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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Hans's Revenge
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Deep in the dark, shadowy forest.
"…Hngh!"
Histon opened his eyes.
He let out a startled scream and thrashed about.
But he couldn't move his body.
"Grrraaah… What… is this…? No way… a d-dream?"
Histon thought it was a nightmare.
In that nightmare, everything was over. He'd lost his arms to a terrifying demon and his legs too.
Histon rolled his eyes.
He groaned at the pain radiating from his body and barely managed to mumble through his slack jaw.
"…Is… anyone… there…?"
"...."
That's when he spotted a familiar man hanging upside down in his field of vision.
Blond hair, blue eyes, sunken nose, broken teeth. It was the slave, Hans.
"O-oh, Hans! H-Hans! Thank goodness. Hans!… Save me. Save… me!"
"...."
Hans just stared at Histon with an impassive face. Then he lightly slapped Histon's cheek a few times.
It was as if he were checking if Histon was conscious.
Histon seethed with rage at the absurd action, but he couldn't even clench his fist.
So he tried to kick Hans with his foot… but there was nothing where his legs should have been.
"...!"
Sensing something was off, Histon rolled his eyes again.
He realized it wasn't Hans hanging upside down—it was himself. He couldn't help but flinch in shock.
"Wh-what…!"
"…Because of you, I lost everything."
"H-Hans! What are you… talking about!"
"…What am I talking about?"
Hans picked up a nearby rock and smashed it hard against Histon's head.
Thwack!
Histon's body, dangling like a sandbag, jerked wildly.
"What am I talking about?"
"Argh! H-Hans, you bastard! You wanna die…"
"You think you get to say that right now?!"
Hans gritted his teeth and kept bashing Histon's head with the rock.
Thwack!
"That's right. Remember! What you did!"
Thwack!
"What you did to me…!"
Thwack!
"And what you did to my family…!"
Thwack!
For a while, the sound of rock tenderizing meat echoed through the forest.
Histon hung there, thick blood oozing from his wounds, while Hans glared at him, teeth clenched, staring at his own hand.
The rock in his grip had shattered. Even his fingers were bent out of shape, probably broken somewhere.
With no strength left to swing, Hans glared at Histon in frustration.
"Damn it…! Is your face made of rock or something? So damn tough…!"
"S-save… me!"
"Save you? Ha!"
Hans pulled a leather pouch from his belt.
He smeared the purple powder inside onto Histon's bloodied face.
"Yeah, you begged! But not you—it was me and my family…!"
Histon groaned, realizing what the powder was, and thrashed desperately.
He wanted to get it off him somehow.
"But what did you do? Right in front of my eyes, you killed my father, used my little brother as monster bait…!"
He forced the leather pouch into Histon's small mouth.
"You killed them! What did I do wrong? Just because I'm a southern noble? Sure, I was a noble, but I lived for the kingdom, for the people! And yet, because of your baseless accusations… you plundered us, made me a slave, and took my precious family…!"
Then, treating Histon's mouth—like a target—he kicked it several times with his foot.
"Away from me! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"
Thud!
Thud!
As Hans kicked, Histon's body twitched and jerked.
"You monster! Taking that many rock hits and still fine. But that's even better! You're so tough, tougher than a cockroach—that's why I can take my revenge to my heart's content!"
Hans glanced around.
Spotting odd movement in the bushes, he hurriedly backed away from Histon and mounted the horse he'd prepared earlier.
"…Die slowly, just like the way you killed my family."
He spurred the horse and rode off.
Histon shook his whole body, trying to struggle, but it was firmly bound—he couldn't move an inch.
With his swollen-shut eyes, he peered at the dark shadow.
Something slowly emerged.
Green skin, long nose, short and squat like a dwarf. A monster clad in beast hide and wielding a stone spear.
Goblins.
They stared at the immobile Histon, sniffing the purple powder on his face. Then, grinning with yellow teeth like they'd found a tasty meal, drool poured from their mouths.
Histon's face went pale.
"Ugh… H-Hans! Hans…! S-save… Aaaargh!"
"...."
Hans tightened the reins at the sound of Histon's distant screams. He stared blankly up at the sky.
Histon's screams echoed endlessly through the forest. Gradually, they weakened… and then stopped.
"…Is it over?"
A sense of relief washed over him.
Some say revenge is hollow, but that was wrong.
Hearing Histon's voice of utter despair was the best feeling in the world.
Revenge could feel this exhilarating!
The only regret was not inflicting more pain.
Hans shook his head with a wry smile.
"Now what… should I do?"
'…Die?'
With his revenge complete, his life's purpose was gone. He'd lost his most precious family, leaving no will to live.
Even if he wanted to live, he had no confidence in escaping this frozen land alone.
Besides, returning to the kingdom would just mean living as a 'slave' anyway.
