Chapter 573: Brother, They Must Be Punished
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 573: Brother, They Must Be Punished
The moment he was asked who he was, Encrid slammed the man’s face into the dirt. It was a rather violent introduction.
Still, isn't this better than just slitting his throat? Encrid mused. As long as the man didn't die, it was fine.
What if it was all a misunderstanding? Then he could just apologize later.
The fact that he hadn't killed him yet was, in his mind, a display of great consideration.
But then...
Hmm?
He was actually a little surprised.
Whoosh!
The bastard whose head he’d just buried in the dirt swung his hammer even while pinned flat.
He didn't pass out?
Encrid released his grip on the man's face and leaped back.
Springing from his crouch into a straight stance, he watched as the hammer whistled through the empty air where he had stood a second ago. It was a desperate, powerful swing from the fallen man.
"You crazy bastard!"
The man sprawled on the ground roared in fury. He seemed utterly incensed. His face was flushed a deep crimson, and he huffed and puffed, snorting like a cornered bull.
"Do you have any idea who I am?!" he bellowed again.
Encrid wiped the sweat from his forehead, calmly walked over to stand in front of the child with the broken leg, and spoke.
"A kidnapper?"
Everyone stared at him blankly. The claim was simply too absurd.
Alma, who had been reeling from Encrid's sudden assault, scrambled to his feet. Watching him rise, Encrid realized why the man was still conscious.
A faint radiance shimmered across his entire body.
The light itself had absorbed and dispersed the impact of the blow. While Will manifested in various forms depending on an individual's traits, Divine Power was a force confined to a single, specific function.
Divine Power made the human body incredibly durable.
Even so, the back of Alma's head had split open, and blood was trickling down his neck.
*
Shilma blinked, wondering what on earth this man was talking about.
Kidnappers?
Was there any reason to make such a mistake? Of course not. It made no sense. Could this man not see their priestly robes?
Yet he called them kidnappers?
Then again, if he insisted they looked like criminals, there was little they could say. If he chose to be stubborn, that was that.
Shilma stopped analyzing the situation and let out a weary sigh.
"Y-you..."
She couldn't bring herself to say more.
The man who had rushed in had subdued Crusader Alma in an instant—and without even drawing a weapon. She saw the three swords hanging at his waist and the several throwing knives strapped to his chest.
Unarmed combat was likely not even his specialty.
Yet such a man had beaten down Crusader Alma with his bare hands.
Shilma lacked the trained eye to gauge a knight's true level, but her instincts gave her a rough estimate of his strength.
He has the skill to toy with Alma.
And such a person couldn't recognize priestly robes? It was a cowardly excuse. But could they argue? What if he just kept insisting otherwise?
She could claim that speaking falsehoods would bring divine punishment, but no one—unless they were incredibly naive—would believe that. If divine retribution fell so easily, how could corrupt clergymen even exist?
"How dare you!"
While Shilma was lost for words, Alma roared once more. He felt the sticky fluid trickling down the back of his head, which only fueled his fury.
"Are you intending to interfere with the Holy Order's work?!" Alma shouted.
"Do you think I'll believe you just because you're pretending to be from the Holy Order? You wicked kidnappers," the opponent replied immediately.
He countered Alma without missing a beat. Shilma could only marvel at his sheer audacity.
Look at how he enunciated each syllable of "wicked kidnappers," savoring the words. It was as if he was saying, 'I have defined you as such, so from now on, you are kidnappers.'
What did that attitude and those words imply?
He has no intention of backing down.
This was truly unexpected. Tracking and finding the Saintess was their only concern; they had never imagined anyone would dare stand in their way.
Daring to block the Holy Order's affairs? If the Trade Nations influenced the continent through their banks, the Holy State exerted its influence through its temples and monasteries. Even if the King of Naurilia himself had come here, he wouldn't have dared to do this.
At least, that was how Shilma understood the world.
But not everyone followed those rules. If Krang had been here, he too would have done exactly as he pleased.
Alma was furious, but he realized he couldn't simply crush his opponent. The difference in skill was clear. He judged that the man before him had reached the level of a knight.
Shilma took a step forward. This was not a moment to resolve things with force.
"My name is Shilma, a priestess representing Abundance and the Fallen Fruit. Do you require proof of my identity?"
"You bastards are thoroughly prepared. I won't be fooled."
The blue-eyed man spoke after examining the child's leg. He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck and scratched the bridge of his nose, his posture brimming with leisure.
"Damn it!"
Seeing this, Alma threw another fit, but he didn't charge. Shilma remained focused on the man. The discrepancy between his words and his attitude was incredibly provocative. He clearly had no intention of listening, no matter what they said.
"Just why are you doing this?"
