A different path from the original
"Wait here?"
The player character's voice was grim.
"Isn't your scheme to wait for the guards who are chasing us right now?"
"..."
"Answer. Am I wrong?"
The voice was gravelly, like it caught on something, yet it pierced with a sharp edge that seeped into me.
Under the weight of that gaze pouring out of the darkness, I furrowed my brows.
'Just what is he?'
I couldn't look kindly on a stranger who had naturally taken the place where I was supposed to be.
Even through the forced march of the last three days, he had refused to show his face — stubborn beyond reason.
'Looks like he hasn't even rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.'
…Filthy bastard.
At any rate, he hadn't said a single word these past three days, leaving me no chance to learn anything. Now, at last, he'd opened his mouth.
'Let's see what I can figure out.'
For starters, his eye level was slightly higher than mine, and his frame felt twice as heavy.
Considering that Gilroshan was tall and plump, this meant the stranger was built like a mountain bandit — a hulking brute.
Most of all, the pressure radiating from him was completely unlike that of the wastrel prince.
"So, hit the mark and you lock your lips, eh?"
If Gilroshan was a pampered house pig, this one was a wild bear.
"Shall I tear open that mouth of yours left and right?"
Shrrk.
He drew his blade.
Now he looked exactly like a black bear baring its claws, menacing a man.
He growled like a predator.
"You think we don't see your plan to betray us here at the end? No chance."
Clearly, my proposal to wait a little had not pleased him.
But instead of explaining, I casually scratched my cheek.
"Sorry, but I don't talk to people whose names I don't know."
"...!"
"That's all. No need to overreact."
I'd deliberately needled him.
"You bastard!"
The bear trembled with fury.
'So he's simple-minded? That makes things easier.'
I smirked as I stared into the darkness beneath his hood.
"Am I wrong? Isn't that just basic courtesy? How can anyone talk with a man whose face and name they don't know? Put yourself in my shoes."
"To think I spared your life and you dare—!"
"Enough."
High Priest Bamilo stepped in between us.
And from the way he looked at us both, scolding, I felt wronged.
He started it!
Why cut down my spirit?
"Hoo…"
The old man sighed heavily, then turned his gaze silently toward the bear.
As if asking permission.
The bear hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod.
Bamilo turned back to me and introduced him.
"Third Prince, this is Irgal."
"So, a priest?"
"No, Irgal isn't part of our order. But he is a comrade in the great cause of the revolution."
'As I thought.'
That answered the question that had been gnawing at me.
It wasn't his name that mattered.
He could have been David or Juliet for all I cared.
'What mattered was his relationship with the Vengeance Priests.'
That was important.
'So, a mercenary, then?'
That mattered far more.
In the original scenario of The World Abandoned by God, the player's character never belonged to any set faction.
Players could choose their side themselves — stay loyal to the end, or betray and switch factions whenever they liked.
That freedom to roam the world like mercenaries was the privilege of a protagonist.
And it seemed that privilege applied to this bear as well.
'Irgal?'
I'd never heard of any NPC by such a bizarre name.
Even the most minor NPC should have had at least a familiar name. But this was utterly unknown.
In my head, warning sirens blared.
'He's no NPC.'
Perhaps…
'Like me, he might be a real human from outside this world.'
I took a cautious step back.
If I was right, then we were destined never to get along.
Because I was Gilroshan the NPC, but I intended to claim everything a player should have taken first.
At that moment, Irgal spoke again.
"Now you know my name. So, can you answer me, Third Prince? Or not?"
"…Well, I suppose."
"Shall I say it for you instead? We call your knight and mage the 'Bear' and the 'Nightingale,' pig."
"Always with the pig talk. You trying to hurt my feelings?"
I muttered, but Irgal ignored me.
"The 'Bear' is Kals Sillion, the 6-star knight who shadows you like your own shadow. Many say he's too promising a talent to be wasted on the wastrel prince. On that, I wholeheartedly agree."
"Yeah, thanks for the touching critique."
"And the 'Nightingale' is Tyrbaen Sui, your mage tutor. Her reputation fell when she was assigned to you, but she remains a renowned 7-star witch. Another fine talent wasted at your side."
"Your long-winded explanations are wasted on me too. How about you shut your mouth and leave?"
"..."
A brief silence — then.
Shhhk.
The hiss of a blade, and the tip was at my nose.
So fast Gilroshan's eyes couldn't even follow — a flash of deadly swordsmanship.
"Pig, give up your schemes. Waiting for them won't save you. Here, you die. I've never spared a man who dragged at my heels."
"..."
The murderous aura was so fierce I instinctively raised my hands.
In this body of Gilroshan, I felt I couldn't withstand even a flick of Irgal's finger.
But I smiled faintly.
"Do you get to decide that?"
His killing intent faltered.
"What?"
"Whether I live or die is decided by the Vengeance Priests, isn't it? So why are you trying to make that call, buddy?"
"Buddy?"
"Yeah, buddy. High Priest Bamilo, am I wrong?"
As I'd already pointed out — Irgal was no priest, but a mercenary.
So whether I was killed, spared, or bargained over wasn't his prerogative.
I knew that much for sure.
"The Vengeance Priests decide the Third Prince's fate…"
The old man mulled it over, then nodded.
"That's true."
At that, Irgal stiffened.
Knew I could count on you, old man! 5252!
"…But."
My silent cheer hadn't even ended before the old man's cold eyes fixed on me.
