Chapter 86
Chapter: 86
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 86
>Chapter Title: Otherworldly Apocalypse (1)
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>That place was a world where the sun had completely vanished.
Cold air devoid of any warmth of life.
A land of death, where sticky rain poured down from the sky, blanketing the thousands upon thousands of corpses cooling to a chill.
It took a moment to realize that the viscous liquid falling like rain was not water, but blood. The sky, the earth—everything was simply red.
Beneath that crimson sky, Nate stood alone in silence.
This was Delcross after the [Calamity] had descended.
The end result of losing its balance, after all.
[Haha.]
A low chuckle echoed from somewhere.
He began to walk slowly.
With every step, his feet caught on the corpses of soldiers densely covering the vast plain. Puddles of blood had pooled here and there from the downpour, splashing with each footfall.
Before long, what lay ahead was a crumbling wall.
No—could this even be called a wall?
Only a half-shattered gate and remnants of stone remained; the collapsed sections were soaked in red blood, as expected.
And at the center of that gate, a brutally mangled corpse was impaled.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands of crude sword strokes had torn it to rags, rendering it unrecognizable. It took some time to discern it had once been human.
The work of someone harboring deep-seated grudge.
As Nate frowned, a voice informed him in his mind.
[That is the king of Rohan.]
The fool Amelia had been so infatuated with. How had it come to this?
[The retribution he rightfully deserves.]
The calm voice carried no emotion, which only made it all the more chilling.
Nate glanced around and spotted a patch of dry ground untouched by the blood pools, then headed toward it.
But he soon froze, at a loss for words, because lying there cold were people he knew all too well.
The young woman lay facing the sky, dressed in shabby rags. A small dagger was embedded in her chest.
Her hair was shorter than he remembered, and she looked older, but her pale, withered face remained beautiful even so.
Amelia.
[A sore finger. I cherished her, the neglected child of my youth, tending her like a flower lest the wind touch her—yet she withered away in her little pot without ever blooming. Such a child of dreams and talent...]
Beside her lay a young man in black armor, collapsed on his side with countless arrows piercing his back.
He had aged beyond what he knew, his face sharper and more resolute, yet a boyish impetuosity lingered on his pallid features.
My son.
[A child of great potential. I fretted over where he might fly and built fences to protect him—yet in the end, he drew out that power alone and made it his own. I should have let him spread his wings sooner...]
His hands began to tremble.
The other children...
[Enough. Leave now. You cannot bear it yet.]
Whoosh.
With those words, a fierce force repelled him, ejecting him abruptly from that red world.
Sky and earth flipped, vanishing into the depths of his vision in an instant.
“...Ha!”
“Your Majesty!”
At the urgent call, Nate opened his eyes. Lifting his head, he saw Louis, the chief steward, peering down at him with a face full of worry.
He had been reclining on the office sofa, clutching the pendant Louis had brought him earlier—the one from Amelia.
A maid from the Silver Rose Palace had sent it to the workshop for repair, but Louis had intercepted it midway.
“Are you all right, Your Majesty? You skipped meals and came straight to the office, so I came to check—and you're drenched in cold sweat!”
“...No, it's nothing.”
Nate took a deep breath and waved off the steward. His racing heartbeat gradually slowed.
He wiped his face with one hand and gazed down at the broken pendant in his grasp. The teardrop-shaped gem still sparkled iridescently, despite being split in two.
A pure, white jewel that seemed utterly unconnected to that ominous world brimming with red light.
“It's nothing.”
Repeating it to the steward, whose face was still etched with concern, Nate opened a desk drawer, placed the gem inside, and shut it with a click.
* * *
Several days had passed since the formal decision to establish the dedicated monster countermeasures team.
The Holy Assembly was still embroiled in heated debate over whether to recognize these [monsters] as such or classify them as a subset of demonkin. The scriptures contained no explicit passages on other worlds or monsters.
The point of contention was a single verse.
—The proxy of the Lord God shall receive the Lord's own blessing, and no evil things like demonkin shall set foot upon this land.
How that was interpreted would decide if monsters remained monsters or became demonkin.
“The scriptures mention nothing beyond demonkin! Speaking otherwise is heresy!”
“But this verse clearly uses ‘like’! It implies there are other evils as well, does it not?”
“Implies? You said ‘implies’? We must strictly guard against such loose interpretations! That is heresy itself—what else could it be!”
“What did you just say?”
A single line from the book, and they had argued for a week. Theologians truly were remarkable people.
“And that's the state of things. I thought we'd be out investigating the plague in the capital right away, but here we are, stuck in the office staring at books.”
Seongjin crunched on a cookie, grumbling. The Holy Emperor sat across from him, silently gazing into his teacup as he listened.
It was their first private audience since Bruno's treatment. So much had happened in the intervening days that Seongjin had plenty to share.
For starters, his aura layer in the dantian was nearly at the sixth level. He'd complete it within days.
Considering it typically took even the quickest three or four years to advance from fifth to sixth, Seongjin's progress was nothing short of miraculous. He was beyond squire level now—on par with a newly inducted low-rank knight.
