Chapter 577: Even If It Is No Great Matter
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 577: Even If It Is No Great Matter
“In the end, you might die.”
Audin spoke with his head bowed, kneeling on one knee. A moment later, Encrid replied.
Clang!
It was the sharp ring of a sword clashing against a rod.
“Who?”
He hadn't actually spoken the word, but the Encrid Audin knew would have said exactly that.
“Knights are not immortal,” Audin continued.
He meant that even a knight could not withstand the full might of the Holy Order.
“I never asked to be.”
He could almost hear the indifferent retort.
“In the end, you won't achieve what you want.”
Chasing a dream while being hunted by the Holy Order was a path of impossible hardship. There was no logical reason to choose it. All he had to do was abandon his pride. All he had to do was give up.
But Encrid did not. Even knowing the cost, he refused to yield.
Audin himself had been slow to reach a decision. To move forward, he had to face his past life, his failures, and everything they entailed—he had to cast away the sins he had finally acknowledged.
Yet, Audin continued to question him. He probed endlessly, leading to his final inquiry.
“Are you still going to stand on this side?”
It was a grueling, agonizing path. It was perhaps too grand to call it a dream, but there was something Audin considered his solemn responsibility and duty. He had simply turned away from it because he believed it was unachievable. Encrid had rebuked him for that cowardice.
“Is there anything in this world that truly cannot be done?”
There was no such thing. So said the man who had proven it through action.
Boom!
A thunderous roar erupted.
The Valerian steel sword finally snapped, and Encrid’s body—his arm bent at an unnatural, sickening angle—was sent flying back.
Audin reflexively caught him.
He caught the falling man with a firm thud. Audin did not waver. His hands did not tremble, his back remained straight, and his eyes were incomparably clear. Even while kneeling, his presence made him look larger than anyone else on the battlefield.
“You will have to give up on your dream,” Audin said, holding him.
“Why should I?”
The reply came. It wasn't an illusion this time, but Encrid's actual voice. He had been listening to Audin’s solitary muttering for some time.
Audin smiled.
Of course. My captain would say that.
Audin made a new resolve, different from any he had held before. When one man’s will shone so brilliantly, it was impossible not to respect it—especially when it was the very path Audin himself yearned for and believed to be right.
“Walk the path of hardship. Pass through the narrow gate. Walk the narrow road, if that is where your will lies.”
Reciting the words of the Lord Father, Audin stood up.
Behind him lay his captain with the broken arm—the man who had forced him to look at the world anew when he had once given up on everything, including his own life. And behind him was the child destined for the same tragic fate as Fildin.
Audin resolved to protect them both.
Even if this was his end. Even if he could never escape the shadow of his past mistakes. Even if this was not what the Lord Father wished.
For now, Lord Father, this is simply my wish.
A restriction was not something to be forced open recklessly. Unraveling it all at once would trigger a violent backlash that might even claim his life.
So what?
He chewed over the words his captain had often spoken.
The chains within his mindscape frayed and shattered. Since the restriction was one he had imposed upon himself, he needed no one else’s permission to break it.
Audin raised his head, which had been bowed in brief prayer. A white light began to shimmer in his eyes. It was a radiance incomparable to Overdear’s silver eyes, starting from his pupils and spreading through his entire body.
It was the Holy Light.
Then, he performed the same miracle Saintess Seiki had shown earlier.
Fwoooosh!
The Holy Light transformed into a pillar, erupting with Audin at its center. A column of radiance twice as thick as the one Seiki had summoned pierced the heavens.
The light illuminated the world. The God of War declared, 'With my light, I support your will.' Those were the words of the God of War, Audin’s father. Even if he hadn't actually spoken them, Audin chose to believe it for now.
For that was the essence of belief and faith.
The light embraced Audin, and Audin embraced the light. Born and raised in the Holy City-State, the possessor of a talent that no one had ever dared to rival finally unleashed the divinity he had condensed for years.
