This Church Needs a Champion (2)
The phrase 'Morgina's Champion' struck Kriel as profoundly suspicious.
He turned his gaze to Morgina.
Wasn't he a real Champion after all? Maybe a Champion (promotion pending) or just some candidate?
Handing the saintess sole authority to appoint a Champion felt off to begin with. For a typical saintess from another order, sure—but Morgina? Her fiery temperament—what you'd charitably call a blazing personality—was infamous even within the Eve Kaha Church. Entrusting personnel decisions to someone like that? No sane organization would do it.
"Ah, rest assured. You were officially appointed as Eve Kaha's Champion. Traditionally, our order has the saintess appoint the Champion."
But religions were nonprofits by nature, so Kriel's common-sense notions of hiring standards shattered into dust. Was this really okay for HR?
"That girl never intended to have a Champion in the first place. She'd say if push came to shove, she'd just handle the duties herself. Lately, she hasn't been impressed by anyone who fancies themselves a fighter."
Morgina wore an expression brimming with unspoken words. But even she couldn't easily unleash her usual wild, untamed demeanor before the High Priestess's benevolent smile. It wasn't the awkwardness of facing a boss—it was pure respect for a worthy elder.
"...I've come to relinquish the Champion's title."
"Oh my. And why is that?"
Kriel shot Morgina a look. She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. She untied the cross-shaped sword at her right hip.
[Master, an ambush? On an old woman, no less. It's ruthless, but efficient. Still, I must inform you there's a noble tradition called a duel.]
Tuon launched into its tirade the moment Kriel gripped it, words savage enough to suit the term demonic sword. Even Orishin, who had stayed quietly silent out of respect for the temple priests (anyone but Morgina) since entering Eve Kaha's citadel, now spoke up.
[That one's subtly unhinged...]
The real issue was assuming he'd stab someone the instant he drew his sword. Even if it were a true ambush, this was a disaster. If the master was ambushing, shouldn't the sword stay quiet? Yapping like that—good luck pulling off a surprise attack.
Kriel cautiously gauged the High Priestess's expression. True to her years of cultivating virtue, no anger or agitation crossed her face.
"Quite the unique sword."
Before Kriel could respond, Morgina stepped in. "Granny, this thing is..."
"The Corpse-Eating Sword, I know. I've heard about that ash-gray blade before. But it's strange. The letter from Temris said you and your Champion sealed the Corpse-Eating Sword perfectly."
"That's what we thought too. But things got complicated."
The conversation between the seasoned priestess and her protégé flew fast. Perhaps from years spent like family.
"A moment—may I see the Corpse-Eating Sword?"
Kriel placed Tuon on the table. He ignored its whining—[No! Master, for duels, you must use me, not that tacky horned dagger or crude greatsword!]—and tuned it out.
The High Priestess raised her right index finger, slowly tracing Tuon's blade. Crimson energy gathered at her fingertip—manifested holy power. After inspecting the cross-sword from every angle, she set it back down.
"Most peculiar."
"The sword spirit, you mean?"
"No. You, its master."
The High Priestess's eyes fixed on him. An ordinary gaze, devoid of intimidation—yet heavier than the killing intent he'd faced on the battlefield.
"Morgina, step out for a bit."
"Granny?"
"Now."
"...I won't."
Morgina muttered timidly. That clumsy defiance was shocking. Not charging in mace-first, but just whining verbally? The High Priestess stared at her a moment, then shook her head with a sigh.
"I'm not trying to drive away the Champion with abyss nonsense. I haven't accepted his resignation yet. Only the appointing saintess can revoke a Champion—that's your right, and I won't infringe it."
Her gentle explanation flowed on. Morgina reluctantly rose and shuffled out. The door clicked shut, but no footsteps followed—she was hovering right outside.
"That girl, always... Same tantrums as ever."
Murmuring to herself, the High Priestess snapped her fingers. Crimson waves spread through the room.
A soundproofing barrier.
"It's been ages since I've seen a soul like yours."
***
"A soul like mine—what do you mean?"
Kriel asked calmly. He couldn't be sure of her intent.
"The hero's soul."
Hero. Kriel repeated the word inwardly. The honorable title bestowed on those who opposed the Demon King. Or—
"Souls from beyond this world."
Affirm or deny? After a moment's thought, Kriel opted for the truth. No point hiding it now that his ownership of one of the Seven Great Demonic Weapons was out. Lies weren't for an honorable knight.
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I'm older than I look. I've had chances to see much—including the otherworlders who repelled this Balor."
Eve Kaha's High Priestess—known only as such, no other name—recalled the past. Once a soldier who fought alongside Eve Kaha herself. Her first follower.
Kriel's eyes widened. She'd seen heroes firsthand?
"Do you know where they went?"
"I don't know details after the great battle with the Demon King. I can only guess they sought a way back to their home worlds."
Made sense—if they'd left this world for good, traces would fade. Kriel's spark of hope cooled as quickly as it had ignited.
"Otherworlder, huh..."
"Your kind defies this world's measures. But the abyss's corruption comes equally to all."
Solid advice. Kriel smiled wryly. He'd suspected as much, but hearing "use abyss skills and ruin your life" so bluntly stung.
"Then this sword's off-limits."
[Master! How can you say that! I exist for you!]
The High Priestess shook her head slowly. "This blade is already severed from Gratuon's true form. It belongs to you, not the abyss."
To me? Kriel glanced at the cross-sword. A blade that schemed to stab others the moment it could speak—and it was on his side?
"Doesn't seem like a holy sword that aids people."
"Of course not. Champion, your roots are as a Dark Knight, aren't they?"
The words Dark Knight hit Kriel hard.
"No choice there. This sword embodies your desires: easy, fast, simple—and sometimes, the craving for praise. Still a magic sword, yes."
"Shouldn't I toss it?"
"It's not abyss. It ties to your emotions' dark side, so 'dark' fits—but if you don't yield to the abyss, it's safe."
She assured him it was fine so long as he resisted the abyss. Tuon crowed triumphantly, demanding he use it over the horn dagger or greatsword from now on.
"Thus, no disqualifiers for you as Champion. Morgina's worries won't come to pass."
"Actually, the sword aside—I came to resign anyway."
As she withdrew the room's holy power, the old woman's face clouded with dismay.
"A Champion's insignia is perfect for masking a Dark Knight's presence. Any special reason for refusing?"
"I don't trust Eve Kaha."
"Ah. That's fine. Our order's pretty lax about that."
Kriel was inwardly impressed. Tough old lady.
"A Champion must represent the order's interests. Not for me."
"Eve Kaha won't issue orders against your interests, so why?"
"Knights pursue justice, not gain. Keeping a Champion who might one day turn blades on the order isn't good for you either."
The elder didn't press further. Instead, she offered an alternative.
"Then use the title only when needed."
"Pardon?"
"If Morgina refuses, no one else gets it. Just hold the insignia and use it as required. No other duties."
Eve Kaha was lax. Was it okay to treat the Champion seat like this? Reading his thoughts, she smiled faintly.
"That position's usually the saintess's—"
"Granny!"
With a crash, the door nearly splintered as Morgina burst in.