Chapter 270

The greater the threat to a loved one’s life, the narrower a person’s perspective becomes.

“Of course, I never truly believed my daughter’s recovery was thanks to them,” Harald admitted.

Even now, his wary gaze hadn’t softened. Years of experience and intuition honed through countless battles had made him distrustful of easy answers.

“But when they burned that odorless, colorless incense… my daughter, who couldn’t even sit in a wheelchair without effort, began to walk.”

In the bottomless pit of despair, even a faint glimmer of light could blur one’s vision and taste impossibly sweet.

This is why Ragnar severed familial ties.

Many called Ragnar heartless, but the clan’s policy of cutting emotional bonds had been refined into a science from the moment of birth.

There were even codified principles to ensure this detachment.

When a family member is taken hostage, there will be no negotiations.

Instead, the perpetrator’s entire lineage will be eradicated.

The clan will mobilize its forces, leaving only the minimum necessary to maintain the household’s function, to ensure total annihilation.

This policy had deterred enemies from ever considering taking Ragnar’s kin hostage.

The rare instances when such attempts were made ended in relentless, overwhelming retaliation. Entire bloodlines, including infants, were hunted down over years until none remained.

Harald’s family, being one of the great houses, had supposedly followed a similar doctrine.

But…

Van Harald couldn’t do it. Especially not when it came to his daughter, the child of his first love.

This had created an opening for the Holy Church of Light to exploit.

“They didn’t use something as crude as drugs. I was right there the whole time—they wouldn’t have dared to try such a shallow trick.”

Seeing one’s child recover, even briefly, must have made the Church’s absurd claims feel like a genuine divine miracle.

“That’s enough,” Lodbrok interjected, her tone sharp. “Yes, your daughter’s condition improved with that incense, but it was only temporary, wasn’t it?”

Harald’s response was subdued.

“Yes… it was.”

The story was predictable, devoid of any genuine surprise. Tragedies often followed the same bitter script.

“And, of course, they fed you more nonsense about resistance or tolerance, didn’t they?” Lodbrok continued, her voice dripping with disdain.

“That’s correct. That’s why I came to the Beastlands—to hunt the kings of monsters.”

Harald’s eyes glinted with a faint madness, a zeal bordering on fanaticism.

If completing this mission meant seeing his daughter walk again, he would endure any trial.

“And what did they ask of you before this?” Lodbrok pressed, her voice lowering ominously.

“The hearts and brains of insignificant beasts. The livers of black goats found only in the southern regions. Monster horns. Silver lilies that grow on the peaks of the western mountains. Those were the first items they asked for.”

At a glance, they sounded like typical ingredients for medicinal remedies.

Harald had likely thought the same, which is why he’d complied without much resistance.

But Lodbrok scoffed, her expression one of pity and derision.

“You were doomed from the start. Pitiful. But I suppose you couldn’t have known.”

Harald’s efforts had clearly been for naught.

Theo, sensing the weight of Lodbrok’s words, grew curious about her reaction.

“Keep going,” Lodbrok urged.

Though feeling uneasy, Harald continued his tale.

It became clear that he had scoured the continent, gathering a mishmash of ingredients. Some were life-threatening to obtain, while others were simple enough to acquire.

He recounted hunting rare creatures, dismantling their remains, and even demolishing strange buildings in his pursuit of these items.

As he spoke, Lodbrok’s eyes narrowed further.

“Ignorance is sometimes a crime,” she muttered. “Listening to this, it sounds more like you were preparing offerings for your daughter’s sacrifice. The audacity of those fiends…”

Her voice carried genuine pity as she clicked her tongue, regarding Harald with a mixture of compassion and scorn.

“That’s enough. Your daughter’s condition isn’t a disease—it’s a curse of religious origin. The ingredients they had you gather make that much clear.”

Harald froze, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“What do you mean… a curse?”

The implications of her words hit him like a blow, leaving him visibly shaken.

Theo glanced at Lodbrok, trying to gauge her reaction. But Lodbrok was not one to heed his subtle cues.

“Even medicinal ingredients can double as sacrificial offerings,” she explained. “For someone of your caliber, there aren’t many illnesses you wouldn’t recognize immediately. That’s why it had to be something you couldn’t see—a curse.”

Harald’s confusion deepened.

“I took her to priests, and they found no such traces,” he protested.

“Of course not,” Lodbrok retorted. “At first, it wouldn’t have been strong enough to register as a curse.”

She let out a sigh, glancing at Harald with a mixture of exasperation and pity.

“The items you gathered? They could have treated your daughter’s condition. But do you really think the Church wanted her healed?”