Shilma couldn't understand him. Even if the girl was the Saintess, they were merely taking a single child. It was already strange enough that she and Alma had personally set out for this. If the Saintess hadn't shown such a knack for running away, this wouldn't have even happened.
Yes, just a single child. It wasn't something worth blocking their path over.
"The Iron Wall Knight!"
In the midst of the tension, Bert suddenly cried out. He had been lost in thought for a while before bursting out with the exclamation. He had connections with the information guild that peddled local intelligence.
Black hair? Blue eyes?
The man's superior appearance caught the eye—a face so handsome even another man would admit it. Combined with the behavior of a madman acting completely unreasonably and the skill to overpower Crusader Alma, a certain name naturally came to mind.
Shilma furrowed her brow at Bert's shout. She couldn't understand what was happening.
The Iron Wall Knight? Even she had heard the name. In fact, there were few on the continent now who hadn't heard of Encrid's fame.
But why was the Iron Wall Knight appearing here?
Did the King send him? Why? Is there any point?
Was there any reason to deliberately interfere with the Holy Order's affairs? None. No matter how much she thought about it, there was none. Then why was he trying to fight them? Why send a figure like the Iron Wall Knight?
"I 'coincidentally' discovered traces of kidnappers while passing by, and as a knight of Naurilia, I cannot simply overlook this. So, quietly leave the child and surrender," Encrid replied in a flat tone.
His emphasis on the word "coincidentally" was incredibly grating.
"Just why?!" Shilma asked the same question once more.
Alma, recalling the opponent's fame, spat out, "Crazy bastard. He really is a madman."
Alma believed that this fellow wouldn't kill him. If he intended to, he would have sliced his throat when they first clashed. Therefore, he assumed Encrid was also wary of the Holy Order, which meant Alma felt he could afford to act even more arrogant.
"Brother!"
Amidst the brief confrontation, another shout rang out as a man with a giant-like build and an elf less than half his size approached. They had followed behind Encrid, who had charged in recklessly. Audin stepped up to Encrid's side and looked around.
Even without an explanation, the situation was clear.
"They are kidnappers," Encrid said.
Sinar, quick-witted as ever, caught on immediately. "Kidnappers disguised as priests?"
"Indeed."
"I see. Unforgivable. To impersonate the children of God."
As the two conversed like a rehearsed comedy duo, Bert recognized one of them.
"Audin Pumrei?"
He wasn't a colleague Bert met often, but he knew the name. Audin's appearance and nickname were far too distinct to forget. Was it something like 'the child bestowed by the God of War out of his love for humanity'?
Bert recognized his face. This was a crisis. For their plan to work, their opponents had to be "kidnappers," not the Holy Order. But since Bert recognized Audin, didn't that naturally prove their own identities?
Shilma, Alma, his two disciples, and Bert all stared at Audin. If a word of acknowledgment came from his mouth, the charade would be over.
Come on, speak. While everyone watched with anticipation, Audin opened his mouth.
"...Who might that be? This band of kidnappers is playing wicked tricks. Brother, they must be punished."
Audin averted his eyes from Bert, correcting his slip of the tongue just as he was about to habitually say "Brother-in-arms."
Dumbfounded, Bert's mouth fell open. His jaw muscles seemed to have temporarily escaped his control.
He's pretending not to know me? Playing innocent with a massive build like that?
"Ahem."
Audin cleared his throat in embarrassment. He then bent down to tend to the fallen child.
Seiki watched everything unfolding, but she couldn't understand it. Who were these people, and why were they protecting her? They couldn't have been sent by her grandfather. Her grandfather was a man who had spent most of his life in the mountains; he had no friends. Like most Highlanders, he was solitary.
Even if he knew she was in danger, would he step in? She didn't know. He was a man who had always said one must fend for oneself.
Before Seiki, a figure whose sheer size was intimidating at first glance bent down. His crouching body blocked the sun, casting a massive shadow over her.
Although a man of that size was kneeling before her, strangely, he didn't feel threatening at all. Rather, an odd sense of relief washed over her. But did that mean she should trust him? Surely not.
Seiki raised the blade of her reverse-gripped dagger in front of her face. Even within the shadow, the chillingly bright gleam of the blade represented her current state of mind.
Should I trust you? Of course not.
That was what the dagger said.
The corners of Audin's eyes drooped. Surely, there was nothing sadder in the world than this. Why did the Holy Order do such things? Why did they force sacrifice upon a child like this? No matter who was saved by what a Saintess produced, was that truly right?
How had the Holy Order become so corrupt?
"I am sorry," Audin said.
Seiki had never seen an expression so tormented and plagued by guilt. At such an unfitting moment, Seiki's talent bloomed.
