Chapter 64
Chapter 64
Chapter 64.
Godslayer. A title referring to an intelligent being who had slain a deity, and one of the highest-class authorities within the world's hierarchy.
The acquisition condition was 'deicide,' but killing a god as another god wouldn't qualify.
Only when a mortal slaughtered a divine being could one obtain this authority.
It came with numerous traits, but most were latent potentials for later stages.
At present, only one ability held any real significance.
They grew stronger by killing gods.
One kill had triggered their awakening, and three had laid the foundation for further growth.
Moreover, having executed them without even a shred of reverence or decorum, they'd also earned the achievement 'The Profane.'
This title, too, wouldn't see immediate use.
Gielran stared at Aiden with a stiffened expression.
The paladin, eyes tightly shut, suppressed his agony—experiencing what one might call growing pains.
Unlike the Pilgrim of Annihilation, the Godslayer didn't grant freely distributable stat points.
They were auto-allocated.
Since he'd merely delivered the final blow to a half-dead divine beast, he hadn't absorbed the full tenfold reward.
Nevertheless, the growth was overwhelming, and the backlash unbearably painful.
His body reconstructed itself—every joint dislocated and realigned. Blue veins burst through his skin, announcing their presence. Organs twisted before rupturing internally.
Gushing blood met the frozen ground and congealed.
The crimson mass trapped in ice glittered like a gem.
Amidst it all, Aiden had frantically sprayed beast-scented perfume to mask his human odor.
Gielran couldn't find words. Was this brat even human? The thought crossed his mind unbidden.
Only after considerable time did Aiden's lips part.
"Kuh—hack—!"
He coughed up blood, gasping raggedly. Fortunately, he hadn't gone into fatal shock.
Suppressing his astonishment, Gielran spoke as calmly as possible.
"I say—are you alive?"
Aiden dropped to one knee and replied weakly.
"I don't die easily."
To Gielran, it looked like the recoil from swallowing a potion far beyond one's capacity.
Like a ten-year-old child ingesting a millennial snow ginseng.
By all rights, he should be dead—yet Aiden clung to life. Moreover, Gielran couldn't fathom why this phenomenon had occurred.
But one thing was certain.
Aiden had killed a god, an act absolutely forbidden to mortals.
The Sword Saint slowly opened his mouth.
"Glad you're still breathing, but do you understand what you've just done?"
When Aiden nodded painfully, a low groan escaped Gielran.
"Why would you do this? You've made yourself the enemy of all divine beings. This isn't something you can handle."
The gods would never forgive a mortal who slew their kind.
An unspoken law. Even Baranches Church's heroes couldn't directly execute an archdemon. It was divine law.
Similarly, once Saya grew her ninth tail, the Church would be powerless to restrain her actions.
Upon becoming a true nine-tailed fox, subjugation would be impossible from the start.
Regardless, Aiden had shattered that taboo. Gnawing his lip, he spoke.
"Let's finish the war first and think about it later."
He pushed himself up and drew Gargantua.
"Old man, toss me those heads."
The beasts' severed heads lay at Gielran's feet.
The Sword Saint let out a dry chuckle.
"You're truly an extraordinary being. Was this your plan all along?"
Then he suddenly burst into laughter.
"Hah! In over a century of life, I've never met a human like you!"
Resigned, he shook his head and rolled the divine heads toward Aiden.
"What's done is done, I suppose."
"Correct. There's no turning back now."
Aiden began impaling the heads onto Gargantua.
Squelch, squelch. One by one, he skewered them meticulously before hoisting the divine spear onto his shoulder.
"Let's move out, old man."
As Aiden moved to carry him piggyback, Gielran shook his head.
"You'd carry this old man in your state? Preposterous. I don't know what's happened, but you're not the same as before. You've already recovered, haven't you? Unless you mean to abuse an elder, use your own legs."
Gielran was right. Out of habit, Aiden had tried to carry him, but testing his body changed his mind.
He felt lighter, somehow smoother. The speed and reflexes he'd always lacked had grown exponentially.
"I'll go on foot."
Aiden and Gielran promptly exited the ice fortress. *Whoosh! Aiden's divine form sliced through the air, traversing the snowy peaks.
With each step, snowflakes erupted skyward.
From afar, one might mistake it for an avalanche. Running alongside, Gielran remarked:
"Your technique can't keep up with your body."
The Sword Saint matched Aiden's speed but moved as lightly as a rabbit and as silently as a ghost.
"Once this war ends, I'll teach you many things. Starting with movement techniques."
For Aiden, this was immensely welcome.
While his stats had exploded in recent years, refined skills like swordsmanship and footwork remained stagnant.
Effectively, everything he knew came from 'Regul.'
Saya had killed Aiden's swordsmanship instructor. Beyond his teachings, Aiden had relied solely on physical prowess.
There were limits.
With such an exceptional body, he needed techniques to wield it properly.
Aiden nodded.
"I won't forget your kindness, old man."
"No need for modesty. Who'd refuse a disciple like you?"
To Gielran, Aiden was already a lump of adamant.
Not ore containing gems—but the gem itself.
His proven worth made it obvious that polishing him would make him shine brighter than any other.
Moreover, he was still young. Any master would covet such talent.
