Ex Hunter Current Queen, All That’s Left Is the Actual Battle

Translator: White Lotus 

“This is holy water. You must wash your hands before entering the spring for your purification bath.”

“Wash my hands?”

This again…. I’m going to bathe anyway, so what’s the point of doing this?

Jackson plunged his hands into the clear water with a splash, his face set in an expression of pure annoyance. As he rubbed his large, scarred hands together, water droplets splattered in every direction.

The priest, however, did not reprimand the queen for his careless action. Instead, he simply took hold of Jackson’s hands with care and began lathering them with fragrant soap.

“Hey, old man, what do you think you’re doing? I can wash my own hands.”

Jackson instinctively tried to pull away when the Arachron priest suddenly grabbed his hands and began kneading them. But soon, the stiffness in his shoulders gradually eased, and his resistance melted away.

With a firm yet gentle touch, the priest massaged every crevice of his hands, washing them with meticulous care. It was impossible to remain tense under such dedicated attention. Much to Jackson’s reluctance, the priest’s technique was undeniably impressive—it felt less like a purification ritual and more like an expert massage.

[My, my, it seems the queen is highly receptive to divine energy. You’ve become as docile as a lamb in mere moments.]

[……Well, isn’t that fortunate.]

As the once unruly Jackson calmed down, the priest’s voice brimmed with awe. Calint, on the other hand, inwardly dismissed the idea that this had anything to do with divinity but chose to simply nod instead of voicing his thoughts.

The priest, believing he had successfully subdued the queen’s temper with his divine power, looked immensely pleased with himself. Jackson, completely oblivious to the reason behind the priest’s sudden good mood, simply found himself with a pair of freshly scented hands.

[The spring is this way. You must cleanse your entire body here. Once your purification is complete, ring this bell, and we shall proceed with the blessing prayer.]

High Priest Heilman led Jackson toward the spring, where a brilliant blue light emanated from the water’s surface. Even without an explanation, it was clear that this was no ordinary bath—its presence alone carried an unmistakable sense of sacredness. A deep, bluish-green glow rose from the floor of the spring, shimmering like an ethereal mist.

The pool was framed by white pillars supporting a domed roof, making the small spring resemble a holy bathhouse. Its luminous waters reflected onto the ceiling, casting rippling patterns that flickered like living sigils. Jackson, standing at the edge and peering in, turned to Calint.

“So, I just wash myself here?”

“That’s correct. The water is of excellent quality—you might as well take your time and enjoy the bath. Once you’re done, ring the bell, and the priests will take care of the rest.”

Knowing that Jackson wasn’t fond of exposing himself, Calint left those words and quietly exited with the priest. Now completely alone, Jackson eyed the shimmering blue water with suspicion before cautiously dipping one foot in.

“What the hell? Is this so-called sacred spring just sparkling water?”

Once inside, he could see it clearly—the glow wasn’t coming from the water itself but from the stones lining the bottom, which reflected the light. Scooping up a handful of water, he watched as tiny bubbles rose to the surface and popped, disappearing without a trace.

Feeling slightly underwhelmed by the lack of any real mystical properties, Jackson let out a short sigh, shrugged off Calint’s coat, and lowered himself into the bath.

“…..Finally. Some time to myself.”

Dealing with those damn spiders was exhausting.

With a weary mutter, Jackson cupped the clear water in his hands and splashed it over his face, then began scrubbing his body.

Now soaked in the spring, the hardened features of the queen—often concealed by grime and fatigue—were fully revealed. Though he had seemed smaller beside the towering Arachron, Jackson was, by human standards, an impressive specimen. Thick biceps, broad shoulders, and a powerful, weighty chest gave him the appearance of a man sculpted from stone.

Yet, despite the sheer strength his form exuded, his body was far from unblemished. Scars marred the surface—thin, shallow cuts crisscrossed his skin, while a large, jagged wound stretched across the center of his back. His chest and abdomen were a tapestry of old wounds, each a silent testament to a life carved by hardship.

“Phew…!”

Jackson exhaled sharply, submerging himself further into the sacred waters.

Sinking into the pristine waters of the spring, Jackson leaned back against the stone wall before suddenly dunking his head underwater. He emerged with a sharp breath, tilting his head back as the cool water streamed down his face. The sensation of the spring soaking into his scalp sent a refreshing jolt through his mind, sharpening his senses.

