Chapter 124: Dop Bizan’s Side Story
A man was making his way through a mountain path covered in all sorts of underbrush.
Whenever vines blocked his way, he swung his old dagger to clear a path, advancing up the steep mountain as if walking on level ground.
After securing independence for his son, Dop Bizan set off and, after several weeks of grueling travel, arrived at a ruined village.
This was his hometown, the village where he was born and lived with his family.
Before exploring the village, Dop Bizan first visited his parents’ graves. However, calling it a graveyard seemed a stretch, despite his efforts to show respect.
Weathered bones protruded from the shallow, wide pit, partially exposed by eroded soil.
Sighing, Dop Bizan began pulling out the underbrush that had grown over the bones.
This was the best we could do for our parents at the time. After rummaging through the ruined village and finding a shovel, he covered up his parents with soil and recalled ‘that day.’
+++
“Stand here in front quickly.”
His mother, preparing an altar for her son in place of his father who had gone off to fight, had no time to spare in her hurried actions.
“Oh mighty Barbatos, here stands your devotee. Please accept this offering and…”
Young Dop, feeling anxious, keenly observed the altar his mother was setting up and asked nervously as soon as the prayer ended.
“Mom, didn’t you say I was too young to become a devotee of Lord Barbatos?”
Although his arm bore the symbol of Barbatos, it was Bizan tribe custom to hold the coming-of-age ceremony as an adult.
His mother said nothing. She grabbed his hand and ran outside.
The village was in chaos.
Flaming arrows from somewhere had set it ablaze, and shouting and screaming from the men could be heard outside. The women of the village were running around desperately hiding their children.
His mother headed to a jar—a place where salty soy sauce-soaked hunting meat was stored. Somehow, she managed to lift the heavy stone lid on her own.
“Mom?”
It wasn’t Dop that spoke. Inside the jar, boys were already hiding, raising their heads in relief, thinking their mothers had returned.
It was a ridiculous sight.
Soaked in soy sauce, with meat pieces clinging to their faces floating in the dark liquid.
Under normal circumstances, he would have laughed at his friends’ appearances. But knowing he was about to join them made the boy realize the gravity of the situation.
“Son, hide in here. Never, ever come out. I’ll come back to get you.”
Dop didn’t want to get into the jar.
Who would? But the sight of the devastated village and his mother’s pleading tone made him comply and step into it.
It felt a bit cold.
The jar, deeply embedded in the ground, wasn’t called a jar without reason; it was made by hollowing out a large rock.
— Creak.
Before Dop could even adjust to the situation, the lid closed. In the pitch-black darkness from which his mother had disappeared, Dop realized he could drown here if he wasn’t careful.
The jar’s interior offered nothing to grab onto. The bottom was out of reach even on tiptoe. Luckily, the slippery meat pieces kept the boys afloat.
“We aren’t going to stay in here forever and turn black from the soy sauce, are we?”
One boy said.
Despite the darkness, Dop recognized the voice as his friend, ‘Ubhan.’
Whether not understanding the severity of the situation or just being a cheerful child, Ubhan kept talking non-stop despite no one responding.
Thanks to him, floating in the cold soy sauce didn’t feel entirely unbearable. Occasionally, the other boys would speak up, revealing their crushes or confessing to petty theft they hadn’t returned.
Dop kept silent with nothing to say, and eventually, everyone got too tired to talk.
Then someone started crying. He believed it to be Ubhan, though he wasn’t certain.
Eventually, they all cried together, making it pointless to discern who started it first.
— Creak.
After what felt like an eternity, the lid opened. But the person who did it was a stranger to the five boys, their lips blue from the cold.
Outside, night had fallen, and the man who opened the lid had clothes that shimmered white in the moonlight.
The man hesitated, his hardened gaze falling upon the black soy-sauce-soaked faces and the innocent eyes staring back at him.
“……”
— Creak.
After a moment, he silently closed the lid again, leaving it slightly ajar for an arm to fit through. Closing it fully would have meant certain death for the boys.
