[ Activating skill “A Thousand and One Tongues”... ]

[ Activated skill “A Thousand and One Tongues” successfully. ]

“Answer me now! Have you finished cleaning? Where’s Syvo?”

“Uhh,” A moment passed during which he struggled processing the translation, then scrambled to find the right words. He uttered in a pitch that imitated the owner of this robe, “I apologize. We’ve made a bet, which I’ve won. Syvo is responsible for cleaning today.”

Would he buy it? Admittedly, he was quite skilled at imitating voices, but he’d only heard a single line. A dreadful silence hung in the air, after which, despite being a fleeting moment, felt like an eternity had gone by.

“I see,” The man sighed and took a step forward, “Follow me.”

Deus bit his lips and thought, That’s it? No! Even if he’s this gullible, he’d be slightly wary or reprimanding!

Has he seen through my disguise? With my limping leg, it’ll be difficult to run from him, but if push comes to shove, I won’t go out easily!

However, the man walked past him and to the wooden door on the opposite of the room. Deus lingered for a second, then made up his mind. He decided to place his bet on the scenario in which he’d truly fooled him, and followed him.

Behind the door lay a vacant room, compact with all essentials, such as a small bed, sink and toilet, and a tattered white tapestry. In comparison to the expanse of the manor, it lacked greatly, and Deus figured this had to be the servant’s quarters. However, the robed man didn’t stop here, and pushed open the back door.

Bright rays of light shone inside, dying the room golden and basking the robed man. He lifted his hands to shield his eyes from the dazzling dusk while a chilly wind breezed inside, swaying his robe.

A vast garden lay behind the yard of the manor. The lawn was lightly frosted while patches of grass protruded unevenly, indicating that it must’ve been a few days since they last cut it. This estate wasn’t regularly maintained. A lake separated the garden from the surrounding land, where crops stretched endlessly. The horizon was marked by a mountain in the far distance, from which the sun slowly crept behind.

There was a single structure within the garden — a red bricked stall with a flat roof.

The robed man continued, first gliding on the cobblestone pavement, then crawling onto the lawn. Deus struggled to imitate this walk, restrained by his injuries and the cold which clung to his skin.

However, while he stared at the robed man’s back, he noticed he wasn’t gliding straight either, instead slightly wobbling as a result of rough footing.

He sighed a breath of relief as they arrived before the stall just fine. However, when he peered inside, his stomach twisted.

Iron bars were lined adjacent to the walls of the stable and the floor behind was littered in hay. Positioned in its respective corners were five people garbed in tattered linen attire.

In the front right sat an old man on the verge of death, his body gaunt and his eyes matte-black. If not for him repeatedly clasping his thumb and index-finger in a never-ending loop, he’d have guessed he was dead.

In the corner left to him sat a woman in her late twenties, perhaps slightly older than Deus’s mental age. In her arms, she held an infant baby, while her dirt-stained shirt was slightly lowered, as if breastfeeding it.

The shadow cast by the dusk disguised the figures in the back, leaving only a faint silhouette of two humans. None responded to their arrival — they all stared blankly into the distance.

This disturbed Deus, while his judgment of the cult rose. Had they actually managed to completely shatter all mental fortitudes of these prisoners? Before the death of his body’s original owner, had he been in a similar position? And most of all, was he going to be imprisoned next?

“They’re all failures,” said the robed man, every word adding to the dismal ambience.

Deus’s back was drenched in sweat. Although it was mostly because of his injuries, there was a sliver of fear which took root in his heart. Whether this was his true feelings or the man’s subtle manipulation, he wasn’t sure. The wounds had taken a heavy toll on him, and he wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer.

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“Hear me.” The man reached somewhere in between his jet-black robe and vestments, pulling out an iron key dangling from a string. “I’ll grant one of you freedom.”

The old lunatic paused his fidgeting, turning his head towards the key, his pupils following as it swung right and left. The mother had also set her eyes on them. When he noticed her longing gaze, the man abruptly leaped forward, faster than Deus could ever have expected from this frail body. The iron bars shook as it collided with his body and his hand stretched forwards.

“Not so fast,” the deep voice spoke again, as his hands rose slightly, a hair’s breadth beyond the man’s reach. He continued, his voice tinted in a slightly amused tone, “You’ll have to fight for it. The victor gets to fight this disciple and attain freedom once for all.”

