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124. Dop Bijan’s Side Story

A man was cutting his way through a mountain path overgrown with all kinds of brambles.

When the vines blocked his way, he swung his old dagger to clear a path, striding up the steep mountain as if walking on flat ground.

Dop Bijan, having sent his son off to independence, arrived at the ruined village after weeks of relentless marching.

It was his hometown, the village where he was born and had lived with his family.

Before exploring the village, Dop Bijan first searched for his parents’ graves. However, no matter how much he sought understanding, it was hard to call it a grave.

In a shallow, wide pit, weathered bone fragments stuck out awkwardly from the soil. The rain had washed away the earth.

With a sigh, Dop Bijan pulled out the weeds that grew over the bone fragments.

This was the best we could do for our parents back then. After rummaging through the ruins of the village, he found a shovel and covered the remains with earth while recalling ‘that day’.

+ + +

“Stand here in front. Quickly.”

His mother prepared an altar for her son, in place of his father who had gone off to fight. There was no leisure in her hurried gestures.

“O Barbatos! Here is your devotee. Please accept this offering…”

Young Dop observed his mother’s ritual altar with anxiety. And as soon as the prayer ended, he asked.

“Mom, didn’t you say I was too young to be a devotee of Barbatos?”

Although the symbol of Barbatos was tattooed on his arm, it was the custom of the Bijan tribe for the rites of recognition to be performed when one came of age.

His mother said nothing. She grabbed his hand and dashed outside.

The village was in chaos.

Somewhere, fire arrows were flying in and igniting the village, and outside, the sounds of his fathers’ shouts and screams resonated. The village women were running around to hide their children.

His mother searched for the fermentation pot. It was where they salted hunted meat with incredibly salty soy sauce, and somehow, she managed to lift the stone lid of the pot, which was as heavy as a table.

“Mom?”

That wasn’t Dop’s voice. Inside the pot, boys were already hiding. Upon seeing their mother, they lifted their heads.

What a sight it was.

Covered in black from being soaked in soy sauce, their faces floated amidst the thick condiment, covered in bits of meat.

On any other day, Dop would have laughed at his friends’ appearance. However, he was about to look like that himself, and the boys realized it too.

“My son, hide here. You must, absolutely must not come out. I’ll… I’ll open it for you.”

Dop didn’t want to get into the fermentation pot.

Who would want that? Yet, with the chaos of the village and his mother’s desperate tone, he willingly stepped into the pot.

It was a bit cold.

The fermentation pot, buried deep in the ground, was called such for lack of a better term, but it was actually carved from a large rock.

– Creak.

Before Dop could adjust to the situation, the lid was shut. In the darkness that enveloped him, he thought he might drown right there.

There was nothing to hold onto inside the pot. The ground was too high to reach even on tippy-toes. Fortunately, the slippery meat pieces supported the boys.

“Oh my, are we going to end up pickled in soy sauce and turn black forever?”

One boy said.

Though it was dark, Dop recognized him as his friend, Uban.

Whether due to not understanding the severity of the situation or the youthful exuberance of boys, he continued talking even when no one replied.

On and on, continually…

Thanks to that, the time spent floating in the cold soy sauce didn’t feel too torturous. Other boys occasionally opened their mouths.

They confessed about liking someone, or how they had stolen something and hadn’t been able to return it, among other things.

Dop had nothing particular to say and stayed quiet until they all eventually grew tired and fell silent.

Then, one boy suddenly burst into tears. It was possibly Uban.

Eventually, they all cried together, making it meaningless to argue about who had cried first.

– Creak.

After what felt like an eternity, the lid finally opened. But the one who opened it was an unfamiliar man with pale lips and the five boys, all with faces blackened by soy sauce.

Outside it had grown dark; whether from moonlight or another source, the middle-aged man’s clothing glowed white.

The man stopped, frozen, staring down at the child’s faces soaked in soy sauce. Five pairs of innocent eyes pierced through him.

“…”

– Creak.

After glancing down at the pot for a moment, he silently closed the lid. Not entirely, though; he left enough space for an arm to stick out. If he fully closed it, the boys would die inside.

Dop and the boys were like mice trapped in a cage and didn’t make a peep.

