Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 288: The Ugly Rat that Polluted the Sea (5)

“Wait.” Bayern gathered himself and asked Ketal quietly, “Are you saying you have lived that long?”

Those who reached the higher realms saw their lifespans stretch. Myst supported the body’s functions and slowed age until the years became a loose garment rather than a chain. For a warrior who could touch the world, the march of time mattered far less. Bayern himself was past sixty, yet his face and frame were those of a man in his mid-thirties.

However, living for centuries was another matter. The only beings who commonly lived that long were the long-lived races—elves, dwarves, and dragons—or else humans who had abandoned their humanity, like the Master of the Mage Tower. Among humans who reached the rank of Hero, the oldest might reach two hundred years.

“Hm. Inside, there is no way to measure time,” Ketal replied. “The tribe never cared to mark it either. It is only felt time, so the reality could be shorter.”

“R-right. That makes sense.”

Even so, Ketal looked too young. It was hard to believe he had lived hundreds of years, or perhaps close to a thousand. The Mage Tower, which now stood as one of the pillars of the continent, had a history of only a few centuries.

“Then, I guess we can assume the purification would take a hundred years, or perhaps several decades,” Bayern said.

That still meant Ketal had lived at least a hundred or two. Bayern could accept that much within the limits of common sense. He pushed away the suspicion that tried to rise.

“But even at the shortest, it is still decades,” Bayern said. The span was reasonable and still too long. Bayern clicked his tongue. “You clashed with that creature often in the White Snowfield. How did you answer it?”

“The rat needs time to taint an area,” Ketal said. “It is not instant. If it tried to widen its domain, we learned of it in advance and drove it off. When we failed to stop the stain, it did not matter much.”

They ignored it. Land in the White Snowfield held little value. Everything was covered in ice, and one stretch of ground was like another. If a tract was corrupted, they simply moved to a different one.

“That will not work here, though,” Ketal said.

This was the Outside. Every strip of land had weight. They could not shrug and abandon a tainted province as if it were another empty glacier. Even if they managed to bring the rat down, they would be in trouble if they could not remove the corruption.

Bayern laughed once, without mirth. “Why do creatures like that exist at all?”

There was no answer. He propped his chin on his fist and tried to build a plan.

“But I know,” the Holy Sword interjected.

Ketal’s eyes sharpened. “You do?”

“Hm? I thought you said you did not,” Bayern asked him.

“No, not me. But there seems to be someone who knows.”

“Huh?” Bayern looked around, confused, because there was no voice in the room besides Ketal’s, not even the whisper of a presence.

“I was talking about this,” Ketal said, lifting the broken sword at his hip.

“A broken sword? Is it like a spirit weapon?” Bayern asked him.

“It’s a Holy Sword.”

“A what?” Bayern blinked, dumbfounded. That shattered thing was a Holy Sword. When he looked closely, he felt a thin, clean divinity rising off the metal like heat.

“Now that you mention it, we never did learn who drew the sword,” Bayern said. “It was an odd secret.”

“I broke it when I forced the draw.”

“You broke the Holy Sword?” Bayern stared as if the words were the strangest joke he had ever heard. Ketal’s face did not change. The realization reached Bayern’s eyes and shook them. “I see. So you’re saying that the sword knows.”

“It said as much.”

“I told you I carry knowledge. I do not know what the rat is in the particular, but I can guess its root. It was likely born in the Mire of Filth,” the Holy Sword explained.

“The Mire of Filth?” Ketal echoed.

“It existed before the world became what it is now. It belongs to the dark age. I only know it from records, yet the notes agree. It was the first and greatest concentration of filth.”

“The rat is indeed filthy enough,” Ketal muttered, “but I did not expect a birthplace like that. How do we fight it?”

“The answer is simple.” The Holy Sword did not hesitate. “Use divinity. You can purify the stain.”

“Hm?” Ketal looked puzzled. Divinity, all of a sudden—it was far too abrupt. “Wasn’t divinity something that only mattered to demons?”

“No. If you trace it back to the source, divinity’s superiority over demonic power is incidental,” The Holy Sword explained patiently. “Divinity’s original purpose was to erase filth. That is what it was made to do.”

“What are you talking about?” Bayern asked Ketal, unable to hear the sword itself.

“Divinity was created to purify filth,” Ketal translated.

“What..?”

It contradicted everything Bayern had learned. Yet the speaker was a Holy Sword made by the gods themselves. If something had to give, their common knowledge seemed the likelier candidate.

“I guess we’ll know when we confirm it,” Bayern said.

He rang a small bell. A moment later, a barbarian entered, straight-backed and wide-eyed.

“What do you command, my king?”

“There should be a follower of a god somewhere in the city. Tell him the king calls for him, and ask him to come.”

“Yes!” The man sprinted out.

Ketal did not stop him. He could draw on a measure of divinity through the sacred relic of Kalosia, yet they needed a clear test.

A few minutes later, a follower of the God of the Sword came in. It was Darkul.

“Oh, Ketal, you’re here too. My king, you sent for me,” Darkul said.

“Yes. Can you treat this?” Bayern said as he bared the corrupted arm.

Darkul stared, baffled for a breath, then gulped hard. Ketal and Bayern could speak calmly in air that stung the eyes because they were both beyond Hero. Darkul could not pay the poison that kind of disrespect.

