Chapter 5: John Armstrong-2

The sage and the seer didn’t seem to believe my words.

Fortunately, there was someone here who could vouch for my age.

Archbishop Alex.

He was my sponsor, the head of my agency, and my guardian.

“Sir- John is indeed a minor. However, as our deity specially decreed and granted John the baptism, I mentioned that he could participate in the filming.”

“I still couldn’t believe it. It’s been a hundred years since a minor became a hero in the Sanctuary, ever since Saint Arthur.”

“Perhaps our deity recognized that John might possess potential comparable to that individual.”

Currently, the only person who knew my real name and identity here was the archbishop.

The director, screenwriter, and distributors didn’t know my identity.

“But Archbishop, why are you here?”

“Actually, there’s something urgent that requires you to come to the temple.”

Without asking further, I quickly packed my things.

In the meantime, the archbishop informed the filming crew that it would be difficult to continue the shoot for a while.

However, the filming crew had no plans to produce the third episode anyway and were just going to make a sequel about the past.

Since there was also work from the Imperial Intelligence Bureau, they planned to take a break from filming for the time being.

The sage and the seer agreed to take their overdue vacation without any hesitation.

Eventually, the archbishop took me to the PD and repeated the same message, and the PD, having possibly received a notice from the Imperial Intelligence Bureau, suggested postponing the filming of the sequel for a few years.

With the crew seeing me off, I left the set and headed to the temple.

Perhaps due to the continuous success of the John series, the temple, which had been of a decent size before I arrived, now boasted a grand appearance.

However, no matter how grand the temple was, to me, it was nothing more than just an agency building.

I passed through the temple gates, went through the lobby, and entered the priest’s room.

With a position like that of an archbishop, one might expect him to spend a bit more money, but his room was surprisingly modest.

“Bishop, we have plenty of money now, so please spend it a bit. You’re probably the only bishop who lights candles because you’re too frugal to get a lamp.”

“We can’t waste the donations sent by our parishioners, can we?”

“There are plenty of decent and better lamps at the flea market; just pick one from there.”

“I’ve said it before, but luxury…”

“Don’t you know that our priests can’t even buy a lamp and are reading scriptures by candlelight?”

“I didn’t know that.”

In the end, after a dramatic agreement with the archbishop, we decided to gift each priest in the order a lamp by the end of the year.

Honestly, in this day and age, lighting candles to save money seems too extreme.

Even the butcher next door has a lamp.

I took out my personal mug from the cupboard and added five sugar cubes to my coffee.

“Allen, eating too much sugar when you’re young…”

“That’s enough. Why did you urgently bring me to the temple?”

“Well…”

In response to my question, Archbishop Alex answered with a smile and a question of his own.

“Did Rictus suddenly ask for you?”

“Yes.”

What’s with the “yes”?

The people of this order are all good, but the problem lay with the deity and the teachings of the priests.

The deity of entertainment and amusement, Rictus.

As you can see from the domain this deity presides over, this order is one that finds joy in simply having fun.

They are not concerned with money or authority but just seek enjoyment as long as they are alive. Before I arrived, the order was maintained just enough to avoid causing problems.

But that didn’t mean the deity’s authority was weak.

Originally, entertainment and amusement always occur under agreements.

In hide-and-seek, there’s an agreement that the person tagged becomes the seeker, and in “Mugunghwa Flower Has Bloomed,” there’s an agreement that you mustn’t move while the seeker is watching, which makes the game possible.

If the agreement is not kept, the person is excluded from the game, making agreements heavy in the context of play.

Thus, Rictus simultaneously presides over promises and contracts, but this deity presents itself as a playful entity.

So, the order has strong authority but a rather frivolous image.

“I’m sorry. Actually, I didn’t receive a detailed explanation; I was only given a divine decree to bring Allen here to the temple.

However, this deity has always stayed within the bounds of propriety, and if it ever crossed the line, there was always a reason, so I accepted his explanation.”

“Well, it’s fine. If the reason for calling me here was to make some odd request, I might as well see a talent show first.”

The talent show, or clown performance, was a traditional form of penance in our order.

It was a practice born from the doctrine that grudges arising from broken promises should be overcome with laughter and compassion.

Perhaps while Rictus’s essence is about contracts and promises, emphasizing play and amusement might be a way to make the world easier if contracts were too strict.

The archbishop also murmured, “Trust among the faithful is important,” and accepted my words.

“So, as per Rictus’s instructions, I came here. When is the request going to be delivered as a divine decree?”

“Well, I’m not sure. Maybe soon?”

Typically, deities give their decrees in places like confessionals or prayer rooms, but our deity, with his lack of formality, delivers decrees from anywhere in the temple without prior notice.

