124. Dof Bizaine Side Story
A man was trudging through a mountain path covered in all sorts of undergrowth.
When vines blocked his way, he swung his old dagger to clear a path, advancing up the steep mountain as if he were walking on flat ground.
After setting his son up independently, Dof Bizaine had embarked on a grueling march for several weeks, eventually arriving at a ruined village.
It was his hotown. The village where he was born and lived with his family.
Before exploring the village, Dof Bizaine first sought out his parents' graves. However, no matter how much understanding one sought, it was difficult to call it a grave.
Weathered bones protruded from a shallow, wide pit, exposed by rainwater washing away the soil.
With a sigh, Dof Bizaine began pulling out the weeds growing over the bones.
This was the best we could do for our parents at the ti. Finding a shovel in the ruined village, he covered his parents with soil, reminiscing about 'that day.'
"Stand here quickly. Hurry."
His mother, in place of his father who had gone out to fight, prepared an altar for her son. Her hurried movents left no room for leisure.
"O Barbatos, here is your follower. Please accept this offering..."
Young Dof watched the altar his mother was setting up with unease. As soon as the prayer ended, he asked,
"Mom, didn't you say I was too young to beco a follower of Barbatos?"
He bore the mark of Barbatos on his arm, but according to the Bizaine tribe's customs, the ritual to be recognized as a follower was conducted upon reaching adulthood.
His mother didn't say a word. She grabbed his hand and ran outside.
The village was in chaos.
Flaming arrows were flying from sowhere, setting the village on fire, and outside, they could hear the shouts and screams of the fathers. The village won were running in all directions to hide their children.
His mother found a soy sauce jar. It was a place where hunted at was preserved in very salty soy sauce. With so kind of strength, she alone lifted the lid, which was as large as a table and made of rock.
"Mom?"
It wasn't Dof who spoke. Inside the jar, boys were already hiding. They looked up, thinking their mothers had returned.
They looked ridiculous.
Soaked in soy sauce, their faces were black with pieces of at floating around them.
Normally, Dof would have laughed at the sight of his friends. However, he was about to look the sa, and he realized it.
"Son, hide in here. Whatever happens, don't co out. I'll... I'll co back and get you."
Dof didn't want to enter the jar.
Who would? But seeing the chaotic village and hearing his mother's desperate tone, he obediently stepped into the jar.
It was a bit cold.
The jar, buried deep in the ground, was called a jar simply for lack of a better term; it was actually a large rock hollowed out.
- Creak.
Before Dof could adjust to the situation, the lid closed. In the pitch-black darkness without his mother, Dof thought he might drown in there if he wasn't careful.
There was nothing to hold onto inside the jar. Even on tiptoe, he couldn't reach the bottom. Fortunately, the slippery pieces of at held up the boys.
"Do you think we'll stay black forever if we get pickled in soy sauce like this?"
A boy spoke.
Though it was dark, Dof recognized the voice as belonging to his friend 'Uban.'
Whether it was because he didn't understand the gravity of the situation or because of his childish vivacity, he kept talking, even though no one responded.
Constantly, endlessly...
Thanks to that, the ti floating in the cold soy sauce didn't feel entirely miserable. Occasionally, other boys spoke up.
They confessed who they liked, or that they had accidentally stolen sothing and hadn't returned it yet.
Dof had nothing to say, so he stayed silent. Eventually, everyone fell silent, exhausted.
Then, one boy started crying. It seed to be Uban, though it wasn't certain.
Later, they all ended up crying together, so pinpointing who cried first was aningless.
- Creak.
Only after what felt like an eternity did the lid open. But the person who opened it was an unfamiliar man, his lips blue, not the boys' mothers.
It had beco night outside, and under the moonlight, the middle-aged man's clothes glowed white.
The man who opened the lid froze. The blackened young faces soaked in soy sauce, with their innocent eyes, stared at him.
"..."
- Creak.
