Player Who Became A Constellation [EN]: Chapter 23

Chapter 23

“Why! Why did it have to be like this! Just because I didn’t pay taxes? Or is it because I lived in the slums?!”

A stern-faced man emerged in response to the youth’s desperate cry.

It was an Inquisitor, a representative of the Holy Order.

He thrust the tip of his spear into the youth’s abdomen.

“Huh! Where do you think you’re lying? Aren’t you a demon spreading the plague?”

“N-No! I’m not!”

“Everyone, look closely! We are now executing a demon! And as this demon dies, the plague that has spread throughout this city will disappear!”

“Ooooooh!”

As the Inquisitor raised his hands, launching into his self-righteous speech, the people gathered in the square cheered wildly.

The youth shuddered, his eyes darting across the faces of the citizens.

They all looked… happy. Every single one of them was staring at the youth, eyes bloodshot and twisted into grotesque smiles.

The bizarre expressions made them seem possessed, not by faith, but by something far more sinister.

Absolute faith, warped and piled up to the point of utter madness.

As the youth watched them, a chilling memory surfaced: how he himself had rejoiced when a complete stranger was executed as a ‘demon’ in this very square not long ago.

He was no different from those before him; a cog in the machine of fanaticism.

“N-No! This… This isn’t right! Constellation Azellan! Please! Please…! Deliver me from this nightmare!”

The youth screamed, his voice cracking with desperation.

He clung to God until the very end, but there was no saving hand, no divine intervention.

“Prepare the pyre!”

Logs and straw were piled high, then doused in oil, ready to become a funeral pyre.

“I’m not a demon! I, I’m…!”

“That is what the Constellation will judge. If your body does not catch fire, then you are not a demon!”

The Inquisitor smiled wryly, a cruel twist of his lips.

It was a blatant sneer, dripping with contempt.

He reveled in the youth’s humiliation, his screams, despair, fear, and utter frustration. He fed on it, drawing strength from the spectacle.

The Inquisitor opened his mouth, anticipating the ear-splitting screams of the youth who would soon be engulfed in flames.

“Now, execute the pyre….”

“This demon-!”

“……”

The cheering crowd fell silent in an instant, the bloodlust momentarily quelled.

The Inquisitor turned his head, his gaze a venomous glare directed at the youth.

His narrowly opened eyes were filled with barely suppressed rage.

The Inquisitor stalked toward the youth, his every step heavy with menace.

“Ha! Dare you slander me? Me, the representative of Constellation Azellan?”

“T-There’s no such thing as a Constellation! What kind of god is this! I’ve believed my whole life! Abandoned by my parents, forced to beg, yet I still worshiped! I’ve never done a single evil deed, so why do I have to die like this!”

“That is why you should have believed in the God of Creation, the father of all Constellations, Constellation Azellan.”

“Believing is what got me here! I believed in Constellation Azellan! I prayed to Constellation Azellan every day! There are people here who know me!”

The youth cried out pitifully, his voice raw with anguish.

“You know me well! Even though I lived like trash, my faith was deep! Many people have seen me praying in front of the church every day!”

At the youth’s desperate plea, the crowd began to stir, their faces etched with uncertainty.

They looked at each other, pondering the youth’s words, a seed of doubt planted in their minds.

Seeing the crowd wavering, the Inquisitor slammed his spear into the ground with a resounding thud.

Thud-!

“Anyone who listens to the voice of a demon is a heretic!”

“……”

In that instant, silence returned, heavier and more oppressive than before.

The absolute ruler of this place was the Inquisitor, his authority unquestioned.

A representative of God who received the Holy Emperor’s direct orders!

No one could defy his words, no one dared to challenge his power. If they were to act rashly against him….

Blasphemy.

It was the same as turning the entire continent into an enemy, a fate no one was willing to risk.

That was how much the Holy Order ‘dominated’ the continent, their influence absolute and terrifying.

The Inquisitor felt a surge of satisfaction as he looked at the weak humans who so readily obeyed his words, their fear a testament to his power.

“Huh! The Constellation exists. And yet, you deny the Constellation!”

“If the Constellation existed, I would have lived! But…!”

Tears streamed down the youth’s face, carving paths through the grime and despair.

“What is this! The Constellation… there is no God! You bastards!”

“…No, there is a God.”

“There isn’t!”

“No, there is. You are looking at God right now.”

“…What?”

The Inquisitor curled up the corners of his lips into a sinister smile. And he whispered very softly into the youth’s ear, his voice dripping with malice.

“His Majesty the Holy Emperor is God and Constellation. And I, who am here, am also God!”

“……!”

The youth stared blankly at the Inquisitor, his mind reeling from the sheer audacity of the statement.

A lowly human dared to call himself God. The person in front of him was committing the ultimate blasphemy.

“And you… are a heretic and a demon who will meet your end at the hands of God! Know it as an honor!”

“You damn…”

The Inquisitor quickly grabbed a torch and grinned, tearing his mouth wide to his ears in a grotesque display of triumph.

“May the glory of Constellation Azellan be with us…!”

He threw the torch into the pile of firewood under the youth.

Whoosh-!

