As they stepped into Noran, Lynch realized that many of his previous assumptions had been mistaken.
In his imagination, an era of despair following the fall of the gods meant the Third Age's Dark Age should have been much like the Second Age's Savage Age—barbaric, dark, bloody, chaotic, overrun by cultists, strewn with the severed flesh and blood of sacrificial offerings to evil gods, with mysterious creatures preying on living beings everywhere, and utterly devoid of order.
Yet, having now seen a Third Age city with his own eyes, Lynch finally realized that the Third Age was not nearly as exaggerated as he had envisioned.
Perhaps the Savage Age truly had been like that, but by the Third Age, order had begun taking rough shape. Though people still scraped by under the looming threat of the occult, society had already started transitioning from chaos toward order.
The urban environment here felt somewhat like the Middle Ages without ecclesiastic authority.
Granted, the buildings were crude and rudimentary, foul-smelling sewage ran rampant through the streets, the populace was dark-skinned, short, and emaciated, and people lived mingled with livestock roaming everywhere...
Just as Lynch was about to kick away a chicken blocking his path, the sudden murderous intent radiating from the surroundings made him opt for a detour. After all, those things were sometimes more dangerous than evil gods.
In any case, kingdoms, city-states, systematic laws, and professional soldiers already existed here. It was hard to imagine that this was the darkest hour before the dawn, prior to the revival of the gods and the rebuilding of order. Did the rebuilding of order lead to the revival of the gods, or did the revival of the gods give rise to order? Neighbor, can you explain that?
【I can, but you cannot.】
'Huh?'
【For a mortal will to attempt to comprehend such things is a disaster, Lynch. For now, you still possess a human soul and will. Do not be arrogant; it will lead you to ruin. This is not what your kind calls alarmism, but a lesson compiled from countless examples over thousands upon thousands of years.】
'Is this considered forbidden knowledge too?'
【What do you think, Lynch? You are discussing the most fundamental forbidden knowledge—the origin of gods—with a deity. That is not something a mortal's fragile mind can bear, and as long as you remain mortal, you are no exception. For a god to destroy a mortal requires no physical attack whatsoever; merely scattering such forbidden knowledge casually and cramming it into a mortal's perception is more than enough.】
'Hiss... then the Lord of a Billion Radiance...'
【That is precisely why he is an evil god—because he makes no distinction as to whether that knowledge can be borne by humans. True gods, on the other hand, would never be so generous, for listening to everything will only ruin you. You are currently in a very perilous state.】
'Is that why you suddenly gave such a long answer? What danger am I in?'
【You are attempting to ponder and comprehend forbidden knowledge, which is the root of the danger. Do not do such things. If you fail to find an answer, you will only become increasingly obsessed, ultimately sinking into madness and despair. And if by some chance you do find an answer... trust me, you will deeply miss your prior madness and despair.】
'Aren't there quite a few theologians in the world? I thought these questions were harmless.'
【That is because you have only seen the surviving theologians who never delved into forbidden knowledge. And besides... why would you assume they were all sane?】
'Tsk, fine, I get it. I'll try my best not to dwell on questions like this. Hopefully, it won't be like trying not to think of a white polar bear, only to have it stuck in my head forever. I don't want to end up like that lunatic over there.'
“Noran stands on the brink of ruin! The undead scourge is upon us, and every single one of you will die! Awaken, foolish beings! Believe in the Lord, worship the Lord, and the Lord shall keep you from suffering!”
It was Judy speaking, translating the words of a mad old man not far away.
The man was old, with dirty, disheveled hair and a beard, wearing ragged, stain-covered clothes. He stood atop a grain pile in the city center, shouting at the top of his lungs. The passing citizens below didn't even spare him a glance, and only a few bratty kids were gathered around him, giggling and occasionally hurling garbage onto the grain pile.
“Hiss... don't tell me I ran into a theologian right after thinking about them? No, wait, he counts as a prophet. He actually knows the ghouls are coming. By 'the Lord,' which major god is he referring to?”
“There are no gods in this era. He is likely a cultist of a Great Old One,” Judy explained, having returned to her normal self for once. “It should be a Great Old One associated with prophecy or time, though it's hard to tell which one.”
Lynch muttered thoughtfully, “What a coincidence. I was just thinking about the Lord of a Billion Radiance.”
“Have you forgotten? In the occult world, there are no coincidences. Any phenomenon that appears coincidental could be an omen, including your sudden, inexplicable thought of that evil god,” Officer Natalie said solemnly. “Why don't we go ask?”
“No need for now. Judging by the locals' reactions, he probably loses his mind here every day. If necessary, we can always come back tomorrow.”
It was not like he was going to die tonight, he added in self-mockery, leading the three ladies around the grain pile and the bratty kids.
Though called a city, its scale was comparable to the rural small towns of Lynch's past life, with a similar layout. The city center was a large open square where households gathered to dry their grain in the sun. Beside it stood a public mill; during harvest season, it would undoubtedly be bustling. However, harvest season here was in June, and it was only early May now, so the square held only a few piles of last year's wheat straw.
Even so, there was still quite a crowd. Surrounding the square was a ring of rudimentary shops, forming the earliest iteration of a downtown district. With dusk approaching, the square was filled with people heading home, making it rather lively.
A little too lively, to be exact.
A burst of screams and wailing rang out from the roadside, instantly drawing a crowd of onlookers pointing and whispering.
It was a woman around thirty years old, fairer-skinned and slimmer than the others, appearing somewhat educated.
Yet her actions showed none of that refined demeanor. She had grabbed a filthy boy of seven or eight by the collar and was swinging her arm to deliver several resounding slaps across his face, bloodying the corner of his mouth. Without pausing, she raised a leg and kicked the boy to the ground, planted her foot on his chest to snatch away a pouch from his hands, and delivered another kick straight to his gut. The boy curled into a tight ball like a boiled shrimp. Only then did she stop, open the pouch to inspect its contents, and turn around in a huff, intending to leave.
However, as soon as she turned back, she found four strangers standing behind her.
“@#! #@$!” The woman's eyes widened into a glare as she let out a fierce roar.
“She's asking why you're blocking the way, and whether you're in cahoots with the kid. If not, she said to get lost.”
“No, no, I was just so deeply impressed by how practiced she is at handling bratty kids that I wanted to ask for pointers. There are plenty of damn brats near where I live, too—might come in handy when I get back.”
Whether in games from his past life or back in King District, brats had long been a sore spot for Lynch. He was instantly captivated by the woman's formidable display, which was why he had stopped in his tracks. But now that a conversation had opened up, he decided to use the opportunity to fish for information.
Upon hearing Judy's translation, the woman's expression softened slightly. She looked the four of them up and down. “You don't look like thieves. Are you from out of town?”
“Foreigners here to buy grain,” Lynch said with a bright smile. “My name is Lynch Levive. How should I address you, ma'am?”
“Stephen. Stephen Sven.”
Hm?
Lynch's pupils constricted slightly as he looked at the plain silver ring on her middle finger.
Rate on N.U.