Simply washing up was enough to lift his spirits. As he ran a hand through his damp bangs, he paused for a moment at the fragrant scent clinging to his fingers. It was a little irritating, but considering they’d let him bathe in such a fine spring, he decided to let it slide.

Whether it was magical or not, he had no idea. But true to its sparkling water-like quality, the initial coolness of the spring had begun to fade, replaced by a gradual warmth that seeped into his skin. Tiny bubbles had gathered around his prosthetic leg and the submerged part of his leg, clinging to the metal and flesh alike.

“Huh? What the hell is this?”

Jackson narrowed his eyes as he scrubbed himself, taking a moment to enjoy the rare pleasure of feeling clean. That was when he noticed something drifting in the crystal-clear water—fine, shimmering powder that had been clinging to his hair was now floating freely across the surface.

With a scowl, he sat up, shifting away from the glittering residue as it drifted toward him. Somehow, he felt as if he’d tainted the sacred waters just by stepping in.

“Damn Quill and his damn moth powder.”

Grumbling under his breath, the human queen hurried to wash off the last remnants of the shimmering powder. Whether it was the effect of the sparkling spring or something else, warmth now radiated through his body despite the cool water. It was the same pleasant sensation as taking a long, refreshing shower after an intense workout.

Thanks to the spring’s crisp, invigorating nature, his irritation toward Quill quickly melted away. There was even a faint, natural fragrance rising from the water—nothing artificial like the scented foam on his hands, but something fresher, closer to the essence of nature itself.

Calint had been right. Jackson did like the spring. Primitive as it was, the water was clean, making for a satisfying bath. But more than anything, the best part was that there wasn’t a single damn spider hovering nearby, trying to make conversation.

Finished with his bath, Jackson grabbed the bell without hesitation and gave it a rough shake—like trying to force out stubborn pepper stuck inside a tin. No matter how carelessly he swung it, the bell rang out in a clear, crisp tone.

It wasn’t long before a priest arrived, carrying a large towel and a vial of fragrant oil.

[Please dry yourself thoroughly with the towel and apply the anointing oil.]

“…..What the hell is he saying now?”

Standing awkwardly in the water, Jackson pointed at the towel and oil, then at himself, repeating the motion as if trying to confirm their intended purpose. Realizing that the new queen couldn’t understand their language yet, the priest simply nodded and gestured as best as he could, urging Jackson to dry off and use the oil.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Now, go away.”

Jackson waved him off. Since Calint had apparently warned them that he wasn’t comfortable exposing himself, the priest left without protest. Only after he was alone did Jackson step out of the water and grab the towel, shaking out his damp hair.

The difference was staggering. Compared to the rough, worn-down rags he used back home—practically stiff as a brush from years of use—this towel was so soft he could’ve believed it was woven from lamb’s wool. The moment he buried his face in it, he felt an unexpected sense of comfort. It was almost a shame to use it for drying off his hair and back.

Nevertheless, Jackson wasn’t one to hesitate over luxuries. He used the towel without reserve, thoroughly wiping himself down before absentmindedly running a hand over his chin.

He wanted to shave. Not that there was any point in asking for a razor—the temple probably wouldn’t provide one, and even if they did, he had no idea how to ask for it. He’d have to bring it up with Calint later. For now, he might as well use whatever oil the priest had left behind.

“Fuck, how the hell do you open this thing?”

The elegantly crafted bottle of anointing oil exuded a rich fragrance even before it was opened. But to Jackson—who barely considered applying lotion after a shower, let alone using perfumed oil—this entire process was nothing but a hassle.

He figured the bottle would open if he twisted the cap, like an ordinary drink bottle. But after several tries, it was clear that wasn’t how it worked.

Standing stark naked outside the water, wrestling with the stubborn bottle, Jackson felt irritation rising. The thought of just snapping the neck of the bottle crossed his mind, but he held himself back, wary of the temple demanding compensation. Defiling the sacred spring with moth powder had been enough of a crime—he didn’t need to add property damage to the list.

“No way in hell am I asking someone to open this for me.”

Summoning help over a stuck bottle was humiliating. So, still completely naked and dripping wet, Jackson resolved to handle this with the dignity of a civilized man. Surely, as someone from a modern society, he could figure this out.

“Damn it all to hell!”

