Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Grimudo Climax (4)
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“Hero...”
From one corner of the horizon-like line of darkness, a brilliant light burst forth. Aridel and Ruehheim had barely escaped with expressions of utter exhaustion, only to be struck speechless at the sight of the jet-black aura manifesting behind Grimudo.
They had concentrated their divine power into a single point and broken through as swiftly as possible, yet in that short time, the hero party had been driven to the brink of total annihilation.
‘No... no way... How could the holy sword be cracked...’
Seeing the fractured holy sword, Aridel covered her mouth with her hand. Just that one sight told her everything about the hero’s ordeal. How utterly overwhelmed must he have been for the holy sword—the crystallization of divine power forged by the Three Gods themselves—to end up in such a state?
The state of its wielder, gripping that sword, was equally dire. Tears were inevitable.
“Saintess! Archbishop!”
As Yurinel opened her mouth to shout at them to flee, Ruehheim suddenly struck her own chest with her hand. Her eyes burned with fury toward the archbishop, and divine power surged from her entire body.
Grimudo paused his preparations and regarded the archbishop with interest.
“A self-sacrifice spell, is it? It seems your life truly holds no value to you.”
“This foolish servant wishes to offer her one life to the Goddess.”
Ruehheim took a quiet step forward. For a fleeting moment, rippling with divine power, she appeared like an angel descended from the heavens.
Though she had long passed middle age, she had looked like a beautiful woman in her twenties. Now she began to resemble a beauty in her thirties, then a mature woman in her forties, and soon wrinkles began to creep across her face one by one.
“Archbishop... why... why on earth would you cast that spell...?”
“Saintess. Here, I shall offer my life to the Goddess. You must flee from him by any means necessary.”
“I can’t do that! Archbishop, if that’s the case, then I...”
When Aridel looked at the archbishop with teary eyes, she was already a wise old woman. Yet the glasses perched on her nose remained primly in place.
“Saintess. Do you know why I choose to give my life here?”
For perhaps the first time, she smiled. A wide, beaming smile.
Her wrinkled lips trembled faintly.
“It’s because you possess advantages that an old woman like me lacks. That’s why I can die, but you must not. Saintess. Do you know what your advantages are?”
“No, I don’t! I’m not as smart as you, Archbishop!”
The saintess—no, a single girl—clutched the archbishop’s hand and burst into sobs.
Sobbing as she felt that hand losing its firmness bit by bit. In response, Ruehheim offered a tender smile and gently stroked her forehead. The saintess sniffled.
“I’m not as strong as Sister Arsaria, nor can I use complex holy spells like Sister Sestine. You said I’d surpass both sisters one day, Archbishop, but I’ve never believed that! So why are you sacrificing yourself for someone worthless like me...?”
“That purity, exactly. Saintess. People live by faith.”
Ruehheim embraced the saintess one final time. Then, shaking off Aridel’s hands that clung to her, she set forth on the last pilgrimage of her life.
Grimudo did not block the archbishop as she walked toward Yurinel Rackfonzia—precisely, toward the holy sword. He merely watched quietly as she prepared her final strike.
“People like me or the Pope, we see the filth of the secular world and touch it. So when we try to think of something, we consider benefits before right and wrong.”
“Even for a single action, we weigh if it aids the Goddess, expands the church’s influence, or truly brings gain to the order—useless considerations like that come first. In our church, no one can act purely, doing what they believe is right, like you, Saintess.”
“Do you think our faith is pure? You perform good deeds without calculation or thought of gain. Even acting on pure impulse, you never stray from righteousness. Lady Aridel. That faith is the purest power to the Goddess.”
At last, reaching the holy sword, Ruehheim touched it with her bony hand, flesh clinging thinly to bone.
Her body was already cracking in places, but her eyes were clearer than ever in her life. Their gazes met, and Yurinel could no longer hold back; she closed her eyes.
Her voice trembled.
“Are you... leaving us?”
“I must. Why do you ask? I’m simply returning to the Goddess a little sooner.”
As her fingers wrapped around the blade, particles of light escaped the cracks in her flesh and seeped into the holy sword.