The boys, like mice trapped in a jar, didn’t make a sound.
They instinctively knew he was one of the men their fathers had gone to fight.
Then, footsteps could be heard approaching from outside.
“Captain Colin, it’s done. All who resisted have been killed. The women and children left are misguided worshippers.”
“…It can’t be helped. Kill them all. It is the church’s will…”
“Understood. But what is that behind you, Captain?”
“It’s nothing. It looks like a jar for storing meat.”
“Meat? The soldiers will love it. I’ll tell them to take out the meat…”
The captain cut him off sharply.
“It’s better if you don’t. Haven’t you seen the power of those who believe in godless deities? I’m afraid we’ll get sick from eating the meat they prepared.”
“You’re right. Even though the priests and paladins seem fine, the soldiers suffered greatly… There’s still many soldiers who are terrified by nosebleeds. They got better after receiving blessings, but…”
The sounds of their conversation gradually faded away, followed by a scream that made the jar hum.
The boys didn’t move an inch.
If anyone tried to leave, they were held back, and if the restrained boy cried out in frustration, another boy would stifle his mouth. They restrained each other in anger.
We were cowardly. Feeling their own cowardice to the bone, the boys spent an entire day in the jar and emerged with wrinkled, exhausted bodies to find their village burnt to the ground.
Only five boys survived, and they were the only ones.
+ + +
Dop Bizan built up the grave mound high. How much effort they had put into burying their parents at the time.
The five boys dug up as much earth as possible and moved hundreds of corpses, but they were worn out. It was hard labor for boys to move the full-grown bodies repeatedly until they became exhausted. To make matters worse, in the heat of summer, the bodies started to rot.
The decomposed bodies were hard to handle. When they grabbed them, pus oozed out, and the limbs tore off. The boys had to give up.
Amid the stench of countless decomposed bodies, the boys vowed not to forgive the white demons who killed their parents. They swore to avenge them at all costs…
“Phew.”
Dop Bizan bowed in front of the now proper grave mound. Feeling a bit lighter in spirit, he returned to the village.
There was still much to do. As he cleaned up the mess of the village, he moved any abandoned bones to an open space.
It was for cremation.
The Bizan tribe did not practice cremation. It was a funeral custom they learned from Demosls Village, something they hadn’t known before.
Dop Bizan quietly gathered the bone fragments. He stayed for nine days in what he assumed was his parents’ ruined house before setting it on fire just before leaving.
Watching the flames crackle and burn, he thought of his wife. His wife, who died two years ago, was cremated the same way.
– “Hey! Who are you? Why are you wandering around our village?”
His first meeting with his wife.
She was a salvation for young Dop. Her bright smile had pulled him out of the vortex of revenge.
Years passed, and the boys, now young men, lived on a mountain near Demos Village, engulfed in despair.
The world was indeed vast.
The Bizan tribe thought it was the entire world, but the continent stretched endlessly, and their enemies were the enormous religious order known as the Holy Cross Church.
Five barbarian youths couldn’t do much about it.
Struggling to survive, they built a log cabin near Demos Village and hunted.
Dop, who showed exceptional talent in hunting, naturally assumed the role of leader. He sometimes descended the mountain alone to scout and gather information.
One day, he met a girl. At first, he ignored her while she was picking herbs on the plains below the mountain.
But the girl approached him first and talked to him. Fascinated by Dop’s animal skin clothes, she considered him a secret friend she could confide in, sharing things she couldn’t with peers from her village.
She always had a smile, with no shadows hanging over her. Every time Dop saw that smile, he felt his wounds healing, so he came down more frequently, supposedly for ‘scouting.’
“My parents run a bakery! Do you know how delicious our bread is?”
“…What’s bread?”
“What? You must be joking. You don’t know what bread is?… Oh my. Wait here.”
The girl, blessed by civilization, brought him bread. Tasting the soft texture for the first time, Dop’s eyes widened, and the girl beamed with pride.
“It’s made with herbs I picked; it’s good for you! Our bakery sells the best bread in town!”
“You said it’s the only bakery.”
