Chapter 750: Are We at War?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 750: Are We at War?
Encrid and his party struck out for the south. Partway through the journey, Odd-Eye turned back; it seemed he truly had only intended to see them off.
Their destination lay deep in the south, specifically toward the Demon Realm where the Balrog was rumored to dwell.
The exact location of the creature known as the Demon of Struggle remained a mystery. They followed a trail blazed only by rumors and old tales. Still, that didn't mean they were wandering blindly.
‘The Balrog loves to fight.’
Legend claimed he relished clashing with the strong and spent his existence collecting souls.
In that case, wouldn't it be enough to sing a seductive serenade in a place he was likely to haunt?
Encrid’s plan was simple: spill black blood to his heart’s content and belt out that "serenade" at the top of his lungs.
Surprisingly, Krais and Abnayor both nodded, finding the idea plausible.
Although the Balrog was a name shrouded in myth, their investigation had identified specific habits based on factual evidence. They believed the plan had a real chance of working.
If they issued a challenge, he would show up. However, that "song" would have to be incredibly loud to reach his ears.
The Safe Road of the Border Guard had expanded beyond recognition, meaning the party had to pass through several outposts along the way.
"Iron Wall!"
A salute was accompanied by a sharp slogan. It was the signature cry of the Knight of the Iron Wall. This was the final outpost marking the end of the Safe Road.
Encrid gave a casual wave to acknowledge the salute and passed through.
Watching them depart, the outpost commander—a man who prided himself on his quick wits—tilted his head in confusion.
"Are we at war?"
The senior soldier standing beside him shook his head.
"I haven't heard anything about that, sir."
The commander hadn't heard anything either. Above all, there was no opponent left in the region to fight.
Lately, Encrid's Mad Knights had even been referred to as the "Labyrinth of the Frontier."
If one were to ask why they had been given such a bizarre nickname...
‘It's because they lure everyone in and swallow them whole.’
And it was the truth.
They had never gone out of their way to hunt down and exterminate cultists; the cultists had always been foolish enough to come to them first.
The heretical group worshiping the Gray God? They had met the same fate.
The Black Sword Bandits and Count Molsen, who had instigated the civil war, might have been slightly different cases, but regardless of the circumstances, the result was the same: the Mad Knights had chewed them up and swallowed them whole.
"I heard the Trade City has been throwing its weight around lately?"
The commander was sensitive to rumors. He believed that staying informed was the key to a long and prosperous life. Besides, was there anything more entertaining than a juicy bit of gossip?
"Are they going to burn down the Trade City?"
With that kind of military might, not even a trade city with deep roots in the continent could hope to hold out.
"That's not the direction they're heading, though," a junior soldier chimed in. Even to his inexperienced eyes, seeing such a massive, elite group moving in unison was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
Were they really going to war?
"Right, that's not it."
The southern battlefield had also entered a lull recently. He had heard that provocations from that side had decreased significantly.
There was a lot of talk lately about some kind of revolution or upheaval in the royal palace. Was it because of that?
‘Are they going to slaughter all the nobles?’
Coincidentally, the gray-haired madman known as the Noble Killer was riding with them.
‘Surely not.’
His imagination was running wild. He didn't know the reason for their march, but even if they weren't actually going to war, the mere sight of them moving in such force would make plenty of powerful people flinch.
The commander watched the departing figures, his eyes lingering especially on the black-haired man at the center of the formation.
According to the Vengeance Platoon Leader, that man used to be just a low-ranking soldier.
‘As if anyone could believe that.’
The credibility of those words plummeted to zero the moment one saw him.
The outpost was situated on high ground, and because of its elevation, they could see far into the distance.
The setting sun spilled over the backs of the departing knights, stretching their shadows long across the earth.
They were now a group capable of causing tectonic shifts just by walking.
The commander's prediction was spot on.
*
The Mayor of the Trade City was on a knife's edge regarding the movements of the Mad Knights.
Why were they suddenly marching out in full force?
‘Are they trying to pressure us?’
Was this a warning not to mess around anymore? They had manufactured all sorts of excuses to avoid armed conflict, but were these the kind of people those excuses would work on?
Could the Ten Mercenaries, the pride of the Trade City, stop them? Could they at least force a dialogue? Could they make some minimal negotiation possible?
Of course, winning was out of the question. But couldn't they at least show some spirit?
The mercenary captain happened to be present at the emergency meeting.
The Mayor stared intently at him. Even without words, his gaze was a desperate plea for an opinion.
The captain was a man with a long scar across his face, a battle-hardened veteran who had seen it all.