"Come to think of it, that demon… might he kill me?"
The demon had freed him and given him the chance to kill Histon with his own hands. So… he had to repay that debt.
Hans had never liked owing debts in all his life.
"…I think old tales said demons like human souls. So… maybe I just offer mine?"
Hans hesitated for a moment, then gripped the reins and headed for Valhalla Palace.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Loki had learned some interesting facts from meeting Histon.
Abilities like game skills.
The people of this world possessed supernatural powers they called Divine Miracles.
They seemed to believe these powers were blessings from the gods.
It was a fascinating concept, but even more intriguing was how the locals were acting toward him.
Loki looked ahead.
Hundreds of people had gathered before him, all bowing toward Loki.
Foreheads to the ground, hands clasped in prayer, utterly devout as if worshiping a god.
Most were Ragna tribesfolk, but there were others too.
Warriors in brass armor—the ones Loki had slain not long ago.
The Partas tribesfolk were doing the same.
"What does this mean?"
At Loki's question, Shaman—the Nod Tribe priest beside him—answered.
"The Nod Tribe lives in a world where the strong rule. The plundered become slaves, and the plunderers become masters. O Constellation of Sin."
Shaman bowed his head slightly and continued.
"The Nod Tribe has served the Constellation of Sin for generations. Now that our master has awakened, we shall serve him as is our true duty."
Plunderers who sinned through pillage.
To cleanse their sins and find salvation, they swore loyalty and served the Constellation of Sin.
That was written in the Nod scriptures.
"Both Ragna and Partas tribes."
It also meant their lord would awaken, judge, and mercifully accept those who did not judge themselves.
"We pledge our loyalty to our master here and now."
Loki needed to find a way back home.
If he couldn't, he'd have to live here.
In that case, building a base made sense.
And these people before him would handle that.
As the Northern Constellation, a new force was being born.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Loki blinked his red eyes at the man who had come to Valhalla Palace.
The visitors weren't just Nod tribesfolk.
Long, straw-like golden blond hair and blue eyes.
Swollen, bruised skin like he'd been beaten.
He looked mid-40s, maybe early 50s at most.
It was Hans, the slave who'd taken Histon—the one Loki had meant to kill.
Loki eyed Shaman questioningly—What is this?—as Hans stood in the center of the grand hall on the red carpet.
"Well… He says he came to repay a debt of gratitude."
Loki looked at Hans.
"A debt? What ki—"
Loki trailed off.
He looked familiar somehow.
"Ah, right! You're the guy who came to rescue that screaming fool—Histon! Hm, I figured I'd never see you again."
With every word from Loki, Hans flinched.
He'd come here ready to die, having given up everything. But facing the demon head-on, even that courage vanished—he just wanted to run without looking back.
"Don't tell me you're here to repay me for sparing him? What loyalty."
Loki eyed Hans with interest.
"So, is that guy… still alive? If he is…"
Loki reached into empty air.
Space warped, and a red vial appeared in his hand.
Loki shook it, then tossed it to Hans.
Hans caught it reflexively and staggered.
"It's a Recovery Potion. Not sure how effective it'll be… but it should save someone on the brink of death."
'Probably.'
Truth be told, he mostly wanted to test it.
No suitable subject around, so Histon would do as a guinea pig.
"Um… Sorry."
Hans spoke up then.
"Histon is dead."
"I see."
Well, those wounds were hard to survive.
"I… killed him."
"...."
'Another surprise.'
Loki felt a strange emptiness.
"Weren't you trying to save him?"
"I took him to kill him."
"...."
'This world is pretty damn complicated…'
Loki, unaware of Hans's circumstances, wondered if the world was insane.
Plunder, steal, enslave, kill—it all seemed so normalized.
'Well, I'm no picture of sanity myself.'
"Then…"
Loki raised a finger.
The claw-like gauntlet pointed at Hans.
"You drink it."
"Me?"
"You look pretty beat up… Drink."
"But…"
Hans smiled bitterly.
No potion, no matter how regenerative, could heal old wounds.
"If I drink it, it'll just be a waste…"
"Drink it."
"...."
At Loki's firm command, Hans hesitated, then uncorked the vial and drank.
The last drop sank into him—and then chaos erupted in his body.
"Gaaargh!"
"...."
He vomited blood and collapsed forward. His body convulsed wildly.
And then…
Crack!
Bones ground and popped.
Misaligned bones snapped back into place. Some had pierced the skin but rapidly regenerated.
Bones broken from punching Histon, never properly treated, realigned, hardened.
His body's balance restored visibly, healing before their eyes.
Watching, Loki stroked his chin in astonishment.
Once healed, Hans panted face-down, staring at his hands.
"It's… healed?"
The hand shattered from hitting Histon… was back to normal.