The venom in Bayern’s arm crawled as if it were alive. Just looking at it made Darkul’s stomach pitch. It was horrible and filthy and wrong, the kind of presence a world should refuse to allow. If he had followed his instincts, he would have run from the room. The stain carried that order of rank.

“I need you to use holy power to cleanse this arm,” Bayern said.

“I do not know if it will work,” Darkul whispered, “but I will try.”

He stepped closer with visible reluctance. Divinity could knit flesh and cleanse poisons, yet this was dense and alien. He reached out, doubting it would work even as he set his hand over the wound.

“O Great Elia, cleanse the world’s filth,” Darkul chanted.

Light wrapped his arm, and the change came at once. The venom that had reached the bone drew back. It did not vanish cleanly, yet it faltered and faded.

“W-what?” Darkul stammered.

“It is working,” Bayern said softly. “Thank you.”

“N-no. Not at all.”

Bayern thanked him, and Darkul backed away, flustered. The Holy Sword had spoken true. If they used holy power, they could deal with the stain.

Bayern, still surprised, murmured, “The Saintess of the Sun God could not heal the wound the White Bear left. That was why I believed holy power could not mend it, but it seems I was wrong.”

“I do not know what the White Bear is, but it was likely not born of the Mire of Filth. Divinity is first and last a force to answer filth. Against other origins, it will not perform the same,” the Holy Sword explained. The dark age had not birthed only one root. Not every creature came from that mire “Where there is filth, divinity will cleanse it. Not everyone can accomplish it, of course.”

The cleansing was not perfect. A great deal of stain remained. Yet Darkul was only an Advanced. On a continental scale, he was a strong man, but compared to the rat or Bayern, he was nothing. The fact that even he could pare the filth down meant they had the right counter.

“That settles it,” Ketal said, relaying the sword’s explanation.

Bayern’s expression shifted as relief loosened his jaw. “For now, yes.”

They had found a way to treat the toxin. However, a problem remained.

“Where do we find the followers?” Ketal asked him. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

The tainted ground sprawled wide. Darkul could not cleanse it alone. They would need many priests. This was the North. The barbarians had rejected the gods, and their people scorned the faithful. Ketal looked at Darkul.

“Can you bring followers of the God of the Sword here?”

“It should be possible,” Darkul said. “The regions south of us have both the Sun God and the Earth Goddess. They will have people to spare. But...”

He trailed off. The barbarians would object, and not softly. Worse still, distance was a real barrier. Ketal had crossed to the North in days only because he was what he was. Normally, the trip took months. News had to travel, requests had to be made, preparations had to happen, and then the people had to come. Six months would be the minimum.

“Unless the Tower Master personally opens portals,” Darkul said, “it will take a very long time.”

“I see.” Ketal clicked his tongue.

Bayern, quiet until now, spoke. “The question of followers is not a problem. There are still churches in the North.”

Most orders had left years ago under the weight of persecution. Even so, there were congregations that could not abandon their home and some who would not leave their holy lands. They existed, though they were not healthy. Under the constant weight of scorn, they tottered, ready to collapse at any moment. If Bayern had not laid down a royal line they could not cross, some would already have fallen.

“This is convenient. It is a good chance,” Bayern said at last, his eyes narrowed. “Leave that part to me. Give me a week.”

“Understood.” Ketal knew what Bayern meant to do. “It is a good chance to plant the churches in the North. I will leave it to you.”

“Good. Then, Ketal, I leave the rat to you. I cannot beat that creature,” Bayern said. He had already lost. Only Ketal could meet the rat and hope to win.

“Do not worry,” Ketal said with a small smile.

Darkul shivered without meaning to. The man’s smile was bright and gentle, and still there was something about it that made the skin crawl.

“I will make sure it never thinks of this place again,” Ketal said.

***

That very day, Bayern got to work. He spoke as a king. “Hear me, barbarians. I have words for you.”

His voice rolled across the city. People stopped what they were doing and came to gather before the place where the Barbarian King stood. He waited without moving.

“What is it, my king?” someone called.

Bayern let silence cover them for a count. Then he spoke.

“I know you have many complaints about me. You call me a coward and say I find control too convenient. You have a larger complaint as well. You ask why we do not invade the continent.”

“That is right, my king!” someone shouted back.

The reply came at once. Faces hardened and voices rose.

“We are strong. We want to prove our strength!”

They wanted to leave the North and enter the continent. They wanted to topple kingdoms and break churches and prove what they were. That desire had lived in them for generations. Bayern had held them back. Because he was the king, they obeyed him. Resentment had piled up like snow against a door.

“Fools... Stubborn fools,” Bayern muttered. Then, he raised his head to speak to the crowd. “I know what you want. My mind has changed.”

“Oh? Ooh?”

“My king, do you mean—”

“We will go to the continent. We will go and prove ourselves. We will show the outsiders that we are the strongest!” Bayern declared.

“At last!” A roar broke from the crowd.

At last, they would attack the continent. The order had come from the king himself. They shouted and stamped like men who had eaten fire.

“But before we do,” Bayern said, lifting one hand, “I will set one condition.”

“What?”

“A condition?”

He looked out over the faces of his people and spoke.