A Mob Character Who Just Wants to Get Banished and Escape This Death Game vs. The Party Members Driven Mad by the Radiance of His Brilliance - Chapter 18

I heard a soft rustle—Ingrasius had moved.

Slumped over the desk beside his bed, I slowly opened my eyes without letting him notice.
I couldn’t shake the worry—was he trying to take his life again?

Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a pale, solemn glow over him.

And there, illuminated in that quiet silver light, I saw Ingrasius, tearfully offering desperate prayers to God.

His lips no longer made sound, yet they moved, mouthing silent words.
His trembling fingers traced lines in a worn bible.
Even I recognized the passage—it was a verse I’d heard before.

“O Lord, forgive me, a sinner who has lost faith in You. Turn your gaze away from this wretch who has fallen so far.”

Words spoken by a great king of old who defied God.

It was a confession, a plea for mercy from one burdened with unbearable guilt.
And now, Ingrasius knelt, eyes closed, lips moving without voice, the very image of a devout and broken priest.

I could hear the quiet sobbing rising from his chest.

What was he ashamed of?
What sin was he asking God to forgive?

I didn’t know.
I didn’t understand any of it.

He prayed the entire night without rest.

◆◆◆◆◆

As always, Ingrasius sat in the corner of his bed today, motionless.
I sat beside him, skimming a newspaper I’d “borrowed” from the dining hall, trying to keep the conversation going as best I could.

“Hmm… Apparently dragons are already flying over my hometown.
Guess it’s not too surprising, with how warm this winter’s been. They probably came out of hibernation early.”

“……”

“Also, looks like the Grand Cathedral of the Salius Faith—destroyed during the last major fairy offensive—has finally been rebuilt.
If I ever make it back behind the lines, I’d like to see it with my own eyes.”

“……”

“Haha…”

My laugh echoed dryly in the stillness. The silence was stifling.

No matter how much I spoke, Ingrasius kept his head down.
How could he sit like that, hunched over like a wilting flower, for so long?

I glanced at the loud, ticking second hand of the clock and realized it was almost time for deployment.

“Ingrasius… it’s time for duty.”

At last, Ingrasius lifted his face.

Faint trails of dried tears lined his cheeks, and his expression was hollow—like a condemned man bearing the weight of a nation’s fall.
Still, he rose to his feet.

Strangely enough, even now, he never missed his military duties.

I followed behind him as we exited the room.
Soldiers with rifles sprinted past us, their faces tense with urgency.

Pipes snaked across the walls and ceilings, and doors reinforced with iron lined the corridors of the Ogdanel Castle ruins—just as they had in the game.
The layout was like a labyrinth, designed for defense.

It was a testament to humanity’s desperate determination to hold this ground.

Ogdanel Castle stood atop a mountain, overlooking a narrow isthmus that connected the fairy forest to human lands.
Control of this place meant control of the front.

So the castle was constructed with winding paths and choke points—designed to delay enemy capture.
Even moving ammunition required manual labor through countless turns.

In short, just reaching your post in this place was exhausting.

We descended flight after flight of stone steps to reach the underground trolley station.
For hunters, it was manageable, but for regular soldiers, it must’ve been brutal training in itself.

Look—there.
A cannon crewman’s foot caught while hauling a wooden crate.

I could see it coming. The soldier lost his balance, and the crate tumbled.

Shells burst from it, flying across the steps.

Seriously, as much as this layout was necessary for defense, that gun-obsessed brat Agrastein could at least consider installing some lifts or something…

That thought came too late, of course, as I quickly moved to intercept.

I caught each of the flying shells with my bare hands before they could hit anyone, and even balanced the last box on my head.

Looking around, I asked:

“Hmm… any other shells that rolled off?”

“N-No, none, sir! Thank you for saving us!”

Hunters and soldiers had a mutual dependence.
Hunters alone couldn’t hold the front, and soldiers couldn’t take down fairies alone.

And no one benefits from unnecessary injuries.

“I-I’m so terribly sorry!”

‘(^-^)/ No worries at all!’

Apparently, Ingrasius had caught the falling soldier.

He still wore his usual bright smile in front of others—maintaining the image of a saint the troops adored.
As if trying not to shatter the illusion they held of him.

But those lifeless, dead-fish eyes of his remained unchanged.

‘o(^-^)o Do your best!’

“Yes, thank you so much!”

Ingrasius beamed gently at the artilleryman, whose eyes sparkled with admiration.
Once the soldiers had finished climbing and moved out of sight, Ingrasius walked silently back toward me.

“Well then, let’s go.”

“……”

The moment it was just the two of us, he went quiet again.

At this point, I didn’t know which version of Ingrasius was the real one.
Was it the smiling saint who offered kindness to everyone, or the hollow shell curled up in bed like the walking dead?

But… one thing I knew without a shred of doubt:
Ingrasius’s desire to help others—that kindness—was real. I could see that with my own eyes.

Even that tortured look he wore during his nighttime prayers… that too, must have come from the depth of his compassion.

◆◆◆◆◆

After Professor Alhansen had taken Ingrasius to the showers, his room sat empty and quiet.
It was so stark, so simple—it reflected the life of a priest, devoted and restrained.

The bed and desk were draped in gray shadows.
Only the altar stood out with any color.

The altar of the Salius Faith.
A cup was enshrined there, modeled after the story of the god who proclaimed that all people—regardless of who they are—should be saved.
The cup symbolized the god’s blessing, ever ready to help those who thirsted and sought.

I’ve never been the religious type.

Honestly, someone like me—trying to sneak away from the front just to survive—is probably spitting on the teachings of Salius.

And truth be told, I never liked that doctrine very much.

In this game’s world, where the Salius Faith is prominent, too many comrades threw their lives away saying “for the good of others.”
I hated it. I hated that blind self-sacrifice more than anything.

Still, I’m not stupid enough to rant about that to Ingrasius.
I kept those thoughts to myself, hidden away where no one in the party would see.

Being a commander has its own burdens.

As I was staring absentmindedly at the altar, I noticed something strange—a piece of cloth poking out from beneath the shelf.

Maybe it had gotten caught while being stored?

Thinking to neatly tuck it back in, I reached for it.
I figured it was probably something to do with his priestly role—maybe ceremonial cloths or scripture scrolls.

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong.

“…What… the hell is this?”

The words left my mouth without thinking.

I took a step back, stunned, speechless.

Maybe it was a hallucination?

Nervously, I looked again—more carefully this time.

But reality only sneered back at me.

I remembered hearing news once in my old world—about an obsessed fan, a stalker who not only hoarded idol merchandise but even dug through their trash.
Back then, I’d thought, “Who the hell does something that crazy?”

Well, apparently the day had come when I would become the target of that kind of obsession.

I sighed deeply.

There was no saving this situation.
I looked away from the neatly arranged shelf lined with my drawings, shirts, and other personal items, holding my head in my hands.

How the hell was I supposed to face Ingrasius after this?

No… more importantly, I now had absolutely no idea what Ingrasius was thinking.

As I stood there, still agonizing over it, I heard a clatter—the sound of the door.

I turned in a panic.

There stood Ingrasius, pale as a ghost, staring directly at me.