked down at Banwes with a chilling gaze, as if staring at a bug. Even as veins bulged beneath the skin of Banwes’s body, his fingernails dug into the ground, the man paid it no mind.

No one else felt pain like their limbs were being torn apart under Gaioh’s divine insight. This suffering was entirely because half of Banwes’s blood came from monsters.

A union between different species. An act that defied the order of nature—once, just once, it happened. The result was Banwes.

A horde of grotesque orcs had raided a human village. Among all the bipedal monsters capable of lusting after humans, orcs were considered the worst—first in line to be eradicated.

Banwes had been born from a human woman violated by such a creature.

His biological mother survived the pregnancy in a state worse than death, and the day the child—barely a child, more monster than man—was born, she died. No human body could withstand carrying a monster’s seed. Her corpse, laid to rest, was so misshapen it was unbearable to look upon.

The whole world cursed the bloodied, half-human, half-orc newborn. For weeks afterward, the entire territory was ablaze with torchlight and the marching of soldiers.

All to hunt down the wretched child, the living sin who had hidden among monsters in a desperate will to live.

Banwes discarded all reason, all humanity, and survived by tearing into raw beast meat in the forest. By day he fought monsters for territory, by night he ran from the blades and shouts of humans. Not once did he know a restful sleep.

The face given by his human mother was hidden beneath a mask torn from a monster’s hide. He flirted with death daily. There was never a time his flesh was fully intact. Some days, he hunted monsters. On others, he was nearly hunted himself.

Was I never meant to live?

Even as a child, he wasn’t powerless. But neither did he have the resolve to end his own life. He endured out of sheer stubbornness. If humans wouldn’t see him as human, then fine—he became a monster willingly.

Yurichen read every memory in silence, turning each page without a word. Banwes, too, watched his own story unfold like it belonged to someone else. The sensation of reliving what he had longed to forget came with a crushing wave of shame and fury.

The memories stretched from his early childhood to the very recent past.

In one forest where he’d taken refuge, Banwes encountered a boy—young, with sandy hair, luminous eyes, and a lithe frame.

When the boy embraced him tightly amid the flames, it was the first time Banwes had ever been held by another.

That one brief moment left a deeper, brighter mark on his soul than the past thirty years of memories combined—like a blinding sun scorching its heat into his core.

Yurichen finally spoke.

“So that’s why the fire in you dulled when he appeared.”

The body crumpled on the dungeon floor gave no response. The pain had passed, but the shame left in its wake burned deeper.

“I understand what you feel, but…”

No. You don’t understand.

You’re still just a human who sees me as vermin.

“There will be no further restraints. I’ll escort you to an isolated room aboveground. You may remain there until the rest of the group arrives.”

Yurichen’s voice was calmer now that he’d read Banwes’s memory, but Banwes didn’t believe it for a second.

Like a man being led to the gallows, he was taken to a small, pristine room. The moment he stepped inside, his eyes widened more than ever before.

“Hey again.”

The boy, who looked like a summer lake, sat on one of the beds with that now-familiar, shameless grin.

“They said if I traveled with you, I’d get a seat at the temple. I haven’t milked you for everything yet, so we’re stuck together for now. Let’s get along, yeah?”

The teasing words barely registered. Banwes stood still, feeling as if a faint ray of sunlight had touched his heart.

Then, the shame of having felt such a thing flared up again, stronger than ever. Banwes twisted his face into a feral snarl.