Some people like his casual style, but I wish he would at least refrain from doing it in the bathroom or while eating.

As expected.

While leaning awkwardly on the sofa, a divine decree suddenly hit me in the head.

[Ah, can you hear me~]

“Yes~ I hear you~”

Although it might seem impolite, the archbishop did not reprimand me.

According to the doctrine, formality is an implicit contract, and since the deity did not observe formality first, there was no need for us to adhere to it.

I directed my question toward the youthful voice echoing in my head.

“So why was I called to the temple today? I was planning to visit the temple anyway since there will be no filming for a while.”

[Actually, if you hadn’t hurriedly left the set, there was a risk that your identity would be exposed.]

“Oh dear. Is there a paparazzi intrusion?”

[No.]

“Then a stalker fan?”

[Not quite… Oh, perhaps it could be considered a stalker fan?]

His ambiguous response left much to be inferred.

There were quite a few possibilities, like the saints who kept chasing me with contract proposals, the burly knights stalking me while calling me their mentor, or those pesky copyright claimants.

There were so many possibilities that it was difficult to guess accurately.

“Well, since I’ve left the set, I should be safe now. Surely, no one would be crazy enough to follow me all the way to the temple.”

[Oh. That’s a flag…]

Before the words could even finish, there was a commotion at the temple entrance.

Correction.

It was more than a commotion; it was utter destruction.

“…Archbishop, wasn’t that door just replaced with an automatic one?”

“It was a struggle to get it replaced at a low cost…”

“Request a repair service. The warranty period isn’t over yet. If necessary, I’ll handle it myself and get compensation.”

“Thank you.”

Our deity was lenient about fights.

Children often become close by fighting while playing, or so they say.

I equipped my gun holster, checked the chamber, and looked toward the entrance.

At the entrance stood a woman with a mace in one hand and a crossbow in the other, standing proudly.

Her white ponytail with a hint of scarlet in her hair swayed behind her.

My gaze moved from her hair color to her forehead.

‘An oni, perhaps?’

A race of fighters who only know how to fight, adorned with horns on their heads.

A combat race that boasts of their immense stature regardless of age or gender.

Most of this race, who believe all conflicts can be resolved through combat, worship the god of war.

“I am Skadi Sigurdsdóttir! A great warrior and the successor of the saint’s name! The god of war, Era, decreed that there is the most honorable warrior in this world and desired a ritual battle with you before the festival! So come, let us fight a battle that will be remembered throughout history!”

As expected, it seemed that Era, the god of war, had sent her.

True to her nature as a war-loving goddess, she wanted to watch me fight her representative.

But if I recall correctly, Era is a sibling of Rictus, isn’t she?

“May I take a guess?”

[…]

“Rictus played a prank on Era, didn’t he?”

[… I’m sorry.]

As expected.

Our deity never fails to meet expectations.

It’s not the first time that deity, who loves to play pranks on other gods, leaves me to clean up the mess.

Receiving the avatar of John from the archbishop, I headed towards the lobby.

The youthful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a middle-aged man with long black hair and a scruffy beard.

I stood before her in the form of John Armstrong.

Skadi scanned me from top to bottom.

“Hah. So you are John? I saw your performance in the movie. You put on an impressive fight.”

“Indeed.”

John, as a character, wasn’t one to engage in personal conversations.

Especially not with women, other than his wife.

Fortunately, it seemed that Era, despite her nature, did not reveal my true name.

It was a relief to avoid escalating things into a cold war between the oni nation and our empire’s intelligence agency.

Era, while enjoying watching combat, was not fond of people dying in wars.

She assumed that my approach meant I accepted the challenge and readied her weapons, stepping back slightly.

I also checked my ammunition, opening the chamber halfway, and got into a fighting stance.

This is a sanctuary.

There was no need to change locations as resurrection could occur within the sanctuary.

While resurrections outside the set might cause trauma, it wasn’t my concern as it wouldn’t be me dying.

“So, you only use a gun in movies, but are you originally a gun user? I suppose you’re older than you look.”

John’s appearance was that of a man in his forties.

Considering that guns are outdated weapons even among elves, her reaction was understandable.

Bang, bang.

Without a signal to start the battle, my gun fired.

Some bullets flew quickly, while others slowly.

The bullets, disrupting rhythm, struck the oni woman with off-beat accuracy.

However, the bullets, which flew with great force, failed to penetrate Skadi’s skin and fell uselessly.

‘This is why I dislike the oni race.’

If given the same magical power, bullets can easily penetrate most skins.

However, there are exceptions where bullets don’t even scratch the surface, with the oni race being the most common among them.