He had once been captured by the enemy and tortured, having his fingernails and toenails ripped out, yet he had never yielded, earning him the moniker of the Indomitable Mercenary.
He was a symbol of patience who knew no surrender, a man who endured to the bitter end.
Excluding the Eastern Mercenary King, he was the spiritual pillar that all mercenaries took pride in.
"Surrender," he said.
"……What?"
"I said, surrender. If we fight, we all die."
He was resolute.
The mercenary captain—the symbol of indomitability and resistance who never yielded to torture and always endured fights that anyone could see were lost—spoke with absolute, terrifying certainty.
Thud.
His hand slammed onto the table, adding even more weight to his words.
"Surrender!"
His shout was deafening. The meeting ended right then and there.
So much for showing spirit.
The Mad Knights weren't even heading their way, but the shrewd merchant group—who had planned to cause trouble on the Stone Road to reap profits—immediately raised the white flag.
Such was the terrifying reputation of the Mad Knights.
Krais, who was handling affairs in the Border Guard, tilted his head in confusion when the Trade City suddenly offered to cooperate and even requested to establish a bank in the Border Guard. It didn't take him long, however, to piece the situation together.
‘The Captain takes one step, and the whole world loses its mind.’
Leona Lockfried was highly pleased. She had been getting a headache from the Trade City's recent underhanded schemes, but the issue had been resolved in an instant.
And this was only the first of many such ripples.
*
"We asked about his qualifications!"
Traditionally, the position of Pope is appointed by the Holy City Legion. That is both the rule and the custom.
The blessing of all the High Priests gathered here was the basic requirement for electing the Pope to lead the Legion. It was not a simple vote, but a system where the process would not end until a unanimous agreement was reached.
In other words, it could take years to reach a consensus.
The former Pope had vanished without a trace, leaving a deep wound in the Legion. Recently, heretics worshiping the Gray God had even begun to emerge from within.
It was a chaotic situation, a turbulent era.
Because of this, the Legion needed extraordinary measures.
The first proposal brought forward was simple:
"We must appoint a new Pope."
At first, they had proposed bringing in someone who had awakened divine power from the Empire. Naturally, the Holy Order's influence remained strong there. Although the Empire itself was not a theocracy, the Order's power was by no means negligible.
Since divine power was a tangible reality, proving that power allowed one to secure a pillar of authority.
"I believe there is no better way than this."
Paladin Overdear was certain that the man who said those words was an imperial spy, but compared to being a heretic or falling into a cult, it wasn't a capital offense.
He couldn't just crush someone's skull simply because they favored the Empire.
"Because if one of the High Priests steps forward, we probably won't have a result even after a hundred years."
Even if he was a spy, the man who spoke was still someone who lived for the Legion and served the gods.
After all, most of those who worshiped the Gray God or had gone half-mad had already been "sent to the gods' side."
The suspected imperial spy had indeed grasped the current situation accurately.
The position of High Priest was one of mutual check and balance. While they were called High Priests in the Legion, they were also the popes of their respective individual orders.
Therefore, for one of them to become the Pope of the entire Legion...
‘They would have to show something extraordinary.’
They would need to display a divine power that made even a saint look like a mere child.
Although not the Pope, one of the Apostles possessed that level of power, but he served the God of War and was currently not affiliated with the Legion.
Even if he were, it would have been meaningless.
Those who served the God of War had sworn to the Lord not to interfere in the Legion's internal political struggles, so they weren't even present.
Had it been otherwise, they would have been a great source of strength.
Overdear did not attempt to untangle the complicated situation. He had no intention of resolving it either. That was not his role, nor did he have the ability. Overdear was a Paladin.
He was the sword and shield of the Order, not its tongue or its prophet.
Still, it wasn't as if he had nothing to say. Recommending a candidate for Pope was well within his rights.
It was also what he had been working toward.
"If the Goddess of Fortune looks down upon the world with favoritism, the Goddess of the Scales watches over the world by always maintaining balance."
Overdear's words carried immense weight. No one ignored him, not even the High Priests.
He already had a track record of purging a traitor of High Priest rank in the past.
Some of the Legion's power players cast anxious glances at him. If Overdear made up his mind right now, the entire authority of the Order would dance in the palm of his hand.
The current Paladin Order possessed that level of influence. They were the meritorious contributors who had excised the rotten parts of the Order, and they held the military power.
Of course, because the Apostles of the God of War were watching from the sidelines, it was practically impossible for Overdear to take over the Legion by force.
"The God of the Scales may seem indifferent, but He is always fair."
One of the High Priests agreed with Overdear.