He gave up after five minutes. Pride be damned—standing out in the open, soaked and shivering, wasn’t worth it. Worse, the temperature was dropping now that the sun had set, and in the distance, the priest was calling out, probably asking if he was finished.

Now he was in a rush.

He tried everything—biting the cap, twisting it with all his might—but nothing worked. Finally, out of sheer frustration, Jackson smashed the bottle neck against one of the stone pillars surrounding the spring.

Crash!

A sharp, crystalline sound rang out as the glass shattered, and oil spilled down his hands in golden rivulets.

“Damn thing, why’d they have to make it so complicated?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have broken it.

No, it was too late now. What’s done was done. He’d just have to apologize. Not his fault they designed the damn thing like that.

Jackson stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the shattered bottle in his hand. With a resigned sigh, he set the broken remains down on the edge of the spring and began rubbing the oil onto his skin.

Whatever it was made from, the scent was pleasant enough. But the moment it touched his skin, a rush of warmth spread over his body.

“…..Should I really be slathering this stuff on without a second thought? What if I’m allergic to it?”

Not that those idiot spiders would have considered something like that.

A faint tingling sensation crept over his skin, and Jackson glanced down at his arms, half-expecting some sort of rash to appear. But his skin remained unblemished, thankfully.

“Hey, I’m done. What’s next?”

Draping the towel around his waist, he picked up Calint’s coat in one hand and the ruined bottle in the other, then called out to the priest.

The priest, already having heard the sound of glass shattering, had a good idea of what had happened before even turning around. Instead of reprimanding the ignorant human, he simply made a mental note to prepare the anointing oil in a dish next time—rather than leaving it in a fragile bottle.

[Come this way. The blessing ritual for the Queen is ready.]

The priest led Jackson to where the other priests were waiting. In the prayer chamber, all the well-known priests eagerly awaited the moment they would see the queen.

[Please, have a seat. We shall begin the prayer now.]

They guided him to a specially prepared chair, murmured a series of incantations, then knelt before him—grasping his feet and beginning to knead them with reverent hands.

“What the hell is all this about…..”

Jackson had been expecting some kind of cult-like ritual, but when the priests suddenly started massaging his feet, he was caught off guard and blurted out in surprise. Unfortunately, none of the priests understood the human language, so they simply continued the ceremony without responding.

Well, a massage was nice. He wasn’t going to complain about that.

That was, until one of the priests’ hands moved toward his prosthetic.

Jackson reacted instantly, pulling his leg back. He wasn’t particularly bothered by them seeing his injury, but he had no intention of letting them knead at that part of his body. The priests hesitated for a moment, then wisely redirected their hands elsewhere.

Huh. I guess having all those extra arms is useful for this sort of thing. Weird, though.

What kind of ridiculous ceremony was this? Jackson sighed, watching them knead his shoulders and arms with growing boredom. He had half-expected some grandiose display of religious fervor—maybe a bit of fanatical chanting or theatrical gestures. Instead, it just felt like a mundane spa treatment.

He was tolerating it only because they were good at what they were doing. If their technique had been subpar, he would’ve made them pay dearly for daring to lay their hands on him.

[O merciful god, a stranger has arrived alone in the kingdom of Arachron and ascended to the throne as queen….]

Jackson paid no attention to the murmured prayers. His thoughts were occupied elsewhere—namely, what words he should ask Calint to teach him for survival.

Let’s see… Thank you. Sorry. What the hell do you want? Do you have a death wish?..…What else?

[May this blessing take root within the queen’s body, that he may safely bear the royal bloodline….]

Had Jackson understood what they were praying for, he would have immediately kicked the priests away and upended the basin of water at his feet.

Thankfully, he remained blissfully unaware.

While this was a ritual performed for every queen, this ceremony for Jackson was a bit more special. Even the youngest child in the kingdom of Arachron knew that a human body could not carry an Arachron’s egg. Which was precisely why the matter of ensuring that he could safely bear the egg had been the main topic of discussion in yesterday’s council meeting.

Since ancient times, the consecration prayer had been performed to promote conception—but making it effective on a human was a particularly difficult task.

Still, the priests were desperate.

Lately, divine revelations had been failing with increasing frequency, weakening the temple’s authority. Thus, they needed to prove their power by blessing and sanctifying the human queen. If they could prove that their blessings and sacred powers could make even a human queen conceive, they would regain the king’s favor.

Driving out the queen who would one day turn the kingdom to ash would be the next task.