Like mortar filling gaps in a crumbling brick wall, Ruehheim mended the holy sword’s fractures with her own life. Through self-sacrifice—the most sublime faith—she temporarily restored it.
“Hero, please... against Grimudo, just one chance...!”
The archbishop collapsed to the ground, now a skeletal mummy. Yurinel clenched her lips and shut her eyes. If she didn’t, the tears would flow; she had no choice.
She opened her eyes again and looked at Pannel, who had recovered a sliver of mana.
Really?
Pannel mouthed, understanding the hero’s intent from her glance alone.
The hero nodded casually. Only after witnessing Ruehheim’s self-sacrifice did her duty as the hero overwhelm her. Gripping the radiant holy sword, she aimed its tip and shouted.
“Pannel. I’ll create an opening. Use it to escape with everyone.”
“Yurinel. But then you...”
“That’s what a hero does.”
Casting off all greed, longing, and burden at last,
The woman smiled brightly.
“Back then, Kyle made everyone escape. Now it’s my turn.”
Ah, she remembers. Long ago.
When the man-eating monster, the manticore, chased the village children.
Powerless and on the verge of being caught and devoured, someone threw a stone at the beast, deliberately provoking its rage to draw its attention. While the manticore toyed with and devoured that person as a plaything, more children could flee.
The stone-thrower was a child like her back then, unafraid of the manticore. No—she was afraid. The child’s legs were trembling.
Yet she feared something more than being eaten by that monster. The scorpion tail stabbing her cheek and injecting venom, the lion’s paw batting her around like a toy.
Even knowing death approached, that child held the manticore’s gaze to the end. Volunteering as a plaything for the cruel beast that loved tormenting humans.
That child grew up and now, before Grimudo, protected herself once more. No coercion or demand—just as if it were natural, she stepped forward to let everyone escape.
That person is gone now, pushed away by her own feet.
So it’s only right that the one who pushed her takes up that role. The gap between her and Grimudo now might even exceed that between Kyle and the manticore back then. Even with the holy sword, no path to victory is in sight.
But still, she’s the hero.
Now she can advance, repeating those words.
Even knowing she absolutely cannot win.
Even knowing she will surely die.
“Yeah, let’s burn bright together to the end.”
As she resolved herself with the holy sword, it shuddered and pulsed.
Yurinel’s expression hardened. The sword resonated with her holy aura, then suddenly began devouring her mana aura.
Stigmata etched across her hand and wrist, and the blood that flowed gleamed golden as it was sucked into the holy sword.
Blood flowing from the sturdy hero’s body—she could scarcely believe it herself. She hastily wrapped it in holy aura to heal, but even that the sword consumed.
“What are you trying to do? Pour all your power into the sword to unleash its final potential?”
Even Grimudo, seeing this spectacle for the first time, stared blankly. It was so bizarre that everyone watched in a daze.
Harma El, who had just regained her senses, felt her mind cloud over again. She seriously wondered if she was still hallucinating from the mental attack—it was that strange.
“G-Get off me! What’s wrong with you all of a sudden?!”
Yurinel tried to hurl the holy sword away instinctively, but it clung fast to her hand. Her fingers wouldn’t release the hilt, and her vital energy drained into the blade.
Could the holy sword be betraying her? Devour her power entirely, repair itself, and seek the next hero? Rage at the betrayal shook her, but that wasn’t it.
The holy sword. A sacred blade. It possessed a will, a consciousness.
That will desired Yurinel’s survival. It valued the hero, its perfect partner, more than even its creators, the Three Gods—its mothers.
Even at the cost of its own destruction.
It sought to save this generation’s great hero.
Squeee!
Having devoured all of Yurinel’s power, the holy sword surged forward with terrifying momentum toward Grimudo.
A masterless weapon. Mere metal, yet Grimudo did not dismiss the sacred blade. A weapon sacrificing for its master—superior to humans.
“A weapon that gives its life for its master. No longer a mere tool, then. I apologize for underestimating you. Very well. I’ll meet you with all I have.”
The ‘Grimudo’ behind him bowed in respect, then spread his arms and seized the holy sword.