"I also agree with his point. Why should we wait here?"
High Priest Bamilo took Irgal's side.
"As he said, your guards must be chasing us with their eyes blazing. And you would have us wait for them? Is that your shallow scheme?"
"There's no time. Let's turn him into a corpse now and take him with us, High Priest."
The two who couldn't trust me looked ready to draw their swords again at any moment.
But the moment I opened my mouth, they couldn't help but fall silent.
"Do you know Marquess Elron Reut, Commander of the Special Knights?"
"...?"
"...?"
"Well? Do you know him or not? Don't just float question marks over your heads, give me a straight answer."
At that, Bamilo swallowed hard.
"Of course I know him. Who doesn't know one of the Empire's three great Magic Swordsmen? But surely, you don't mean…"
That was enough.
I turned to Irgal and asked,
"You — could you win in a fight? If it was one-on-one against Marquess Reut?"
"..."
Irgal gave no answer.
"Then what if the entire Vengeance Priest Order joined in? Could we win then?"
"..."
The answer was the same.
Even with a dozen more priests piling in, Elron Reut would not lose.
I sighed.
"If we keep going straight, it's not me you'll be caught by — it's Elron Reut, you idiot."
And if that monster caught us, it wouldn't end with just being cut down.
"He'd devour us whole. Don't you get it?"
According to the original setting, Marquess Elron Reut was a monster who had reached the 9-star realm with the sword.
'In player terms, that meant he was around level 90.'
The higher the level, the more experience was needed — exponentially more.
So that rank was one of the rarest heights in the whole continent.
And now you want to charge straight into him?
"If you want to kill yourself, go ahead. But if you'd prefer, the southern silver river's water is warm — jump in there instead. Consider that a tip."
If you wanted to disappear without even leaving a corpse, charging Elron Reut wasn't the worst choice.
"…So the Empire's Dagger is waiting up ahead."
Irgal's voice grew heavy.
That was surprising.
'I thought he'd just snarl about how unbelievable it was.'
I'd been ready to push him to go test it himself with his body if he refused to believe me.
"You're right. That would be suicide."
He accepted it far more easily than expected, which left me a little deflated.
Tch.
So he wasn't completely thoughtless after all. Unfortunately.
"…Then what do you suggest we do?"
Bamilo asked again, frowning as I pouted.
"If, as you say, Elron Reut and his knights are blocking the gate, then there's no way for us to break through. What would waiting here accomplish?"
"Heh."
I picked at my ear.
After ignoring me all this time and saying only what they wanted, now they asked politely?
"Hah! So that's why they say never to raise black-haired beasts!"
"…Ahem."
"Oh, ahem? I can do that too! Kh! Hm! Kh! Hm!"
"M-my apologies."
"If apologies fixed everything, the world would be peaceful and there'd be no sword fights! Don't just say sorry — show me sincerity!"
I deliberately shouted to provoke Irgal.
But he didn't react.
"Sincerity?"
Bamilo frowned, and I raised a finger.
Listen well, old man.
"If you do exactly as I say, not one of us will be hurt, and we'll pass through the gate safely into Aurax."
"…!"
"Well? How's that sound?"
"...?"
I waggled my finger.
Then I spoke my real demand.
"Swear on the name of God. Promise to get me one item."
"An item? What item?"
"Promise first. By any means necessary, you'll get it for me. Swear it on the name of Lord Aeolem."
Bamilo's eyes shook violently.
He glanced at Irgal, then at the other priests, his pupils trembling like an earthquake.
I pressed him.
"If you don't trust me again, then we'll all die here together. Especially you — you'll be shredded by that Swordmaster. Understand?"
"..."
My true message was this:
Shut up and follow me.
Or you die.
After all, this imperial land was enemy territory for both me and the priests alike.
The Third Prince who could not return to the palace.
And assassins who had infiltrated enemy ground.
Whether we liked it or not, we had to join hands.
At last, perhaps realizing this, Bamilo sighed.
"This seems a strange turn of events, but very well. If it's something I cannot obtain, then God will provide it."
That was both irresponsible and convenient for a priest.
'Good. That settles that.'
I turned my head toward the path we had come.
The quiet forest trail and thickets.
And I shouted.
"Kals!"
"...?"
"Hey, you're listening, aren't you? I know you're here!"
I felt everyone's faces freeze.
Here? Already? Since when? How? Impossible!
But I was certain.
It had been three whole days.
I, slow as I was, had left plenty of traces behind. There was no way they hadn't seen them unless they were blind.
"Come out already!"
As I yelled, two figures rose from the bushes.
"..."
"..."
The 6-star knight, Kals Sillion, and the 7-star witch, Tyrbaen Sui.
The "Bear" and "Nightingale" who had guarded the "Pig" Gilroshan.
"Your Highness! Why…!"
As the concealment magic faded, Kals' handsome face was revealed through his pale blond hair.
His expression was one of shocked dismay, asking why I had ruined their ambush.
But I wasn't interested in his brilliant features.
It was that platinum hair…
'That's the mark of the Reut line.'
Not of Kals' count family.
But of the Reut Marquess family.
Exactly so.
The 9-star knight Elron Reut blocking our path and my bodyguard Kals Sillion were connected by blood.
Bound inescapably — with the strongest of ties…
'They were father and son.'
Why?
That's just how birth secrets work.
Like in those morning dramas, you know?