Chapter 579: Not a Revelation, But a Plan
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 579: Not a Revelation, But a Plan
Pitter-patter.
Even though rain had begun to fall, no one suggested seeking shelter.
Dark clouds smothered the moon, and the world rapidly plunged into shadow. Because the area had been bathed in the brilliance of Holy Light and Radiance only moments ago, the sudden darkness felt even more oppressive.
Still, no one moved to conjure a light. No one had the luxury to spare the focus.
In the heavy silence, the Paladin finally spoke.
"It was likely around that time."
The rain soaked the old Paladin’s hair and eyebrows. His silver eyes drifted toward the empty air, staring into the weeping sky as if peering into the past.
If Holy Light had chased away the sunset earlier, the rain had now finished the job. Darkness was creeping in, and soon, a deeper, pitch-black shroud would envelop everything. Amidst the encroaching gloom, Overdear’s softly glowing eyes lent him a mysterious, ethereal air.
"It was back then, when I believed I had finally perfected myself as a warrior. But when I looked back, I saw that the apple tree I had spent my entire life cultivating bore no apples—only fruit swollen with poison. Can you understand how this old man felt? Can you even begin to guess?"
When they had first met, he appeared middle-aged. Strangely, however, Overdear now looked like a true elder, his appearance shifting to match the weary weight of his voice. Discussing the past seemed to age him. It wasn't that his physical features had drastically altered; rather, it was a wondrous thing—how a person’s perceived age could transform based on their bearing and speech.
The rain began to fall harder. It wasn't yet the season for snow, but the water was biting.
"In that moment, this old man realized he couldn't even tear up the roots of that tree. I felt the power of this humble servant was truly insignificant."
That’s rich,Encrid thought, watching him. Coming from the very Paladin who just finished beating me.
Overdear didn't stop there. He went on at length about his resolution to wander the continent, claiming he had been paralyzed because he couldn't distinguish between healthy fruit and poisoned fruit.
But to Encrid, there were several holes in the story. He wasn't swayed by the regret Overdear displayed. Instead, he felt a lingering sense of awkwardness. It reminded him of how Krais looked when he was busy swindling Krona. It wasn't that the man was necessarily lying, but it lacked a certain... sincerity.
Because of that, the blind spots in his narrative stood out. For instance:
"Since monsters and demonic beasts are endlessly emerging across the continent, someone had to deal with them. In the end, this old servant had no choice but to step forward."
Those words grated on Encrid’s nerves. Originally, Paladin Overdear, as a high-ranking member of the Theocracy, had been responsible for guarding a sector of the Demon Realm. If he had left that post to wander, it meant he had abandoned his duty. The excuse sounded noble, but the bare facts were simple: he had dumped his responsibilities onto some rookie Paladin and run away.
"I embarked on a pilgrimage to purify the continent."
A pilgrimage to purify the continent was just a fancy way of saying he was wandering around doing whatever he pleased. Encrid didn't bother pointing out his opponent's true intentions. No one here was incapable of reading between the lines. Unless they simply didn't care, the truth was obvious.
Audin remained silent, catching his breath, while Sinar seemed completely uninterested. Sinar had already judged that if they fought now, she could subdue the old man. However, it didn't seem like it would come to that. Though they had been locked in a bloody struggle moments ago, both sides had withdrawn their hostility.
No race was better at sensing subtle shifts in atmosphere than the elves. Sinar instinctively knew the fight was over. In truth, neither side had been fueled by true malice. One side moved according to his own established values; the other acted because he deemed it a necessity.
The former was Encrid, and the latter was Overdear.
Swords had clashed, blows had been exchanged, and Encrid had taken a severe beating. In the process, Encrid had felt something through his opponent's movements.
He definitely intended to bury me if things went south.
Yet, there was no malice in that intent.
"This old servant waited for a revelation in that manner."
Looking at the situation, the old Paladin’s words didn't quite ring true. If he was waiting for a revelation, why had he recruited this man Bert, an Inquisitor, as one of his own? Why were there priests and crusaders sandwiched in between his movements? It was hard to discern his exact endgame, but there was a clear motive behind it all.