The light in Harald’s eyes dimmed as the full weight of Lodbrok’s words settled in.

His body trembled like a brittle tree in a storm.

“What… did you just say?” Harald’s voice wavered, filled with desperation. “Please… explain. I beg you.”

His voice cracked, and his demeanor betrayed a man clinging to the edge of reason.

“In religion, offerings serve many purposes. Yes, the items you collected could have helped your daughter. But the Holy Church didn’t gather them for her sake. Do you think they truly wanted her saved?”

Lodbrok paused to let her words sink in.

Harald’s aura flared violently, and she fixed him with a piercing gaze, silently commanding him to calm down.

It worked—Harald regained some composure, though his trembling persisted.

Then, in a sudden burst of self-loathing, he struck his own face.

Slap! Slap!

The more materials Harald gathered, the stronger the curse on his daughter must have grown. That was the only way the Holy Church could bypass his sharp senses and lay down such a powerful curse.

A heavy silence followed Lodbrok’s revelation.

Then—

Rumble, rumble—!

The entire cave began to tremble as Harald’s energy surged wildly, shaking the very walls with its fury.

The very materials I painstakingly gathered to save my daughter… were actually endangering her life? Those bastards—manipulating the ties of family so cruelly?

A crimson haze rose above Harald, mirroring his wrath. Theo clenched his teeth, his own anger simmering.

Veins bulged, threatening to burst from the sheer intensity of their emotions, and the acrid scent of blood filled the air.

The sight of Harald, consumed by rage and despair, was pitiful—his expression contorted with anguish so raw it was almost unbearable to witness.

“Those bastards from the Holy Church… I swear upon my sea god! I will tear them apart and leave their corpses to drift aimlessly upon the open ocean for eternity!”

Harald’s voice thundered with fury, each word laden with the weight of betrayal.

He had been deceived.

Knowing he was being used, he had still complied, all for the fleeting hope of seeing his daughter walk again, to hear her laugh, to hold her hand on their way home.

The shame of aiding a vile cult had been a bitter pill to swallow, but he had endured it for her sake, casting aside his honor.

But it had all been for nothing.

His efforts, his sacrifices—everything had been an illusion. The very hands that had tried to save her had unwittingly tightened the noose around her neck.

Boom! Boom!

Harald slammed his head against the cave walls, leaving streaks of blood in his wake.

The rawness of his despair made it impossible for Theo or Lodbrok to offer any words of comfort.

“Well thought,” Lodbrok said, her voice calm but laced with an undertone of menace. “It seems neither of us can tolerate sharing the same sky with those creatures any longer.”

Blood tears streaked down Harald’s face as he turned his gaze to Lodbrok.

Huff, huff—

The sound of his labored breathing echoed through the cave.

His face, twisted in a ghastly snarl, brimmed with murderous intent and deep, unrelenting regret.

“There’s still hope,” Lodbrok said, her tone resolute. “But tell me this—does your daughter remain in their grasp?”

Harald clenched his fists so tightly that blood seeped from his palms.

“No, my daughter is currently at home.”

Relief washed over them.

Even so, the danger wasn’t completely alleviated. It was possible that the Holy Church had planted spies within Harald’s household, or worse, corrupted one of his own.

They excelled at such underhanded tactics.

“She’s somewhere only I know. For now, she’s safe,” Harald confirmed. “But what is this hope you speak of?”

Lodbrok’s lips curved into a confident smile.

“Simple. We take back the materials you’ve gathered.”

At first glance, her statement seemed absurd, like grasping at straws.

If the materials had already been used, then there wouldn’t even be a plan to enact.

“Forgive me, but what if they’ve already been used…?” Harald asked cautiously, voicing his concern.

“They haven’t,” Lodbrok replied firmly. “If they had conducted a ritual with such potent materials, it wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. At the very least, I would have sensed it.”

A glimmer of hope sparked in Harald’s eyes.

The rage contorting his face began to ease, his breathing grew steadier, and his expression softened ever so slightly.

“Do you know where the materials were taken?” Lodbrok asked.

“They said the materials were delivered to a branch, where someone was tasked with safeguarding them,” Harald explained.

“Where is this branch?” Lodbrok pressed.

“Surprisingly close. It’s here in the Beastlands.”

Theo’s brows furrowed in disgust.

A branch of the Holy Church here in the Beastlands?

The very thought of the Holy Church establishing a presence so close to Ragnar’s stronghold was nauseating.

“And this branch,” Harald hesitated for a moment, closing his eyes as if steeling himself. He exhaled deeply before continuing.

“It’s overseen by the Second Apostle.”