He silently closed the lid after looking at the jar for a mont. He didn't close it completely, leaving enough room for an arm to stick out. If he closed it completely, the boys would die in there.
Dof and the boys didn't make a sound, like mice trapped in a jar.
Instinctively, they realized that the man was soone their fathers had gone to fight.
Then, they heard footsteps approaching from outside.
"Captain Corin. It's over. All those who resisted are dead. The remaining ones are won and children, but... unfortunately, they all worship a false god."
"...We have no choice. Kill them all. That is the will of the church..."
"Understood. But, Captain, what is that behind you?"
"It's nothing. It appears to be a jar for storing at."
"at? The soldiers will love it. I'll tell them to take the at out..."
The captain cut him off firmly.
"It would be better not to. Haven't you seen the kind of power those who worship false gods wield? I'm afraid eating their at might cause trouble."
"That's true. Although the priests and paladins seem fine, the soldiers had a hard ti. Many are still startled by nosebleeds. Blessings have helped, but..."
Their murmuring voices grew distant, and soon, screams echoed, making the jar vibrate.
The boys didn't move.
If anyone tried to leave, others held them back, and when the restrained boy burst into tears, another boy covered his mouth. They were angry, but they restrained each other.
We were cowards. The boys, feeling their cowardice to their bones, spent a whole day in the jar, and when they finally erged, shriveled and tired, the village was a completely burnt ruin.
The only survivors were the five boys.
Dof Bizaine built a high mound. He had struggled so much to bury his parents at that ti.
The five boys dug as much ground as they could and moved hundreds of corpses, but it wasn't enough.
Moving the bodies of grown adults was hard labor for the boys, who worked until they were exhausted, and with the hot sumr, the corpses began to rot.
Decomposing bodies were difficult to handle. When grasped, pus would ooze out, and limbs would tear off, forcing the boys to give up eventually.
With the stench of countless rotting corpses in the air, the boys swore they would never forgive the white demons who killed their parents. They vowed to take revenge on them...
"Phew."
At last, in front of the mound that could now be called a grave, Dof Bizaine bowed deeply. Feeling much lighter, he returned to the village.
There was still work to be done. As he cleaned up the ruined village, he moved any abandoned bones to an open space.
To cremate them.
The Bizaine tribe did not practice cremation. The funeral custom of cremation was sothing he learned from the village of Demos, which they were unaware of at the ti.
Dof Bizaine quietly gathered the bones. Though not certain, he thought the ruined house might have been his parents' ho, and he stayed there for nine days before setting it on fire just before leaving.
Watching the fire crackle and burn, he thought of his wife, who had died the year before last. She too had been cremated.
- "Hey! Who are you? Why are you wandering around our village?"
His first eting with his wife.
She was a salvation for young Dof. Her fresh smile pulled him out of the vortex of revenge.
Years passed, and the boys who had grown into young n despaired while staying in the mountains near the village of Demos.
The world was truly vast.
They had thought the Bizaine tribe was the entire world, but the continent seed endless, and their enemy was the imnse religious organization known as the Church of the Cross.
The five barbarian youths could do nothing against such a power.
Struggling to survive, they built a log cabin in the mountains near the village of Demos and hunted for food.
Dof, who showed exceptional talent in hunting, naturally assud the role of leader. Occasionally, he would descend the mountain alone to scout the surroundings and gather information.
One day, he t a girl. At first, Dof paid little attention to her as she gathered herbs on the plains below the mountain.
But the girl approached him first, fascinated by his clothes made of animal hides. She seed to consider the stranger her secret friend, confiding things she couldn't share with her village peers.
She had a smile that never faded, and every ti Dof saw it, he felt his wounds heal a bit, leading him to co down from the mountain more frequently under the pretense of scouting.
"My parents run a bakery! Do you know how delicious our bread is?"
"...What's bread?"
"What? Are you kidding ? You don't know what bread is? ...Wait a minute."
The girl, blessed by civilization, brought him bread. Tasting the soft texture for the first ti, Dof's eyes widened, and the girl bead with pride.