She paid no attention to the incoming bullets and loaded her magical crossbow with arrows.

From the arrowhead to the shaft and even the fletching, everything was metal, raising doubts about whether it should even be called an arrow.

What could be called a “monster-like projectile” was launched from the crossbow’s rail, and it was a rapid fire.

In response to her performance, I displayed my skill by catching the incoming crossbow bolts between my fingers.

“You crazy fool! If you had handled the crossbow, you would have been much stronger than now!”

Maybe.

I already had my specialties, so why should I abandon them?

With half my life spent in shooting, I was reluctant to invest time in a similar crossbow.

Moreover, a crossbow didn’t suit my combat style as well as a gun did.

A crossbow is cumbersome to mix with hand-to-hand combat.

I recreated the crossbow bolts.

Although I had often been told by my mother that I wasn’t very bright, I was praised for my talent in recreation.

I crafted a hooked dagger from the bolts and a thin breastplate from the remaining materials.

Adding a bit of paint, the aggressive Skadi came closer as expected.

As she entered my range, I cut the crossbow’s string to force a close-quarters battle.

Just as I hoped, she abandoned the crossbow and started wielding her mace.

Kiiing.

I dodged the mace descending from above and smoothly followed its handle with my dagger, making a sharp metallic sound.

The dagger aimed at Skadi’s hand resting on the handle.

Skadi neatly abandoned the mace and let go of the handle to avoid the dagger.

With the mace disarmed, the real close-quarters combat began.

True to her race’s robust physique, her fighting style was tough as expected.

She swung her fists with the intent to break my bones, showing no fear of the blade in my hand.

Her pure assault, relying solely on her strength, was somewhat tough to avoid.

However, it wasn’t unfavorable to me. It was just a matter of impression that her fighting style was tough.

In fact, her excessively tough combat style made neutralizing her not too difficult.

The bullets couldn’t penetrate her skin due to their size, making it hard to imbue them with magic. However, with a dagger-sized weapon, it could still cut through flesh.

By concentrating magical power where she swung her fists, I could easily cut through.

When she swung her fists, I cut her wrist, and when she kicked, I sliced her Achilles tendon.

Occasionally, knee kicks or elbows hit the solar plexus or vital points, but my breastplate blocked them from becoming fatal hits.

Without exchanging many blows, she lay on the ground, unable to rise.

“Ugh. Kill me.”

“Alright.”

There was no point in declining since she would be resurrected anyway.

I drew my gun and shoved the barrel into her mouth.

She seemed shocked that I would end things this way, and her face turned pale as she screamed, “Ahhh! (What is this!)”

I didn’t want to end things like this either.

But with her tough skin, I had no choice but to aim for her insides.

Bang

Although her skin was tough, the oni’s internal organs were just as vulnerable as anyone else’s.

A single bullet was enough to stop her breath.

Fortunately, it didn’t escalate into a mess with spinal fluid and blood on the floor.

Before the blood could even be spilled, Skadi’s body turned into particles and vanished.

I assumed this would satisfy the goddess of war and returned to the bishop’s office.

“Is it over?”

“Yes.

Now that I’ve killed her outside the set, where will she be resurrected?”

“Well, she seemed quite young.

It would be best if she’s resurrected somewhere that won’t cause her trauma.”

“Well, being an oni, I don’t think she’ll be too concerned about the location.”

“Allen, that’s a species bias.

Women of that age are quite delicate.”

When someone dies inside the set, they are resurrected in a designated area within the set, still conscious.

However, if they die outside the set, they are resurrected randomly somewhere in the sanctum, excluding the set and the shrine.

If lucky, it could be in a plaza; if unlucky, it could be on a spire roof or a public restroom.

I once ended up in a trash can when luck was really against me.

“Just send the bill to the shrine of the god of war.”

“I’ve already written it.”

He placed the bill into an envelope and sealed it with wax.

But why was he handing the letter to me?

“Allen, please deliver this.”

“Me? This? Why??”

I genuinely didn’t understand.

“The people at the shrine of the god of war can be a bit rough.

You know our shrine’s priests don’t get along well with them…”

“Isn’t it because your priests pick fights with them?”

The gods might be siblings, but the relations between their shrines were not good.

Mostly, it was because Ricktus’s followers would play pranks on Era’s followers and end up getting beaten, so they had no right to complain.

“Anyway, how did I end up with such a god?”

“You are a great follower of Ricktus as well.”

“I take pride in my own maturity.”

Waving the letter, I headed towards the shrine of the god of war.

Upon arrival, I burst through the door and shouted,

“Your great warrior was weak!!!”