Volume 2 Chapter 59: Now, Not Even Your Teacher Can Save You!
"Mr. Garde!"
In the town square, seeing the Seaborn girl being rescued by Garde, Sideroca's face lit up with joy as she fought off the assault from the Seaborn and the Church of the Deep cultists.
When the town was attacked by the Church of the Deep, aside from the mercenaries in the tavern and inn, there were basically no other forces capable of resistance.
As an Inquisitor, Irene did not stand by idly just because this was a Minos town and not part of Iberia.
Wherever they appeared, the Seaborn and the Church of the Deep cultists were enemies of the land-dwellers!
Even so, Irene had not anticipated that the primary target of the Church of the Deep cultists would be the Seaborn girl at her side. In just a moment's distraction while fending off the attackers, the girl had been snatched away.
Unlike Sideroca, Irene was an Iberian. As an Inquisitor, she had to be fluent in Aegirlan, and thus she understood the words of the Church of the Deep bishop—the white-haired, red-eyed young girl was actually a Seaborn!?
This revelation shocked Irene, and she knew she had to report it to her teacher.
But facing the encirclement of the Church of the Deep, it wasn't just a matter of sending a message anymore—it was uncertain if she could even escape alive.
However, when a towering Adakrys man appeared, built like a mountain, the situation instantly flipped.
A brick flew out with a sonic boom and, in a single blow, killed the bishop of the Church of the Deep. The Adakrys man snatched back the Seaborn girl from the clutches of the cultists.
And judging by Sideroca's words, this Adakrys man was obviously the employer she had mentioned, which made Irene immediately alert.
Especially when Garde looked at them with a smile, Irene felt like a small bird caught in a crocodile's mouth—
Pitiful, weak, and helpless!
"Miss Sideroca, little inquisitor from Iberia... It seems you could use a little bit of help?"
No! I don't need your help!
Irene clenched the hand cannon at her waist, bitterly regretting that she hadn't yet fully mastered the Iberian standard-issue firearms. Otherwise, she would have loved to give this crocodile man a good blast.
After Garde's arrival, the Seaborn who had been attacking the mercenaries suddenly fell silent.
Seeing their bishop killed, the other Church of the Deep cultists also panicked.
"Lord Bishop!"
"Lord Quintus!"
"What just happened?"
"..."
Ignoring the cultists' chaos, Garde raised an eyebrow when he heard the name "Quintus" and looked down at the headless corpse at his feet.
"So you were Quintus."
Garde remembered that the Church of the Deep had three main figures, and one of them was this now-headless bishop, Quintus.
If he had known it was Quintus earlier, he might have gone easier—Yeah, right!
The headless corpse of the Church of the Deep bishop suddenly began to swell.
For some high-level Seaborn, simply destroying their brains was not enough to kill them.
Although the headless Church of the Deep bishop still retained human consciousness, his body had long since been transformed into a Seaborn, so Garde's headshot hadn't completely killed him.
Thus, Garde mercilessly followed up with a kick.
Quintus's nearly two-meter-tall body was kicked away like a balloon.
At the critical moment, Quintus had barely managed to use his Seaborn abilities to transfer his consciousness to another part of his body, planning to strike when Garde's attention was diverted.
But with that one kick, Garde almost split Quintus's body in two.
The bishop, who had intended to transform further into a Seaborn and counterattack, deflated like a punctured balloon.
"Hhhhaaah~"
With a hoarse, wet rasp, Quintus slid across the ground for more than ten meters, carving a deep, long furrow into the earth.
This time, Quintus was truly beyond salvation.
In his dying moments, a tattered eye opened within his broken body—a blood-red eye, like those of the Seaborn.
Through that eye, he saw Ishar'mla cradled in Garde's arms.
In that instant, he realized he had made a grave mistake.
The white-haired, red-eyed Seaborn girl was not the Seaborn's god at all.
The one in Garde's arms—the girl in the red dress, Ishar'mla—she was the real one!
"Lady... Ishar'mla..."
Struggling, Quintus's mangled body wriggled toward Ishar'mla.