They instinctively knew that the man was one of the fathers who had gone to fight.

At that moment, footsteps approached from outside.

“Captain Corin, it’s over. All who resisted have been slain. The only ones left are the women… Unfortunately, they all worship the false god.”

“…There’s no choice then. Kill them all. That is the will of the church…”

“Understood. But, Captain, what is that behind you?”

“Nothing much. Just seems to be a fermentation pot for storing meat.”

“Meat? The soldiers will surely enjoy that. I’ll tell them to pull out the meat…”

The captain interjected sharply.

“It’s better if you don’t. Don’t you see the power wielded by those who believe in the unworthy god? I fear we may get sick from eating their meat.”

“That’s true. The priest and holy knight seem fine, but the soldiers are still shaken. Many are still disturbed by the nosebleeds. They’ve improved since receiving blessings, but…”

The murmurs gradually faded into the distance, and soon after, a scream came flying, causing the fermentation pot to reverberate.

The boys didn’t move at all.

If someone couldn’t help but try to get out, they would grab them and pull them back, and if the one who had been caught burst into tears, another boy would cover their mouth. Though filled with anger, they urged each other to hold back.

We were cowardly. The boys, feeling their cowardice keenly as they spent a whole day inside the pot, emerged outside with withered, pickled bodies, only to find a village that had completely burned to ruin.

The only ones left alive were the five boys; they were the only ones.

+ + +

Dop Bijan piled the earth to create a high mound for the burial. He had put in so much effort to bury his parents back then.

The five boys dug as deep as they could and moved hundreds of corpses, but it wasn’t enough.

Moving fully grown adults’ bodies was hard labor for boys, leaving them exhausted as they worked, and with it being the hot summer, the corpses began to rot.

The decaying bodies were difficult to handle. If you grabbed one, pus would ooze out, and limbs would tear apart, and soon the boys had no choice but to give up.

In the midst of the stench of the countless rotting corpses, the boys swore. They would not forgive the white demons who killed their parents. They vowed to take revenge on them…

“Phew.”

Finally before a mound that could be called a grave, Dop Bijan bowed his head. He felt a sense of lightness in his heart as he returned to the village.

There was still work to be done. While cleaning the disordered village, whenever he found abandoned bones, he would carry them to an open area.

To prepare for cremation.

The Bijan tribe did not practice cremation. The custom of cremation was learned from the village of Demos, and at the time, they did not know this.

Dop Bijan quietly collected the bone fragments. Although he wasn’t sure, he thought it was the abandoned home where his parents lived, and just before leaving after staying there for eight days, he set it on fire.

As he watched the crackling flames rise, he thought of his wife. His wife who had passed away two years ago had been cremated in a similar manner.

– “Hey! Who are you? Why are you roaming around near our village?”

The first meeting with his wife.

She had been a salvation to young Dop. Her fresh smile had pulled him out of the whirlpool of revenge.

Years passed, and the boy had become a young man, staying near the mountain by the village of Demos, drowning in despair.

The world was truly vast.

He had thought the Bijan tribe was everything, but the continent was endless, and their enemy was an enormous religious group known as the Cross Church.

Five young barbarians were not at a level to challenge that.

Struggling to survive, they built a log cabin near the mountains of Demos and hunted for food.

Dop showed exceptional talent in hunting and unconsciously took on the role of leader. Occasionally, he would descend the mountain alone to scout the surroundings and gather information.

Then one day, he met a girl. At first, he didn’t pay any attention to her as she gathered herbs in the plains below the mountain.

But when the girl approached him first and started talking, he found her fascination with his clothes made from animal hides odd, and it seemed she considered him her secret friend, sharing her untold secrets that she couldn’t utter to her village peers.

Her smile was always bright, with no shadows. Seeing her smile made Dop feel lighter about his own wounds, leading him to come down more often for “reconnaissance.”

“Our mom and dad own a bakery! Do you know how delicious our house’s bread is?”

“…What’s bread?”

“What? You’re joking, right? You don’t know what bread is? …Wow. Just wait a moment!”

The girl, accustomed to the benefits of civilization, brought him some bread. As Dop tasted food with a soft texture for the first time, his eyes widened, and the girl smiled proudly.