Along with the light, blood trickled from the corners of his eyes. It was the price of abruptly releasing the restriction, but it did not matter.
So what?
For what he desired now, he would gladly stake his life. Even if this wasn't a grand quest to save the continent. Even if it was merely to save a child called the Saintess and inherit the will his captain had established.
Because that was what Audin wanted right now. It didn't matter if others deemed it insignificant.
[If there is indeed something you believe in, why do you listen to the words of others and succumb to the whispers of the devil? If you prove your faith and march forward, the devil’s words will be nothing but mere noise.]
As the restriction unraveled, passages from the holy scripture flooded his mind. Audin spoke from within the light. This time, he spoke of something he had learned under his captain, not from the scrolls.
“If I could return to the Knights, Brother Rem would be a dead man by now.”
Audin smiled as he raised his fists. The raging Holy Light briefly lingered on Encrid’s arm and chest. Though it could not heal the wounds instantly, it provided a measure of recovery.
The Holy Light, bottled up for years, erupted explosively. The pillar of light descended, clinging to Audin’s massive frame. Instead of dispersing, it wrapped around him, solidifying into a thick, luminous shroud.
“Holy Light Armor?” Overdear muttered, his mouth falling open.
He was right. The technique of using divinity to don an invisible armor was known as Iron Armor. Wrapping it around the body as visible light made it Holy Armor. But there was an ultimate technique that emitted light so thick it shrouded the entire body in a physical mantle of divinity.
That was the Holy Light Armor.
Because it required an absurd level of physical conditioning, it was an extremely rare technique to master. One could only attempt it after altering muscle density and tempering the skin through training until it was as hard as an iron plate. It required handling divinity as naturally as one's own limbs.
It was an art achieved by unleashing divinity and then drawing it back into the body. As his muscles and skin harmonized, a brilliant white glow settled over him. Upon his massive frame, the light served as impenetrable plate.
“Something I could not achieve even with a hundred years of training?” Overdear said, stunned.
“It must be a difference in talent. Why don't you start by taking a hit?”
Audin moved, casually belittling the Prophet’s talent. No matter how easygoing he usually was, watching Encrid get beaten had kindled a spark of fury, and he intended to vent it. In truth, Audin was not a man who lived all that gently. He was not the type to turn the other cheek when struck; he was the type to slap the opponent’s cheek and ask if it hurt.
Whoosh!
The Holy Light left a trail—a literal afterimage of pure radiance. His massive frame, which had earned him the nickname "Bear Beastman," blurred as he thrust his fist forward. Overdear swung his rod to counter.
Crash!
Fist and rod, divinity and divinity clashed, exploding in a shower of sparks. The impact was so intense that the fallen Encrid could barely keep his eyes open. Shilma and the others were forced to shield their faces.
The thunderous roar sent light surging upward before it scattered, making the surroundings as bright as high noon for a brief moment. The purple sunset vanished without a trace, replaced by a mystery wrought of pure divinity.
The light fell like rain, as if the heavens were shedding tears of sorrow. Audin poured out everything he had, like a candle burning down to its final wick.
In doing so, he overwhelmed Overdear. He displayed the miraculous feat of parrying the Prophet's imprinted weapons—the twin steel rods known as the Mind Rods—with his bare hands.
“First, one hit.”
Audin threw a punch, negating the effects of Holy Penetration with his own overwhelming divinity. A heavy blow struck Overdear’s shoulder.
Crack!
The Holy Armor shattered with a violent crash. The light enveloping Overdear’s body wavered.
“If something doesn't break, it's simply because my strength is lacking! If you can crush it head-on instead of trying to bypass it, then penetration is nothing but a cheap trick!” Audin shouted.
Encrid, having suffered through that technique, would surely understand. Audin wanted to show him there was no need to go out of his way to learn such tricks. It was enough to simply use one's Will properly and smash through. This was the orthodox way.