Each order had its own pope, but the Pope of the Legion held a position on an entirely different level.
To put it bluntly, it was the role of the leader of the Holy City, recognized by all other popes.
To put it even more bluntly, it was equivalent to being the King of the Legion.
"The scales of balance have tipped toward this imperfect self. Representing all the Paladins, I shall recommend a candidate for Pope."
Overdear nodded and continued.
He introduced Noah, and at those words, one of the cardinals under the High Priest began to object, questioning his qualifications.
"Does the position of Pope truly suit someone who cannot even use divine power?"
In response to the persistent questioning, Overdear first offered his oath of loyalty, and then brought out his prepared card.
"I shall present the Ragged Saint."
Audin's adoptive father, who had been staying in the Border Guard, stepped forward. Tap, tap. The old man, who feigned blindness, tapped his staff against the floor as he stepped forward and bowed his head toward Noah.
"Though the Lord in Heaven will decide, if you deem my humble will to be of any help, I wish to express my opinion."
He was a man who had previously served as the Pope of the Legion. Of course, only a few in this room knew that, and those who did chose to remain silent.
Still, his reputation was not something that could be easily dismissed.
Of course, since Audin's adoptive father had only come to this place under the name of the Ragged Saint, the weight of his words was not quite enough on its own.
Noah remained silent.
Persuading them through a speech would be difficult, but it was something worth trying.
The problem was, even if he did persuade them, would they unite to nominate him?
Furthermore, doubts still lingered within Noah.
‘Am I truly qualified?’
This was something he had started simply out of a desire to care for children who had lost their parents.
He had wanted children who might otherwise become pickpockets or bandits to serve God and live a quiet life copying scriptures.
His wish was small, and his hope was even smaller.
Was it right for him to take on such a heavy responsibility?
"Are those two all? We acknowledge the prestige of the Paladin Order, but who else supports him?!" one of the High Priests shouted fiercely.
Overdear felt a sense of trouble. Yes, he had expected it to turn out like this.
"The King of Naurilia supports him."
An official letter of endorsement from the King of Naurilia arrived, but just as they were beginning to feel it was still not enough...
News of the Mad Knights' march shook the continent.
Where on earth were they going? For what purpose were they moving?
And then, the realization hit. When their movements were tracked, they were heading toward the Legion.
"Uh, did you say you have a connection with the leader of the Mad Knights?"
Even when the High Priest asked during the meeting, Noah could not answer. He was in a state of mild shock from the sudden news of Encrid.
To be precise, it was like a sudden realization had washed over him.
Encrid had never actually said those words to him, yet it felt as though he were being scolded by his friend.
With his eyes unfocused, Noah took the mental lashing.
In his vision, Encrid spoke to him in a calm, quiet voice.
“Cut the crap, you idiot. A small wish? A small hope? Then let's hear what a ‘grander’ purpose is supposed to be.”
It was hard to answer. Encrid continued.
“There is no such thing as a humble dream in this world, Noah.”
Hopes have no size. It was something he had temporarily forgotten.
"Do you have a connection with him or not?"
At the High Priest's question, focus returned to Noah's eyes. It was time to answer in reality.
"He is my friend."
At those words, one of the High Priests swallowed hard.
The notorious reputation of the Mad Knights was even greater elsewhere than it was around the Border Guard. It was certainly so now.
They had accomplished so much, after all.
"Do they intend to wage war against the Legion?"
The Ragged Saint muttered. He knew there was no way that would happen, but the possibility was more than enough to terrify the assembly.
"Why?" one of the cardinals asked.
Overdear added fuel to the fire.
"An apostle of the Gray God attacked them. If we're talking about responsibility, it lies with us. I feel I must prepare to receive them immediately."
The Paladin Commander was leaving his post. It was a dire situation. Yet, the Legion had no leader to put forward.
Someone had to step forward and receive him.
Who was the right person?
The man named Noah, recommended by Overdear, caught their attention. The Paladin Order had sworn to do nothing without his permission; the King of Naurilia—one of the strongest nations on the continent—had stepped forward as his direct sponsor; and the Ragged Saint, whose name was more renowned than any saint or saintess in the Legion, sided with him.
Furthermore, he was a close friend of the leader of the Mad Knights.
Even without the movements of the Mad Knights, the position of Pope was destined to be Noah's in the end.
"Give it to me. That position."
For the first time, the man named Noah, who had been standing idly by until now, showed his resolve.
And so, the Pope of the Legion was decided.
Right around this time, Encrid was thoroughly enjoying himself, encountering demonic beasts and monsters while discussing swordsmanship with the Mad Knights.