Chapter 234: To Ferderica’s Holy Land (1)

“What?” Milayna’s eyes widened in disbelief. She could hardly believe what she’d just heard. She asked Ketal, her voice trembling with concern, “You’re really... going to follow them? Are you sure you’re alright with this?”

“What choice do I have if I’m not?” Ketal replied, his tone calm and oddly cheerful. “Given the situation, there really aren’t any good answers, are there?”

Milayna faltered, searching for a response, but found nothing. He wasn’t wrong. Rumors about Ferderica’s order targeting her family had already swept through the entire capital. She had tried everything. She had even offered exorbitant sums to try to secure help, but every attempt had ended in failure.

“I’m sorry,” Ketal said quietly. “It seems you’ve suffered because of me.”

“No! Ketal, none of this is your fault! You haven’t done anything wrong,” Milayna protested, her voice cracking. “But... but...”

She glanced helplessly at Riltara and the other followers, unable to oppose them even as they trampled over all decency. Riltara was carrying out an unthinkable outrage, but there was no way to resist. Defeat settled over Milayna like a heavy shroud. She bowed her head, her shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry. I was too weak... I said I’d rescue my master, but in the end, I failed,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“No. It’s alright,” Ketal said gently, offering a small smile. “I intend to make the most of this. There’s some enjoyment to be found, even in a situation like this.”

Something in his smile sent a shiver down Milayna’s spine. For a moment, she felt as if she was seeing a side of Ketal she’d never understood before.

Ketal had made up his mind. He would go with Riltara and her group to Ferderica’s holy land. The news traveled quickly. Maximus, ever the loyal intermediary, passed the word to King Barbosa of the Denian Kingdom.

The king groaned, gripping his head in frustration. “So, it’s come to this... Hmmm...”

Barbosa’s thoughts went straight to the Tower Master’s warning.

“Ketal is fond of this world,”

the Tower Master had said. “

But if that fondness is ever lost, no one can predict what will happen.”

The king had feared, more than anything, that Ketal’s wrath might turn against his own kingdom. He had scrambled to find a solution, desperately searching for any way to help, but now Ketal was leaving of his own accord.

“Maximus,” Barbosa said at last, “summon Ketal. I need to speak with him.”

And so, Ketal stood before the king, who faced him with an anxious expression that hardly suited the ruler of a nation.

“I’m sorry, Ketal. I never imagined my kingdom would bring you so much trouble. I wanted to help you as soon as I could, but things have turned out this way. Truly, I apologize.”

Ketal merely smiled. “Everyone seems to want to apologize to me. But you haven’t done anything wrong. There’s nothing for you to regret.”

“R-really?” Barbosa asked him, relief clear in his eyes.

Ketal’s lack of outrage put Barbosa at ease. At least it seemed the danger to his kingdom had passed.

“So, you’re heading to Ferderica’s holy land?” Barbosa asked him.

“The god is courting me so persistently, I don’t really have a choice,” Ketal replied, with a hint of humor. “I’ll go and see what they want.”

“And... if you don’t like their answer?” the king asked him carefully.

“Well,” Ketal said with a sly smile, “I’ll have to make a decision then, won’t I?”

Barbosa felt a chill run down his spine. He didn’t dare ask what kind of decision Ketal meant, but it was clear enough that he didn’t want to know.

In the end, the king simply bid him farewell, wishing Ketal safe travels. With the matter settled, Ketal removed the jet-black bracelet he wore on his wrist, the sacred relic given to him directly by Kalosia.

“I think this will just get in the way from now on,” he said, tucking the bracelet into his pouch.

The next morning, Ketal joined up with Riltara and her party.

“Let’s go,” he said simply.

Riltara looked at him with a puzzled, suspicious gaze. The same man who had resisted them at every step was now walking with them willingly. It was an odd, almost unsettling change.

“Alright...,” Riltara said at last, deciding not to question it further. The Sinner of Revelation had finally abandoned resistance to the god’s will—or so she thought. She didn’t dwell on it long. For all her zeal, Riltara was not a particularly deep thinker.

“Follow us. We’re going to the holy land of the great Ferderica,” she announced.

“Of course,” Ketal replied, grinning as he fell in step behind them.

And so, their journey to Ferderica’s holy land began.

***

Ketal walked with Riltara’s group, leaving behind Denian and heading toward the unknown. To be honest, there was little point in staying behind. He could not accomplish his goals in the city; perhaps there was more to be gained elsewhere. In a sense, it was even an opportunity.

After all, few people were ever allowed to set foot on a god’s holy land. And more than anything, Ferderica themselves had summoned him.

Why did they call for me?

Ketal thought.

For what reason?

The possibilities were endless—and endlessly fascinating. If the answer didn’t satisfy him, he could always shatter everything and walk away. And for now, simply traveling with this odd group of fanatics brought a certain curiosity. He’d never met devotees quite like these before, and he found himself looking forward to the strange adventure.

“Your name is Riltara, right? I hear you’re a famous follower of Ferderica. I’ll be in your care,” he said, as he turned to Riltara.

Riltara didn’t answer.

Undeterred, Ketal glanced at the armored holy knights accompanying them. “And what about the rest of you? Since we’re traveling together, shouldn’t we at least know each other’s names?”

There was only silence. The holy knights trudged forward, ignoring him completely.

Ketal let out a disappointed sigh. “It wouldn’t hurt to answer, you know.”

“You are a sinner,” Riltara said coldly.

Ketal was not a guest. He was a criminal, named by divine revelation. He was only with them because he was being delivered to judgement. There was no reason for them to treat him with civility, let alone warmth.

“We have no intention of conversing with you. You should be grateful we aren’t dragging you in chains,” Riltara added.