"And yet, a revelation has guided me so precisely."
The man was as sly as an old snake. Smiling, the Paladin continued. He claimed he had moved according to revelations thus far, would continue to do so, and would burn the last embers of his life to "purify" the Holy Order.
It was a vague story, devoid of specifics, but it was clear he hadn't come here without a plan. Even within the vagueness, there were pieces to be gathered. Overdear was traveling the continent, meeting members of the Holy Order and winning them over to his side. The reason? He had already declared it: to "purify" the Holy Order.
As he listened, a thought occurred to Encrid.
Isn't this closer to a plan than a revelation?
In fact, what had just happened was likely part of it. Wasn't this entire process—planting someone like Bert in the pursuit squad—a way to test the character of the Holy Order’s members? And when one turned out to be utterly useless, he had simply crushed his head.
Didn't he do the same to me?
Indeed. He wouldn't have killed Encrid, but he had been fully prepared to cripple him. Though that intent had vanished now. Perhaps he simply had a habit of sizing people up first. A person’s status or occupation was no guarantee of their character. By the same token, being poor didn't make one good, nor did being wealthy make one evil. It was an obvious truth, but many lived their lives forgetting it.
There was no need to harbor illusions about Overdear just because he was a Paladin. At the same time, there was no need to judge him based on a single facet. You couldn't know the whole of a man by looking at only one side.
Then what about the Saintess?
He hadn't mentioned her once. Judging by his habits, he must have a plan for her, too.
But it seems he’s given up on her for now.
Then there was no need to pry. One thing was certain: his resolve to purify the Holy Order was vivid and real. Whenever he spoke of it, there was no room for falsehood in Overdear’s eyes. In a way, his goal aligned with Audin’s, even if their paths differed.
Swoosh.
The rain was now a torrential downpour. The sound of the deluge had changed, and even a knight’s aura couldn't block every drop. The same went for a Paladin.
Encrid brushed the wet hair from his face.
"How about we take shelter before we continue?"
He used polite speech. It was awkward to define the man as an enemy now, and besides, he was over a hundred years old.
"I am sorry, but I must leave immediately. A new revelation awaits me."
Translation: I have another plan and I’m short on time.
"A busy man, indeed," Sinar chimed in, her tone sharp. She sounded as if she were asking why he’d bothered to cause such a ruckus if he was in such a hurry. She wasn't necessarily trying to pick a fight; she just hadn't enjoyed being pushed back during their clash.
Overdear maintained his smile. "I merely live as the revelation guides me."
Meaning: I have a lot of work to do to clean up the Holy Order.
That was how Encrid understood it. Perhaps because he valued etiquette, Overdear remained consistently polite with Sinar.
"That brings me to my point. May this old servant ask for help from both of you?"
Without even waiting for an answer, Overdear began to share a portion of his plan—neatly packaged as a "revelation," of course.
"Because of a revelation, I can no longer leave him be."
To summarize: he intended to kill an Archbishop, a high-ranking clergyman and a master of Divine Magic. He mentioned that the Archbishop’s spells were a terrible matchup for him, and that there was a "foolish" order of Crusaders following the man whom he couldn't simply slaughter.
"Y-You shouldn't just say all of that out loud..." Bert, the Inquisitor, muttered in shock, his eyes darting around nervously.
Overdear waved a hand to silence him and finished his pitch. The conclusion was simple: he was plotting an assassination.
"Since the revelation guides me."
Hearing him, it wasn't so much an assassination plan as it was an "assassination revelation."
"Brother Captain."
Before Encrid could respond, Audin called out to him.
"May I take a short leave of absence?"
Encrid saw the light rising from Audin’s body. He remembered what Audin had told him once—about trying to step out of his "prison of delusion."
Was that light the shackles that had bound him? Had Audin finally stepped out of his prison and into the world? And what would be the first thing he did now that he was free?
