Chapter 153
Originally, persuading an opponent with such clear hostility was never easy.
In fact, the shaman's animosity toward Erich was by no means light.
He wasn't just spouting nonsense about Erich destroying Haratakan; rather, he acted as if it was a foregone conclusion.
'... Did a barbarian I killed come back in time or something?'
It was such an absurd notion that even this thought crossed Erich's mind.
Nevertheless, Erich wanted to use every means at his disposal if possible.
Thus, his target now was the surviving shamans.
Erich slowly opened his mouth.
[Then let me ask. Why do you believe I will bring Haratakan to ruin?]
[On the day the red moon rose. All the shamans received a revelation. There, someone who looked just like you was turning his back on the collapsing Haratakan.]
Erich's brows furrowed. Apparently, what they believed in was akin to a prophecy.
But—
'I can't dismiss what they call a prophecy outright. These people aren't idiots who can't distinguish between wild dreams and real omens, throwing curses at random...'
After all, shamans dealt in mysterious powers. Erich, even before his regression, had at least a superficial knowledge that the "power of prophecy" truly existed for them.
What's more, Erich recently learned of a man who could see the future. Wasn't August, who still lay bedridden, exactly such a person?
Therefore, after a brief consideration, Erich tried another approach to persuade them.
[So, you're saying that if I am present, Haratakan will be destroyed... Is that the prophecy?]
[That's right. That's why I want you all to leave our land.]
[Then, if I leave, will the prophecy not come to pass?]
[... Wouldn't it? If you're not where you're supposed to be, nothing would happen.]
[Then it isn't a prophecy at all.]
[... Hm?]
The old shaman blinked, as if bewildered by Erich's words. Erich continued to explain.
[A prophecy, by definition, must come true no matter what, or else it wouldn't be called a prophecy. If it can be avoided, then it isn't really a prophecy. Therefore, wherever I am, the prophecy must inevitably come to pass. If it doesn't...]
Erich trailed off. A prophecy is only a prophecy if it necessarily comes true.
If, by Erich leaving, the dream they envisioned did not come to pass, how could they still claim it was a prophecy?
And what use was a prophecy that might or might not happen?
The old shaman let out a low groan.
[You're saying that, if this is truly a prophecy, it must come true whether or not you go to Haratakan?]
[Exactly. Whatever I do in the future, if the prophecy is accurate, it will still happen. Otherwise, isn't it just a wild, meaningless dream?]
The shaman exchanged looks with the younger shamans.
They, too, seemed confused by Erich's words. The old shaman then replied.
[... Then let me ask. You, who would bring ruin to Haratakan. What do you seek to gain by ascending Haratakan?]
[It's nothing grand—I plan to eliminate the dead. That benefits both me and you, wouldn't you say?]
This was, no doubt, not such a bad proposal for them. The reason for their hesitation, then, was...
'Distrust toward us. And unease about the prophecy.'
Even Erich could not say for certain that, faced with such a scene claimed as prophecy, he would react differently from them.
Prophecy itself was a curse and a shackle, binding the ones who heard it.
Just then, a shaman who had been watching at the rear slowly approached the elder and spoke.
[Aung-ga, wise brother. For now, why not hear him out? To me, it sounds like a reasonable idea.]
[Toruk, my young brother. Who knows what would happen if we ignored prophecy? Besides...]
They lowered their voices even more, so Erich could not hear.
But Erich pricked up his ears and listened in.
The senses of a Swordmaster were sharp enough to catch even these whispers.
[... If by any chance they come with ill intentions, we would have no way to respond. All our brothers are already imprisoned... I doubt their claim of coming to eliminate the dead, but even if it's true, once they learn of our situation, their minds could easily change.]
[... Then set the condition that they bring our brothers back first. Then, we'll know if they're sincere.]
The young shaman called Toruk glanced at Erich. Erich pretended not to have heard, folding his arms as he digested this new information.
'So the dead are capturing shamans and imprisoning them? Why?'
Erich tilted his head. The dead did not tolerate the living—they instinctively killed opponents to make them part of the dead themselves.
But to "imprison" the living?
This was important information. It meant the dead clearly had a purpose.
'So they aren't simply acting on instinct.'
Perhaps even the rampage of the dead in Haratakan was part of a grander plan devised by the Lord of the Dead.
'I suspected as much since I realized there was a cursed being here of at least lich-level...'
By the time Erich reached that conclusion, the two shamans who'd debated nodded at each other.
An agreement had evidently been reached.
Aung-ga cleared his throat and turned to Erich.
[Fine. But I have a condition. Can you rescue our brothers?]
[You mean they're being held by the dead?]
[Exactly. Those who resisted were killed; the rest were dragged off and imprisoned all over Haratakan.]
[... Do you know why?]
[... I do not.]
He said he didn't know, but the old shaman's face seemed to be hiding something.
So wrinkled was his face that it was hard to read his feelings, but something about his reply was suspiciously slow.
'He's holding something back.'
But that was enough for Erich. At least he now understood their situation.
'If I expect something in return, I should give something too. Rescuing people is no problem.'
On top of that, they would become personnel to use against the dead—if anything, that would be to his advantage, not a disadvantage at all.
However, Hrung-ga—who had been listening—spoke.
[... How very rude. We're here to offer help, yet this is how we're treated.]
[If you're offended, you may leave. You barged into someone else's land; do you think it would be any different if we invaded yours?]
[The Goddess taught us to treat guests generously. Do you not know this?]
[We do not worship your Goddess. Do you ask because you are ignorant of this?]
At the shaman's retort, Hrung-ga's face stiffened.
With this, Erich realized that the shamans' mindset differed from that of ordinary barbarians.
'... So these guys aren't swayed by talk of the Goddess.'
Unlike barbarians who would be easily moved if he brought up the Goddess, shamans instead resembled mages in temperament.
Maybe it's just that to be a mage, you need to have this sort of temperament...
Anyway, Erich received the location where the shamans' brothers were being held closest to their current position.
A crude map marked with a big X.
Erich took it and turned his back on the shamans.
He intended to resolve whatever awaited him on the rescue and return as quickly as possible.
***
Barbarians in fur pelts formed a column, beginning an ascent from the rear side of Haratakan.
Many followed in the leaders' wake, and at the head marched Ungrim's subordinate—Balmung, his brown hair streaming behind him.
Balmung watched the struggling brothers as they climbed Haratakan.
'... It will be a grueling road.'
Even barbarians were unaccustomed to such paths. Haratakan was a place even their kin rarely dared tread.
Not that the shamans were likely to kill any trespassers outright.
The real danger was that Haratakan's terrain was made up of sheer cliffs where simply taking a step raised the odds of death.
Nevertheless, they had to head there no matter what.
Not only had Ungrim given the order, but the greatest obstacle to their plans lurked there above all.
Yet for a moment, Balmung gazed up at the soft reddish clouds spreading over the summit.
The only ones capable of producing such power would be—
'The dead.'
Balmung felt uneasy about Ungrim's cooperation with the dead.
However, Ungrim seemed to think of it as a temporary necessity, nothing more.
But why, Balmung wondered, did he feel instinctive aversion to the dead rather than the Watch?
To cooperate with the dead...
Only someone as fearless as Ungrim could be unbothered by such a chilling thing.
Then, in the next instant—
Something caught Balmung's eye.
There, he saw a fellow tribesman being dragged by the dead.
Soon after, the sight that entered his eyes made Balmung stop breathing.
A hexagram, drawn in red blood. Barbarians hanging as sacrifices atop it.
Just one word flashed through Balmung's mind.
Sacrifice.
They were, in fact, using the barbarians as sacrifices.