“It’s made with the herbs I gather! It’s good for your body too! The best bread in the village comes from our house!”

“There’s only one bakery, though.”

“…Do you have to point that out? Does that make it bad? It’s delicious!”

Dop had no choice but to nod his head. The bread was so soft and tasty that it brought tears to his eyes.

However, their meetings could not go on forever. Just like before, his friends planned to leave this place heading toward the Holy Kingdom, still caught up in revenge unlike Dop.

“Traitor!”

From the poorly constructed log cabin, Uban Bijan shouted, pointing his finger at Dop, rallying the other young men.

“Dop, you’re a traitor! Have you forgotten our oath? You’re going to stay here alone? There’s a limit to how brazen you can be!”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? The one you should be apologizing to isn’t us, but your parents! Look at how our parents died, and it’s all because of a girl… Tch! You filthy scoundrel!”

Dop wiped the drool from his chin and spoke gloomily.

“…If you want to hit me, go ahead.”

“Do you think I can’t hit you? Guys, I told you, he isn’t fit to be the leader!”

Uban proclaimed triumphantly, and the other three young men glared at Dop with hurt expressions.

Dop Bijan could not offer any excuses while being beaten.

– All because of a girl.

Uban was right. He had given up on revenge because of that girl. Moreover, she was a devotee of the Cross Church, leaving him with no room for defense.

As he accepted his friends’ wrath, Dop felt a deep sense of guilt.

“Ah! What happened to your face? What happened to your clothes?”

And the next day, Dop sat dejectedly at the edge of the meadow where the girl often visited. Kicked out of the log cabin, he trembled in the morning breeze after being drenched overnight with dew.

His face was swollen. His clothes were ripped to the point of exposing his belly, and he had nothing and nowhere to go.

The startled girl threw down her herb basket and rushed over. As she touched his face, Dop was finally able to smile.

I’m sorry to my parents and friends, but I didn’t want to leave her behind.

“W-what should I do? Wait. I’ll find another herb and make it better quickly.”

The girl flustered, dashed to retrieve the herbal basket she just dropped, but while searching for the herb pounder, she briefly stammered around the ground. She found a pebble, put a bitter herb in her mouth, and chewed it thoroughly.

Ptooey—she spat out the herb, rushed close, and touched his face, while Dop quietly gazed at her.

Her smooth forehead was so close it could touch his nose. Despite not having combed her hair, her white hair stood neatly, and her round ears were adorned with thin, fluffy hair.

She was adorable.

Before he knew it, he caressed the worried girl’s cheek. He leaned in to kiss between her smooth forehead and her tousled hair.

Her forehead flushed with red, and the girl looked up.

“…Something happened to you, didn’t it?”

“No, nothing at all.”

The two faced each other, cradling each other’s cheeks while Dop Bijan, now a middle-aged man, stood up abruptly, having remembered his young wife while gazing at the burning flames.

The cremation had ended.

He packed his things again and left the ruined village. Having accomplished one task he needed to finish before his death, his steps felt lighter than when he arrived.

Walking steadily toward the northwest, the Jerome Holy Kingdom, he thought of his son.

The treasure left by his wife had grown well. Despite the unfortunate family environment, his son had grown straight, thanks to a girl named Lena.

His wife had committed suicide.

The two who had married against the village priest’s opposition had built a happy family. With his friends gone from the log cabin, they lived there together for a while, remodeling the shabby hut into a cozy lodge.

The following year, his wife became pregnant.

Since a pregnant woman couldn’t stay in an isolated lodge, he sold some leather to buy a house in the village of Demos. After giving birth, his wife named their son ‘Lev’—meaning ‘heart.’

Those were happy days. Not a single day was unhappy.

He watched as his son cooed, flipped over for the first time, crawled, and walked. The father hunted even harder to prepare a room for his son, praying that such days would continue as he buried the hearts and heads of his prey.

“…I dedicate this offering. Please accept this offering, and help our family live happily under the grace of Lord Barbatos.”

However, for some time, his wife began to act strangely. Every morning, she woke drenched in sweat.

“I had… a terrible dream. I don’t remember, but someone appeared in a gruesome form and whispered something in my ear.”

