What was wrong with this world? More importantly, what was wrong with his associate’s head?

That was the only thought on the Spartan’s mind as he trudged through the foliage with his new partner, the so-called Crusader. The two of them had gone through quite a few battles and incidents that slowed them down. Most of these were easily avoidable, but his associate continuously insisted on charging to kill every single one of those enemies, calling each of them demons and monsters that had to be purged.

That man continued without fail to the same thing over and over again. No matter how many times he tried to explain that constantly getting into fights was only detrimental to their end goal, that man still did it.

Another problem was how picky that man was. No matter what, he refused to eat any of the beasts that roamed the land, so long as they looked freakish or ‘demonic’.

An issue as almost every single living thing that wasn’t a human was outright disgusting in appearance. It was somewhat amusing just how strict the Crusader was on this dietary restriction, as he refused to budge at all, no matter what the circumstances were. Even if he had not eaten for some days, he would refuse to eat any of the creatures that he deemed monstrous and unholy.

All of which resulted in the Spartan having to get creative. He ran several tests to find any means to get any kind of palatable meat from the beast in any shape or form. Throughout his experiments, he did discover that mixing the dust left over from the remnants of the deceased beast with water would result in a hard, rock-like structure that was quite difficult to break with one’s hands.

However, the more water that was added to the mixture, the more sludge-like it became. At a certain amount of moisture, they became similar to that of bread dough, malleable and moldable. With some work, he could get this to look exactly like a chunk of flesh disregarding the color, but that could probably be resolved by cooking.

Theoretically, anyway. Truth be told, the thought of biting down into this, cooked or not, made him nauseated to the core. No matter how much he tried to persuade himself and how much he tried to disguise the appearance, that nauseating feeling still persisted. He couldn’t bring himself to take a bite out of this, no matter what the circumstances were.

He could get the Crusader to eat the cooked result, but that was uncalled-for. That was cruel and downright vile behavior, and he’d be damned if he would stoop down that low. After all, if he wasn’t going to eat it, why force his associate to? He’ll just stick to finding those small creatures and feeding those to the Crusader, even if those were difficult to find.

It was times like those that made the Spartan regret accepting the Crusader’s request to team up. Honestly, if that man was by himself, then odds were that he would have starved to death by now. Either that, or he would have become like one of the prey animals and consumed nothing but grass and leaves.

He shuddered at that thought. The idea of having to eat nothing but vegetables and fruits made him feel absolutely horrendous, something that he had to admit was something he would like to avoid no matter what.

Hah. Here I am, complaining about his strict dietary restrictions, when I have the same issue as well. Though, I do think his issues were far more annoying than mine. It’s not like one can find edible and palatable vegetation around here, after all.

He looked around before looking back to his associate. He was busy looking left and right as he walked forward, his hands wrapped around the hilt of his blade. Likewise, he seemed pensive still despite everything, and he definitely was doing his job of keeping an eye out.

The Spartan couldn’t help but nod at that. Even if there were a lot of negatives with dealing with this man, there were far more benefits that outweighed them severely.

The two of them were able to take turns keeping guard and avoiding any ambushes at night, something that cropped up from time to time. They were able to combine their powers together and make any possible dangerous battles into a simple breeze to deal with. All of that led to a simple process where they were able to move to the tower without many problems.

Thanks to all of their efforts, they made so much more ground than usual. They went through the plains and into a forest and were able to find a path that led somewhere. Now, they were able to find a direction to get out of these dreary woods and hopefully find some civilization to rest up and recover.

He was both right and wrong all at the same time.

The two exited the area and found themselves staring at several clearly man-made structures. A decently sized town that had all the buildings made out of some hard yellow stone and mortar, with roofs that were made with an orange solid material or straw that had gone slightly pale. Beyond that laid a gigantic, long stone bridge that seemed to stretch for what seemed to be forever, with two tall buildings at its entrance that appeared to act as the guardhouse for this path.

Such a sight was a clear sign of civilization. This was an obvious place to rest up.

That would be the case if there weren’t clear signs of looting and ruins. Several of these buildings had giant gaping holes within them, and there was smoke coming from some of these ruined structures. A giant cloud of fog and mist had settled around the area, obfuscating the streets and making the act of scouting nigh impossible.

The act of going through this town was dangerous, effectively so. He couldn’t tell if there were any civilized beings that lived in these lands anymore, or if there was a monster infestation that resulted in such a horrendous sight. He was not confident whether the place was truly abandoned, which meant they either had a good chance of having a good night’s rest before moving on or if they would have to fight through the streets without end.

Stolen novel; please report.

Considering the state of that town, though, he could guess that it would be the latter. The next act they should undertake would be to circle around the town and heading right to the stone bridge that continued to lead on to the tower.

