Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 558: Civilization × Savagery

Life is work. To live means to do something—anything. Whether you’ve defeated a wicked black magician or saved the lives of over three hundred people, the truth remains: if you’re alive, you work.

“Ugh, just my luck. Can’t catch a break.”

I sighed, standing before the three hundred refugees.

The regressor had overturned the land to make a temporary settlement. The food supply was cobbled together from what Fiou Village had left and what the regressor could spare.

But in a land where people start with prayer and a bowl of water when someone’s sick, there was no one ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) to treat the mentally and physically broken refugees. Callis, being from the Military State, saw psychological wounds as overblown dramatics, and the regressor only knew bizarre treatments like purification or cleansing rites.

But people are shaped by their roles, and roles are born from work. If you remove all the worker ants from an anthill, the ones who were just milling about become worker ants themselves.

So I became a doctor and diagnosed the injured.

“Urgh... my head feels like it’s going to explode... Just kill me already.”

“Really? Is that what you truly wish for?”

“...Ngh, no. Please, just make it hurt less...”

“That’s not really possible. The only way to dull the pain is with an anesthetic.”

“Even that would be—!”

“What you were taking in the black magician’s prison was the anesthetic. It’s pretty similar, right? When you come off the anesthetic, it hurts even more. So tough it out.”

I waved my hands to shoo the patient away. The barbarian, clutching his head and groaning, shot me a resentful glare as he left the tent.

“Quack...”

Hmph. Not my problem. I am a quack. My job is to read people’s thoughts and let them endure the pain they can endure.

I mean, if he can walk out on his own two feet, then he probably doesn’t need much treatment anyway.

I glanced toward the far end of the tents. The ones lying there were those who had barely survived being sacrifices. They were conscious, but their thoughts came in fits and starts. Their lifespans were clearly hanging by a thread.

Cleaning up is harder than saving people, huh. When I think about it like this, maybe it’s a good thing the regressor hasn’t stopped the apocalypse yet. Dealing with a world after it’s been saved sounds way harder than just stopping the end itself.

I’d just finished diagnosing everyone, handing out some medicine to those who needed it, and finally caught a moment of rest when Rash burst into the tent.

“Teacher! Are you here?! Ah—wait, should I have knocked first?!”

“There’s not even a door—what would you knock on? Anyway, what’s a perfectly healthy Rash doing here?”

“Well, I’ve come to ask a favor!”

“Ah, I’ve developed a real allergy to favors lately.”

Oblivious to my disinterest, Rash got straight to the point.

“You know how, in some cultures, a wedding needs someone to officiate? A respected figure, like a priestess, who watches over the ceremony? I’d like you to officiate our wedding!”

Huh. Never thought I’d be asked to officiate a wedding. The most I’ve ever done was deal cards at a gambling table.

“That’s a scam, you know. I was never a real teacher. I conned my way into Tantalus.”

“That’s fine! My people wouldn’t know whether you’re a teacher or a swindler anyway!”

“I don’t mind doing it, but we’ll need to find the time. I won’t be staying here long.”

“Then we’ll hold the ceremony quickly! Callis! Come here a moment!”

Wait, what? You’re doing it now? What kind of wedding happens faster than a poker game?

“You sure you want to get married that casually?”

“Casually? I’ve told the whole village at least three times, and we already got the Offering Spirit’s blessing through the priestess. We only kept putting it off because of issues with the ceremony itself.”

He meant the Undying wedding rite—burying the bride and groom together and leaving them there for a month, right? That might’ve been fine for the Undying, but Rash, who’d studied abroad, was clearly aware how barbaric that custom was.

Basically, it’s like saying “don’t marry anyone who isn’t Undying.” So now he was trying to go with a different kind of ceremony.

“But we’ve got the wedding gifts, and your group is here too. What better time is there? We’ve got great guests!”

“Hm. So you’re saying you want us to lend a hand?”

“Hahaha! Exactly! What’s the point of having a foreign-style wedding if only Callis and I understand it? We need guests from the same place for it to look proper!”

He said it with a laugh, but he’d clearly thought this through. Maybe he was simple, but not stupid.

After all, the Undying and normal humans are biologically very different. The Undying can abuse their bodies without consequence, but humans fall apart and die quickly. The foundations are just completely different.

“Rash? You called?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

As we were talking about the wedding, Callis stepped through the tent flap.

“Oh! Callis!”

The moment they saw each other, they kissed—deep and long. They didn’t seem to care that I was right there. After doing just about everything short of a full make-out session, they finally turned their attention to me.

“So, what did you call me for?”

“Ah. I wanted to ask the teacher to officiate the wedding.”

“What? He’s not even a priest—he’s a criminal.”

“So what? No one here knows that. And the teacher has druidic powers. Druids are sages of the forest. You might not care, but in this village, that’s more respected than most priests.”

“Druid...? That wasn’t listed in his profile.”

