Chapter 16
One does not need a grand reason to hate someone. That is simply the way the human heart works.
Of all such emotions, the ugliest is probably jealousy.
What could be uglier than envying others, belittling them, and dragging them down to your own level—or even lower?
The priest was jealous of Ivan.
His youth, his heaven-given talent, and the people's sincere respect.
He could not bear the fact that Ivan had effortlessly obtained everything he himself could never acquire, no matter how hard he worked all his life.
Even if he killed Ivan, none of the glory Ivan had built would ever become the priest's.
But that did not matter. He was willing to pay any price to drag Ivan down into the depths.
The time was ripe. The priest handed Elena a small vial.
“A deadly poison. Even one drop is enough to kill. Mix it into his drink and give it to him.”
Elena looked slightly weary as she asked.
“If I succeed, I'll be the first person suspected. What do you plan to do afterward?”
“Do you think I'd abandon you? I have a plan, so come back here once the assassination succeeds.”
Elena stared silently at the priest. He felt an unpleasant sensation, as though she could see through to his true intentions.
“You're acting unlike yourself, questioning me. Don't tell me you've actually grown attached to him in that short time?”
“···Of course not.”
“Don't forget: I am the one who has your soul in my grasp. If anything happens to me, you won't be safe either. If you understand, go.”
Their eyes met. Elena sighed and took the small vial.
“You'd better keep your promise.”
Her footsteps gradually faded.
There was truly no turning back now. Left alone, the priest trembled as anxiety finally caught up with him.
Would Elena betray him? No, with her life at stake, she couldn't possibly betray him.
Could any human survive drinking deadly poison? That was impossible.
Or···what if Ivan had known all of this from the very beginning···?
It was a baseless delusion, but all kinds of ominous thoughts refused to leave his mind.
During a wait that felt like eternity, someone hurriedly burst through the door.
His heart nearly stopped. The priest barely managed to suppress a scream.
“Priest, Ivan has collapsed! It looks like he's been poisoned!”
“···What?”
Contrary to those fears, the plan succeeded without a hitch.
Bjorda cried out, panting.
“His condition is critical. If we don't hurry, he might really die!”
It was exactly what he wanted. The priest desperately held back a smile.
“That's serious. I'll look for an antidote that might work in this situation, so go on ahead.”
“But···!!”
“Hurrying won't change anything. You know that as well as I do.”
“···Understood.”
Bjorda left, unable to hide his devastated expression.
After making sure he was completely gone, the priest leisurely leaned back in his chair.
Not long afterward, a woman with her robe pulled deeply over her head entered.
Elena said calmly.
“I gave him the poison. He'll be dead soon.”
“Very good. I suppose your own life is much more precious than the life of a husband forced upon you.”
“Stop talking nonsense and tell me what your plan is.”
The insolent girl. Did she still think she had any use left to him?
The priest furrowed his brow and made an exaggerated gesture.
“A plan? I have a splendid one. The priest punished the wicked witch who killed her husband. Doesn't that make a wonderful story?”
“You···!”
“You fool. Did you really think I'd let you live—when you know my greatest shame?”
He had never intended to let her live from the moment he ordered her to assassinate Ivan.
The priest wore a twisted smile as he watched Elena's expression contort.
“You've worked hard all this time. It won't hurt much, so rest easy and die.”
The priest seized the necklace glowing blue and hurled it to the floor.
The light vanished from the shattered fragments. Elena's soul likewise lost its color and shattered into pieces.
That was what should have happened.
Yet not even the tiniest blemish marred her soul. Elena looked at the priest calmly.
“I knew you'd try that. Did you really think I'd trust you?”
“How···?!”
“That damn binding was lifted long ago. Your inferior talent was too pathetic for you to even notice.”
That was impossible. It wasn't the kind of binding one could undo on one's own.
But he could not deny what had already happened. Gritting his teeth, the priest shouted.
