Chapter 220
Chapter 220
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 220
Chapter Title: God
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The Saintess Whose Limit Has Been Released.
After Astraia caused that outrageous incident, Krash didn't see her again until the very day he left Freeman.
For the record, in the aftermath, the rampaging Astraia had immediately fled the scene.
After that, whenever it seemed like she might run into Krash, she'd bolt without a second thought. There was no catching her.
It must have meant even she was that embarrassed by her own impulsive actions.
'Embarrassed to that degree, and yet she still went and did it.'
Krash felt a mix of exasperation as he touched his lips.
The sensation of her lips crashing against his without warning still lingered, even now.
Prior to his regression, Astraia hadn't been anywhere near this forward.
Krash recalled the differences between this timeline and the last.
Of course, plenty had changed.
But if there was one area that had shifted especially dramatically, it was his relationships with women.
'...The engagement?'
Krash thought of the engagement that was still in place.
Before his regression, by the time he'd met Astraia, he'd already broken off his engagement.
It had happened later than now, but his engagement to Bianca was over regardless.
'In that case, shouldn't having an engagement actually prevent something like this?'
Krash had figured marrying Bianca would resolve everything without issue.
But seeing Astraia made him realize that wasn't a straightforward solution.
Krash decided to ignore Crimson Garden's unhelpful commentary.
In any case, it was time to head back.
The incident had been so massive that the Festival of the Gods had ended prematurely in disarray.
The citizens were disappointed, but with such juicy gossip to chew on—something as big as their own nation's upheaval—they'd spent the night buzzing with chatter.
Nothing fuels gossip like news from your own backyard.
As Krash packed up and prepared to leave the temple,
Knock knock.
Krash heard someone knocking on the door of his room.
"Come in."
He didn't know who it was, but he invited them in anyway.
The person who entered was an unexpected figure.
A woman in priestly robes with striking blue hair.
The youngest cardinal, Mireille Beakis.
She had come to Krash's room.
Krash looked at her with a hint of puzzlement.
After all, he couldn't think of any reason she'd seek him out.
At the same time, his eyes caught the item in her hand.
"That’s..."
"Lord Krash, this is a gift from Freeman in gratitude for resolving this incident."
Astoundment spread across Krash's face.
The gift she carried was utterly absurd.
"The Holy Sword?"
One of the Ten Great Heavenly Swords and Freeman's national treasure.
The Holy Sword.
Mireille had come to offer it to him.
"What’s going on?"
Freeman had clearly decided to make use of Krash after the chaos.
They couldn't afford any missteps in their new religious revolution.
Krash hadn't said anything about it either.
He'd exploited Freeman just as much, after all.
But he'd never imagined they'd hand over the Holy Sword.
Mireille gave a wry smile at Krash's reaction.
"They just want to keep Freeman's symbolism close by, no matter what."
Mireille had stood against the opposition faction alongside Krash to protect Astraia.
That act had defied her father, no doubt.
But it was also her acting on her own convictions.
'Symbolism.'
Just as she said, Freeman wanted one thing.
For Krash to wield the Holy Sword—one of their symbols—and forge a legend.
'Clever.'
With that alone, Freeman could milk Krash and the Holy Sword for the next century.
"Religious revolution or new faith, it's all run by the same people in the end.
The methods and means don't change much."
Mireille seemed to see no real difference between the opposition and the traditional holy royals.
Krash gazed at her for a moment before quietly asking,
"Is it alright for you to say that?"
She was part of Freeman in the Holy Kingdom, after all.
Her actions this time must have drawn some reprimand.
"It's fine. They said if you accept the Holy Sword, they'll let it all slide."
"Cardinal Mireille, you're quite shrewd yourself."
"I take after my father."
Her faint smile unmistakably echoed Tersada's.
Krash examined the Holy Sword in his hand for a moment.
Unlike Thunderclap, this pure white blade was embroidered with golden thread.
And from it emanated a palpable divine aura.
"Anyone who wields the Holy Sword can use holy power without exception.
Aura channeled into the blade converts to holy power."
Krash truly felt the Holy Sword's value from Mireille's explanation.
Holy power was the strongest force against World Erosion—aside from aura.
It was the god-granted power itself, separate from borrowed skills from the gods.
That holy power now dwelled entirely within the Holy Sword.
'This is like a skill in its own right.'
A skill bestowed not on a human, but on a sword.
