Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired – Chapter 60

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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A discordant symphony of screams filled the air.

The grand cathedral, a place meant for silence and reverence, echoed with the sounds of shattering bone and tearing flesh.

Broken, melted, fragmented, ground down, then reformed.

“Perhaps I should try driving a stake through you this time.”

“D-Don’t!”

His plea died in his throat as a large stake slammed into his bone.

Crack.

The black bone splintered. His teeth couldn’t even chatter anymore. He couldn’t even scream.

Yet, he still clung to life, his very essence craving existence. His body began to regenerate, skin knitting together, organs reforming.

And I tore him apart again.

His silent screams echoed in the chamber, a macabre recording played on repeat. His vocal cords were gone, yet his silent agony conveyed a desperate yearning for death.

But his body wouldn’t obey. The shattered bones clicked back into place, and his expression twisted in despair.

“Ugh… ugh…”

“What’s wrong? As you said, I haven’t killed you yet.”

“K-Kill me… You can do it…”

He was right. For some reason, I possessed his power. Thanks to the status window, I assumed.

With this power, killing the skeleton before me would be effortless.

But.

“Why should I?”

Greed’s remaining eye widened in disbelief. His broken shinbone trembled, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.

“W-Why…”

“Because I want you to live.”

“…”

“Don’t think you can escape into the comfort of death. This suffering is not enough. You should be stoned to death by the families of those you killed. Executed beneath the cross of the church you defiled. Everyone, guilty and innocent alike, will cast stones upon you. Your survival will be their decision.”

His face turned pale, then flushed with anger.

“I… I didn’t do anything to—!”

“Can you stand by that statement…?”

“…”

My killing intent flared, and he lowered his head, unable to meet my gaze.

I leaned closer and heard the faint grinding of his teeth.

“I… why…”

He muttered incoherently, still refusing to accept responsibility. My already non-existent sympathy vanished.

Not that I’d planned on sparing him even if he had repented.

I placed a cold metal object against his arm.

“…Huh?”

“Break time’s over.”

I drew the serrated edge of a saw across his bone.

“Ah… Aaaaagh!!!”

“Still have the strength to scream, I see.”

The saw blade, rougher than the dagger’s edge, bit into the bone, sending fine dust into the air.

The dust, delicate as powdered snow, drifted on the faint breeze. The saw teeth dulled, and I paused to sharpen them.

Seizing the momentary pause, he spoke, his voice desperate.

“I-I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!”

“About what?”

“A-Anything you want to know! Just…”

“Do you really think I’m interested in anything you have to say?”

He seemed momentarily stunned, then grasped at straws.

“I-Information about the other church members!”

“…”

“A-And the locations of the Lunar Church’s hidden branches!”

“…How can I trust you?”

“Uh… well… I…”

“…Fine. Talk.”

Hope flickered in his eye. He saw a chance, a possibility of survival.

He eagerly spilled everything he knew.

Details about the Seven Deadly Sins, the ranking system within the Lunar Church, the locations of their hidden branches throughout the empire, and the fact that they were all hunting me.

As I mentally recorded his confession, the Pope approached, tapping me on the shoulder.

“Young man, could you perhaps wrap this up and help with the situation outside?”

I turned, observing him. His eyes darted between me and Greed, then flickered away nervously. His shoes were splattered with blood and bone dust.

Putting aside the fact that he’d dirtied his shoes, I had no desire to help him clean up the mess outside. The knights and priests he’d promised as backup hadn’t arrived.

I made my reluctance clear in my tone.

“…Is there something specific you need my help with?”

“I apologize for asking so much of you, young man. But right now, we need every able body.”

“…”

“I know it’s shameless to ask… but could you help us just one more time…?”

I wasn’t accustomed to kindness. I’d rarely experienced it without ulterior motives.

And I wasn’t used to requests either. People usually gave me orders. Few had ever humbled themselves enough to ask for my help.

So, I couldn’t refuse. They say you only learn how to refuse requests by receiving them.

And how could I refuse the Pope himself, bowing his head, asking for my assistance?

“…Very well.”

“Thank you, truly…”

“…Heh.”

Greed chuckled softly as the Pope grasped my hand, shaking it gratefully.

A flicker of hope returned to his eyes. He probably thought he could escape now that I was leaving.

Seeing that look, I felt a sudden urge to crush his hope again. Completely and utterly.

I wanted to inflict despair upon his hopeful soul.

I created a large metal container behind him, big enough to hold a person.

Then, I inscribed a complex magic circle on its base, its lines glowing with an ominous red light.

“You.”

“Huh…?”

“Get in.”

“…”

“Unless you’d rather die right here, right now.”

He scrambled into the container, realizing I was serious.

He was about to experience hell. A hell far worse than anything he could imagine.

“Pope, could you lend me a hand?”

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‘I’ll kill you… I swear… I’ll kill you…!’

Meanwhile, Greed, still unaware of his impending fate, plotted his revenge against Jenison.

‘I’ll tear him limb from limb…’

How much time had passed?

Sweat beaded on his skin. The air grew thick, heavy, hot.

At first, he attributed the heat to his own rage, but it intensified, relentlessly.

The container became an oven, a sealed sauna.

“Huff… huff… What is this…?”

“Realizing it now?”

“You… you… what did you do…?”

“I reconsidered… I don’t recall ever promising to spare your life.”

“W-What?!”

“I decided to kill you after all.”

Panic surged through him. He tried to escape, but his hands recoiled from the scorching metal walls.

The searing pain, the smell of burning flesh—it was happening again.

“Do you know the Brazen Bull?”

“…What?”

“In some ancient land, they’d put criminals inside a bronze bull and roast them alive.”

“…No.”

“I wondered how long you’d last. I left you an air hole, so try to survive.”

“H-Hey! W-Wait!”

But the presence was gone. He was alone.

“W-Wait… Hey…”

He screamed, but only silence answered.

Only the crackling sound of the fire beneath the container.

He tried to break free, but the container was sealed by a powerful barrier. Not just any barrier, but a holy barrier, inscribed by a high-ranking priest, perhaps even the Pope himself.

His depleted power, further weakened by the loss of his black tendrils, was useless against it.

He had no escape.

“Aaaaagh!! I’ll rip you apart! I’ll kill you!!!”

All he could do was scream.

He cursed, he shrieked, he sobbed, he pleaded.

The heat intensified, evaporating his tears before they could fall. He couldn’t even lean against the walls; his skin sizzled and stuck to the burning metal.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest. No food, no water.

What happens when a being is deprived of all basic needs? When desire exists, but fulfillment is impossible?

Most would simply give up, succumbing to despair.

Five days later, during the church’s reconstruction efforts, unidentified bone fragments were discovered.

Greed.

A fitting end for someone who had spent his life coveting everything that belonged to others.

In the end, everything had been taken from him.

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