Chapter 149
Chapter 149
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: Underground Temple (4)
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“Trust me, Coni.”
With those final words, Coni plummeted into pitch-black darkness.
-Thud!
After rolling across the floor several times, he rose to his feet, but there was nothing around him. Only an inky blackness filled the space. And it wasn’t ordinary darkness—it was darkness filled with malice toward Coni, darkness with substance!
“Gasp!”
Feeling something grab his shoulder from within the shadows, Coni whipped around. But behind him, there was only more darkness, with nothing to reveal the intruder’s identity.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. Coni muttered, his jaw trembling. His voice shook pathetically. Oh God. As he whispered it one last time, something in the darkness seized his arm again. This time, the sensation was vivid—cold yet hot, intensely powerful yet strangely fragile, like a snake coiling up his arm.
“Gaaah!!!”
Coni screamed and instinctively drew the mace from his back, swinging it wildly. He felt the eerie sensation detach from his arm. A faint cry seemed to echo in the air.
In that moment, Coni sensed something flowing through his body. A familiar yet utterly unfamiliar feeling. It resembled the power he’d felt with Theodor while purifying the village well of the Altan natives. It was akin to the tingling in his fingertips during the morning and evening prayers offered to Donar.
“Huff, huff, huff…”
Coni gripped the weathered mace tightly, panting heavily. This mace—the only item he’d taken before fleeing the temple—was one of the oldest and most worn in the temple. It was the battered hand-me-down given to lowborn priests who had just joined. Most priests came from nobility, wealthy families, or had connections. Especially for powerful gods like the sun god Arjan or the god of rivers and seas, Donar, lowborn priests were rare. Even if a commoner somehow became a priest, they rarely rose beyond the lowest ranks without extraordinary circumstances. And for Coni, an Altan beastkin to boot…
He was essentially just a temple guard raised by Donar Temple. Coni knew his place well, so he’d never once complained about his shabby priestly robes or old mace.
Not even now.
Every time Coni looked at the old mace, he felt gratitude and awe instead. He couldn’t help but feel thankful and reverent toward Donar’s mercy and grace for taking in an orphan like him. The mace was proof of the god’s love.
Before fleeing, Coni hadn’t spared a glance at the gleaming, expensive maces of the high priests, even though he could have stolen one. Instead, he’d grabbed his own battered one from the bottom shelf, propped up without support, and run. Even that had filled him with guilt over stealing from the temple.
But now, he felt gratitude over guilt. Without this old mace, Coni would have been helplessly swallowed by the darkness. Tears welling in his eyes, Coni scanned the surrounding shadows and raised the mace high. In the thick gloom, the tip gleamed faintly blue. Just for a moment, very faintly.
“So that’s where you were hiding, ‘Saint.’”
A chilling whisper echoed through the underground temple.
Though it had flickered only briefly and faintly, that light was like a flash in the darkness. Enough for the “demon” to notice.
“…Great Donar, please protect your humble servant!”
Trembling at the ominous whisper, Coni mustered every ounce of courage and shouted. His cry extended into the darkness, toward the pillar in the shadows, and the Haelram stone fragment embedded there. The fading fragment vibrated at his words, then began emitting brighter light, as if determined to banish all the profane darkness in this corrupted underground temple.
-Kieeeek!!!!
Sensing urgency, perhaps—a rat the size of a man, or more precisely, a ratman in guard’s clothing—charged at Coni. Its sharp front teeth glinted coldly in the Haelram stone’s blue glow.
-Splat!!!!
Coni swung the mace precisely at the ratman’s head. The tip, infused with blue light, crushed it utterly.
-Kyaaak!!!
-Splack!!!
-Squeee!!!
-Thwack!!!!
-Kyaaaak!!!!
-Craaack!!!!!!
The next one, and the one after that, met the same fate. Coni smashed every charging ratman’s head, shoulder, or chest. One strike. Just one was enough. The mace’s blows pulverized flesh and shattered bones, sending them tumbling across the floor. Flicker, flicker, flicker—with each swing, the light grew brighter and stronger.
“Come on, as many as you want…!”
“…”
“Come at me! I said come at me! I stand with the great Donar!”
“…”
As ratmen corpses piled up around him, Coni shouted into the now-silent darkness. In response, a low chuckle sounded, followed by…
-Clap, clap, clap, clap.
The sound of applause.
“A saint’s prowess is indeed different.”
From the shadows untouched by the Haelram stone’s blue light came another chilling whisper.
“I’m no, no saint, no…!”
“N-no, I-I’m n-not a s-sai-saint, n-no, no, no…!”
“…”
“Hahaha! For one chosen by Donar, you’re pathetically weak!”
The cold voice mocked Coni, mimicking his stammer, then burst into laughter as its owner slowly emerged from the darkness. The figure was…
Barbason.
His body seemed to emit its own light. An ignorant onlooker might mistake him for a god. But Coni knew the light pouring from Barbason was profane. Trembling, Coni gripped his mace tighter and stood firm against the overwhelming presence.
“Saint, saint… It’s been ages since I last heard that word.”
“…”
“To think saints still exist.”
“…”
Barbason smirked, eyeing Coni, who was sweating profusely. Blue light still flowed from Coni’s mace, but it wasn’t enough against Barbason. Both knew it. That’s why Barbason found Coni’s refusal to yield strange. Amusing, even.
“Donar. That old fool still can’t let go of his underground temple obsession.”
“This place is dedicated to the great Donar! You have no right to set foot here!”
“But already…”
Heh heh heh. Barbason laughed, glancing around. In the darkness, dozens—no, hundreds—of rats’ eerie eyes watched the two. Coni gripped his mace harder. Blood dripped from the tip—drip, drip—onto the floor.
“I admire your courage, at least.”
“…”
“Baby saint.”
Flinch. Coni’s shoulders jerked at the words. He was startled.
‘Does this demon really mistake me for a “saint”? But I’m not a saint. I’m just a worthless…’
Sensing the anxiety in Coni’s shaking eyes, Barbason stepped closer, one foot after another. The suffocating pressure grew with each step—inhuman, unbearable. Anyone but Coni would have collapsed instantly. Coni endured only by clinging to the mace in his hands.
-Drip…
Just from Barbason’s approach, dark red blood trickled from Coni’s nose.
‘Am I… going to die like this…?’
Coni sensed his grim fate approaching and squeezed his eyes shut. At least, dying with his god brought some comfort.
“Now give up already.”
As Barbason spoke gently and reached to seize Coni’s mace—
-Screeeee!!!!
A fiercely glowing arrow tore through the darkness like a meteor, slashing Barbason’s hand. It embedded precisely between them, emitting a soft glow.
“…”
A split-second later, and his entire arm would have been gone. Barbason glared unpleasantly toward the arrow’s origin without hiding his irritation. Like all demons, he could pierce any darkness—but for some reason, he couldn’t penetrate this one. There was only one darkness a demon couldn’t pierce: another demon’s…
‘…A kin?’
Sensing danger, Barbason stepped back. The creeping shadows opposite weren’t his. Denser, more savage, more destructive. Such darkness…
‘Dimakushel?’
No, impossible. Dimakushel had been sealed and sunk into the deep sea long ago. How could he escape? And who would dare contract with him? It couldn’t be.
While Barbason pondered, the darkness parted, revealing a figure. Fortunately, it wasn’t the “kin” he feared.
“The one I’ve been waiting for…”
He looked almost like an ordinary human. For such a being to impersonate a demon with petty tricks—Barbason bared his sharp fangs in outrage and hostility. Then, “someone” chuckled insolently.
“Baby saint has arrived, you bastard.”