After that, his wife began attending church frequently. She went from going only on weekends to not missing a day.

Up to that point, it was fine.

Just as his wife said nothing about his god, Dop also forgave the resentful Cross Church for the sake of his beloved wife.

But after a year, three years, ten years of waking up startled in the early morning, she began neglecting household chores to spend more time at the church. Then one day, Dop returned from hunting to find his son eating at the poor Lena’s house.

Now, his wife wouldn’t even cook for their only child.

“You! What the hell is going on with you?”

For the first time, Dop shouted at his wife, but she calmly replied.

“Darling, I’ve realized. The voices I hear each night… That’s the voice of the god. I, I’m sure I’ve become a saint!”

Her tone was calm, but madness gleamed in her eyes.

Dop desperately tried to persuade her with words he didn’t possess, but his wife didn’t stop attending church.

The situation grew dire. She began to proclaim herself a saint. She lounged around the church artifacts laid in the village church and often disrupted the church’s rituals.

When the villagers tried to forcibly detach her, she would panic and flail, clinging to the artifacts and crying, “Why are you doing this to me!”

Eventually, she was treated as a madwoman and banned from entering the church.

Then, she quickly fell into a state of despair, wandering around the church, disheveled, screaming, “I am the saint! I am the saint!”

There was no trace left of the girl with the bright smile from the bakery.

Fortunately, their son grew up healthy. Thanks to his childhood friend Lena, who held his hand tightly while searching for food, he did well. But seeing his son grow quieter like himself made Dop’s heart ache.

“…Lord Barbatos, please, please save our family.”

Then one day, his wife committed suicide. She took the snare her husband had prepared and hung herself in front of the church.

Her stiffened body had an oddly sad smile on her face. In her hand was the hand mirror he had gifted her.

– “You say I’m pretty? Hehe… I’m grateful, but you have no eye for women.”

It was a gift he had saved up to refute that statement. It was meant to show her just how beautiful she was, how lovely her smile could be.

“Ahh.. Aahhh! You bastards! Is this what your god does?!”

Dop shouted toward the church. He cursed at the gathered villagers and the surprised priests and monks who rushed over, and he saw his son. His son, who had rushed to the church with Lena, froze upon seeing his mother’s corpse.

“Let’s go! I will never return to this filthy place!”

Dop tore his son away from Lena, and the father and son returned home in silence after collecting his wife’s body.

The following night, he ultimately carried his wife up to the lodge. He cremated her. After laying his son down on the bed, he tattooed him.

Feeling rage boil inside him, he skillfully inscribed his own tattoo onto his son’s arm and prepared an offering table to serve Lord Barbatos.

At that moment, his son spoke. Despite being tattooed without uttering a sound, he quietly confessed.

“…I like Lena.”

“……”

Those words, carrying so much meaning, struck Dop hard.

His son’s life must have been hell, having a mad mother. And it served as a reminder to the father of who had saved him from that very hell.

“…I loved your mother too.”

Both his wife and, now burning outside, the woman who had pulled him from his abyss of despair. Though she had brought nothing but suffering to him and his son in recent years, he couldn’t despise her.

In the end, Dop returned the candle he had picked up to the drawer, and the father and son who had lost both wife and mother sat, blankly staring into the raging flames.

That was two years ago.

Dop Bijan and Lev returned to their routine. However, life without his wife could never be the same, so Dop spoke even less than before. His son hardly talked at home either.

Dop began to teach his son how to hunt. Before, he had left it up to Lev to follow if he wanted, but now he subtly signaled for him to join.

I’ll be leaving soon. It was time to fulfill the vow I’d broken with my friends. I felt like I’d burst if I didn’t get revenge on the Cross Church, which had taken everything from me.

Dop thought of leaving as soon as his son grew capable of taking care of himself when, one day, his son suddenly came to the lodge. He concentrated on hunting with a somewhat sad expression and displayed remarkable skills.

After observing his son for two months, Dop decided he could leave early.

“What do you think of Lord Barbatos?”

If his son disliked it, he wouldn’t force it. He planned to leave, wishing for a happy life with the girl named Lena.

But,

“He is someone we must serve as hunters.”