Ketal just shrugged. “Hmm. That’s rather extreme, isn’t it?”

He fell silent, and so did everyone else.

When midday came, the party stopped to eat. The holy knights sat in a circle, pulling out strips of tough, dried meat. As they chewed in silence, Ketal rummaged through his own pouch and began unpacking various ingredients and utensils.

“Wait a moment. Let me prepare something for you all,” he offered.

Cooking was, in his experience, the surest way to open people’s hearts. He remembered how even the stoic Elene had warmed to him after a good meal. However, as soon as he started, Riltara’s expression twisted in disgust.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“I was hoping to prepare some food. That’s all,” Ketal replied, genuinely confused.

Riltara’s disgust deepened. She looked at him as though he had just committed a grave sin. “You would dare cook in front of us? Here? Now?”

Ketal blinked, then realization dawned. These were the followers of the God of Hunger. They prized the state of hunger itself, finding meaning in abstinence. The very idea of satisfying hunger with a good meal was repulsive to them.

“If you must indulge, do so by yourself,” Riltara said icily. “We will forgive it this time. But do not presume to offer us any.”

“Hm. If you insist,” Ketal replied.

He finished his meal quietly, eating alone.

After that, nothing changed. Ketal tried several times to strike up a friendly conversation, but every effort was met with stone-cold silence. Even Riltara only spoke when absolutely necessary, ignoring anything remotely personal.

That night, once everyone had fallen asleep, Ketal sat alone, staring up at the sky.

“This is even less interesting than I expected,” he muttered, getting to his feet.

When dawn came, Riltara awoke to chaos. The holy knights were agitated and confused.

“What’s wrong?” she asked them, sitting up.

“R-Riltara!”

“The barbarian is gone!”

“What?” Riltara leapt up, eyes wide. She scanned the camp, but Ketal was nowhere to be seen.

No... He ran away!

She gritted her teeth, cursing herself. She had thought that since he had chosen to come, he would not try to escape.

“We’ll have to go back to Denian. Let’s hurry and catch him before he gets away,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am!” The holy knights hurriedly packed up, preparing to double back toward the city.

Just then, Ketal appeared from the far side of the woods.

“Oh, you’re already up,” he said, sauntering over.

“Wait! You—where have you been?” Riltara demanded, flustered.

“I got bored, so I paid a visit to a nearby village. Had a fun time drinking with the locals,” Ketal replied, grinning.

His casual tone left Riltara speechless.

“Do you even understand your situation?” she managed at last.

“Of course,” Ketal said. “You’re escorting me to Ferderica’s holy land. I’m the so-called Sinner of Revelation, aren’t I?”

“And knowing that, you still left camp without permission?”

“Sure did,” Ketal answered, entirely unbothered.

Riltara narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping to a warning. “Do not leave my side again. This is your last warning.”

“And why should I listen to you?” Ketal replied, looking genuinely puzzled.

Riltara faltered. She hadn’t expected him to talk back, and for a moment she was at a loss.

“You are a sinner! Your fate was decreed by divine revelation! You must follow us to the holy land!” she shouted.

“I am following you,” Ketal replied. “But there’s no reason I have to listen to you.”

“You...!” Riltara began, but Ketal cut her off with an exasperated sigh.

In that instant, the air turned heavy. A wave of suffocating pressure crashed over the group. Riltara and the knights felt as if the very atmosphere was crushing their lungs.

“

Ugh...

” Riltara barely managed to breathe.

The holy knights collapsed, some of them dropping to their knees, their faces drained of all color.

Ketal had simply sighed—nothing more. However, the power in that single gesture was overwhelming. Death pressed down on them like the shadow of a predator looming over helpless prey. One of the knights’ teeth even chattered from the terror.

Then, just as suddenly, Ketal smiled and the pressure vanished.

“I said I’d follow you, and I will,” Ketal said, his voice cool. “But that’s only because your god called for me. It’s not because you or your people forced me.”

The truth was cold and undeniable. If he wanted to, Ketal could have simply figured out the location of Ferderica’s holy land and gone there himself, ending everything in a day. He didn’t need them at all.

“But I’m traveling with you because I expect to enjoy the journey. That’s all,” Ketal continued.

If these fanatics couldn’t provide any entertainment, he’d have no qualms about leaving them behind.

Riltara finally recovered enough to shout, “No! You can’t do that! You must not!”

Her desperation was clear. Her entire mission depended on bringing the Sinner of Revelation to the holy land herself. If Ketal abandoned them and went on his own, she would have failed the command given by their god. Even if he arrived at the destination, it would be as if she had done nothing at all. She would lose the trust of her order and be cast aside.

For her and the holy knights, there was only one option: they had to keep Ketal with them, at all costs.

“And why should I care about that?” Ketal asked her, genuine curiosity in his voice.

However, there was nothing Riltara or her knights could do to stop him. They couldn’t restrain Ketal by force—the slightest hint of annoyance from him could kill them all. He could play with them however he wished, treating them like toys.

Also, there was no way to pressure Ketal as they’d done to the Denian Kingdom. If he decided to leave, nothing could stop him.

Ketal smiled. “If you really want me to stay with you, there’s only one thing you need to do.”

Entertain me. Make this journey worth my while,

Ketal thought.

“Oh...” The realization dawned on Riltara, and she turned pale as chalk.

She had believed she was leading Ketal to Ferderica’s holy land, that she was in control of their mission. However, the truth was the exact opposite. They were nothing more than toys in Ketal’s hands. Their fates depended entirely on his whims.

“Well, then. Let’s do our best from here on out,” Ketal said cheerfully.

Riltara found herself unable to breathe.