Otherworld TRPG Game Master

65 – S2. Resentment Wished Upon a Star -8

Adherents in white hoods circled the mansion, drawing a circle, uttering incomprehensible cries. Like insects gathering around a faded bulb, radiating a sparkling innocence.

Caught in religious ecstasy, they drooled or laughed maniacally. The white flames consuming Abraham’s mansion intensified their faith and belief. The stars sang, blessing this sacred place.

In the midst of this whirlwind of joy, the maiden Tara…

“⋯⋯Uwek.”

She felt a nauseating disgust, almost to the point of vomiting bile.

In the shadows of those wearing white hoods, Tara saw priestesses of the goddess religion. Blindly following, dedicating everything to fulfill the will of the unseen. Tara couldn’t comprehend it at all.

Why can you laugh like that? The flames are clinging to your body, burning from the limbs. Your ankles are swollen and turning blue from neglecting them while dancing.

The flames flickered as if wanting to erase everything left by a human. Memories embedded in the house, his tender paternal feelings, even the brief accumulation of memories, all swallowed by the white faith, consumed by the fanatics’ revelry, disappearing.

Vision wavered, tears blurred the sight.

If being a mere accessory for God, discarding all values except for God, is truly such a joyful thing. If abandoning family and friends for such trivial things.

Then what really needs to be abandoned is…

“Tara-!!”

Someone grabbed Tara’s shoulder and called her name loudly. Trembling, she awoke as if from a dream, breaking free from the intoxicating delirium.

As she focused again, a man with ash-colored hair covering half his face stood before her. Illuminated by the flames engulfing everything, his face seemed momentarily pale.

A person who had struggled a lot in a short period.

“⋯⋯Benedict.”

“Snap out of it! Now’s not the time! Neore went into the mansion first. I’ll hold back these lunatics; you go in and save Abraham!”

Bennett said that and rushed out, drawing his longsword. The fanatics, as if they couldn’t tolerate anyone disrupting the festival, brandished their arms in flames, screaming and chanting spells.

Kaaang-!

The sounds of destruction, breaking, beating the ground, and the space trembling. Such noises of battle felt like they were right in front of the nose, yet they seemed to echo from a distant place. My head was spinning.

Yes, Abraham.

Saint Tara stumbled and leaped into the mansion. At this moment, there was only one image filling her mind.

The house where Mom and Dad lived. Her return home. As she carefully chose her words of reunion in her mind, she placed her finger on the doorknob, turned her wrist, and opened the door. Stepping inside, she tried to fill her mouth with worries and love that she couldn’t express for a month.

Carefully, she called out a name.

As the door slowly opened, the scene inside the house began to reveal itself from the right. The shelves adorned with family decorations, Dad’s favorite round chair, the pillar where Tara marked her height as she grew, the round table where they gathered for meals. And there…

Pale fingers.

Grotesque wrists, forearms, shoulders, lying in two dead bodies. Flies buzzing around. Foul rotting smell wafting in the air, unidentified liquid spilled on the floor, swollen feet, and…

A wooden statue of a compassionate goddess hanging on the left wall, overlooking everything.

Having lost once already, it seemed impossible to endure a second time.

So, this time. Please.

“…Abraham!”

There was only one repeated word, echoing with multiplied regrets. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late this time.

—–

The pale flames seemed to consume time and space. When the flames brushed against the body as Tara wandered inside the mansion, instead of burns and blisters, wrinkles appeared, and black mushrooms sprouted.

Saint Tara enveloped her whole body with magic. With magic, she could resist even the white flames. She entered the mansion and searched around. There were no traces of Abraham on the dining table or the cozy chairs by the fireplace.

Then, on the wall of the staircase leading to the second floor, she noticed arrows drawn with a pen. It seemed Neo had left directions. Saint Tara followed the arrows and ran up the stairs.