The youth burst into flames, and those who saw it cheered, their faces illuminated by the inferno. They rejoiced that the demon who had been tormenting them with the plague was dead, their hearts hardened by fear and superstition.

They were turning into something no different from demons themselves.

A slave trader watching the scene from afar laughed, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

“Haha! This is fun! Another demon has died! Is this the end of dealing with the trash here?”

The colleague next to the slave trader asked, his voice tinged with unease.

“But was he really a demon?”

“What does it matter? It’s a good spectacle no matter who dies! As long as we pay our dues well, we won’t die. No, even if we worship demons right in front of them, they’ll turn a blind eye as long as we have gold!”

The pot-bellied slave trader said, gulping down alcohol with a satisfied smirk.

“Besides, we’re not demihumans!”

He chuckled, gesturing toward the prison made by modifying a cart.

There were humans crammed inside, their faces etched with despair.

Some were sobbing, their bodies bleeding like rags, while others were physically unharmed but mentally broken, staring blankly at the sky. There was no hope in their eyes, only the hollow echo of shattered dreams.

All of them were branded as heretics, tortured, and now being sold as slaves, their lives forfeit to the whims of the powerful.

The man smirked unpleasantly, his gaze lingering on the most striking slave girl.

She was a slender girl with bronze skin, her beauty almost otherworldly. She had snow-white silver hair and eyes the color of deep crimson.

Everything about her was outstanding, but the most noticeable feature was her ears: thin and long, subtly pointed.

It was undeniable proof that she was not human, but a demihuman.

A dark elf.

The descendants who worshiped darkness and inherited the blood of demons!

The slave trader had recently picked up a dying dark elf in the forest and was in a state of windfall, knowing her value was immense.

“Haha! What would the Inquisitor say if he saw this girl? Would he kill her as a demon?”

“No, he’d probably ask to borrow her for a day?”

“Haha! That can’t happen. I can’t give away this precious commodity, can I?”

The men laughed, their voices laced with greed and vicious intent.

The imprisoned dark elf, Serut, stared at the slave traders with disdain before turning her gaze to the youth being burned at the stake.

The youth was already dead, his body a charred and unrecognizable husk.

Serut stared at the youth with an expression as cold and emotionless as ice, her face a mask of indifference.

She sighed softly and turned her gaze to glance at the cheering crowd, her eyes filled with contempt.

“A demon is dead!”

“The plague is disappearing!”

“Azellanism! May the blessing of Constellation Azellan be with us!”

Watching the cheering crowd, the Inquisitor took out a small bottle from his pocket, his eyes gleaming with avarice.

“This is a medicine that can cure the plague! It was personally made by His Majesty the Holy Emperor Palis of the Holy Order! May his grace be upon you!”

“Ooooooh!”

“It’s 1 gold per bottle! It is the sacred holy water and the lifeline that can save your lives! Surely you don’t think that money is too precious and you’ll die from the curse of the devil? Is money important? Or is faith more important?”

“Faith is more important!”

“Oh! Holy Emperor!”

“I’ll buy it!”

The crowd flocked to the Inquisitor, their hands outstretched, desperate for salvation. The soldiers raised their shields to block them, maintaining a semblance of order.

“Give them out one bottle at a time when you receive the money!”

The Inquisitor shouted, his voice ringing with false piety, and the crowd cheered, their hopes momentarily lifted.

People were caught up in the frenzy, handing over their hard-earned money without hesitation to buy the bottle that the Inquisitor offered, their desperation blinding them to the truth.

Serut, who was staring at them with a mixture of pity and disgust, hugged her knees and buried her face, her silver hair cascading around her like a shroud. A small amount of hatred was rising in her eyes, a burning ember in the cold depths of her soul.

“Fools.”

Fools.

That word suited them perfectly. No, that expression was rather generous, a kindness they didn’t deserve.

Serut thought so, her heart filled with contempt.

50 years ago, Serut Hanes, the daughter of the Demon King Kalib Hanes, who once swept the continent with terror, made that assessment of humans, and her opinion had not changed.

***

The more chaotic the era, the more stories humans create, clinging to narratives as a means of survival.

When that story spreads and spreads, it becomes a ‘rumor.’

That is because it is a light of hope, a lifeline, and a way to gain entertainment for those who are in despair, a distraction from the harsh realities of their lives.

That is why unfounded stories are created, inflated, and spread throughout the continent on the wings of sound, carried by whispers and desperate hopes.

In the era of the plague, the four most famous stories were:

First, the decline of the Ronia royal family.

It is the story of King Elron von Ronia of the Ronia Kingdom becoming ‘demented.’ As for the cause, there were theories that he went mad from the shock of losing the 100,000-strong army that he had sent to conquer the frozen land 10 years ago, or that he was pretending to be mad to avoid responsibility, using insanity as a shield against his failures.

It was a story that foreigners would laugh off, but not the people of the Ronia Kingdom, who saw their world crumbling around them.

Because the absolute ruler was reclusive, those with the next level of power began to show off their strength and disrupt the political situation, vying for control in the power vacuum.