“…Do you have to point that out? But it’s still delicious, right?”
Dop had no choice but to nod. The bread was so soft and delicious that he almost cried.
But their meetings couldn’t continue forever. His friends, still obsessed with revenge, wanted to leave for the Holy Kingdom, unlike Dop.
“Traitor!”
In their crudely built log cabin, Ubhan Bizan yelled. Pointing at Dop, he shouted as if inciting the other young men.
“Dop, you’re a traitor! Have you forgotten our vow? How can you shamelessly stay here alone?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? The people you should be apologizing to aren’t us, but your parents! The way our parents died, all because of some girl… Tsk! You filthy scumbag!”
Dop wiped the saliva dripping down his cheek and spoke gloomily.
“… If you want to hit me, go ahead.”
“You think I can’t? Guys, didn’t I tell you? He’s not fit to be the leader.”
When Ubhan spoke triumphantly, the other three young men glared at their friend with hurt expressions.
Dop Bizan couldn’t offer any excuses as he was beaten.
— Because of a girl.
Ubhan was right. I gave up on revenge because of that girl. Moreover, she was a devout follower of the Church, so he had no excuses whatsoever.
Dop accepted his friends’ anger and took it upon himself.
“Screech! What happened to your face? How did your clothes end up like this?”
The next day, Dop was sitting forlornly at the edge of the meadow where she often came. Having been thrown out of the log cabin, his body, damp from the dew all night, trembled in the morning breeze.
His face was swollen. His clothes were torn so deeply that his stomach was visible, and he had nothing, nowhere to go.
The startled girl dropped her herbal basket and ran over. When she touched his face, only then was Dop able to smile.
He felt sorry for his parents and friends, but he didn’t want to leave her.
“Oh no, what should I do? Wait a moment. I’ll apply these herbs, and you’ll get better quickly.”
The girl hurriedly ran to pick up the herbal basket she had just thrown away and then rummaged the ground for something to smash the herbs with, finding nothing but a sharp rock. She chewed the bitter herbs herself.
“Spit —” She spit out the herbs and approached him closely, applying them to his face. Dop quietly looked at her.
Her forehead almost touched his nose. Her unbrushed white roots were tidy, and fine hair stood fuzzily on her round earlobes.
So lovely.
Unconsciously, he held her worrying face in his hands. He kissed between her tidy forehead and her unkempt hair.
Her forehead blushed red as she lifted her head.
“… Something happened to you?”
“No, nothing happened.”
They looked at each other, holding each other’s cheeks. Middle-aged Dop Bizan, who had been watching the burning flames and recalling his young wife, got up.
The funeral was over.
He packed his bag and left the ruined village. Having finished something he needed to do before dying, his steps were lighter than when he arrived.
Walking steadily toward the Holy Kingdom of Jerome in the northwest, he thought of his son.
The treasure his wife left behind had grown up well. Despite the unfortunate family circumstances, his son had grown up upright, thanks to a girl named Lena.
His wife had taken her own life.
Despite the village priest’s opposition, they managed to get married and built a happy family. With their friends gone from the log cabin, they lived there together.
The year after they got married, his wife became pregnant.
A pregnant woman couldn’t stay in an isolated cabin, so he sold hides to buy a house in Demos Village. His wife, who had given birth to a son, named him ‘Lev’— which meant ‘heart.’
Those were happy days. Not a single day was unhappy.
He watched his son make baby gestures, flip his body for the first time, crawl, and walk. The father hunted earnestly to give his son a room as he grew into a boy, praying while burying the hearts and heads of his prey, hoping these days would continue.
“… I offer this. Please, accept this offering and help our family live happily under the grace of Barbatos.”
But over time, his wife began to act strangely. She would wake up drenched in sweat every morning.
“I had a terrifying dream. I don’t remember it, but someone whispered something creepy into my ear.”
After that, his wife often started going to church. What used to be weekend visits turned into a daily routine.
Up to that point, things were still okay.
His wife didn’t say anything about the Barbatos deity he worshipped, and Dop tried to forgive the resentful Church of the Cross for his beloved wife.