“…?”

His son spoke with strange context, as if he had forgotten the past.

Dop thought it was slightly odd but was pleased that his son seemed to have decided to live as a hunter and arranged an offering table.

He offered the heirloom he had cherished as a divine offering, and astonishingly, the mirror had vanished without a trace.

He didn’t feel regretful. Instead, it felt like a divine revelation to forget it all and leave.

After confirming that his son could sell jerky well, he said, “Live well,” and set off on his journey.

After nearly twenty years, he visited his hometown, gathered his parents’ bones, and headed toward the Jerome Holy Kingdom. Though it was akin to going to his death, he held no lingering attachments.

By the time he was almost at the border of the Holy Kingdom, he was asked by the merchant group he was with where he was headed.

When he replied that he planned to cross into the Holy Kingdom, they said they planned to do the same and suggested they continue together, before asking if he had a permit.

A permit to pass through the gate.

There was something he had completely forgotten. Although Dop was a barbarian, he had married a girl from the village of Demos, thus becoming a lord’s subject under Duke Gaidan. He had forgotten that subjects could not cross the gate without a permit.

However, going to the gate and saying, “I am a barbarian, so I have no identification,” wouldn’t earn him passage.

Dop parted ways with the merchant group. There was no way he could pass through the gate like this, so he had to return to Demos to obtain a permit.

‘It’s too far to turn back now… I should head to Nevis.’

If he went to the capital, there had to be a way to get a permit. He could just find the noble known as Duke Gaidan.

Dop first entered a nearby mountain. It was already a cold winter, and to go back and forth to Nevis, he needed more travel expenses, so he built a small hut and hunted throughout the winter.

When spring arrived, he sold the jerky and skins he had collected, and by early summer, he finally reached Nevis.

But Nevis was a strange place.

He had heard the capital was a place that could take your life in an instant, but he hadn’t expected it to be this extreme.

A sense of unease hung in the air, as if traps were laid everywhere… Dop found it particularly hard to pass through the city gate; he was only amazed at how the citizens came and went without care.

‘What is this?’

Walking cautiously through the main streets in a zigzag manner, he looked like someone walking alone in a maze. He finally found an inn and felt relieved as he stepped inside.

While eating a simple dinner there, he heard that tomorrow would be the ‘Akiné,’ the ceremony for the heir to the throne. Both the innkeeper and the merchants staying there had excited expressions.

And the next day, as Dop came out to the square to view the Akiné, he was met with a horrific sight.

A spectacle so savage that the term ‘a scene of chaos’ was insufficient unfolded before him, and unbelievable as it was, he glimpsed his son afar.

“Lev, Lev!”

The moment Dop laid his eyes on his son wielding a massive sword, slaughtering civilians with a vicious grin, he realized.

That wasn’t his son. It was definitely Lev, but he was possessed by something entirely different, and Dop thought he knew who that was. A massive trumpet symbol marked the sky, and people struggled and floundered as if caught in a trap.

It was Lord Barbatos.

The god had not merely taken the mirror from the offering table showcasing his devotee. He had taken his son as well.

Without thinking, Dop began to rush toward Lev. He could see the smile on his son’s face each time he killed someone, and it tore through the father’s heart.

‘I-I served the wrong god…’

As he ran, he inadvertently stepped on a trap. Something struck his head hard, and he fainted. When he came to, the square was filled only with corpses, and no one remained.

Dop immediately began searching for his son.

As he wandered, helping anyone caught in traps along the way, he finally spotted his son.

Covered in blood, his son staggered forward. Dop quietly followed his son—no, the god.

He had to save his son.

And he had to take responsibility for all this death.

For Dop Bijan, there was no way he could think of anything. His insane wife wouldn’t listen to anything he said.

What had eased her madness was…

Dop recalled the smile of his wife, who had hanged herself. She had smiled sadly only in death.

Dop drew a dagger. Taking a deep breath, he sprang and stabbed at his son’s neck, but Lev turned as if he had known and struck his father’s arm and chest. Dop didn’t catch what his son had said, as everything turned to silence for him.

For the last time, he offered a prayer.

“O, God. My son… let my son go…”

Please.

This was the life of Dop Bijan.