Chapter 210
Chapter 210
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 210
Chapter Title: Swift Battle (3)
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Deepest part of the church headquarters.
The room where the Pontiff resides.
In a place no one could enter except a tiny fraction of his innermost circle, the Pontiff opened his mouth with a faint smile.
“Everything’s going according to plan.”
Across from those words sat a masked woman, legs crossed casually.
“As scheduled, the Red Devil’s rampage, the terraforming of the surrounding area, and even the ‘key’s’ movements are all proceeding smoothly.”
The Pontiff continued calmly after watching the footage through the crystal orb embedded in the table’s center.
Inside it played the situation near the Red Devil’s pillar of fire in real time.
“The Empire’s half-baked Drakhan and ‘Lionheart’ are probably gunning for that too...”
They’re most likely watching this same footage right now.
Not just one or two after that man.
“We’re definitely the ones who’ll put him to the most ‘useful’ work.”
Especially.
For the ‘Paradise Plan’ he himself had drawn up, that man—who held the means to control all demons—was essential.
Not for nothing called the ‘Key to the World.’
“Yeah, whoever strikes first stands to gain the most—I agree.”
As the Pontiff glared at Dawood inside the orb with that thought, the word sorceress picked up in a listless tone.
“That guy’s got a fate where even the pitch-blackest of humans adore him, huh?”
“...”
It was a roundabout jab calling the Pontiff himself pitch-black inside, but he just snorted without adding anything.
“...By the way.”
Something else nagged at him more.
“What’s up with your boss? She’s been off since earlier.”
The Pontiff’s incredulous voice shot toward Talker.
Once again, the Forerunner showed no reaction, blankly staring at the ceiling.
No doubt ignoring the Pontiff’s words entirely.
As if sulking over something. Or as if she couldn’t care less.
“Ah, don’t mind her. She’s just pissed after getting some bad news.”
“...What?”
“She asked that guy out on a date, got shot down, and now she’s in a mood.”
“...”
The Pontiff stared blankly at her for a moment.
Uttering an excuse straight out of a teenage girl’s playbook.
Even the Forerunner—who’d stayed silent until now—seemed baffled and finally spoke up.
“...Cut the nonsense, Talker.”
“No denial, I see.”
“...”
The Pontiff alternated disbelieving glances between Talker and the Forerunner as she clammed up again.
No.
Seriously?
The leader of the demon worshippers?
“...Ignore her.”
The Forerunner pressed on in a curt tone.
True to Talker’s words, she offered no denial to the end.
“Like you said, everything’s on track so far. All that’s left is for that man to subdue the Red Devil.”
So she continued.
“Once Tachon’s Seal devours everyone’s demonic energy except Brown’s, that’s when things get real.”
Excluding the tribal alliance that had openly thrown in with him, the game would shift to a full-on scramble over who claimed that man.
Dawood Campbell—who’d swallowed every demon’s demonic energy once over.
He’d become the continent’s one and only.
“...Just the once, though.”
The Forerunner’s gaze locked onto the seal glowing on Dawood Campbell’s chest.
“He’ll become the human closest to omnipotence.”
Irreplaceable value.
Both as an asset and a ‘threat.’
Though he himself hadn’t grasped it yet.
“...But still.”
The Pontiff’s eyes narrowed next.
“Can he really handle that situation?”
The vessel—now holding all three shards—was rampaging wildly, reshaping the entire world in real time with its demonic energy.
Left alone, it’d turn the material plane into a full-blown Pandemonium.
As the hero candidate had shown, even the mighty struggled to approach amid the billowing demonic haze.
At the pillar’s heart, the Red Devil’s vessel spewed energy so intense it could blind you just to look.
“...And this from a non-Gray.”
The Pontiff muttered in a faintly trembling voice.
A demon not yet linked to its true body. Not even the strongest among them—just one of the seven. One that hadn’t reclaimed its ‘true form,’ still stuck in human shape.
And it packed this punch.
‘In other words.’
Right now.
The fact it wasn’t hostile despite all these humans nearby? Pure confidence that none posed a threat.
And they planned to face that—and win?
“He will.”
But.
The Forerunner answered flatly.
No hint of doubt.
“He’ll pull through somehow. Survive like always.”
Her eyes gleamed sinisterly, sunken with dark intent.
“Only a select few can actually kill that man properly. Red’s not one of them.”
“...”
The Pontiff scowled at her conviction when Dawood’s motion in the footage caught his eye—pulling something out.
“...Cuirass?”
The Pontiff muttered at the gear in Dawood’s hand.
Digging through memory: something those Empire folks had used before.
Guardians, was it.
“Kill a vessel once, and you gain some pretty special powers.”
To the Pontiff’s mutter, the Forerunner tacked on.
“A Guardian who’s entered Eclipse once before? They can whip up a special scenario.”
