A different path from the original
Munch, munch.
I shoved venison into my mouth without stopping.
At the same time I was bossing the priests around with my chopsticks.
"Hey, gentlemen? That meat's burning — flip it, flip it fast."
The campfire crackled, and the meat skewers sizzled to deliciousness.
The priests and I had taken a spot in the corner of the valley and were camping for the night.
It was, of course, strange to be sitting cheek-to-cheek eating with people who'd tried to kill me not long ago… but here we were.
Glug, glug.
"Ah—this must be the famous Aurax Revolutionary spirit! Smells amazing! But the throat burn's rough. Any ice?"
"...."
"Why would assassins carry liquor like this on a mission? Oh—maybe it's for when they assassinate someone? Even if you're going to go, one drink can't hurt, right? That kind of thing?"
"...."
"Mmm, this place does venison well. It's a good shop, a real good shop. They could open a butcher in the name of the Vengeance Priests."
"...Third Prince, I've told you before—could you please shut your mouth and just eat?"
"I tell you every time—how can I eat with my mouth shut? You're a weird old man."
Chomp, chomp, chomp.
I kept stuffing food in without paying them any mind.
The pretence of being Aeolem's avatar had been settled for now, and I had naturally slipped back into being Third Prince Gilroshan.
We'd been traveling together for three days already.
We'd gotten fairly used to each other in that time.
Not because we'd accepted one another as allies…
'They're used to the fact they can't kill me, and I'm used to the fact I have to stick with them.'
A brief, begrudging acceptance that we were in the same boat.
So the priests had been doing their best to see to me and keep pace.
But the forced marches had still been brutal.
'I got sick of jerky.'
Gilroshan's once plump body looked nearly halved by the journey — it had been that rough.
It was a relief we hadn't fallen behind.
'We actually got through a few close calls too.'
Of course we had.
In the original scenario, Third Prince Gilroshan was a useless NPC who could only eat and crap.
That characterization applied to me as well.
[Status]
Title: Pig Prince
Fate: Slave Gladiator (F)
Level: 0
Strength: 35
Intelligence: 68
Endurance: 9
Charisma: 61
Total: 173
Unspent points: 3
…Endurance 9!
One-digit!
I could hardly believe my eyes.
'What, this isn't a newborn — how can endurance be 9?'
An ordinary NPC's total stats run around 200. Endurance is usually between 40 and 60.
Nine, though… that's—
'This isn't a human, is it? Practically a corpse.'
I couldn't help but wonder how a body like this had been breathing and moving at all.
Which made following the priests up mountain paths pretty much hell.
They were priests-turned-assassins and had excellent stamina; they moved through the overgrown forest as if flying through it.
My body, by contrast, would sweat broth with only a little walking and my legs felt like they'd tear.
So I resorted to a trick.
"Pant, pant—guys, hit me. Hit me, please."
"...?"
"Just slap my cheek once!"
"What? Have you lost your mind climbing a mountain?"
"Shut up and hit me!"
Smack!
[Recovery Skill: Taste for Masochism]
[The skill's effect applies for 30 seconds.]
A sharp sting and my HP started to climb back up.
"Phew! I'm good now."
When I sighed in relief the priests clicked their tongues.
"I thought you were a brute, but I didn't expect this kink. You don't even discriminate by situation or target?"
"...It's not like that."
[Recovery Skill] A specialized skill of the Slave Gladiator. If the user takes non-lethal damage with no follow-up damage, spiritual and physical recovery rates increase by 500%. Can be used again after 15 minutes.
This was the second of the three exclusive skills granted by the Slave Gladiator card.
'After Preference for Bondage, now Taste for Masochism.'
Thanks to it I could walk again, but my shame…
sobs.
Did I really have to go this far?
But there was no other way.
I could have grabbed and drunk the priests' tiny stamina potions, but—
'That's not a good choice.'
Not only was I weak in HP; my combat ability was also low.
The Vengeance Priests had to fight in my stead. Stealing their potions so I could be comfortable would be little different from signing us all up for death if a fight broke out.
And pushing my body this way had benefits.
'Abnormally low stat points can be raised quickly through training even without investing points.'
Like a person getting endurance through exercise.
Climbing and forcing my tired body up mountains was endurance training.
Too tired to move my legs? Then endure until the 15-minute cooldown is up, and do it again.
Smack!
"…You're getting better at hitting."
"Cough. Somehow it's satisfying."
"Can I be the one to hit next?"
"Hey, it's my turn!"
Once they adapted they even took turns slapping my cheek.
'What lunatics.'
Both sides were being infected by odd tastes.
But the result wasn't bad.
[From harsh training, your Endurance has increased!]
[Endurance: 37]
The pitiful endurance that should have been in intensive care had improved to a fairly normal level.
Gilroshan's body had slimmed and gained some muscle accordingly.
'Still looks like a piglet, though.'
Even so, there was some consolation in becoming a weirdo who let dark old men take turns slapping him.
'Still a long way to go to move properly.'
I collected my thoughts and waved my hand.
"Hey—don't let the meat burn, fathers! Don't these clergymen know the value of flesh? Flip it faster!"
"...Third Prince, are you sure you aren't running low on stamina?"
"Tch, perverts who try to get at me whenever they get the chance."
"You're the one who told us to hit you first!"
That was how we ended up in a safe zone at last, lighting a fire and finally enjoying a warm meal.
At that moment, anything tasted good.