“So what are you going to do about it?! Did you never consider that killing me would make you take the blame for everything!”
“Is that a reason to keep you alive?”
Blue light flickered in Elena's eyes.
His breath caught. Unable to withstand the spiritual pressure, the priest staggered.
“S-since we've killed Ivan, we're in the same boat now. We need to forget the past and join forces···.”
Bang—a massive foot kicked in the door.
A huge man entered through the wide-open, brightly lit doorway.
“Who did you say died?”
Ivan grinned, baring his fangs.
“Uh, uh···.”
The priest was too shocked to speak. He had definitely heard that Ivan was dead—so how was this possible?
“Can't quite figure out what's going on? You're fucked now.”
Ivan seized the priest by the nape, lifted him, and threw him outside.
“Urgh···!”
When the priest, sprawled miserably on the ground, managed to raise his head, countless gazes bore down on him.
Goosebumps rose all over his body.
Could it be that all of this had really been playing out in that bastard's palm?
He heard Ivan's heavy footsteps approaching from behind.
“I don't really know how things ended up like this between us. Honestly, I haven't even done anything wrong to you, have I?”
“N-no··· Please···.”
The footsteps drew closer. The priest crawled forward pathetically.
“Still, I've learned one thing in my life. When someone does something fucked-up to you, you give it right back to them.”
He couldn't get up, perhaps because his legs were injured. The priest stretched out his hand desperately, but no one reached out to help him.
Havel spat, grimacing as though he'd seen something filthy.
“You really are vile to the very end. Die with some dignity.”
He had no time to care about such mockery. The priest desperately begged for salvation.
“G-great chieftain! I have something to say to you! Please!”
The footsteps stopped for a moment. The priest begged for the last chance he had been given.
“I-I was wrong about everything! I'll accept any punishment, so···please, just spare my life···.”
The great chieftain remained silent for a moment, then spoke.
“You devoted yourself to the tribe from the time I was a child.”
“Th-then you'll spare me···.”
“For that reason, I turned a blind eye to the misdeeds you'd committed until now. But I cannot overlook this as well.”
As even the last hope he had clung to collapsed, the priest felt despair beyond words.
“Don't make such a face. You're making me look like a bad person.”
“Y-you evil···.”
The priest couldn't continue. Ivan seized him by the throat and lifted him high.
“Goodbye, then. Try living a little more kindly in hell.”
Crack—with barely any force, the priest's neck twisted at a grotesque angle. Ivan threw the cold corpse to the ground and closed his eyes.
People say that all that comes after revenge is emptiness.
Bullshit. The knot that had built up in his chest over the past three years washed away cleanly.
‘Ahh, that feels so damn good.’
Ivan laughed, thoroughly relieved.
***
Several months passed after that.
In the months that followed, a period that could feel long or short depending on how one looked at it, Ivan became fully integrated into the tribe. Unremarkable days passed.
Ivan trained with the tribe's warriors, drank with Havel, and spent pleasant nights with Elena.
Some might find a life like this unbearably dull.
But Ivan was perfectly content.
It might feel a little boring at times, but wasn't this what life was supposed to be?
If he could live like this, grow old, and die alongside the people he loved, he could ask for nothing more.
But life did not always go according to plan.
When the great chieftain asked for a private audience, saying he had something important to discuss, Ivan felt an ominous premonition.
It was the instinctive sense that an enormous fate, one he could not possibly resist, was drawing near.
“I called you because I have something urgent to tell you.”
“···I hope it isn't anything important. Do I really have to hear it?”
“I'm afraid it is an extremely important matter.”
There is a game called ‘Lord of Empire.’
A piece-of-shit game made by some developer whose name he could barely remember anymore.
The purpose of that game was···
“Listen without panicking. We are going to conquer the empire.”
For some reason, ominous premonitions were never wrong.
‘Fuck. Was this just the prologue?’
Ivan's life plan began to go seriously off the rails.