I Became the Tyrant of a Defense Game

Chapter 872

Side Story 47. [After Story] Torkel (2)

“I’ll guide you. This way.”

“Ha…”

The trio of thugs exchanged looks and chuckled, clearly amused.

They charged in all at once.

“Heard you’re a war veteran, old man!”

“But that was, like, thirty years ago—!”

The trio’s plan was simple.

They were hoping to live off collecting protection fees in this harbor town.

To do that, they needed to knock a well-known local down a peg and show off their strength.

But the thugs made a critical miscalculation.

Thwack—!

Even if thirty years had passed.

Torkel had once been one of the greatest warriors in the world.

That kind of strength doesn’t fade easily.

“Guhk…?!”

Torkel’s massive fist sank into the gut of the first thug who rushed in.

The thug couldn’t even breathe. He flew backward from the momentum.

“You bastard—!”

Another thug followed up, swinging wildly, but Torkel casually grabbed his arm.

Wham—!

With a smooth throw, he slammed the man to the ground. His head hit the earth first.

Crunch!

“Squawk.”

Out cold.

Torkel looked around, trying to find the last opponent.

Smack—!

From behind, the final thug came at him, swinging a wooden club.

It struck Torkel square on the head—and shattered to pieces.

The thug, having swung with all his might, bared his teeth in a grin.

“How’s that, old man? Hurts a little, huh—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

He’d just smashed a club over someone’s skull—and that someone was perfectly fine.

Whoooosh—

Sea breeze blew in at that moment, flipping back the hood covering Torkel’s head.

“…What the hell.”

The thug’s voice trembled as he finally got a good look at Torkel’s face.

“Why are you wearing… a helmet?”

Torkel still wore a helmet on his head.

The very same helmet he’d maintained with care for thirty years gleamed with a glossy sheen, worn but polished.

When asked why he always wore it, Torkel’s answer was simple.

“Because it’s comfortable.”

His uppercut landed cleanly on the thug’s frozen jaw.

Torkel originally belonged to a mercenary group called the Leprosy Extermination Squad.

It was a squad of five afflicted men, known for always completing the missions they accepted.

And just as well known—for always collecting payment from any client who tried to skip out.

In the Monsterfront, Ash had treated them kindly, allowing Torkel to live peacefully in line with his true nature.

But back in the day, he was a ferocious war dog recognized even among the roughest mercenaries. They didn’t get called an “Extermination Squad” for nothing.

“You’ll behave now. Understood?”

Torkel beat the trio of thugs thoroughly for several hours.

He’d lived as a mercenary through the chaos of war. Compared to these clumsy punks, Torkel had spent a lifetime closer to violence than law.

He knew exactly what kind of ‘discipline’ worked on types like them.

After hours of having proper manners instilled into them, the trio knelt before Torkel, snot and tears streaming as they bowed their heads.

“Yes, sir!”

“Never again! We’ll never cause trouble again!”

“We’ll live right! We’ll live clean! Just spare our lives!”

“I told you, don’t call me sir. Call me Father.”

Torkel let out a sigh.

They weren’t even real thugs to begin with—just clueless punks.

Thinking they could come into someone else’s town and start extorting fees just because they could throw a punch? And in a place as rough as this harbor town, no less.

“This is a harbor town. There’s a reason the real bullies stay away.”

“Huh? What do you mean…?”

“The fishermen who went out far to sea will be back soon.”

Torkel explained how the townspeople had planned to “deal with” them.

Realizing they’d almost ended up like hooked tuna, the thugs turned pale. Only then did they understand why Torkel had stepped in and “educated” them.

They’d practically bargained their way out of death with a few punches.

“Now that’s settled, get out of this town. Stick around too long, and you’re going to regret it.”

“B-But…”

The thugs muttered in defeated voices.

“We don’t really have anywhere else to go…”

“We’re not sure how to make a living now. What are we supposed to do…?”

“Hm.”

Torkel thought for a moment, then made a suggestion.

“Then how about this—you come work with us on our island for a few months and learn some things?”

“Huh?”

“You mean the Leper’s Island… Oh, no, the Healing Island?”

Torkel nodded.

“Yeah. We’re always in need of manpower. We’ll provide room, board, and even pay you.”

“…Think of it as volunteer work. You’ll learn some skills that might help you survive out there.”

At first, the thugs thought he was joking, but then their minds changed.

They’d already failed at thug life in this town. They had nowhere else to go.

Might as well follow this famous priest for a while and earn some money, right?

“Sounds good!”

“We’ll volunteer on the Healing Island!”

“Let’s head out right away, Father!”

“Stop calling me ‘sir.’ I told you, it’s Father.”

Torkel led the three thugs down to the dock.