Penetration was a fine technique, but it wasn't necessary for them. Audin would leave this as his final lesson: since the Will Encrid possessed was overflowing, he just needed to fight accordingly.
The two clashed again and again.
“Splendid!” Overdear shouted in the heat of battle.
The superiority of his weapons was the only reason he hadn't been pushed back until now. The two rods, saturated with his divinity, did not easily yield even to Audin’s punches. Light exploded like scattering sparks, raining down continuously. It was a magnificent, pious sight—precious Holy Light being scattered like chaff.
Of course, this light was not meant for healing; it was filled with the intent to kill.
“Lord Father, here comes your child,” Audin chanted, his voice almost like a song.
Through the hymn, the Holy Light surged even more intensely. Standing before him, Overdear also squeezed out every drop of his strength.
Audin condensed the light. Blood streamed from his eyes, nose, and ears. He had reached his absolute limit.
It was at that exact moment that something entirely unexpected happened.
From far behind, Priestess Shilma chanted a divine spell.
Hummmmm!
The sound came first, followed by a condensed sphere of light flying like a bullet from Shilma’s outstretched hand. It was a dim, turbid color, vastly different from the pure light the two knights displayed.
Ridiculously, the light bullet flew not toward Encrid or Audin, but toward the Saintess.
No one had anticipated this betrayal. A bullet condensed from Holy Light possessed the force of a falling boulder; if it struck the child, it would crush her to pieces.
Eight spheres of light flew in. Sinar was the first to react. Her blade split, unleashing energy blades that sliced through five of the bullets. Encrid, still lying on the ground, threw Spark and his shortsword. The two blades, thrown with the precision of the Throwing Sword Style, shattered two more.
Shatter!
In midair, the grey, turbid light bullets dispersed. In that instant, Encrid felt a pang of frustration. When he threw the shortsword, he had intended to pierce the final bullet as well, but he had failed.
One light bullet remained.
And that final one was blocked by someone’s back.
Boom!
It was not Audin. He was on the verge of unleashing the Holy Light through his chant and was currently unable to move. Audin shot his gathered light upward instead of forward, a meteor surging from the ground to the sky. The mass of light pierced the heavens, shining like a new star.
As the light faded, the person who had blocked the last bullet turned his head. The impact should have been nothing to him, but because of the beating he had taken from Audin, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His internal organs were already damaged, though the wound wasn't fatal.
“Priestess Shilma, what is the meaning of this?”
Overdear spoke, his gaze fixed on Shilma. White smoke rose from his back where the Holy Light had struck him. The rain of light finally stopped.
“Why did you...?” Shilma stammered in bewilderment.
She had seen the situation unfolding and sensed the crisis. At this rate, they would smuggle the Saintess away, and she wouldn't survive the failure.
God has spoken.
The child had to be in the Temple of Abundance. If that was impossible, what was left to do?
Injure her to the brink of death.
To save her, they would need a priest’s hand—her hand. She just had to injure the girl enough so she wouldn't die. Shilma’s eyes swept over Sinar and Encrid. There were people who could block it; she just needed to land a single shot.
And if the girl died? That wouldn't happen. God would help. And even if she died, that too would be God’s will.
Shilma had succumbed to the devil’s whispers.
“Why did you block it?!” she snapped, the wrongdoer rebuking the blameless.
Her eyes were blinded by her own twisted path. Shilma’s bloodshot eyes gradually began to turn black.
“Priestess Shilma?” Alma called out, sensing the shift.
“Crusader Alma, they are exhausted. This is our chance.”
It was as if a black veil had draped over her vision. Shilma failed to grasp the reality of the situation. Just because they were exhausted did not mean anyone here would back down—especially not Overdear.
“What a mess,” Overdear muttered.
He felt the need to settle the situation. His gaze swept over the crowd. In the heavy silence, Audin fell to his knees. The light on his body was fading, and it was clear that something was very wrong.