Chapter 370
Chapter 370
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 370
Chapter Title: Saint and Completer (26)
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“That guy's got some insane luck. Anyone would’ve thought he was done for.”
“Luck? Oh, you mean that axe?”
“You can see it? Ah, werewolves do have good eyes.”
For a moment, he recalled the comrade who had served as the party’s eyes until recently. Borca, that guy—not just his vision, but all five senses were exceptional, making him perfect for scouting.
“No need to worry too much about the main force. They handled it well.”
He had taken a few measures to prevent variables, and they seemed to have worked better than expected.
First, the Lordric veteran soldiers forcibly inserted into key spots across the Imperial Army’s formation. Separate from the low-ranking officers, they would act as a sort of ‘veterans’ to rally the panicked Imperial troops.
‘The Imperial Army has superior gear, training, and individual skills compared to Lordric soldiers, but they’ve got one major flaw.’
None of those countless soldiers had ever experienced a large-scale mutant battle.
‘War against mutants is unlike any other fight.’
That was exactly why he had gone to Charlotte separately and rearranged the deployment of Lordric veteran soldiers.
Wars between humans are one thing, and even monster waves are different. Monsters at least feel pain and have an aversion to death. But mutant hordes don’t hesitate for a second in that regard. They’ll even burst their own bodies as chemical weapons if needed.
If anything, they’re akin to undead armies, but with an added pressure undead lack—the sensation of living beings discarded like rags. So, the only way to get used to mutant battles is through direct experience.
The difference was immediately clear from the gear of Lordric soldiers versus the Imperial Army. Over the past year of survival, Lordric soldiers had ditched their rusted plate armor for form-fitting leather, and gone further by stitching scavenged hides together, waterproofing them with pig fat into makeshift chemical protection suits that covered them from head to toe. To counter mass-produced mutants with weak attack power, they’d abandoned unnecessary defense in favor of moves that kept enemy blood off their bodies as much as possible.
‘These are soldiers who survived a year in this hellish battlefield. Beyond individual skill, each one is a mutant battle master. They know how to survive, and in endless horde fights, keeping allies standing is one of the key ways to stay alive on the field. They’ll make excellent instructors for the Imperial troops who know nothing about mutants.’
Mass-produced mutants could be blocked without casualties if even a third of the Imperial Army kept their wits. Since it was the first clash, elites wouldn’t show yet, so any losses would come from troops panicking at the mutants’ vicious attack styles. With Lordric soldiers as wingmen, those unnecessary losses could be minimized, and they’d serve as a great tutorial for the inexperienced Imperials.
...And on top of that, the priests of the Church of Courage.
“The Saint of Light has many talents. A saint and a mage at the same time.”
“Well, as I showed you before, he’s got a unique constitution. Want me to show you the Saint of Courage’s? It barely uses any mana.”
“No need. Even without seeing them, I can clearly tell where the Da-Karza warriors are. It seems... our brothers are quite satisfied with the ‘prayers’ from that battlefield over there. Even though they didn’t get the fiercest one.”
“Didn’t I tell you? The priests of the Church of Courage would find plenty of rewarding work.”
If Lordric veterans were mixed into the Imperial lines as ‘veterans,’ the priests of Courage were positioned in the rear as ‘lone enforcers.’
The priest-warriors of Courage were infamous as merciless enforcers against anything but evil.
To them, a ‘coward’ was as profane as heresy.
The Empire’s state religion was the Church of Courage, so most Imperial soldiers were baptized believers from birth.
Now, imagine this: Our priests of Courage push right up behind the Imperial infantry line, and they spot an Imperial soldier fleeing in terror. How would they react?
‘No way! A brother turning his back on the battlefield! We can’t let this stand. If we leave them be, our precious brothers in faith will fall into [blasphemy]!!!’
Of course, brimming with love for their brothers, they’d do their utmost to gently guide them back to the sacred ‘battlefield.’ It’d be rewarding for them, right? Saving brothers in crisis of faith.
With the main force holding strong without heroes or saints, it was time for their detachment—stripped of all elites from the main—to shine.
“Let’s see... That should’ve drawn out most of the mass-produced mutants. Time for us to move out.”
“Yessir~”
“Man, fighting on two hours of sleep a day, then sitting idle for days—my body’s killing me.”
“Kaisel! You grabbed that stuff from the church, right?”
“Anyone got spare Holy Spirit Arrows? Lend me some!”