“...Special scenario?”
“You’d recognize it.”
The Forerunner smirked before continuing.
“That’s a relic infused with a soul. Gotta have some unique effect, right?”
“...No, even so.”
The Pontiff’s expression soured as he spoke.
“Proper relic use demands a proven priest.”
And anyone in the Holy Kingdom with that caliber wouldn’t approach the area on his orders.
With great powers’ ‘scramble’ heating up around that man, manpower was precious.
So that was just a shiny paperweight. Utterly unusable—
“Dunno.”
The Forerunner smirked back.
“Don’t peg him as the type to bring that without prepping for the prerequisites.”
With those words.
Two new voices echoed into the orb one after another.
[Whoahaha! Dawood, this a total crisis right now, yeah?!]
[Hey, kiddo?! Back off, it’s dangerous!]
The Pontiff’s face twisted savagely once he clocked the speakers.
“...Archbishop Luminol?”
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“Here we go again.”
“Agreed.”
Eliya and Elnor groaned out their mutters, prompting Rana to tilt her head.
“What’s that mean?”
“Ah, you haven’t seen much of ’em, huh?”
Eliya swept back her hair as she replied.
“...You’re not used to that guy pulling his usual stunts.”
“...”
“Anytime shit hits the fan, he itches to do something batshit. That one.”
“...I can hear you.”
Talking about him like some eccentricity-riddled lunatic.
He grumbled with that in mind.
“Deny it, then.”
But back came a near-growl.
“...”
“I do like Teacher, but can’t deny this. You functional in daily life, for real?”
“...One shot at this. No room for screw-ups.”
“See? Dodging ’cause he’s cornered.”
Brushing off Eliya’s dig, he turned a serious look to Liru—prepped to ‘hurl’ him.
“Confident?”
“...Just yeeting me straight in. No confidence needed.”
Liru shot back with a headache scrunch.
What he’d ordered: fling him to nail Peynol dead-center inside the fire pillar.
Ah, shame. With his Elpante trebuchet, no need for—
“Crazy-thought face again...”
“...Archbishop Luminol. Hit that ‘relic activation’ at the precise moment, as agreed.”
Dodging the incoming rib, Luminol twitched before answering.
“...Fine.”
“Success means I keep quiet about you being a human slaver to your daughter, as promised—”
“Got it.”
Luminol cut in quick, then scowled sideways.
“...How the hell do we block that?”
There.
Something burned eye-searing crimson inside the pillar.
Its mere throbbing silenced all around with sheer presence.
Even as it radiated that aura, the demonic energy pouring from its body only swelled further.
“...Doesn’t even feel fightable.”
Eliya muttered, her holy sword grip quivering faintly.
“Demons this strong?”
“Still blocking it.”
He smirked back; Luminol scowled deeper.
“...How, then?”
“Told you.”
Motioned Liru to ready up, kept it simple.
“Eat it.”
Then.
Snapped his fingers.
The pre-set ‘signal.’ Liru hurled him hard.
Body rocketed arrow-like as he eyed Peynol’s reaction slow-mo.
Those red-soaked irises—sky-fixed till now.
Locked on ‘him’ for the first time.
“...”
Next, body-freezing malice crashed in.
The thing that ignored all prior commotion finally swung an arm—pointing his way.
No clue what he planned, but it sensed potential harm.
Massive flames erupted outward.
More push-away than burn-you intent, so far.
As expected.
This thing: docile beyond reckoning.
“...”
Yeah.
No other word fit.
For the human behind the Empire’s worst calamity—Eclipse—its moves till now were far too tame.
And that was his in.
“Valkasus.”
[On it.]
If it was just shoving, not a full burn...
Valkasus’s alchemy would handle.
Body-etched alchemy lines lit. The rite neutralized even demonic energy in range, if briefly.
Flames surging his way froze. Liru’s throw carried him near intact to the body.
“...”
Landed before Peynol—face twisting faintly.
Grabbed its arm medal-style.
It narrowed eyes, hand twisting sly.
Alchemy pierced one motion, sure—but meaningless here.
To it: like a fly buzzing in, swatted, then clinging to the arm. That gap.
Close as he was, zero ways to harm it.
But.
Fly on your arm annoys? You smash it on reflex.
“...Shit.”
Vicious flames roiled around; urgency laced his mutter.
Time short. Get it done.
Fingered the snug lion cuirass in his coat.
Goal: Jam this into Peynol’s ‘heart.’
One must-do first...
“...”
Mouth gaped wide.
And.
“Nom.”
Peynol’s incoming arm.
Chomped it—bite like ripping meat. Devouring intent.
“...No.”
Eliya’s voice dripped disbelief.
“‘Eat’ meant that?!”
“...”
Assenting silence rippled out.
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