Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Fever makes a person dream. It splits their consciousness in two, and the shallow consciousness peers into the deep unconscious.

‘Forests and the plains.’

Urich saw his homeland. People survived through hunting and gathering, and when their land’s resources were depleted, they would invade other tribes’ lands to make a new home.

‘We can do it.’

Farming, city, civilization.

Urich wanted to bring civilization to his homeland.

His fever grew hotter, and his breath grew restless. His consciousness was reddening, and he saw a flame.

‘The Sky Mountains.’

The World of the Spirits was a lie. It was indeed the world of civilization.

‘The Sun God Lou.’

Man couldn’t stare into the sun. If they tried, they would only go blind.

‘If I were to die like this, then, my soul will...’

The doctrine of the Sun God Lou was based on reincarnation. He would guide the souls of the dead. The souls that were purified in his embrace were sent back to the earth to be reborn. The living eventually was reunited with the dead, and the history of humans was intertwined in countless reincarnations. They just weren’t able to remember.

‘Will I forget everything and be born again?’

Urich opened his eyes at a strange sensation. His bed was drenched in his own sweat.

“Urich.”

It was Pahell’s voice. Urich tried to move his chapped lips, but his voice didn’t come out.

‘Am I really dying like this?’

Death was becoming visible. The flame in his heart was dying.

“Drink this.”

Pahell dripped something into Urich’s mouth.

‘Is this going to work?’

Pahell was suspicious.

‘That goddamn whore.’

Zuniba never turned up. She only sent a porridge through a messenger after the promised three days had passed.

“I know it’s hard for you to eat right now, but chew it well before you swallow.”

It was a thick porridge. The pieces were small and soft enough that Urich could swallow them without chewing. There was enough meat in the porridge that the grease coated the surface.

Pahell tried a bit of the porridge. It was a mixture of sweetness and meaty flavor. It tasted like it was made with high-quality meat.

‘The Porridge of Life,’ at least that’s what the messenger said. He said that it was the Porridge of Life from Zuniba.

“Cough,” Urich coughed as he drank the porridge. He opened his eyes wide.

“Urich?”

Urich snatched the bowl from Pahell’s and buried his face in it, chugging the porridge. It looked like he had finally worked up an appetite.

“Burp.”

After letting out a long burp, Urich laid back down in the bed, looking like he had just died.

‘He didn’t even wake up. He just ate half-asleep like an animal.’

Pahell looked at the sleeping Urich. His face was still pale.

“I didn’t pay you to send a mere porridge, Zuniba,” Pahell muttered as he got up to head to the tavern where he first met Zuniba. The streets after sunset were quite deserted, and the guards were making their rounds.

‘We’ve wasted too much time here.’

Pahell was anxious.

‘We have to leave Urich behind.’

There was no other way. If Urich didn’t overcome this illness, he had to be left behind.

‘I’m going to be the king. I am not going to be tied down here any longer. If he can’t keep up, then I have no choice.’

Pahell opened the tavern doors. The tavernkeeper remembered him.

“I thought you were never coming back, sir. I couldn’t find a barbarian healer. Heck, even if someone is one, they won’t reveal it easily in this day and age,” the tavernkeeper said to Pahell as he handed him a pint of beer that he hadn’t even ordered.

“That’s fine, there’s something else I want to ask. Where is that prostitute, Zuniba?”

“I haven’t seen her since the last time you came in. I just thought that you paid her some decent money and were tossing around with her for a few days.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Move, let’s make this quick. We all know the outcome, don’t we?”

Donovan crossed his arms and yawned. He looked at his group and grinned.

‘This is more even than I thought. I might be able to win this.’

Bachman thought to himself as he looked at the splitting votes and clenched his fists.

“Bachman, I’ve never liked you,” Donovan said in a low voice.

“What a coincidence, me too. I’ve always hated the sight of you, ever since we were gladiators.”

“I know exactly why you stepped forward. If you get the spot, great, and if you don’t, you’re just going to quit, am I right?” Donovan cackled, and the sound of it made Bachman anxious.

‘Hold on.’

Bachman finally realized the source of his anxiety.

‘Why is one of Donovan’s men on my side of the vote? What is this?’

A chill ran down his spine. Bachman started to say something, but the voting was over.

“It’s a tie. They have the same number of votes,” the mercenary running the vote announced.

Creak.

Donovan got up from his seat and drew his sword from his belt.

“Then, it’s only right that the one with the blessing of Lou becomes the leader of our squad. Bachman, raise your weapon! Or you could crawl between my legs!”

Donovan shouted as if this was what he wanted all along. The other mercenaries became rowdy, calling for a duel.

‘This is what you wanted all along, both the leadership and my head.’

Bachman closed his eyes and breathed out a long sigh.

‘I’ve dug my own grave. Donovan rigged the vote so that we would be tied.’

He opened his eyes.

‘Give up being a man and live on or die as a man.’

If Bachman backed out of the duel, he would become a laughingstock for the rest of his life. His name would be brought up in disgrace at every table that the mercenaries gathered around.

‘...who knows, I could get lucky and actually win.’

Bachman laughed quietly as he shrugged his shoulders. He was an opportunist, but he wasn’t a coward. He was also a gladiator and a warrior who fought battles with his life on the line.

Creak.

Bachman raised his spear.

“Yes, that’s it, Bachman! We are men. If you had actually backed out, I would have despised you—no, I wouldn’t even have seen you as a person!” Donovan said as he spun his sword in his hand. The duel was set.

“Woahhhhh!”

“Duel! A duel!”

The mercenaries moved the tables and chairs from the center of the room to make a circle for Donovan and Bachman to stand in.

“I’ve always had a vague feeling that this day would come.

"I had a vague feeling this day would come. I dreamed of my spear piercing your throat quite a few times.”

Donovan laughed at Bachman’s words.

“I had a lot of dreams where I cut your head off. Maybe we’re surprisingly compatible with each other, huh? Keke.”

Donovan didn’t pick up his shield. He was confident that he could take on Bachman with his sword alone, and that spoke about the difference in their skills. Donovan was the superior warrior; there was no doubt about it.

‘Donovan, his intimidation is no joke.’

Bachman glared at his opponent with his spear pointed at him.

Donovan circled Bachman.

“Huff, huff.”

Bachman settled his breath as he prepared to stretch his arms.

‘One attack is going to decide this.’

His hands were sweating as he gripped the spear shaft. He recalled the sensations of battle.

‘I chose the spear as my weapon because I was used to it.’

A fisherman by trade, Bachman was an accomplished spearman who could spear even the swimming fish. He was often called upon to hunt whales, but even with all the praise from his hometown, he was still just an above-average spearman from a small fishing town.

‘The world is a big place that is littered with people like me. I knew that I was never going to be much of a warrior as soon as I saw the truly exceptional warriors.’

Bachman took a deep breath. He stood still and waited for Donovan to come into range, like a rock.

‘Oh Lou, is this your punishment for me for living a sly life? Or is this a hardship that you want me to overcome?’

Cling.

Bachman’s sun pendant shook. As if that was his cue, Donovan charged at him.