At the signal to start, the heroes—who had been stealthily hidden in their own ways—bustled into view.
Unlike the main force advancing frontally on Køurn Castle, the detachment had swung wide to the left for a covert approach.
The Saint of Light.
The Great Warrior of Courage.
The Saintess of Mercy.
The Saintess’s Holy Knights.
The Holy Knights of Light.
Tushan and Marqa, heirs of the Blue Manes.
The beastman gladiators following them.
And 52 hero parties accredited by each church. 187 in total. The pinnacle of humanity’s spear, humanity’s strongest force.
...Yes, the strongest.
[Wisdom Saintess? Has Sir Argalian arrived yet?]
[We relayed the message, but he just said ‘Got it’ and went silent.]
[...Is he coming? Or heading somewhere else?]
[Well, it seems he’s lost his way again...]
[...What?]
[Sir Argalian says his eyes are so good that memorizing paths by scanning around gives him headaches. We always assigned a holy knight as a guide, but with this crisis, he ended up alone.]
[What kind of bullshit strongest...]
...They would’ve been the strongest if their strategic weapon was here!
Just as he had acted as a hero of the Church of Light, Argalian Sword was a hero of the Church of Wisdom. No real faith, but figuring wisdom covered his shortcomings, he’d been appointed there.
While normal heroes followed church orders, Argalian was more like an operator for the Church of Wisdom. A helper relaying sacred communications: where things were, what was happening where.
Anyway, the guy with overly sharp eyes wanders with blurred vision but no hesitation in his steps, so no one knew if he’d crossed into Empire territory, sailed to some island, or was just beating mutants somewhere. Good lord.
“Having that old man here would’ve made for a happy op start.”
Even his own party—well-matched after all this time—would’ve been some comfort, but they weren’t here either.
Ottoman, expert in non-lethal combat, was better off with the main force, and Notum as a shaman didn’t suit the planned encirclement infiltration. Yggdrasil, lacking direct combat prowess, stayed back as their support.
‘Moving without the crew—been a while.’
What could he do? Start without them.
He dipped a finger into the rippling blood mist just ahead, marveled at the stinging density, and shouted.
“Time to start. Use all the supplies we got earlier—no holding back.”
“Ugh, wasting this precious stuff...”
“I’ve had plenty of Wisdom Church potions, but other churches’ are a first.”
Clink, clink!
What the heroes pulled from their pouches: Gifts distributed at the main camp before departure, specially for this op.
First, a specialty of the Church of Abundance: ‘Harvest Festival Potion.’
Made from grains infused with the church’s holy power, it was more like ‘Abundance Church Soup’ in ingredients, taste, and effect.
Base effect: Satiety. Provides 72 hours of hearty fullness and calories. Essential for heroes fighting non-stop in enemy lines. Plus, top-grade versions like these granted ‘Tenebria’s Blessing’ during the effect. As long as that thick soup stayed in their bellies, the goddess watched over them. Tests showed blessed heroes could operate in blood mist without wide-area holy protection.
Gulp, gulp, gulp—
“Kyaah!”
“Marquis-level banquets taste like trash compared to this.”
And it was delicious too.
Next, metal potion bottles the size of liquor flasks.
Another buff potion. Church of Courage specialty: ‘Baptism of Courage.’
Simple effects, simple use—like the church itself.
Pop—
Uncork it,
Splash!
Pour it over your head. One effect: Applies ‘Extremely Valiant’ physical blessing for 24 hours.
“This... can’t be explained by alchemy. It doesn’t activate just strength, agility, or stamina—it enhances all physical abilities? No aftereffects even?”
“That’s not all. It works on us mages who can’t receive holy power. Oho, feels like my bones from 30 years ago are reborn!”
Its strength: Maximum holy blessing for ‘anyone.’ Surpassed berserker potions without backlash, worked on aura users repelled by holy power, and even mages who lose mana from excess holy exposure got full effects, no side effects.
Let mage, bard, and rear-line heroes in hero parties keep up with holy knights’ charges. Great boost to combat, but especially for maintaining breakthrough speed.
Finally, the one he’d used so effectively on the blue line.
“Don’t set it off in front of allies. Going blind in a melee is as good as dead.”
“We know. Any hero who hasn’t used Light Church flashbangs in ops is a spy. Staple item—we always rationed ’em, but this time we’ll use ’em freely.”
Holy flashbangs. Emit powerful holy light over wide areas. Roughly three per person, scraped together from the five churches amid war-drained treasuries.
