Volume 2 Chapter 56: Faith and Truth
Though Dario understood that Garde's actions were meant to disgust the Church of the Deep cultists, he still couldn't help but think Garde was seriously messed up.
That was a Seaborn!
Even if it had the appearance of a human, it was still a Seaborn!
Thankfully, Dario didn't know that Garde hadn't just licked Ishar'mla — he'd also fucked her for 8 days straight.
If he had, he would've immediately abandoned the idea of cooperation and probably tried to blow a hole through Garde's head.
Is that something a normal person of Terra would do?!
If Dario only thought Garde's behavior was twisted, the Church of the Deep cultists watching him were downright enraged.
"AAAAAAAAAAH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"HOW DARE YOU — HOW DARE YOU—!"
"LADY ISHAR'MLA, WE'LL SAVE YOU!"
Among the Seaborns, the concept of social hierarchy didn't really exist — but to these not-yet-transformed Church of the Deep cultists, Ishar'mla was the one who could return them to the swarm.
To them, she was something like a mother.
And now that their "mother" was being defiled, how could they not be heartbroken? How could they not be furious?
They wanted nothing more than to tear Garde limb from limb — to turn this filthy, shameless Adakrys into food for their kin.
And they tried.
Oh, they definitely tried.
But they overestimated themselves, underestimated Garde, and completely misjudged what a High Inquisitor was capable of.
Even if Garde hadn't been there, those dozens of so-called Seaborns — more like mutated, overgrown fish — would've posed little threat to a High Inquisitor.
Clang!
One cultist lunged at Garde with a dagger, aiming for his lower back.
A clean stab could've cost Garde a kidney — if it had pierced his skin at all.
It didn't.
The blade simply bounced off.
Garde didn't even flinch.
Cradling Ishar'mla in one arm, he turned — and with nothing but a casual flick of his tail — he obliterated the attacker, along with several others.
No hands needed.
Then he broke into a run, heading straight for the nearby town — without sparing Dario a glance.
Though the Seaborns were still enemies, the concept of that enemy had subtly changed for Garde.
He'd used words to mislead Dario, yes — but he knew there were holes in his story, flaws in the logic.
He had to take care of things before Dario started asking questions.
"Iberian, the name's Garde," he called out.
"Since the Church of the Deep cultists are showing up here, the town might be compromised too."
"I've got a cute employee waiting for me there, so I'm heading out first."
"Dario," the Inquisitor said simply.
He tried keeping up, but Garde's pace was just too fast.
Pushing himself would mean arriving in the town completely exhausted — something he couldn't afford.
And that, more than anything, made the difference between them painfully clear.
Dario had always considered himself among the stronger High Inquisitors in Iberia, but Garde's casual display of power was enough to weigh heavily on his mind.
Still, Dario wasn't so prideful as to push beyond his limits just for the sake of ego.
"Sir Garde," he called after him.
"I have a student in that town. If you see her, please look after her. Consider it a favor I owe you."
Those words — from Dario — meant a lot.
He clearly cared about his student deeply, and by saying this, he was already placing Garde alongside himself, at least for now, on the same battlefield.
Truthfully, he didn't have much choice.
He couldn't beat Garde in a fight.
He couldn't outrun him either.
If Garde were an Aegir, Dario would never have trusted him.
But Garde was Adakrys.
And right now, Iberia had reached a point where it had to start seeking help from the outside world.
Maybe they could hold out for another five… ten years.
But in the end, they'd be forced to bow their heads to another nation , even if that meant asking his own teacher, Carmen, to lay down his pride and ask for help.
Since that was the case, Dario figured—why not him, as the disciple, be the one to try something new? To bring about change?
What Dario didn't know was that when he mentioned having a student in the town, the crocodile man's heart nearly skipped a beat.
He almost gave himself away.
But Garde's strong mental fortitude kept his expression steady.
"Understood," he replied coolly.
If the little shark's identity was exposed, then he'd simply grab his people and run. Plans might have to change, but that would be a problem for later.
If they truly wanted to fight against the Seaborns, the ideal scenario would be a united front between the two known factions: Iberia and Aegir.
The problem?
The Aegirians had always looked down on surface-dwellers.
And the Iberians, thanks to some lingering historical resentment, returned the sentiment with equal disdain.
Which meant… they needed a middleman.
"Such a pain in the ass…"
Garde hated thinking too hard about things.
Might as well leave it to Kal'tsit, if she ever got a break from Kazdel.
. . . . . .
Meanwhile…
While Garde and Dario were dealing with a sneak attack from the Church of the Deep cultists, the Minosian town not far from them was under siege as well.
Figures clad in seaweed-green robes, hoods shadowing their faces to resemble clerics, stepped into the poverty-stricken town.
"—Brothers and sisters, She has come."
"Our Mother from the ocean—I can feel Her. She's already here."
"She brings Her greatness and compassion to land, guiding us to overcome disease and hunger."
"Beyond sea and land, beyond borders and nations, beyond race and faith—She grants us strength, She grants us life, She expands our souls."
The preacher's voice rang out with fervent zeal.
Had their Mother not yet reached the land, they might have had to lie low for longer—waiting patiently to awaken the foolish land-dwellers.
But now?
She had stepped onto land.
No more waiting.
No more patience.
What use were laws, borders, bloodlines, and class?
How could ignorant surface dwellers hope to stop the tide from the deep?
From the sea, they had emerged to bring true equality to the land.
Hundreds of cultists.
Thousands of abyssal beasts.
And among them, a few Seaborns whose forms had grown nearly human.
A force powerful enough to take on a full military battalion, let alone a defenseless town.
In a matter of minutes, the entire town was overrun.
Nearing the town, Ishar'mla stirred in Garde's arms.
Her eyes opened slowly.
"You're awake," Garde said.
"Hunter…" she murmured.
"Don't struggle. In your current state, you can't resist me."
As they approached the town, Ishar'mla saw her own kind.
Normally, seeing them would fill her with warmth.
But now, she only felt… estranged.
She curled up in Garde's arms, exhaustion creeping in.
His warmth gave her a strange sense of safety.
And deep within her, a foreign emotion stirred.
Fear.
"Hunter," she whispered again.
"I can't hear them anymore."
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