Pitch-black, jet-black aura. A single drop could shroud the world in darkness. How much more the mana aura comprising ‘Grimudo’?
Viscous, dense darkness erupted in all directions. Seizing the chance, Pannel removed the gem from his necklace and breathed into it.
Under the collapsed Yurinel drained of strength, the demoralized Lucia, and the dazed saintess bereft of protection, he remotely inscribed a magic circle, then desperately computed the warp spell.
“Lord Pannel! Th-the archbishop’s body is over there...”
“Sorry, but if we try saving the dead, we all die.”
Pannel infused power into the gem he held, gathering his comrades beside him to prepare long-range teleportation. He created a teleport gate to a far-off place—anywhere would do, as long as they escaped.
Short-range warps couldn’t evade Grimudo’s senses. They had to flee like migratory birds, far, far away, or he’d track them instantly and repeat the slaughter.
Wooong!
The royal treasure, the Teleport Stone, absorbed enough mana and began opening the gate. Everyone’s hearts raced. From afar, they all heard the holy sword’s scream.
Boom! With the crash, fragments devoid of any holiness rained down. Just as the teleport seemed ready, the distant man looked their way.
He merely gazed at them, then imprinted a mark in the air. No one knew what he did; Pannel even relaxed. As long as it wasn’t an attack, what did it matter? They’d teleport away soon.
But Lucia’s face twisted in horror. Shock overtook her broken expression, triggering her trauma; she clutched her head and screamed. No.
Not that. Anything but that. Better to die than suffer it.
“Polymorph Curse...! No, not that...”
Turning people into non-people.
Changing intellect to mindlessness.
The most heinous technique Grimudo developed to destroy his era, born from studying ancient bodies’ biomes. The culprit that turned the Western family into an animal farm struck just before the teleport activated. And—flash!
The Teleport Stone fired.
Grrrr.
Only after everything vanished did the Monster King spread its wings. It approached Grimudo, claiming the throne itself and bowing its head.
Grimudo chuckled and stroked the massive bird.
Chase them? The monster bird asked with its eyes and gestures, but the demon king simply shook his head.
“Since I’m out for a rare outing, there’s one more thing to do.”
He hadn’t met that priest in the end, but he hadn’t come solely for that.
“You go play moderately and return.”
The bird let out a single laugh-like cry and soared toward the horizon. Grimudo dusted his hands, then extended both arms to rip open something.
The air tore, revealing a passage of darkness. Harma El, still staggering, finally snapped to and spoke.
“Wait!”
It wasn’t her mind but instinct commanding her. After speaking, she flinched, fearing another mental attack, but Grimudo only stared blankly.
Somewhat relieved, Harma El steadied her voice and continued.
“Shouldn’t you track those vermin and eliminate the threat? If they return safely to the Holy Kingdom, even you might face annoyances. Don’t underestimate human powerhouses. The truly strong might lurk in the world’s shadows.”
She couldn’t imagine a scenario threatening Grimudo himself, but still, Harma El wanted to uproot the hero party nuisance entirely.
With the holy sword lost, the whip gone, mana depleted, and the archbishop dead—this was the perfect chance to annihilate the party, seize the saintess as hostage, and force negotiations with the Holy Kingdom.
“If you want to, go ahead and do it yourself.”
Grimudo snapped his fingers, and the familiar black portal appeared behind Harma El.
The Demon Empress eyed the door born behind her with trembling gaze as the demon king clasped his hands behind his back and slowly vanished.
“I tracked where they went, but no need to bother further.”
He sensed the polymorph curse had hit. No point chasing and killing things already turned from humans to beasts. Why bother? He didn’t enjoy animal cruelty.
“...I can’t miss this chance.”
With the demon king gone, only the Demon Empress remained. Staring at the passage Grimudo opened, torn between options, she steeled herself and leaped in. Moments later, it sealed shut.
The site filled with battle cries now held only a devastated wasteland.
Amid that wasteland, serving as her tomb, lay Ruehheim’s withered corpse. Even so, she had ended her life with a smile. Whether her wish came true remains unknown.
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