"This bread has the herbs I gathered mixed in, so it's good for your health too! Our bakery's bread is the best in the village!"
"There's only one bakery."
"Do you have to point that out? But it's delicious, isn't it?"
Dof could only nod. The bread was so soft and tasty it brought tears to his eyes.
However, their etings couldn't last. His friends wanted to leave for the Holy Kingdom, still consud by thoughts of revenge, unlike Dof.
"Traitor!"
In the crudely built log cabin, Uban Bizaine shouted, pointing at Dof and inciting the other youths.
"Dof, you're a traitor! Have you forgotten our vow? Staying here alone, you shaless coward!"
"...I'm sorry."
"Sorry? The ones you should apologize to are not us but our parents! Do you rember how our parents died? And you're abandoning revenge just for a girl... you filthy scum!"
Wiping the spit from his cheek, Dof said dejectedly,
"...Hit if you want."
"Do you think I won't? Guys, didn't I tell you? He was never fit to be our leader."
With Uban's triumphant declaration, the other three youths glared at their friend with wounded expressions.
Dof Bizaine couldn't offer any excuses as he endured the beating.
- Because of the girl.
Uban was right. He had given up on revenge because of that girl. Since she was a follower of the Church of the Cross, he had no room for excuses.
Dof accepted his friends' anger and let their blows fall upon him.
"Ahh! What happened to your face? And your clothes... what happened to them?"
The next day, Dof sat dejectedly at the edge of the plains where the girl often visited. After being driven out of the log cabin, he had spent the night in the dew, shivering in the morning breeze.
His face was swollen, and his clothes were torn, exposing his belly. He had nothing and nowhere to go.
Startled, the girl dropped her basket of herbs and ran to him. As she touched his face, Dof managed a smile.
He felt guilty towards his parents and friends, but he didn't want to leave her.
"Wait here. I'll bring herbs to heal you quickly."
The girl hurriedly retrieved the basket she had just dropped, then searched for sothing to grind the herbs with. Finding no stones, she chewed the bitter herbs with her teeth and applied them to his face.
She spat the herbs onto her hand and carefully applied them to his face, while Dof quietly watched her.
Her neat forehead was so close it touched his nose. Despite not having combed her hair, her white roots were neat, and soft fuzz lined her round ears.
She was lovely.
Without realizing it, he cupped the cheek of the worrying girl and kissed her forehead, which turned red with warmth as she raised her head.
"...Sothing happened to you, didn't it?"
"No, nothing happened."
The two of them looked into each other's eyes, their cheeks cupped, as the grown Dof Bizaine, who had been watching the burning fire and thinking of his young wife, stood up.
The cremation was complete.
He packed his belongings and left the ruined village. Having completed one of the tasks he needed to do before dying, his steps were lighter than when he arrived.
Heading northwest towards the Holy Kingdom of Jero, he thought of his son.
The treasure his wife had left behind had grown up well. Despite a troubled upbringing, his son had grown straight and true, thanks to a girl nad Lena.
His wife had committed suicide.
After overcoming the village priest's opposition and managing to marry, they built a happy ho. When his friends had left the log cabin, he and his wife stayed there, converting the rough cabin into a mountain lodge.
The year after they married, his wife beca pregnant.
Knowing that a pregnant woman couldn't stay in the remote lodge, he sold hides to buy a house in the village of Demos. After his wife gave birth to their son, she nad him 'Rev' — aning 'heart.'
Those were happy days. There wasn't a single unhappy day.
He saw his son smile for the first ti, turn over for the first ti, crawl, and walk. Wanting to prepare a room for his growing son, the father hunted even more diligently, praying as he buried the hearts and heads of his ga.
"...I offer this. Please accept this offering and help our family live happily under the grace of Barbatos."
But at so point, his wife began to change. She woke up drenched in sweat every morning.
"I had a terrible dream. I don't rember it clearly, but soone with a horrifying face whispered sothing in my ear."