If it was Ishar'mla, if it was the Seaborn's god herself, surely she could save him now?
Facing Quintus's desperate, hopeful gaze, Ishar'mla opened her mouth.
She could feel it—this strangely shaped creature before her carried the scent of her own kin.
She opened her mouth, intending to plead with Garde.
"Kill him, or kill the entire town—all your kin—you choose."
Garde's voice was calm and cold, like still water.
He spared the other Seaborn in the town not out of any special affection for them, but purely because it would be troublesome to wipe them all out.
As long as Ishar'mla could command these Seaborn to return to the sea and not disturb the lives of the land-dwellers, Garde saw no need for unnecessary slaughter.
But as for this brain behind the Church of the Deep—one of the three major culprits—Garde had no intention of showing mercy.
No other reason. Just out of personal grievances.
It wasn't about beliefs or ideology.
The Church of the Deep had been able to take root and flourish in Iberia solely because of the incompetence of the Iberian rulers.
If the people of Iberia had been well-fed, clothed, and protected from disease, how could the Church of the Deep have grown to its current scale and become yet another threat after the Seaborn?
Garde had no intention of cleaning up the Iberian authorities' mess.
He wanted to kill Quintus for personal reasons—to erase potential future threats that could harm Laurentina.
Garde's tone allowed no room for negotiation.
Ishar'mla could even feel the rage simmering inside him.
Had she said something earlier that displeased the hunter?
"I'm sorry…"
Ishar'mla said timidly.
She nuzzled her head lightly against Garde's chest, looking up at him like a pet trying to soothe its owner.
"If that is your decision, Hunter."
In Ishar'mla's mind, the land was the hunter's domain.
They had intruded upon the land, so it was only natural that they bear the hunter's wrath.
And if the life of a single kin could buy the survival of many others, it was a fair trade.
That was simply the Seaborn way of thinking.
If Quintus had possessed enough value to merit it, all the other Seaborn would have willingly sacrificed themselves to help him escape.
Unfortunately for him, Quintus wasn't worth it.
Ishar'mla's voice reached Quintus's ears, and his broken body began to tremble slightly.
He understood her words—he had been abandoned!
Why? Why? Why?
I revered you! I adored you!
I was even willing to worship you as a god…
So why?
"AAAHHH——!!"
Quintus's dissolving body let out an unwilling roar.
His dying body swelled again, his form unfurling.
His arms transformed into long tentacles, and a flower bud split open from his chest.
From a distance, it looked like a flower about to bloom.
In the crystalline lens of his remaining eye, he saw Ishar'mla's current appearance.
She leaned weakly against that massive Adakrys man, like a helpless land creature.
How could such a fragile being possibly be the god he had worshiped?
How could she be the god of the Seaborn?
Kill her!
The final thought left in Quintus's mind.
Kill this false god!
She wasn't the god of the Seaborn.
He was!
However, this was nothing more than Quintus's desperate delusion.
At the instant he revealed his hostility, all the surrounding Seaborn simultaneously turned toward him.
Sea Terrors and other Seaborn.
One second they were comrades; the next, these creatures from the ocean launched themselves at Quintus.
Dozens of Sea Terrors leapt onto the now nearly five-meter-tall bishop, tearing into his flesh and gulping down his blood.
In the eyes of the Seaborn, Quintus was already broken.
If he wasn't broken, why would he attack Ishar'mla? Attack the group?
Since he was broken, then he should die—his body and flesh becoming nourishment and energy for their survival.
The mercenaries in the town were frozen in terror, unable to understand why creatures who had fought side by side moments ago were now tearing each other apart.
They had never witnessed anything like this.
Irene gritted her teeth, unable to imagine what would happen next.
Where was her teacher?
Why hadn't he arrived yet?
In moments like these, the more you knew, the more fear gripped you.
Ironically, those who knew nothing could face the scene more calmly.
After the initial panic, many mercenaries quickly regained their composure.
Monsters killing each other?
Big deal.
Rather than pondering it, better to take the opportunity to escape from the town while the creatures were distracted.