Masin and the resident knights' exclamations weren't a one- or two-day affair. Even Bruno had been stunned, wearing a betrayed expression.
-How could someone this capable slack off in my lessons?
Mores hadn't even considered him a proper disciple.
“Bruno regained his aura thanks to Father. He's bulking up by the day as it reactivates. They say he won't be long reaching Decaron Knight level.”
“......”
The Holy Emperor didn't reply, but Seongjin sensed he was listening more intently than usual.
Anyway, Bruno had swiftly rebuilt his aura to the fourth layer just recently.
He'd always seemed so laid-back, but lately he was throwing himself into meditation with newfound drive. His mustache ends had grown sharper and longer, too.
Another topic was the monster countermeasures team.
Seongjin had been stopping by the team office daily with Masin for the past two days. With the department officially launched, they were making a show of clocking in.
Of course, no real policies were in place yet; they were just bonding with their new teammates.
Sir Leandroth had mentioned recruiting talent from everywhere, but the appointed consultant professors were busy bickering at the Assembly. And the head, Sir Leandroth himself, was too swamped to even visit the office.
The exorcists and inquisitors already patrolling the nation had simply been ordered to add [monster] searches to their duties.
So the office currently had one half-mad exorcist, one cheerful redheaded inquisitor, and one Liora plague society perfume terrorist showing up religiously.
Seongjin especially had much to say about that Liora quack.
Jibril Seymour.
She'd latched onto the monster team after crashing the capital guard with Seongjin recently. The same plague doctor who'd once perfume-bombed his group in front of the tribunal.
Her first day at the office was no exception. She'd greeted the new members with a bright smile and a spritz of perfume instead.
“So every time we show up, the whole office reeks of roses! Ugh, seriously! Where does Sir Leandroth even plan to use that quack?”
Seongjin pouted, and the Holy Emperor, who had been listening quietly, tilted his head slightly.
“It's a decent scent, though. Plague doctors deal with foul odors often, so it's no wonder they cling to perfumes.”
Ugh. Even after being careful, had it rubbed off on him?
Seongjin sniffed his sleeve, then perked up.
“So Father doesn't buy that nonsense about scents driving away disease either?”
“Hmm...”
The Holy Emperor averted his gaze. He couldn't openly call the plague doctors the Assembly endorsed quacks, it seemed.
“Anyway, that's what this team does. We flip open the scriptures and theology primers, debate what to do next, and half the day vanishes.”
When will the Assembly end? Just start investigating already—why nitpick everything?
As Seongjin grumbled, the Holy Emperor's lips curved faintly.
“So you've finally cracked open a theology primer, then?”
“Uh...”
Just stared at it while spacing out, but.
Now it was Seongjin's turn to look away.
As he did, he noticed a new sword at the Holy Emperor's waist. Unlike Nutcracker, it was a white shortsword with a short blade.
Plain-looking, but his tastes were straightforward. Wasn't it too short compared to his old one?
“Aura blade makes length irrelevant. A sturdy sword that needs no maintenance suffices.”
Ah, for one whose aura flows where his heart wills, sword length hardly matters.
Intrigued, Seongjin leaned in, and the Holy Emperor obligingly unbuckled it for him to see.
The new sword had an ivory hilt and a rare white-metal blade. Incredibly light yet sturdy—it screamed quality. No ornaments, yet it exuded elegance.
The Holy Emperor seemed quite taken with it too.
“Like a sleek fish, no? Thus, I name it Salmon.”
Huh? Wait.
“...You don't mean that's its actual name, right?”
“Who knows. Pulled it from the palace warehouse at random—I'm not sure.”
If it's in the palace warehouse, it's a famed blade, isn't it? Must have a grand name.
“F-Father. Even if, what if it's a storied sword? Shouldn't we look up its proper name?”
Seongjin broke into a cold sweat. He had to prevent this fine sword from becoming Nutcracker 2.0.
The Holy Emperor tilted his head.
“Why bother? A cooler name would suffice. Salmon is a tender, delicious fish.”
“......”
Does this guy like seafood or something?
Seongjin grimaced, pondering how to dissuade him.
Well, not a huge deal, maybe. But ‘His Holiness's beloved Salmon’? Something felt off.
“Um, Father...”
Seongjin hesitated before continuing.
“Of course it's not alive, but once a name is given, letting it fade feels wrong, don't you think?”
“......”
“If you're going to cherish it, shouldn't you cherish its name too?”
Yeah. Names are truly important.
The twins had said as much recently. A name anchors one to this world—denied repeatedly, and you lose your foothold.
Plus, he'd bet his fortune this sword's real name was way cooler than Salmon!
Though it'd be Father's fortune, technically.
Yet the man who'd seemed set on Salmon fell silent.
He stared at Seongjin with inscrutable eyes for a long moment, then slowly nodded.
“...You're right. Forgetting its original name is hardly desirable.”
Then?
“I'll have Louis check the palace warehouse records.”
Yes! Averted Nutcracker 2.0!
Seongjin pumped his fist inwardly in triumph, missing the fleeting expression that crossed the Holy Emperor's face.