"I'm honored by your high regard."
As he spoke, Aiden looked ahead.
They'd nearly reached the summit where Siron awaited.
"Either way, we must win to see tomorrow."
"Don't worry. I'll focus on the task at hand."
Aiden and Gielran simultaneously leaped up the slope, landing on a massive boulder.
Beyond it should've been Siron and the three horses.
But they weren't there. Specifically, Siron was missing—the white snowfield soaked crimson.
Signs of battle. Aiden swiftly scanned the area. Rustling—he turned toward the sound.
Parting dense snow-laden pines, Siron emerged.
Drenched in blood, she sheathed her halberd and looked at Aiden.
Blade fragments clung to the weapon's edge.
"My lord, I let none escape as ordered."
Apparently, an Ein tribe had tried crossing the mountains.
Aiden swallowed his relief. Becoming the beasts' target already would've been problematic—too many chieftains nearby.
"Well done. You've done great work."
"That's just basic competence."
Aiden mounted Petra immediately.
"Let's move."
Siron didn't recognize the four heads Aiden had impaled. Though curious, she didn't ask.*Moving cautiously, they exited the depths in about a day.
By now, the Ein would've begun advancing. Two days until they reached the gorge. Aiden had tasks to complete before then.
Their destination was the Crow Village.
Black birds served as the beasts' messengers, so upon seeing Aiden, they'd spread news of his sacrilege to every tribe.
A village dense with snow-laden pines. Tiny shanties perched on towering ancient branches.
Crow nests. Aiden looked up at them and raised Gargantua.
Channeling divine power, he launched the spear skyward.
Four gods gazed down from the heavens.
Flap-flap—countless black feathers rained down as wingbeats echoed.
Caw-caw! The birds shrieked frantically, scattering in all directions.
Now came the critical part.
He removed the comb from the horse's tail and loosened the reins.
They had to run nonstop for over a day.
"Avoid combat until the defensive line."
Siron and Gielran nodded.
Aiden spurred his horse. Petra snorted, accelerating rapidly.
As they burst from the forest into snowy plains, Gargantua stretched sixty meters skyward, taunting the beasts.
Distant howls. Predators' voices whipped the horses' flanks like lashes.
Trembling with terror, the horses galloped madly.
Deliberately leaving tracks, they carved hoofprints deep into the snow as they raced toward the first defensive line.*The command post had no choice but to deploy most forces at the Black Wolf's assault point.
There were no alternatives.
Though not the entire army had gathered, none could dispute that this was the largest force assembled in the Empire's 200-year continental history.
They'd established a secondary defensive line within 10km of Gielran's hut, with 70,000 troops stationed at the primary wall and its rear.
More forces were dispersed along the tertiary line and northern barrier.
The stone wall deployed archers, cavalry, and light infantry like pikemen.
Since the wall would inevitably fall, it was designed to inflict maximum damage before retreating.
One kilometer separated the wall from headquarters—ideal for one or two cavalry charges. The cavalry included the Grand Cathedral Knights, Imperial Knights, and Marquis Satchilie's horsemen.
Siege towers and catapults flanked the main camp's rear.
The vanguard and center bristled with heavily armored shield-bearing pikemen—a phalanx formation. Divided into 500-man units, each line stood ten meters apart in column formation.
Light infantry moved fluidly between them, protecting the pikemen's flanks.
Behind them, archers, crossbowmen, and mounted archers formed mobile ranks.
Seven saints—four maidens and three males—stood atop siege towers at the very rear, surveying the battlefield. Their blessings would greatly aid the frontlines.
These comprised the elite forces; the rest were civilians who'd wielded farming tools until recently. The first and second defensive lines were thus prepared.
Then urgent intelligence from the Holy Scouts threw command into uproar.
Grand Cathedral Knights' commander Ibishuller shot to his feet.
"What?!"
All beasts were reportedly charging toward them.
More scouts poured into the tent.
Aiden was herding them—already crossing the Eternal Snowfield's center.
The commanders couldn't comprehend. Why were the beasts moving unitedly?
Cavalry Marshal Landaren laughed uproariously, slamming the table.
"Now that's a hero!"
Some officials began grasping the situation.
The infantry chief of staff spoke.
"We must recall dispersed troops immediately."
"Dispatch the messenger hawks. Now!"
The restless Crown Prince finally sprang up.
"The beasts—all of them—are coming here?!"
Imperial Knights' captain Kairos said hopefully:
"Indeed, Your Highness. Truly a miracle wrought by the hero—and by Your Highness's accumulated virtue."
The prince nodded rapidly.
"I-I see. I must return now. Kairos, prepare my escort."
The ministers' faces fell. Swallowing a sigh, Kairos said:
"B-but Your Highness! If the commander abandons the frontlines, morale will plummet. Please reconsider."
Then more Holy Scouts entered.
"Primary defensive line engagement accelerated!"
"Four hours—they'll reach the gorge in four hours!"
"Heavy cavalry regiments advancing toward the wall!"
Before they finished speaking, commanders began rushing out.
They saw thin beams of light piercing the dark night sky.
Aiden was desecrating the gods' severed heads.
Too distant to discern details, but they were unmistakably approaching.
As they neared, excited cries grew louder.