After that, his wife began going to church frequently. What used to be a weekend visit beca a daily routine.
It was still bearable at that point.
Just as his wife didn't criticize the god he served, Dof began forgiving the hated Church of the Cross for his beloved wife.
But as she woke up screaming from nightmares for one, three, and then ten years, she started neglecting housework and spending more ti at the churChapter One day, after returning from hunting, Dof found his son eating at the impoverished Lena's house.
His wife had stopped even feeding their only son.
"Why are you doing this?"
For the first ti, Dof shouted at his wife, but she calmly replied.
"My dear, I've realized sothing. The voice I hear every night... it's the voice of God. I am certain that I have beco a saint!"
Her tone was calm, but madness glead in her eyes.
Dof desperately tried to persuade her with his limited eloquence, but his wife did not stop attending church.
The situation gradually worsened. She began to proclaim herself as a saint. She would loiter in front of the holy relics in the village church, refusing to leave, often disrupting church services.
When the villagers tried to forcibly remove her, she would struggle in terror, clinging to the relics and crying, "Why are you doing this to ?" with a face that seed slightly more sane.
Eventually, she was labeled as a madwoman and banned from entering the church.
After that, she quickly beca a wreck, wandering around the church with disheveled hair, shouting, "I am a saint! I am a saint!"
The girl with the fresh smile from the bakery was nowhere to be seen.
Fortunately, their son grew up healthy. His childhood friend, Lena, held his hand tightly and helped him find food, but Dof felt heartache whenever he saw his son, who had beco as quiet as he was.
"...Barbatos, please, please save my family."
Then one day, his wife committed suicide. She took one of the snares her husband had set up and hanged herself in front of the church.
Her body, stiff and cold, wore a strangely sorrowful smile, and in her hand was the hand mirror he had given her as a gift.
- "You think I'm pretty? Hehe... Thank you, but you have no eye for won."
He had bought the mirror to refute her words, to show her how beautiful she was, how fresh her smile was.
"Ah... Ahhh! You bastards! Is this what your god does?"
Dof scread at the churChapter He cursed at the villagers who had gathered and the priests and monks who had rushed over, then he saw his son. His son, who had run to the church with Lena, was frozen, staring at his mother's corpse.
"Let's go! I will never co back to this filthy place!"
Dof pulled his son away from Lena. After bringing his wife's body back ho, the father and son were silent.
The next night, he carried his wife up to the lodge and cremated her. He laid his son in bed and began to tattoo him.
Seething with anger, he silently etched the sa tattoo on his son's arm that he bore, and prepared an altar to serve Barbatos.
At that mont, his son spoke. Despite the pain of the tattoo, he made a small confession without a single groan.
"...I like Lena."
"......"
The words, loaded with aning, struck Dof.
The life of a boy with a mad mother must have been hellish too. And the person who had saved him was Lena, a fact his son was reminding him of.
"...I loved your mother too."
His wife, the one burning outside, had also been the person who pulled him out of hell. Even though she had caused him and their son only suffering in recent years, he couldn't hate her.
In the end, Dof put the candle he had picked up back into the drawer, and the father and son, who had lost their wife and mother, stared blankly at the burning flas.
This happened two years ago.
Dof Bizaine and Rev returned to their daily lives. But life without his wife was not the sa, so Dof, who had already been taciturn, spoke even less. His son also spoke little at ho.
Dof taught his son to hunt. Previously, he had left him to follow if he wanted, but now he subtly signaled for him to join.
I will leave soon. It's ti to fulfill the vow I abandoned with my friends. Unless I take revenge on the Church of the Cross that took everything from , I will burst.
Dof planned to leave once his son could survive on his own. One day, his son suddenly ca to the lodge. With a sad expression, he focused on hunting, showing remarkable skill.
After observing his son for two months and concluding that he could leave early, Dof asked,
"What do you think of Barbatos?"
If his son disliked the idea, he wouldn't force it. He planned to leave, hoping his son would live happily with Lena.