"Mr. Garde, we should leave here quickly,"
Unable to stop her, Irene could only watch helplessly as Sideroca ran toward Garde.
A wild thought crossed her mind—
Was that Minosian mercenary and the Adakrys man working together?
But she quickly shook her head.
Judging by their earlier conversation, Sideroca clearly had no idea about the Seaborn.
She must have been deceived!
However, before Irene could come up with a way to handle the situation, she saw Garde looking directly at her.
"Little Iberian Inquisitor, would you like to join us? Your teacher Dario asked me to look after you. It's too chaotic here—let's find a safer place first."
Eh?
Was this giant Adakry... not a bad person?
Hearing Garde's words, Irene froze for a moment.
Seeing Garde about to leave, she quickly caught up and asked:
"Excuse me—do you know my teacher?"
"Well, not exactly. We just met outside the town. I'm faster, so I got here first. He should be arriving soon."
"And you are...?"
"No need to be so formal. Just call me Garde. I'm only here to handle the situation with those two."
Hearing Garde's words, Irene looked up and met Ishar'mla's gaze—the one nestled in Garde's arms.
She hesitated for a moment, then gritted her teeth and asked:
"They... they're Seaborn, aren't they?"
"They are Seaborn."
"Then why are you—?"
"Why not kill them?"
Irene was slightly stunned, but she still nodded.
In her view, Seaborn were humanity's enemies — killing them was only natural.
"Because they still have value."
"Value?"
"What other reason could there be? It's not like I spared them just because they're good-looking, right?"
Isn't that exactly it?
Irene grumbled inwardly as she watched Garde carrying Ishar'mla and the young Seaborn.
But she didn't dare say it out loud.
After all, Garde was currently holding hostages.
If she acted rashly and accidentally harmed the Minosian mercenary, that would be bad.
Irene could tell that Sideroca was a good person — she probably knew nothing about any of this.
At this moment, Sideroca voiced a question Irene also wanted to ask:
"Mr. Garde, where have you been these past few days?"
Because Garde had disappeared, Sideroca had been left to care for the little Seaborn alone, until she was completely broke.
Naturally, she held some resentment.
"Ah, well…"
Garde, holding Ishar'mla and the young Seaborn, had absolutely no desire to answer that question.
How was he even supposed to explain?
"Let's just say... I had some matters to attend to," he said, trying to dodge the topic.
After all, he was the employer here — and yet this mere mercenary dared to complain about him?
Had he lost all his dignity?
"In mating!"
A sudden voice came from Garde's arms.
Ishar'mla, nestled against him, glanced at Sideroca's chest, then at her own.
Then, staring very seriously at Sideroca, she said:
"The Hunter was mating with me!"
"...Eh?"
Sideroca froze.
Even though she had left her hometown and become a mercenary, deep down she was still an innocent girl who hadn't experienced much.
Hearing Ishar'mla's words, she was momentarily too stunned to react.
The "mating" Ishar'mla spoke of... was it that kind of mating?
Sideroca slowly raised her head to look at Garde, seemingly hoping he would offer an explanation.
But how was Garde supposed to explain!?
"Over the course of seven sunrises and sunsets, the Hunter and I have been mating—inside my belly, he already sho—"
Before Ishar'mla could finish, Garde hurriedly covered her mouth.
Enough!
Please, just stop talking!
Garde really wanted to crack open Ishar'mla's skull and see what was going on in that little head of hers.
You inherited Skadi's appearance—but must you inherit her brain too!?
At that moment, Garde noticed the little Inquisitor off to the side—she was staring at him, trembling, raising her hand-cannon with a quivering voice:
"Per-pervert!"
Hmm?
That phrase triggered Garde's PTSD.
"What did you just call me?"
"Pervert!"
"Say it again?"
"Pervert!"
"Keep going?"
"Pervert, pervert, pervert!"
The crocodile man showed a satisfied expression.
He looked at Irene and nodded:
"Your courage is commendable. Now, not even your teacher can save you."
<+>
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