[It is done. From now on, Your Majesty the Queen must receive the consecration prayer continuously for the next month in preparation for conception. We priests shall also pray fervently that the god’s blessing takes hold.]

“Uh… uh, thanks.”

As the priests withdrew their hands and spoke, Jackson responded awkwardly.

A hunter who had spent his life scraping by in the gutters was hardly accustomed to luxurious treatment. To him, the sacred ritual felt less like a holy blessing and more like an extravagant full-body massage.

[His Majesty awaits you outside. You do not need to be accompanied by him each time. May you go in peace.]

The priests escorted Jackson courteously to the entrance of the temple.

They were the third group of Arachron he had encountered since becoming queen, and compared to Lylis—who had immediately started shouting at him—they left a much better first impression.

Waiting outside, Calint greeted him with his signature gentle smile, his voice as smooth as ever.

“How was it? Did you find the consecration prayer to your liking?”

“…Hmph. Wasn’t bad.”

Unable to understand what the priests were saying, Jackson was slightly startled to see Calint waiting for him.

He could have easily sent a subordinate to fetch him, yet here he was, personally coming again. How very considerate.

At the same time, he found it strange that a simple request to wash up had resulted in him being escorted to the temple, bathed in fine water, and given a massage.

Perhaps there was some hidden agenda behind it.

Eventually, unable to suppress his curiosity, Jackson turned to the king and asked,

“What exactly were they praying so hard for? Felt like they were just rubbing me down for no reason….”

“For your well-being… your health, future fortune—things like that, I suppose.”

Calint knew the true purpose of the consecration prayers but chose to be vague. If he were to explain it outright, Jackson might just go on a rampage and tear down the entire temple.

“Weird place, but I’ll give it to them—the massage was decent.”

“They likely asked you to return daily.”

“Daily? You’re telling me I’m supposed to get this kind of treatment every day?”

Jackson quickly calculated the cost in his head.

How much would it take to afford luxuries like today’s? And after all this pampering, what exactly would they expect him to give in return?

Noticing the suspicion in Jackson’s gaze, Calint let out a quiet chuckle and said,

“You are the queen. Diligently attending temple rituals and maintaining a good relation with the temple—those, too, are part of a queen’s responsibilities.”

“Well… they didn’t seem like bad people, but not understanding a damn word was frustrating.”

“The language the priests use differs from ordinary speech, so even if you studied it, it would be difficult to understand for a while. But there’s no need to worry about that.”

“Still, I should at least be able to communicate the basics. Like saying I like something, I don’t like something and a few other essential words.”

“I’ve already spoken to Quill about your language lessons. If you have questions during the lessons, I’m sure he’ll answer them.”

Calint merely smiled gently, unaware that Jackson’s essential vocabulary included phrases like “I’ll kill you” and “Stop talking bullshit.” Meanwhile, Jackson, fully confident that Calint wouldn’t understand him, was already brimming with excitement at the thought of putting Lylis in her place for her rude remarks.

It was a perfect case of mutual misunderstanding.

“By the way, you must have used a fine fragrant oil. The scent is quite to my liking.”

Calint, catching the scent laced with pheromones, leaned in close to Jackson’s ear and the nape of his neck. To Jackson, who couldn’t detect Arachron pheromones, it was merely a sweet fragrance. But to Calint, it was an irresistibly alluring scent.

“Is that so? I can’t really tell. Is this the kind of smell spiders like?”

It was a scent that, without exception, felt more dense and heavy rather than fresh. Jackson tried sniffing himself, but his nose, already dulled by the fragrance, failed to notice any difference.

“Hmm…..Well, I like it, at least. I already found you interesting, but this makes you even more captivating.”

“Ugh, what’s with you? You’re creeping me out again. You really must have lost it from lack of sleep.”

Jackson scowled and shook his head. He hadn’t done much, yet exhaustion crept over him—perhaps because the Arachron men had been kneading his body earlier, or maybe because Calint was once again throwing strange advances his way, which made him tired.

“I’m being honest. You’re the only one who doesn’t realize it.”

Calint’s usually smooth and courteous voice wavered slightly. His blue eyes, which blinked slowly, carried an unmistakable trace of desire—though Jackson, being human, failed to recognize it.

Calint neither embraced nor touched Jackson recklessly, but instead, he inhaled deeply, as if trying to take in the scent all the way to his very core.