But as the years of startling awake in the early mornings continued — one year, three years, ten years — she started neglecting household chores and spent more time at the church. One day, after returning from hunting, Dop found out his son was getting meals from poor Lena’s house.
His wife had stopped cooking meals for their only son.
“You! What on earth is wrong with you?”
Dop yelled at his wife for the first time, but she replied calmly.
“Dear, I’ve realized something. That voice I hear every night… it’s the voice of God. I must have become a saint!”
Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of madness in her eyes.
Desperately, using words that didn’t come easy to him, Dop tried to persuade her, but she never stopped going to the church.
The situation gradually became more serious. She began to proclaim herself as a saintess. She would often hang around in front of the sacred relic placed in the village church, unwilling to leave, thus frequently disrupting the church’s rituals.
When the villagers tried to forcibly remove her, she would struggle in terror. Clinging to the relic, she would cry out, “Why are you doing this to me?” with a somewhat sane face.
In the end, she was treated as a madwoman and banned from entering the church.
As a result, she quickly became a complete wreck, and later she roamed around the church with disheveled hair, shouting, “I am the saintess! I am the saintess!”
There was no trace of the fresh smile of the girl from the bakery.
Fortunately, the son grew up healthily. It was thanks to his childhood friend, Lena, who held his hand tightly and wandered around searching for food. However, seeing his son becoming as taciturn as himself, Dop felt heartbroken.
“…Barbatos, please, please save my family.”
Then one day, his wife committed suicide. She took the trap her husband had made and hanged herself in front of the church.
Her rigid face somehow wore a sorrowful smile. In her hand was the hand mirror he had given her as a gift.
– “You say I’m pretty? Haha… Thank you, but you have no eye for women.”
He had bought her the mirror to contradict this statement, to show her how beautiful she was and how fresh her smile was.
“Aah… Aargh! You bastards! Is this what your god does?”
Dop shouted at the church. He cursed the villagers who had gathered and the priests and monks who had come running in shock, but then he saw his son. The son, who had come running to the church with Lena, froze upon seeing his mother’s corpse.
“Let’s go! I will never come to this filthy place again!”
Dop tore his son away from Lena, who was standing close by. The father and son, who returned home with the wife’s body, remained silent.
The next night, he carried his wife up to the mountain cabin and cremated her. He laid his son in bed and began to tattoo him.
Filled with rage, he silently etched the same tattoo onto his son’s arm and even prepared to set up a sacrificial altar dedicated to Barbatos.
At that moment, the son spoke. The son, who had not uttered a sound during the tattooing, confessed softly.
“…I like Lena.”
“……”
The words, filled with many implications, struck Dop.
The son’s life, having a mad mother, must also have been hell. The statement reminded the father that Lena was the one who had saved him.
“…I also loved your mother.”
His wife, the one who was now burning outside, was the one who had pulled him out of his personal hell. Though she had caused him and their son only suffering in recent years, he couldn’t hate her.
In the end, Dop put the candle back in the drawer and the father and son watched the burning flames blankly.
This happened two years ago.
Dop Bizan and Lev returned to their daily lives. However, life without the wife was not the same, so Dop, who was already reticent, spoke even less. The son barely spoke at home either.
Dop taught his son to hunt. While he used to let him come along as he pleased, now he subtly invited him to join.
I’m going to leave soon. It’s time to fulfill the promise I made to my forsaken friends. I felt I would burst if I didn’t exact revenge on the Holy Crusaders who took everything from me.
Dop planned to leave as soon as his son could fend for himself, but one day, the son suddenly came to the mountain cabin. He started concentrating on hunting with a sorrowful face, and his skills were remarkable.
After observing his son for two months and deciding it was okay to leave early, Dop asked.
“What do you think of Barbatos?”
If the son disliked it, he wouldn’t force him. He planned to leave, hoping the son would live happily with Lena.
However,
“A hunter should properly worship him.”
“…?”
The son spoke in a peculiar context, as if he had forgotten the past.