The arrows led to a trapdoor, leading to the rooftop where stars twinkled. Saint Tara climbed the ladder already lowered down the trapdoor. Grasping the last rung of the ladder, she pulled herself up.

The night sky was visible.

The mansion was entirely ablaze, emitting a pure white light. However, the stars in the night sky shone distinctly. The saint, Tara, felt their gaze. Each star seemed to be someone’s pupil, as if some colossal and holy presence was looking down upon them.

As her gaze descended to the ground, she saw the back of Niole standing still. She was in front of a table where Abraham had piled observation data.

“Niole, where is Abraham?!”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

There was no response. Perhaps that silence was the answer itself. Tara shook her head. Denied the silence. No, it can’t be. And cautiously, she walked forward. She intended to grab Niole and ask.

If it were Niole, with her keen eyes, even if she couldn’t find Abraham, she could discover many traces. So, she might say… Abraham seems to have escaped. He must still be alive. If only she would say that.

Before Saint Tara’s outstretched hand could reach Niole, she hesitated and sat down. As if an unbearable weight had been placed on her shoulders.

Then, what had been concealed was revealed.

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

On the table, Abraham’s severed head was offered as a sacrifice.

—–

The bodies of the fanatics seemed frail, and they appeared to lack proper means of defense. Their reaction time and movements were at the level of an ordinary person who couldn’t manipulate magic, making a bit of physical force sufficient to kill them.

However, their killing power was eerily high.

“Scream!”

Thud. Thud.

One fanatic finished his incantation, and he twisted and died in a spiral, like a towel being wrung out. In exchange for his life, the authority of a great being that hovered through the universe was unleashed. Bullets that bit into space itself.

Their magic seemed to mix two characteristics: dark magic and divine power. Sacrificing something to cast, drawing strength from external sources.

“Ice Moment.”

Shaaak-!

Bennett made the ice under his shoes, sliding smoothly, evading the magic. Just by evading, the zealots decreased in numbers steadily. Defensive maneuvers alone were enough without overexertion.

In this defensive stance, the spellsword, adept in both magic and swordsmanship, showcased his prowess. Handling various variables with magic while the lethality was covered by swordsmanship.

“『Rock Formation』.”

Hence, Bennett chose to broaden his knowledge with diverse spells rather than focusing solely on one school of magic. Magic was merely a supplement to overcome shortcomings.

Swish!

Crack!

One zealot’s skull cracked under the sharp rock thrown by Bennett. After the strike, Bennett broke through the wall, sneaking into the mansion’s room. Magic poured over the vanished Bennett’s silhouette.

Gwooooo!

With the trembling of space, the mansion’s outer wall twisted and vanished. Concealed, Bennett revealed himself, hurling two rocks beyond the breached wall.

Thud.

Almost simultaneously with the echoing impacts, two more bodies fell. The staggering, charred corpses crumbled into ash without leaving a trace of burning smell.

They could fight for at least an hour like this, but…

The walls were crumbling, breached, and crumbling, causing the mansion to creak. If they continued to use it as a stronghold, it might collapse before they could rescue Abraham.

However, fighting on an open field without cover was highly risky. Although Bennett could defend with a magic barrier like the saint’s spell, the mana consumption was significant. In a situation where they didn’t know how many more enemies would appear, it was crucial to conserve mana as much as possible.

Bennett had a solution to all these problems.

Dark magic.

It was another reason he didn’t concentrate on one school of magic. Magic using souls as material could tremendously amplify the power, even with miscellaneous spells learned.

Should he use it? But…

If the saint, Tara, sensed remnants of dark magic, it would pose a problem. The saint wouldn’t tolerate a dark mage, and then Bennett would have to kill Tara and Neore.

As Bennett pondered deeply, the zealots turned their heads to gaze at the night sky, starting to withdraw as if they had been waiting. Now? Bennett felt a strong foreboding at this timing.

Bennett looked up at the sky. The night sky was uneven.