The division of the Ronia royal family to obtain the throne had begun, tearing the kingdom apart from within.

The second-in-line prince, Eron Ronia, drew his sword against the first-in-line, Ash Ronia, and a full-scale civil war erupted, plunging the kingdom into chaos.

The kingdom was quickly divided into West Ronia and East Ronia, resulting in numerous sacrifices, as brother turned against brother in a bloody struggle for power.

In addition, rumors spread that the first prince Ash, who controlled East Ronia, summoned a demon to drive the Ronia king mad, and West Ronia received massive support from the Holy Order, which was called the ruler of the continent, further solidifying their position.

As a result, East Ronia was gradually being eroded by West Ronia and was driven into a corner, and rumors spread that the first prince Ash summoned demons again as a last resort to spread the plague, a desperate act to turn the tide of war.

That is why rumors spread throughout the continent that this era of plague would end only if the first prince died, making him a scapegoat for the kingdom’s woes.

Second, the Angel of Death.

It is a rumor that a grim reaper born from the shadow of the Demon King, who lamented the humans and died, spread the plague throughout the continent, a vengeful spirit unleashing her wrath upon the world.

The grim reaper had the appearance of a very beautiful woman, and with a single gesture, she could instantly turn a small village or a large city into a plague-ridden death trap, her power absolute and terrifying.

However, there was also a conflicting story, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

It was a bizarre rumor that the Angel of Death would drive away the plague, acting as a savior rather than a destroyer.

Whatever the truth, the Holy Order named the Angel of Death as the shadow of the Demon King and tried to subdue her, but it was known that no one had ever succeeded in capturing the Angel of Death, her elusiveness adding to her mystique.

Third, the Almighty Potion.

It was one of the hopeful rumors that had been circulating for some time, a beacon of light in the face of despair. The potion was said to have been created by a great sage from legends with great care, and it could cure any disease or wound, as long as one was not dead, and even the current plague, offering a chance at salvation.

Fourth, the birth of a new empire.

It is the story of an empire being born on a small, isolated island called the Frozen Land at the northern end of the Briton continent, a land of ice and snow.

The empire was said to have enormous ‘wealth’ and powerful ‘military power,’ defying the harsh conditions of its location.

It was an absurd rumor that there were nearly a hundred knights made up of ability users with ‘divine artifacts’ [powerful magical items], an ability that could only be possessed by those chosen by the Constellations [god-like beings], making them nearly invincible.

Above all, their civilization was highly developed, the streets were filled with crafts made by dwarves [a race known for their craftsmanship], and there were even magical houses where warm plants and animals could grow even in the cold climate, a testament to their advanced technology.

In addition, there was no discrimination based on status, and even slaves were liberated and allowed to live as free people, a radical concept in a world rife with inequality.

Above all, their ruler was said to be not a human, but an absolute being, called a ‘Constellation,’ a god among mortals.

However, it was the least credible story among the rumors circulating on the continent, dismissed as a fanciful tale.

The Frozen Land is an area where extremely cold air flows, making it difficult for life to survive, a desolate and unforgiving landscape.

The only things that live there are ferocious monsters with thick skin or the Nordics [a hardy race adapted to the cold].

Therefore, everyone who heard such rumors scoffed, dismissing them as the ramblings of madmen.

An empire in the Frozen Land? Moreover, wealth and military power? Nearly a hundred divine artifact users? Highly developed civilization? Constellation?

It was all nonsense, a ridiculous fantasy.

There was no way there could be a country there, and there was no way wealth could be accumulated in a deserted land with no exchange. In particular, the idea of nearly a hundred divine artifact users was absurd, a blatant impossibility.

There were approximately 10,000 known divine artifact users on the continent, and unofficially, there were just over 50,000, a rare and valuable resource.

Even the Holy Order, which is called the ruler of the continent, had just over 300 people, a testament to the difficulty of acquiring such power.

There was no way that nearly a hundred divine artifact users would gather in the useless Frozen Land. Therefore, they believed that highly developed civilization and Constellations were also nothing more than illusions, figments of desperate imaginations.

Everyone laughed and dismissed it as nonsense, a harmless distraction from their grim reality.

The first was a story to pass the time, the second was a story to accompany alcohol, and the third and fourth were stories exchanged as jokes, a way to cope with the horrors of their world.

……

…‥

..

…However, the number of humans who were fascinated by the fourth story gradually began to increase, drawn to its promise of hope and salvation.

Those who were chased or abandoned on the continent, those who were enslaved, or those who were called heretics and had nowhere to go, gathered at the northern end of the continent, the Frozen Land, in search of hope, their hearts filled with a desperate longing for a better life.

Even so, they dismissed it as a false rumor, so they flocked there to foresee a miserable end and to dream a sweet dream, clinging to the illusion of a brighter future.

But….

They did not die, their journey did not end in despair.

As soon as they entered the Frozen Land, they were dragged away by an unidentified group, and their knees were bent in front of someone, their fate hanging in the balance.

And they got to see it, the truth behind the rumors.

“…D-Demon?”

That was the first impression of the ‘Constellation’ that the humans who had fled the continent had, their initial reaction one of fear and disbelief.