It was a passing thought. Encrid nodded. "Sure."
"It won't be long, Brother. When you return, please pass on a message to everyone, including our barbarian brother."
"What message?"
"Tell them to prepare themselves. I shall bestow my teachings upon them when I return. And tell them they don't need to call me 'older brother' just because of that."
He was proposing a spar where the winner claimed the title of "Big Brother." Encrid understood and nodded again.
"Alright."
Two simple answers. Encrid remained calm. He hadn't predicted this, but he accepted it with composure. To Overdear, this was fascinating.
They call him the Knight of the Iron Wall, do they? He is indeed a man of a different caliber.
"Let us go together, Brother Paladin, whose true intentions remain a mystery," Audin said.
Sometimes, Audin couldn't help but blurt out his thoughts. It was a chronic condition shared by everyone in the Order of Madness.
A person needs to learn restraint,Encrid thought. He often worried about their lack of filters. He himself possessed far more restraint—though his inability to keep quiet with Alma earlier had been an exception. He’d simply had to let the man know that Count Molsen had already failed at his "knight-making" experiments. Even if the recipient hadn't understood a word.
"An impressive title. Is your body alright?" Overdear asked, unbothered by the jab. If a few insults were the price for sweeping the Holy Order clean, he would endure them for years.
"It will heal as I walk. More importantly, are you alright where I hit you? I worry your old, frail body might have suffered."
Audin held a grudge longer than expected. Asking if the man was "alright" after being the one who struck him was a blatant provocation. However, the disciplined old Paladin brushed it off.
"I am fine. Though this body is old, I still have no trouble walking."
Just as they finished their conversation, a shout rang out.
"Woooah! Deutsch Fullman, joining the fray!"
With a spirited cry, Deutsch Fullman, the Lord of the city and a man of immense loyalty, arrived leading ten of his men. Everyone had already sensed them approaching through the rain, so it was no surprise. Only Bert flinched.
Thanks to the rain and the clouds, the soldiers rushed in without torches. Sinar saw them clearly with her elven vision, and the others tracked them through their heightened senses. But Deutsch, lacking such abilities, had charged in blindly. Even though the rain was so heavy he couldn't see his own hand, he had come anyway—fearing his benefactor was in danger.
He knew his strength was insignificant. But what if his presence turned the tide? He had to try.
I will help!
That was his resolve. Everyone recognized the courage it took to charge into the unknown like that.
"I would like to praise that courage, Deutsch Fullman," Overdear spoke first.
Encrid followed. "The situation is resolved. Rather than fighting, I’d like to request a hot bath, a meal, and a place to rest."
Deutsch had risked his life, but he wasn't eager to lose it. He let out a breath of relief. Judging by the atmosphere, the crisis had passed. He tried to peer through the darkness, but could see nothing.
"Ah, yes, of course," Deutsch replied, lowering his weapon.
Audin placed a hand on the shoulder of Bert, the spy.
"Did you say your name was Inquisitor Bert?"
"Huh? Yes, that's right." Bert stiffened. He knew that hand could snap his neck in an instant. And he knew Overdear well enough to know the Paladin wouldn't lift a finger to save him if it served the "purification."
"Have you recently heard of anyone who fell gravely ill or was severely injured, only to recover in an instant?"
Bert blinked, confused by the sudden question. But gathering information was his job. He thought for a moment. "Yes, I’ve heard rumors like that."
"Could you track someone down based on the most recent rumor?"
"W-Who?"
"Look for wealthy individuals who suddenly recovered from a major illness. Ask those who had a handful of gold coins squeezed out of them; you’ll find a trail. We don't know his name, but if you find the city where he’s suspected to be, go to the largest inn and ask for Audin’s father. If there’s no one who had gold squeezed out of them, search the slums. They call him the Ragged Saint, but he won't necessarily be wearing rags."
"...Pardon?" Bert tilted his head, utterly lost.
Encrid, who had been listening, was equally bewildered.
Did he just say... 'father'?