As heroes chugged potions and applied buffs, an archer hero descended from a tree.
“Saint. Detected anomalous movement in enemy lines.”
“Anomalous... what kind?”
“Heavy footsteps unlike mass-produced mutants’ light patter. Judging by the blood mist displacement, 10-12 meters tall, and numerous.”
‘Behemoths. Horde pressure didn’t stop their advance, so they’re deploying elites.’
He downed his potion, applied buffs, and stood.
“Entering. Stick together as much as possible—no picking up stragglers.”
Lightning op. These were heroes—no need to micromanage like training grunts. Give objectives and sequence, leave the rest to skill.
Splash!
As he leaped into the blood mist, the heroes—lounging casually—followed without a millimeter’s error, sounds echoing.
The thick mutant blood scent seeped into skin, heavy footsteps turning toward them. Once in the mist, they were on radar anyway. Elites redirecting to guard the Chamber Maid.
.
.
.
.
Oh right.
“Detachment? Forgot one heads-up.”
He shouted loud for those behind to hear, facing a muscular mass with twisted horns emerging from the mist.
Crack, crunch!
“What the hell is...”
“...Saint? Is that the Saint of Light?”
“Fuck, even regular church priests bulked up, but what’s this...!”
Weapons raised at the beast’s face through the mist, heroes froze at another monster appearing.
Crunch!
Splash!
A monster with a black back bearing a massive white holy mark gripped the Behemoth’s twisted horns with both hands, halting it.
“Black one’s me. Friend-foe recognition—do it right!”
『Groooooaaaarrr—!!!!』
The heroes realized why the Church of Light spread tales of their revered saint but glossed over his combat prowess. Why victory reports echoed wherever he went.
“...Does our Abundance Church have something like that? A secret super saint?”
“Doubt it. Unless it’s a pumpkin that size.”
Abundance Church heroes Kullan and Demitris could only gape in awe at the scene.
The monster—no, the saint—wrapped thick arms around the Behemoth’s neck and ‘lifted’ it.
He wedged the quadrupeal monster’s head—which could shatter castle gates without 6th-circle barriers—under his arm and hoisted it with waist strength alone. From outside, probably just the thrashing hind legs visible above the mist.
Boom!
『Gaaaarrrghhh!!』
The lifted Behemoth’s head speared into the ground horn-first.
Slash—!
A clean sound of parting flesh, bisected right there.
Da-Karza great warrior Arullis approached Professor, who shook off his greatsword and rolled his shoulders.
“The Da-Karza of Courage is pleased with your prayer.”
His usual calm expression. Half-lidded eyes, quiet voice.
Gazing at the neatly halved Behemoth, Professor muttered at the heavy footsteps from the split.
“We’re both busy—skip warm-ups. Even punching through ant swarms of these barely gets you mains.”
....Heh.
“I see.”
.
.
.
.
Hiiiisssshhh—inhale!
“That’s, it—aaaaaaaah!!!!”
Boom!
Splash!
“That’s goooood—aaaaah!”
Suddenly, divine power exploded from Ayullis, who’d slammed his greatsword into the ground. Muscles bulged like bursting, veins strained, wild hair, bloodshot eyes drooling from the mouth.
The Saint of Courage gripped the deeply embedded hilt, leaning forward as if to fall, drawing power.
“Struck and tempered!!!”
Crunch!
“That is—my praaaaayer—aaaaah!!!!”
—Bang!
The ground exploded unable to withstand the force, the compressed power whipping the blade free.
The massive iron-plate sword traced a silver arc, silencing approaching footsteps.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Just three sounds of presumed necks hitting ground.
“Ooooh! Ratulla, Ratulla—Dekaaaaah!! God, witness my battle! Accept my prayer!!! What a splendid battlefield, what perfect foes to slaughter—aaaaah!!!”
Bang bang bang bang!
Ayullis collapsed there in tears, kowtowing till the ground cracked, then howled incomprehensibly and charged ahead. Soon, breaking and bursting echoed beyond the mist, matched by similar blasts from the monster saint pursuing.
“...”
“...”
“...We’re definitely in a mythic moment.”
Snapping out of it, the heroes leaped after them.
“We can handle posers, but... they’ll need backup against the ‘white one.’”
“No need for fair fights against the monster that ate dozens of heroes in three months. Follow! Charge!”
Heroes accelerated behind the breaching saints. Soon, magic and diverse armament noises mixed with rending and explosions.
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