However,
"As a hunter, he is a god one must serve."
"...?"
His son spoke as if he had forgotten the past, in a strange context.
Though it felt odd, Dof was pleased that his son seed to have decided to live as a hunter, so he prepared the altar.
He offered his wife's keepsake as a sacrifice, and surprisingly, the god responded.
The hand mirror vanished without a trace.
He didn't feel regret. Instead, he felt it was a sign from the god, telling him to leave everything behind and go.
After ensuring his son could sell jerky well, he said, "Live well," and left on his journey.
After nearly twenty years, he returned to his hotown to recover his parents' bones, then headed towards the Holy Kingdom of Jero. It was almost a journey to death, but he had no regrets.
Nearing the border of the Holy Kingdom, the leader of the caravan he was traveling with asked how far he planned to go.
When he said he planned to cross into the Holy Kingdom, the leader suggested they continue together and asked if he had a permit.
A permit to pass through the gate.
Dof had forgotten. Though he was a barbarian, he had been incorporated as a resident of the Guidan Frontier Count's territory after marrying a girl from Demos village. Residents couldn't pass through the gate without a permit.
There was no point in going to the gate and saying, "I am a barbarian without an ID." They wouldn't let him through.
Dof parted ways with the caravan. He realized he couldn't cross the gate without a permit and decided to return to Demos village to get one.
'It's too far to go back... I'll go to Nevis.'
Surely, in the capital, he could find a way to get a permit. He could seek out the noble, the Guidan Frontier Count.
Dof entered a nearby mountain. It was already a cold winter, and he needed more money to go to and from Nevis, so he set up a small shelter and hunted throughout the winter.
When spring arrived, he sold the jerky and hides he had hunted, and by early sumr, he reached Nevis.
Nevis was a strange place.
He had heard that the capital was a place where one could lose their nose if they closed their eyes, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad.
He felt a sense of tension, as if traps were laid everywhere. Dof found it particularly difficult to pass through the city gates, marveling at the citizens who moved in and out without issue.
'What is this?'
He walked cautiously down the main street, zigzagging as if navigating a Wizard. Only after finding a lodging and stepping inside did he feel a sense of relief.
While having a simple dinner, he heard that the successor ceremony, 'Akine,' would be held the next day. The innkeeper and the rchants staying there were all excited.
The next day, when Dof went out to see Akine in the square, he witnessed a horrifying sight.
A massacre was unfolding, and to his disbelief, he saw his son in the distance.
"Re... Rev!"
His son, swinging a huge sword, was slaughtering civilians with a grueso smile. At that mont, Dof realized.
That was not his son. It was definitely Rev, but possessed by sothing else, and Dof knew who it was. With the huge horned emblem in the sky and people struggling like trapped animals, he couldn't help but recognize it.
It was Barbatos.
The god hadn't just taken the mirror from the altar; he had taken his son too.
Dof instinctively ran towards Rev. As he saw his son smiling while killing people, his heart broke.
'I have worshipped the wrong god...'
Blaming himself, he ran and stepped on a trap. Sothing struck his head, causing him to faint. When he awoke, the square was empty, filled only with corpses.
Dof imdiately searched for his son.
He helped those caught in traps while looking everywhere until he finally saw his son.
His son, soaked in blood, was walking sluggishly. Dof quietly followed, clenching his teeth.
He had to save his son.
And he had to take responsibility for all the deaths.
Dof Bizaine had no other choice. His crazed wife hadn't listened to him.
The only thing that had ended her madness...
Dof rembered the sorrowful smile on his wife's face when she hanged herself. She had smiled, even if sadly, only after she died.
Dof drew his dagger. Taking a deep breath, he leaped and stabbed his son's neck, but Rev, as if expecting it, turned swiftly and slashed his father's arm and chest. Rev said sothing, but the fallen Dof heard nothing.
His final prayer was,
"God... please release my... son..."
That was the life of Dof Bizaine.
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