The once-proud thugs now kept their heads low, shuffling behind him like chastised puppies. A sailor watching the scene gave a tired chuckle.

“Picking up strays again, Father?”

“Yes. It turned out that way.”

“You’re just too kind for your own good…”

The trio overheard the exchange and tilted their heads.

Again? So there were others like them?

Their confusion didn’t last long.

“Father Torkel~!”

A small ferry was approaching the harbor, and on the bow stood two hulking men, covered in scars, waving enthusiastically.

“You’re back!”

“How was your trip?”

“Oh, peaceful as always. How’s the island?”

“It’s calm, but everyone’s been stretching their necks waiting for you. Please, tell us your secret to popularity.”

The two big men chuckled as they finally noticed the new trio.

“Oh, new recruits? Figured you’d bring more strays.”

“What kind of trouble did these ones get into?”

Boarding the ship, Torkel replied casually.

“They threw a few punches and one of them smacked me in the back of the head with a club.”

“Oho…”

The two men grinned ominously as they eyed the thugs.

The thugs swallowed hard, intimidated.

But the men simply laughed and clapped them on the back.

“These ones are pretty tame!”

“…?”

Tame?

They attacked their priest and that’s tame?

“I tried to stab Father.”

“And I… what was it again?”

“Mace. I really tried to kill him with it.”

“But it didn’t even scratch him. He blocked it and beat the crap out of me.”

“Getting beat up wasn’t the worst part. It was the twelve-hour sermon afterward.”

The two giants explained how they first met Torkel.

They used to block a mountain path on the western continent, robbing travelers—until locals asked Torkel for help.

He came, and in moments, wiped them out.

“We all got smacked around by Father and woke up real quick.”

“He said it was just temporary volunteer work and dragged us to the island… but turns out, there’s no better place to be.”

“He gathers all kinds of lowlifes from around the world and puts them to work on the island!”

“You’ll get a fresh start, too.”

Torkel shook his head with a sigh.

“It really did start because we were short on labor, but somehow…”

Only then did the thugs realize this wasn’t a one-off. Their ‘seniors’ on the island were even worse criminals than they were.

And yet—they now lived peacefully? On an island that cared for lepers?

“Most people came planning to stay just a few days or months like you… and ended up not wanting to leave.”

Torkel explained.

“Don’t worry. If you ever want to go, no one will stop you. Just stay as long as you like and leave when you’re ready.”

Before long, the island came into view. It wasn’t far to begin with.

A small village lined with colorful rooftops stretched from the tiny harbor. At the center stood a large, white building that served as both a hospital and a temple.

Funded by donations from around the world and supported by Emperor Everblack, the island was clean and serene. Amid the crystal-clear sea, it looked like paradise.

And people lived here.

Lepers. Priests who had come from all over the world to serve.

And people who wanted to escape the world.

From criminals to broken souls barely hanging onto life—every type of outcast Torkel had taken in over the past thirty years lived here together.

“Our island has simple rules.”

Seeing the thugs stunned by the unexpectedly beautiful view, the hulking men raised fingers to count the rules.

“Eat when you want, sleep when you want.”

“Do your daily tasks. Say hi when you see someone. Don’t make trouble.”

“You don’t have to go to the temple, but you do have to talk to Father once a week.”

“Follow these, and you’ll have peace here. Got it?”

The ferry approached the harbor of the Healing Island.

Spotting Torkel’s return, the island residents rushed to the docks with open arms.

“Torkel!”

“Father!”

“We’ve been waiting!”

“What took you so long? We missed you!”

They all called out his name in welcome. Torkel waved back, grinning sheepishly.

It was Torkel who secured funding from Ash and traveled the world gathering donations.

It was Torkel who, through sincerity and compassion, inspired priests across the land to come volunteer of their own accord.

It was Torkel who brought workers and residents here.

And it was Torkel who helped them all live in harmony and peace on this island.

He always led from the front, never shied from hardship, listened to people’s confessions, and empathized with their pain.

It was Torkel’s dedication and heart that had turned this island into a small paradise.

“Everyone’s been waiting just for you, Father.”

One of the big men grinned as he glanced at the bustling harbor.

“There’s a mountain of work piled up. You’re going to be busy.”

“Haha. Time to get back to it, then.”

Torkel lifted his gaze to his homeland.

A place he once desperately wanted to escape.

But deep down… had always longed for.

On this island where the sun always shone, Torkel’s new family smiled brightly.

“…”

Suddenly, Torkel thought of her.

Saintess Margarita, who had died in his arms. The smile she wore in her final moments.

He was certain now that the same smile was on his own lips.

Because reflected in the faces of those around him—like a mirror—was that very smile, blooming everywhere across this place.

Torkel’s life had been pain.

And from that pain, as deep as it ran, bloomed a flower all the more beautiful.