Deus was shocked. This was out of his expectations.

Fighting against the winner of this free-for-all meant putting his life on the line. Running away was an option, but his instincts told him it meant certain death. He was going to be true to his vow and put himself first. However, the odds were against him.

Without any delay, the old man lunged at the mother, who — amidst his bloodlust — responded in an equal fit of violence, grabbing the baby at its neck and throwing it at him. Caught by surprise, the old man suddenly halted, catching the baby. By then, the mother had already closed in on him, her mouth wide apart, baring her teeth.

The man took a last glance at the baby in his hands, then lifted it high into the sky. The mother didn’t hesitate and sunk her teeth into his neck. A moment passed, after which his body plummeted on the hay. The mother chewed, then spat a mingled piece of flesh and blood to the ground.

The baby didn’t cry at all, was it already dead? Then was it all her plan, or was she simply delusional? Deus frowned. This woman was clearly insane. He had misjudged them both because of their appearances. This was a hard lesson to learn.

His gaze wandered to the scene behind where he recognized a shadow lying lifelessly, a wide figure towering over the corpse. As he stepped over it and walked closer, he gradually escaped the bounds of the shadow, revealing a muscular middle-aged man.

Blood profusely ran down his cheeks. As Deus scrutinized from where the blood originated, he noticed his right ear was barely hanging by a thread.

The woman’s hidden cards were all used up. She leaped forward again, baring again her red-stained teeth, but the man directly responded by grappling her to the ground.

Thud!

She coughed up blood, but Deus wasn’t sure which one’s it was. He easily put her in a tight chokehold. Her hands wiggled around the hay as she struggled under his weight,

Suddenly, a handful of sand flew into his face. He grunted and let go of her neck in an attempt to shield his eyes. The woman made use of this brief moment and bit again, digging deep into his bulging abdominal muscles just below his navel. He screamed as blood oozed.

However, the middle-aged man retaliated immediately, clenching his biceps and front arm together and stomping down onto the woman’s face, bones cracking. This continued for half a minute, until he finally stopped.

Deus felt a little light-headed. The Earth of his previous life was a cruel place, indifferent to life. Not even the strong were spared — death plagued the entirety of human history. In that regard, this world was similar.

When his elbow finally lifted from her face, the woman’s face was beaten into an unrecognizable mush of blood mixed with more viscous brain matter. The man’s gaze lingered on his work of art. An eerie silence ensued, breaking the continuous murder spree.

A few breaths later he shook his head, shaking off the remaining sand, and turned his head staring straight at Deus. Without averting his gaze, he rose to his feet and steadily closened in on him. Salvia formed in Deus’s mouth and he swallowed it silently.

Meanwhile, the man was oblivious to the groans of the dying woman behind, who — perhaps due to terminal lucidity or simply overbearing madness — had regained some vigor and was crawling towards him. A trail of blood dragged behind her, as she slowly caught up to him and dug her teeth in his calves.

He didn’t scream. Instead, he gritted his teeth and shook her off easily, then continued. For a moment, the woman’s body twitched, before death finally took her.

“Take it," the robed man suddenly said.

Deus turned his head and saw the man holding his hands forwards, the key suspended from it. There weren’t any words needed, and he took them with calm hands.

He inserted the key into the lock, turning it. With a clank, the door sprang open, and with each passing breath, he relaxed even more. The outcome of this battle would decide if he’d live or die. It all depended on himself.

He stepped into the cage, strands of hay crushing beneath his feet. He mustered all his attention to survey his opponent’s subtle bodily movements, while trying to step more lightly, as to avoid suspicion.

He was sure if it’d been anyone other than himself, they would have long been exposed. However, while balancing both these aspects, his mental capabilities were reaching their limits.

When I’ve fought this ‘Syvo’ and his partner, I’ve relied on martial arts to gain the initiative. It’s not possible to repeat this, He analyzed as they both began circling each other, his oversized robe dragging behind him. It was evident his opponent was wary of him, likely due to his status as the robed man’s subordinate.

Deus was similarly wary of the muscular man. It was an advantage he had to make use of — otherwise, when he learned Deus was heavily wounded and not in a position to exchange blows, he wouldn’t hold back anymore.

He now stood next to the rear wall, facing the iron bars before which the man stood.

It’s time!