"Third Prince."
While I was devouring food like a starved beast, High Priest Bamilo addressed me.
I looked up while chewing on a chunk of potato.
"What is it?"
"By tomorrow at the earliest, we'll reach the teleportation gate we used to get here. We'll be returning to Aurax through it. But…"
"...?"
"There's a problem."
His eyes turned grave.
"We originally came to kill you, not to bring you back alive. No one knew you would become the Apostle of Lord Aeolem."
"Ah."
The old man hadn't finished speaking yet, but I had already grasped what he meant.
'So they've fallen out with the imperial insider who helped them assassinate Gilroshan, huh?'
Which meant new problems had cropped up.
Bamilo quietly glanced around the forest path.
"Originally we were supposed to leave your corpse behind as proof and result. But we couldn't. Thanks to Lord Aeolem descending into your body."
Strictly speaking, thanks to me pretending that god had descended.
"Of course the imperial palace must be in chaos by now, and it's likely pursuers are already chasing us. Our escape route may already be blocked. If they moved quickly, it's entirely possible."
In short: they'd set the stage for the assassination of the Third Prince, but since only half the plan had gone through, the co-conspirator on the inside might be furious and lash out.
I nodded.
"Hmm, makes sense. But who exactly do you mean by 'they'? It's not His Majesty the Emperor, is it?"
At that, Bamilo flinched slightly.
Apparently it was a sharper question than expected.
Well, they still thought of me as the good-for-nothing Third Prince Gilroshan, so no wonder.
"It's…"
Bamilo hesitated, wondering if it was safe to say.
But his hesitation was brief, and his answer surprisingly frank.
"The Imperial Lord Chamberlain."
The court minister who oversaw imperial ceremonies — Baron Jairik Moss.
"He's in secret contact with the leadership of our revolutionary army."
"..."
I nodded again.
In truth, it was the answer I expected.
I already knew the whole original scenario.
"I see. The Lord Chamberlain, huh."
When I replied so calmly, the old man's eyes widened slightly.
"You aren't surprised?"
The infamous wastrel Third Prince should have been shocked at the idea of a traitor so close at hand.
That was exactly the look he gave me.
But I shook my head.
"Political backstabbing in the palace isn't anything new. And coming from the Lord Chamberlain, I can believe it."
"...?"
"His ancestors were from the northwestern Khan tribes, weren't they? And the Khan tribes are closely tied to the revolutionaries. Doesn't that make it possible he'd collude with them to seize power again? It hasn't even been that long since the Empire and the Khan fought a war over the northwest."
"...!"
This time Bamilo's eyes shook violently.
The look of someone unable to believe the wastrel prince had just cited both the lineage of a minister and the geopolitical backdrop of entire factions across the continent.
—That wastrel Third Prince? Could he really be this man?
It was written all over his face.
I waved it off casually.
"No need for such praise. You're making me blush. Hahaha!"
"…I didn't say it out loud."
"Your face said enough! Hahaha!"
But there was still more.
"You shouldn't have trusted him too much anyway. The Khan chieftain no longer has much interest in the northwest territories. The Lord Chamberlain isn't loyal to the revolution either — he's using them to build his own power. That means he could never be a truly reliable ally."
"So you mean the Lord Chamberlain could be a double agent?"
"Who knows? Anything's possible."
...Of course, I knew, but I didn't say it.
Even just this much made Bamilo look at me completely differently.
Strictly speaking, he was seeing Gilroshan differently.
"Amazing. Truly amazing. That the Third Prince had such insight hidden all along. Public opinion must be somewhat…"
"Exaggerated and distorted, yes."
When I countered smoothly, Bamilo chuckled faintly.
At any rate, his warning that their retreat route might be compromised was the truth.
I tossed the empty skewer into the fire and fell into thought.
'In the original, the Lord Chamberlain used the Third Prince's assassination to expand his faction tremendously.'
So he must have had high hopes.
But now that I'd taken over Gilroshan's body, things had diverged sharply from the original.
'From Jairik's perspective, since things didn't go as planned, he'll either try to cover it up or retaliate.'
And Jairik was powerful enough to do it.
He surely knew the routes the Vengeance Priests would take.
The kidnapping had taken place near the imperial capital Kerthion's hunting grounds, and we'd been heading northeast over the mountains ever since.
'So the closest military force would be the Special Knight Order, under Marquess Elron Reut.'
He was one of the Empire's three great magic swordsmen, and a man of absolute loyalty to the throne.
In other words, an unmovable 'wall' stood in our way.
And of course, Bamilo Dimarc had no idea.
"We'll have to increase our pace. We must shake off pursuit and reach the gate. It will be difficult, but endure. If we dawdle now and get blocked front and back, a pincer strike would be…"
"No. That won't work."
I shook my head.
"That won't help. If the gate is already occupied, we can't break through."
"Then? What do you suggest?"
"..."
Three days ago, Gilroshan should have died.
Therefore, the story had already deviated from the original.
But this world was still The World Abandoned by God, and I was its expert.
'I just need to find a new path.'
I turned to the frowning high priest and laid out my idea.
"Wait. Just one day."
"Wait…? Here? For what?"
"Uh, well…"
How should I explain this?
While I hesitated, the answer came from an unexpected place.
"We wait for the Bear and the Nightingale who are pursuing us."
"...!"
The player characters.
For the past three days, the mysterious figure who hadn't so much as glanced my way suddenly spoke.