'Maybe.'
Krash clenched and unclenched his free hand.
Perhaps Black Hood would work on the Holy Sword too.
'There's a chance.'
Krash had aura, the ultimate counter to World Erosion, so holy power wasn't crucial for him.
But holy power was its own vessel, distinct from aura and World Erosion.
A god's power, akin to a skill.
'If I feed it to Four Seasons...'
It might even expand the vessel's capacity.
Crimson Garden, perched on the table, chimed in slyly.
Krash didn't respond and simply sheathed the Holy Sword at his waist.
Anything was worth testing.
It was one of the Ten Great Heavenly Swords, after all.
For Krash, who wielded Thunderclap, it wasn't strictly necessary—but the Holy Sword was perfect bait to draw out the Red Witch, Adella.
'The sword Arthur wielded.'
To Adella, who adored everything about Arthur, it would be an artifact she absolutely couldn't let slip away.
Krash decided to accept it, if only for what lay ahead.
"They say the Holy Sword sometimes grants fateful encounters with gods.
May you, its bearer, one day receive such fortune and divine blessings."
Mireille bestowed her cardinal's blessing upon Krash.
"I won't forget the life you saved—not now, nor in the future."
Krash chuckled briefly at the Black Witch's servant.
It was a clean transaction, no loose ends on either side.
"See you soon at the academy, then."
With those final words, she departed.
Just as she said, they'd cross paths again at Raheln Academy before long.
Krash rose with his packed belongings, ready to rendezvous with Aslan.
With Freeman's unexpected gift in hand,
he'd come out way ahead.
With that, Krash opened the door and stepped out.
Through the corridor window.
Maple leaves were quietly blooming here and there.
The Festival of the Gods began as September turned to October.
It was already October.
'Autumn already.'
So many incidents in such a short time.
'And my growth rate's on fire.'
Since enrolling at Raheln Academy, Krash had grown at an astonishing pace.
Of course, it had demanded grueling trials that carved flesh from bone.
But now, he'd reached a level where he could hold his own with some confidence.
'And yet it still feels insufficient.'
Probably because of the clash with Yeonma in the last battle.
His full-power strike had only left burns.
Yeonma was one of Ixion's top fighters, but it was still a shock.
'No room for complacency.'
The news hadn't spread worldwide, but Ixion was still active everywhere.
From what he'd learned, what Yeonma stole was none other than the Holy Grail's blueprint.
Whatever they planned with it, it was clearly no good.
'Not enough.'
Malice began to fill Krash's eyes once more.
Among his peers, he'd reached a height no one but Charlotte could match, yet he still thirsted.
'On to the next step.'
Krash knew the limits of his own talent.
His path to strength was singular.
Steal something via Black Hood.
As Krash took a step forward,
Outside the window, in Freeman Temple's garden.
A woman in unfamiliar attire, with jet-black straight hair cascading down, gazed at a fallen maple leaf in her hand.
Krash's eyes locked onto her, unable to look away for some reason.
At the same time, a memory from that day flashed through his mind.
Raheln Academy's infirmary.
The day he'd pushed himself in sparring despite his lack of talent, ending up a mess, cursing reality.
She had appeared out of nowhere at the window.
Her pale face shadowed by the sun at her back, she wore an inexplicable cold smile.
Those words had pierced deep into his soul.
The woman he'd seen that day was now in Freeman's garden.
In the garden the pope frequented, no less.
As if she'd visited it countless times before.
She strolled through the garden scenery with utter familiarity.
Krash's eyes shook violently.
As they should.
He knew exactly who she was.
The only god who had given him a skill—Black Hood—during his time at Raheln Academy.
A nameless girl whose contract method differed from all other gods.
She was there.
Why?
The question hit him.
At the same time, Mireille's earlier words resurfaced.
Could it be because of the Holy Sword?
He couldn't be sure.
But Krash possessed Black Hood, and he hadn't met this nameless god at this point in time.
Yet perhaps because he hadn't seen her once since that day,
his feet were already carrying him toward her.
The moment Krash vaulted over the corridor window into the garden,
she finally noticed him and turned around.
Her inhumanly pale face turned toward Krash.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
It was so bewitching it could blind a person.
"Reversing time has healed your wounds a bit, hasn't it?"
Her next words froze Krash in place.
The nameless girl.
The god who gave Krash Black Hood knew about his regression.