That being said, he had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the option taken. The Crusader didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing. He was going to get them to rush in and charge and all the Spartan could do was count until that decision was made.

One, two, three, four, five, six…

“We’re going into that town,” the Crusader stated firmly, not leaving any chance for discussion, “We’re going in, and we’re going to clear it out. We’ll find out if anyone survived there and rescue them.”

Color him surprised. He made his decision after that much time of thinking. Truth be told, he honestly expected the Crusader to make his decision instantly without having any idea of thought.

Either way, what mattered to that man was doing his ‘holy’ duty and making sure people would be safe. Never mind the fact that they had an objective that was far away, and taking out the Usurper would probably clear out the town anyway. Never mind the fact that going in would make the act of finding any kind of food that much more difficult. They could not even parse any kind of information here or scout to make sure they would have the slightest bit of safety here and now.

No, the Crusader was going to rush in, with or without him. That much was for sure.

Once again, the smart thing would be to abandon his associate and part ways. Just go on to circle the town before going down to the stone bridge and moving onwards.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

But that was a coward’s way of living. The Spartan was not a coward, nor one who refused to go up against a challenge. Even if he knew this was a fool’s task and something that would inevitably lead to his death, he was going to see this through either way.

After all, his life’s regret was made from him being a coward and fearing for his life. And he promised himself he would change his past and make sure he could redo his greatest failure.

So, it would be rather ridiculous for him to try to run away from his responsibility.

The Crusader nodded back to him with respect and clear joy that his decision was being respected, before the two of them rushed down the dirt path towards the town. They moved with reckless abandon, their weapons out and ready to fight any creatures that tried to get in their way.

There were quite a few monsters that attempted to do so. Most of them weren’t even worthy of being memorialized in his mind, as they were taken out with a single strike or two. Their path went without much hassle as they were able to sweep any threats that dared to cross their path, which weren’t many.

Within a single minute, they were at the entryway of this town. A waist-high wood fence blocked off the entrance, with several barricades acting as makeshift defenses for any defenders that existed in the area. There were numerous siege weapons scattered all over that were aimed directly towards the town, most likely deployed as a means to help quarantine the settlement of whatever threats lived within.

All of which was useless, as most of these defenses were torn down from either age or sheer devastation. All that was left of any defenders was a single man sitting next to the torn down wooden fence gate that was barely hanging off of its hinges.

He seemed nonchalant about the surrounding devastation as he leaned on his chair, chewing on a single red stick. He had a square knife on his belt and a spear with four prongs laying right next to him. He was dressed in a metal helm that covered up his eyes, with what seemed to be tall white and black feathers on top.

He had metal armor over his chest and on his legs, but the rest of his body was unarmored and left bare. While he did have some sort of clothes on, they did not cover his entire body, leaving his arms and everything below his knees bare. The weirdest part of his fit was the fact that he was not wearing any shoes or boots at all. Rather, he appeared to have his feet covered up completely with a thick layer of cloth bandages.

He rocked back and forth on his chair for a brief while before finally noticing the Spartan and the Crusader. With that, he settled down and slammed the seat onto the ground. He looked at the two of them with a wary eye as he continued to chew the stick in his mouth.

“Turn back, travelers,” he said as he inspected them up and down, “The Successor's forces claimed the town of Core’s Landing as his territory. This place is under quarantine for everyone else’s safety, and I will request that you leave here and now.”

“What?” The Crusader asked with absolute shock, “Under quarantine? Whatever for?”

“That’s none of your business. Turn around and leave, travelers,” the man continued, “There is nothing for you here. There is no reason to continue onwards. The only thing that awaits you is death.”

“Unfortunately, we will have to ask that you step aside.” The Spartan shot back, his grip on his spear hilt getting tighter, “For we have to pass by and continue onwards.”

“Oh? Why exactly do you need to pass by this town? It truly should have nothing anymore. There are no treasures or any material wealth to be found here, only misery and despair.”

“We seek to go forward and take out the Usurper.”

At those words, the man’s eyes squinted as he leaned in closer.

“The lord is named as the Successor.”

“He is a Usurper of the true God and does not deserve such a title!” The Crusader spat as he stepped forward, his sword aimed fully at the man. “Do not play games with me, spawn of Satan! Step aside now or face our holy wrath!”

The Spartan sighed, before getting ready to fight. The man in question looked the two of them up and down. He stood up, spat out his stick, and raised both of his arms up in the air.

“I surrender. You can go through.”

The three of them stayed in their stances for a while. The Crusader kept his eyes on the strange man. The Spartan kept his guard up against this possible threat. The man merely stood there and kept his arms up in the air.

Then one of them broke the silence with a single word.

“What?”