Though it seemed a bit odd, Dop, happy that his son had decided to live as a hunter, prepared the sacrificial altar.
He used his cherished wife’s keepsake as an offering, and surprisingly, the god responded.
The hand mirror disappeared without a trace.
Though he felt it was a pity, he took it as a divine revelation to forget everything and leave.
After making sure his son could sell jerky well, he said, “Live well,” and set off on his journey.
After nearly twenty years, he returned to his hometown, collected his parents’ remains, and headed towards the Holy Kingdom of Jerome. Though it was as if he was walking to his death, there was no hesitation in his steps.
As he neared the border of the Holy Kingdom, a merchant he was traveling with asked where he was going.
When he said he planned to pass into the Holy Kingdom, the merchant suggested they continue together, asking if he had the necessary pass to cross the border.
He had forgotten something. Dop was a barbarian, but he had married a girl from Demos Village and became a lord’s subject under the Guidan Marquis. He had forgotten that a lord’s subject could not cross the gates without permission.
Even if he went to the gate and said, “I am a barbarian and I do not have an ID,” they would never let him through.
Dop parted ways with the caravan he was traveling with. Since it was clear he could not cross the gate as things stood, he had to return to Demos Village to obtain a permit.
‘It’s too far to go back there… I’ll head to Nevis.’
There should be a way to get a permit if he went to the capital. He just needed to find the nobleman, the Guidan Marquis.
First, Dop went into the nearby mountains. It was already the cold winter, and he needed more money to go to Nevis, so he built a small hut and hunted through the winter.
When spring came, he sold the jerky and pelts he had hunted, and by early summer, he could finally reach Nevis.
But Nevis was a strange place.
He had heard that the capital was a place where you could get mugged with a blink of an eye, but he had never imagined it was this bad.
There was an unsettling feeling, as if traps were laid all around… Dop found it especially difficult to pass through the city gates, and he was amazed at how casually the citizens came and went.
‘What is this?’
He walked cautiously, zigzagging through the main street, to the point that an onlooker might think he was walking through a maze alone. He could finally relax only after finding an inn and stepping inside.
There, while having a simple dinner, he heard about ‘Akine,’ the heir succession ceremony, happening the next day. The innkeeper and the merchants staying there all seemed excited.
The next day, Dop went to the plaza to watch Akine and witnessed a horrifying scene.
The word ‘chaos’ was not enough to describe the carnage that unfolded, and, unbelievably, he saw his son from a distance.
“Le, Lev!”
Seeing his son wielding a giant sword, slaughtering civilians with a gruesome smile, Dop realized.
That was not his son. It was certainly Lev, but he was possessed by something entirely different, and Dop knew what it was. The giant trumpet emblem in the sky and the people flailing around as if caught in traps made it unmistakable.
It was Barbatos.
The deity had not just taken the mirror from the sacrificial altar, indicating the presence of a devotee. The deity had taken his son as well.
Dop instinctively ran towards Lev. Every time his son smiled while killing someone, Dop’s heart broke.
‘I have served the wrong god…’
Running and self-reproaching, he accidentally stepped on a trap. Something hit his head, and he passed out. When he came to, the square was filled with bodies, and no one else was there.
Dop immediately set out to find his son.
Along the way, he helped people caught in traps and searched everywhere until he saw his son.
Lev, drenched in blood, walking slowly. Dop, biting his lip, quietly followed his son – no, the god.
He needed to save his son.
And he had to take responsibility for all these deaths.
Dop Bizan had no other plan. His crazed wife no longer listened to anything he said.
What eased her madness…
Dop remembered the smile on his wife’s face after she had hanged herself. It was only after her death that she managed a mournful smile.
Dop drew a dagger. After taking a deep breath, he leaped and aimed for his son’s neck. But as if he knew, Lev swiftly spun and slashed his arm and chest. Dop’s son said something, but in his fallen state, Dop couldn’t hear a thing.
His final prayer was,
“O, Lord. Release my son… my son…”
Thus was the life of Dop Bizan.
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