She was born with enough Divine Power to be called a Saintess, but she didn't know how to use it. To use it, she had to channel that light to others, harboring a heart of compassion and generosity—but Seiki had never been taught such things. Since childhood, she had only learned how to eat, sleep, and survive on her own.
Just as the life of a Highlander dictated, she had lived accordingly.
And now, for the first time in her life, Seiki felt the emotion of pity.
What was this man's sin? Why did he wear such an expression? Why did he look at her with such a face?
The massive man stared blankly at her. Though Seiki felt pity and sensed her talent blooming, she thrust her dagger forward just as she had always been taught.
"I'll stab you."
Even if the dagger pierced his heart, this man would not dodge. She didn't know why; she just knew he wouldn't.
The two who had helped her at the monastery had their reasons. They were cleaning up the mess they themselves had made. Seiki had exploited their consciences. It was a calculated outcome achieved through her intellect.
But not this time.
Seiki pushed the dagger forward, poking him near his heart. The blade pressed against his clothes. Yet, he merely offered a smile that looked beyond sad, bordering on agonizing.
She felt the sensation of the blade pressing into the leather. At this rate, this man would die.
Seiki let go of the dagger. With a clatter, the weapon fell to the ground. Caressing his cheek with her empty hand, the child called the Saintess opened her mouth.
"What hurts so much that it makes you cry?"
Flash!
At that moment, the light emanating from her hand enveloped Audin's cheek. The silent light spread like a wildfire catching on dry plains, expanding in all directions. It was a light bursting from Seiki's entire body.
The aimlessly spreading light soon gathered into a single point, erecting a pillar toward the sky. A pillar made of pure light pierced the heavens.
The pillar was not alone. The light shifted and multiplied, becoming a colonnade of seven pillars that formed a circle around Seiki.
Seiki felt her aching leg heal in an instant. At the same time, she felt something fill her body to the brim before draining away. Instantly, a wave of exhaustion hit her, leaving her body completely drained of strength. Her vision began to fade into darkness.
Soon, Seiki lost consciousness. The last thing she heard was a shout from her opponent—the former Abbess, Priestess Shilma.
"A Holy Pillar!"
*
Shilma's eyes widened in shock. It was a pillar of light of a density and scale she had never seen in all her years as a priestess. That pillar was literally sculpted entirely out of Divine Power.
Could that much Divine Power reside within a single human body? Yes. Had she not just witnessed it? Reaching to the very edge of the sky, and not just one, but seven pillars.
"Get your hands off the Saintess!" Shilma glared and shouted.
A talent that, upon awakening, created pillars of light with Divine Power... she was no ordinary Saintess. She was a true child of God, sent by the heavens. Now, even if she were to die here, Shilma could not let her go.
Even if she knew this was foolish, hadn't her Father, the Lord, just spoken through that child?
Do what you must do now.
Shilma had to obey.
"Hear me, Crusader Alma! We must save that child at all costs!"
Shilma felt a burning heat surge through her entire body. An overwhelming wave of emotion washed over her as if God were directly conveying His will. A sense of duty to save the source of that divine grace blazed within her.
No matter what it takes, we must!
Shilma resolved herself so fiercely that she repeated it in her mind. Blood rushed to her wide-open eyes, heating her head and leaving her vision bloodshot.
Naturally, these were not the thoughts a pursuer chasing a runaway child should have. But to someone already consumed by her faith as if brainwashed, it was only natural. Shilma merely believed she was doing what was necessary as an agent of God, not persecuting a child.
And then...
"Must you really do this?" Audin asked, gently laying the unconscious child down before standing up.
His eyes looked terribly sorrowful, but Shilma could not see it.
"That child was born with the destiny of a Saintess."
Shilma's voice rose. It was the speech of someone utterly convinced that what she believed was right. The blood vessels in her eyes were so engorged they looked ready to burst.
It was fanaticism.
It was the very part of the Holy Order that Audin had turned away from. Those who walked a wrong path yet believed it to be right. Those who had no hesitation in persecuting people, claiming that what they believed was the will of God.
"It is not too late. Step back. Do you intend to become an enemy of the Holy Order?" Shilma spoke once more.
Indeed. Even in this situation, one should not become an enemy of the Holy Order. Their power was just that immense. Moreover, it was a matter of simply yielding a single child. Therefore, one must not stand against them. That was the obvious choice. Normally, it was.
But Encrid was not normal.
"If we kill them all and leave, no one will know, right?"
His tone was flat and incredibly calm. To Audin, it was a truly tempting proposal.
Even if he was an Apostle of the God of War, he wouldn't recklessly strike down and kill people, especially when the targets were brothers of the Holy Order. Yet Audin's ears perked up like those of an elf.
Encrid's words were like the whisper of a devil—one that he shouldn't listen to, yet was so incredibly sweet.
The phantom of Fildin seemed to look down on him with utter disapproval.