Thirty days later.
The journey through the Slane Theocracy was smooth as silk, not a single hitch along the way. The three adventurers left the capital behind, hoofing it south without pause, traveling day and night for nearly a month. Now, they'd reached the southern border of the Slane Theocracy.
Peering into the distance, they could spot cavalry patrols pacing the borderline. The air had grown drier, the humid monsoons a fading memory. EeDechi was certain—she was closing in on the Eight Greed Kings' desert.
Along the way, they'd soaked up plenty of the Slane Theocracy's culture, even joining in a few rituals honoring the Six Great Gods, followed by mooching food and drink at the post-ceremony feasts.
Skirting the border outposts, they officially left the theocratic nation behind. EeDechi cast a final glance back, her heart heavy with thoughts.
The carriage rolled on.
…
Following a winding path just wide enough for a single carriage, a meandering river came into view for the three adventurers. Dozens of low-roofed houses nestled among rolling hills, where farmers herded cattle to graze. This had to be a village.
"Let's take a break here," EeDechi said, poking her head out of the carriage. "Barrett, you've earned a rest from driving."
"We should hire a female driver who's great in action," Franco suggested.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" EeDechi shot Franco a glare.
"I meant great in action, you know, a skilled driver!" Franco shrugged innocently. "What's wrong with that? Clearly, you're the one being too sensitive, Captain."
"I don't care either way, but these horses are beat." Barrett said, turning the carriage toward the village. "They've had it rough. We should sell them or set them loose in the wild sometime soon," The carriage rolled to a stop by the village's sturdy mud-and-stone fence. EeDechi noticed it was built tough—stacked high with stones, slathered in mud, and studded with sharpened wooden stakes pointing outward. There were even small slits for crossbow fire.
The three adventurers hopped off the carriage and started toward the village.
"Hold it! Are you missionaries from the Slane Theocracy?" a loud shout rang out. A group of young, burly men charged forward, brandishing longswords and iron spears, surrounding the trio in a flash.
Barrett sized up the wary crowd, a smirk curling his lips. He didn't even bother reaching for his sword.
To him, these loudmouths acting tough were just farmers who thought they knew how to fight. He wouldn't need a blade—just a good stick would have them crying for their mommies without spilling any blood.
"We're loyal servants of Gaia. We won't be switching to worship the Six Great Gods. Go on, get lost," a weathered, steady-looking middle-aged man spoke up from the crowd.
"Break one of their legs! Let's show these Slane Theocracy bastards who's boss!" some rowdy voices shouted, their sharp swords gleaming as they pointed straight at the brawniest of the group, Barrett.
"Go ahead, give it a shot," Barrett said, spreading his empty hands and beckoning to the loudest shouter.
"Beat his ass! Teach him a lesson!" a wave of voices roared, their faces itching for a fight. The group surrounding Barrett and the others were young, strapping lads, full of hot blood and bravado, especially with their numbers giving them courage.
"Tom, cool it!" the middle-aged man who'd spoken first barked, trying to rein in one of the youths, but the kid ignored him completely.
The brown-haired young man hefted a sword half his height and swung it straight at Barrett.
"Not only are your steps shaky, but you're swinging that sword with nothing but brute force. Your swordplay's absolute garbage, and you don't even follow orders—worse than the sorriest band of ragtag mercenaries. Let me teach you a thing or two about fighting."
Barrett gave a cold smirk. Instead of backing off, he stepped forward, sidestepping the youth's wild swing with ease. He grabbed the kid's overextended arm and twisted hard.
Crack. The sound of a dislocated shoulder rang out clear as day. The youth grimaced in pain, his hands letting go of the sword.
Barrett tripped him with a quick sweep to the legs, sending the kid face-first into the dirt for an up-close meeting with Gaia's soil.
"Anyone else wanna learn how to disarm a guy barehanded?" Barrett asked, crossing his arms.
The crowd, armed with spears and swords, went quiet for a moment before their anger flared up again. They gritted their teeth, brandishing their weapons, ready to rush him all at once.
EeDechi threw a fierce punch. BOOM! A deafening shockwave erupted from her fist, the sonic boom rattling everyone's eardrums. The rowdy mob froze, like a pack of puffed-up cats suddenly realizing their enemy was a sleeping tiger.
Nobody wanted to eat that punch. Even if you stacked all the village's leather armor together, it'd probably crumple like paper under her fist.
After the show of force, EeDechi switched to a friendly tone, laying it out plain:
"We're not missionaries from the Slane Theocracy. We're adventurers from a far-off land. Just passing through, looking to crash for a night and buy some food and water with coin."
"Adventurers, huh?" The middle-aged man in the crowd mulled it over, eyeing EeDechi and her crew. Their gear was nothing like the Slane Theocracy's style.
Something clicked for him about what adventurers do, and he perked up. "Adventurers hunt monsters, right?"
"Half right," Barrett said, shaking his head. "Adventurers hunt monsters for cash."
"We don't have much coin, but we've got food and water to spare. An extra hand means extra strength," the man said respectfully. "Come on in. Tonor Village welcomes you."
…
Once inside the village, the chief quickly set up a place for the Last Defender of the Way crew to rest. Chatting with the locals, EeDechi got a rough picture of the village's situation.
Ages ago, the village had been hit hard by a terrifying beast tide, a rampage of monstrous creatures. A cleric devoted to Gaia happened to pass through back then.
The cleric unleashed his magic to save the village, showing off Gaia's divine power and tirelessly healing the wounded. From then on, the villagers chose to worship Gaia.
The trouble was, the village sat right next to the Slane Theocracy. While the Theocracy despised other races and slaughtered them without mercy, they were softer on humans who followed different gods—mostly just sending missionaries to pester the village, trying to convert them to the Six Great Gods.
But the villagers' faith was rock-solid, and to the missionaries, they were stubborn lost causes. To get their way, the Theocracy's missionaries sometimes played dirty, using threats and bribes to sway the villagers.
Recently, a group of dragonblood lizardmen, driven out by the Elf Country, had settled in the distant wilds. These were brutal, bloodthirsty creatures, often raiding to capture other races, lopping off their heads and ripping out their hearts as sacrifices to their god, the Dragon Progenitor.
Lately, lizardmen scouts had been spotted nearby, clearly eyeing the village's inhabitants. Fear gripped the village, everyone dreading the day these savage lizardmen would smash through the gates, pillaging and killing.
Normally, the Slane Theocracy, sworn enemies of non-humans, would've sent their cavalry charging to crush the lizardmen's lair the moment they caught wind of them at the border. But now, their army sat idle, turning a blind eye to the border's troubles, as if waiting to watch the village's fate unfold like some twisted show.
Not that you could fully blame the Slane Theocracy—the lizardmen's nest was beyond their borders, out of their jurisdiction.