Although the night sky seemed flat, it somehow appeared to have undulations, like it was swollen, about to burst, as if it would spill something onto the ground at any moment.

Bennett rushed into the mansion. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but he needed to get out of here quickly. Following the arrows left by Niore, he headed to the rooftop.

And there, he came face to face with Abraham’s severed head.

—–

Tara seemed to be in severe mental shock, lying sideways, vomiting tears and bile. Niore stood still with loosened eyes, swaying like someone having a nightmare. And Abraham’s head was severed.

The mansion was still burning, and whenever the flames flickered in the wind, dozens of shadows emerged, shaking their bodies and disappearing. It was a hellish scene.

“What in the world…”

Bennett regained his composure and surveyed the surroundings.

Abraham’s head was butchered like that of a pig or a cow. His tongue was cut off, eye sockets were empty and black, and his mouth was stitched with thread, frozen in a wide grin. A scar of excrement was carved on his forehead.

Sacrifice.

Someone offered even Abraham’s soul. Bennett knew the meaning of sacrificing one’s soul. The pain of the soul being torn apart. Abraham suffered terrible agony as he died, and perhaps even now, he might be screaming.

There was also writing in blood.

‘Since you have given us a flawed female goat, we express our gratitude and offer our thanks.’

Meaningless gibberish of a lunatic with no apparent purpose.

Flames surged from within Bennett. However, he didn’t succumb to anger. There was still work to be done. He needed to escape from danger and leave this place.

“Tara, Niore! Snap out of it!”

“…I’m, I’m late again, this time too…”

“……!!”

Crash!

Bennett struck Tara’s cheek. His head tilted, and for a moment, focus returned to his bruised eyes.

“We need to get out of here. The night sky is weird, something’s coming. If we stay still, we’re as good as dead. Move!”

Bennett, with the motionless Neore wrapped around his shoulders, and holding Tara’s wrist, hurriedly fled. The ominous presence above the mansion seemed to grow with each passing moment. Like someone escaping the radius of a time bomb, he ran for a long time.

He came to a stop where he first encountered Abraham.

A facility for collecting trash. The boundary between the slum and the outside. The clothing collection bin seemed to welcome the reunion, proudly displaying its green color, while a broken street lamp flickered a feeble light.

Bennett dropped Neore and released Tara’s wrist. He sat down hesitantly. Then, he gazed at Abraham’s mansion.

From Noble mtl dot com

Something.

A formless existence, uncertain whether it could be counted among the stars and the night sky. Blinking eyes made up of constellations, and a tongue as black as the universe, licking after a menacing roar.

His mouth agape, he swallowed the mansion whole. As if in response to that, he regurgitated something thick and viscous onto the ground. It wasn’t clear from a distance, but…

The silhouettes were undoubtedly monstrous.

Monsters were unleashed upon the city.

Neore, standing dazed, bit the tip of his index finger, drawing blood. Then, on the rough asphalt, he wrote with his finger as if etching into it.

[If I hadn’t tried to save people, would Abraham have lived?]

“…No, he would have died. Don’t entertain useless thoughts. The members of the Order of Twilight would have attacked whether we were there or not, and I, I abandoned Abraham. Whether you oppose it or not, I abandoned him.”

[Thank you for saying that, Bennett.]

“…Stop it. Don’t mention it. Even healing spells are wasted on a finger. We need to conserve our magic. We have to head to a safe place…”

The temporary outpost mentioned in the report. Carter Street, address 201, East Market, 2nd floor.

Considering the items collected during reconnaissance, it would be the best alternative now that their residence was lost. They had to move. Bennett, about to urge Tara and Neore, spoke again.

“The secret alley the investigator mentioned… We’ll leave in 10 minutes.”

Bennett granted a reprieve. It seemed as if he needed time to mend his wounded soul, grieve, and perhaps rise again.

Amidst the mocking union of stars and moon, the only solace was the flickering lamppost lights.