People evolve, you know. How long are you going to define me by my days as a pit-dwelling worm?

Still looking slightly skeptical, Callis said:

“Rash. I have a proposal.”

“You’re not happy about the officiant? But the teacher’s the only suitable one we’ve got right now. Can’t you just put up with it?”

Wait a minute, put up with it? You’re the one who asked me! That’s pretty rude!

But that didn’t seem to be what she meant. Callis shook her head and clarified:

“No, it’s not about the officiant. If we hold the wedding in the Military State’s style, both you and I will become outsiders here. Our proposals will be dismissed more easily, and Fiou Village will remain stagnant, without any real progress.”

It might sound like she was overthinking things for a wedding, but ceremonies carry meaning. Marriage, by nature, is the union of two bloodlines. Unless you’re planning to remain completely separate, one party ends up joining the other.

A wedding is a declaration of where you belong. No matter how much Rash insisted, if he forced a plains-style wedding, he’d be seen as an outsider.

“Then what do you propose?”

Rash already knew. But he had no choice. If they held the wedding in the Undying way, Callis would become a stranger to the world she came from.

That’s why he’d gone to the trouble of bringing back wool from the King of Sheep—to supplement his lacking authority with a worthy offering.

But Callis took a different approach.

“I’m going to undergo the Undying wedding ceremony.”

If she could endure that brutal rite, she could have both. A highly risky gamble—but a gamble nonetheless.

Of course, Rash erupted in anger.

“It’s too dangerous! A whole month! Buried under packed soil for an entire month! You have to endure all of it without outside help!”

“I’ll bring supplies and use magic to protect myself. If I prepare properly, I think I can survive the month.”

“You think—but you’re not certain!”

“Rash. If I’m with you, I can endure it.”

“That’s exactly why it’s hard for me!”

Rash clenched his fists so tightly the veins bulged.

“I... I don’t think I can bear to watch you waste away like that, right in front of me...!”

I was starting to understand how the regressor felt. Getting caught in someone else’s drama is one thing, but being turned into a decorative backdrop while they have their moment? Kinda annoying.

Still, both sides made sense. And honestly, no matter what they chose, things wouldn’t change too much.

If you asked which side I preferred—of course I’d go for the one with more risk.

“Rash, I’ve got a question. What if... say, halfway through, she just slipped out?”

“...That would be difficult. The couple is buried together, skin to skin, inside a basket. That basket is buried deep underground under the priestess’s supervision. We leave a breathing hole, but it’s nearly impossible to dig your way out from the inside. If I try to break the ground from my side, it could hurt Callis in the process.”

“What if we prep a tunnel in advance or leave some space? I mean, you’re buried, but who says you have to stay cramped in there the whole time?”

Doesn’t even have to be that method. You get buried? Just sneak out. Spend a month lazing around, then come back at the end looking all miserable. No one’s the wiser.

“You’re saying we cheat?”

“‘Cheat’ is such a harsh word. Let’s call it flexibility. Come on—what kind of tradition buries people alive for a month? You’ve got to know when to play it smart.”

“I see...! As expected of the teacher! To think you’d suggest faking the rite! A criminal would never even imagine something like that!”

Seriously—why has no one thought of this before? Is it just me? Am I the weird one here?

Callis, too, was impressed by my suggestion.

“If we don’t get caught, it’s an excellent plan. But making a tunnel in secret without alerting the ones burying us... that could be difficult. We’ll need someone discreet to help us.”

“I’ll ask Shei. With Jizan’s power, she can dig a hidden tunnel without anyone noticing.”

“Thank you!”

Sure, I’ll help. But why are you acting all pure and noble? You were part of a shady paramilitary group in the Military State—worse than a petty con like me.

“Hold on. I’m going to check the area.”

Anyway, we were now in the middle of planning what I like to call a flexibility-based ritual adjustment. Definitely not fraud. No need for eavesdroppers. I stepped outside the tent and glanced around.

That’s when I spotted someone very unusual walking toward us.

Barbarian tribes usually dressed in, well, barbaric ways. The Undying either went shirtless or barely covered themselves at all—just enough to say they were “wearing” something.

But this Undying had wrapped themselves tightly, concealing their entire body as if not a speck of skin should be shown. From head to toe—even their face.

Except for one spot: around the mouth. That area had been deliberately left exposed. And I could see it clearly through that unnatural opening.

The mouth. Stitched together, as if cut from somewhere else and sewn on.

“Teacher? Why are you just standing there...? ‘Mouth’?”

A priestess of the Offering Spirit. One of the chosen Undying who’d sacrificed a part of their body—eyes, ears, or mouth—in exchange for immortality.

This was a priestess who had given up her mouth—and now, she had come in person to deliver her god’s will.

Mouth approached steadily and, in a voice that rang out with eerie resonance, spoke:

“I speak on behalf of the Offering Spirit. I have come to deliver its will.”