Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: God's Shadow: Creighton Lukebart (8)
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Creighton Lukebart's gaze looked down at the fallen holy knight.
He did not like the temple's clergy.
He resented and hated them, and rejected them.
Yet why was it—.
Creighton could not feel any satisfaction at Austin's death.
It seemed he had not hated this naive holy knight before his eyes that much.
Holy knight of the temple, Austin Rainer.
For at the final moment, Creighton had felt a small pity for him.
"Secret... soc... iety...?"
Austin's voice, soaked in fear, echoed out.
As Creighton listened to that voice, he quietly stepped forward.
Step, step—.
Creighton's eyes, passing by Austin, caught sight of a small tentacle wriggling in the shadows.
And below it lay a single grimoire.
The Black Candle—the grimoire Lionel had used.
It was magic that controlled an existence from the outer world, buried in the shadow of the dead black mage.
"She will be most pleased with this."
Swish—.
Creighton's hand picked up the grimoire from the floor.
"Crei... ghton... Gong... ."
Austin's puzzled eyes looked up at him.
To Creighton Lukebart, black magic was a magic he loathed above all else.
However, the master of Celestia alone would have a different evaluation of this magic.
For that reason, Creighton had separately taken the grimoire Lionel left behind.
"What... why... ."
"......"
"Why... would a god... do... such... things... ."
Toward Creighton, who clutched the blood-soaked grimoire, Austin asked him in a trembling voice.
Creighton's eyes looked at such an Austin.
A young man dying after fulfilling his mission.
That holy knight's efforts had turned to ashes in Creighton's hand.
Yet even so—.
To this middle-aged mage standing here, that young man's efforts were quite admirable.
"The reason for doing such things—."
Receiving Austin's question, Creighton exhaled thick tobacco smoke.
Hoo—.
In the scattering gray smoke, the dying Austin glared at him.
Was it hatred toward him?
Or resentment toward him?
Either way, there was no reason for Creighton to indulge those emotions.
"Wealth and honor, power and wishes... Any of them could seem like the real reason, don't you think?"
"......"
Yet even so, he returned a kind answer toward the holy knight before him.
Heh.
Creighton gave a bitter smile at the corner of his mouth.
In the blurring gray haze, he seemed to see the world that had once been dyed gray long ago.
The reason for living fiercely.
It was already too late for Creighton, who had walked too far, to seek reasons for such obvious actions.
Thus, he posed one question to the naive holy knight.
"Have you ever seen a god, lad?"
"Yes...?"
Hearing Creighton's question, the cooling Austin blankly asked back.
It was not a question asked expecting an answer.
It was simply that he wanted to share his own story with a holy knight chasing paradise somewhere.
"My entire family died at the hands of the temple."
"......"
"It was foolish. I shouldn't have entrusted my family to that muddle-headed fool. Of all things, to dabble in damned black magic."
Step, step—.
The sound of Creighton's footsteps echoed around the altar once more.
He took aimless steps.
Simply circling around Austin's vicinity.
Continuing to move his legs slowly.
"I begged the scripture-spouting priest, but it was no use. After that, I began to hate the temple. And the clergy who follow it as well."
Austin Rainer—.
Memories with the inexperienced holy knight revived in his mind.
"It was the same when I first saw you."
A young man who claimed to have good instincts.
Yet strangely, his finishes were always sloppy.
A young man who trusted him without a shred of doubt.
And furthermore—.
A young man who chose noble sacrifice at the end.
"But now, I don't hate you so much."
Creighton, smoking his cigarette, looked at Austin with a smile.
Austin, having heard an old tale, looked up at him with a complicated expression.
A short story could not contain all the emotions up to now.
Just as Austin did not know him, and Creighton did not know such an Austin's life.
Hoo—.
Perhaps, beyond the scattering smoke, they had formed enough acquaintance to bid each other farewell.
A brief greeting.
In that one phrase, respect for a fleeting life could be conveyed.
"You're a good man, aren't you? So it's better to leave you with an ending that suits you."
"God... is... ."
Swish.
Creighton's hand raised his staff.
The grimoire, which had been in activation mode for some time, emitted bright light while bound to the staff.
"Don't worry. Not a single black mage will survive here."
"......"
Creighton's magic power spread out in all directions.
Rumble, rumble—.
Immense vibrations began to spread around the mountain peak where he stood.
The earth-element spells that Battle Mage Creighton Lukebart had accumulated in the illusory library Celestia.
They had reached a level where even altering the surrounding terrain was no issue.
"Creighton... Lukebart—."
Just as Creighton was about to uproot the thorns and overturn the mountain range.
Austin's voice rang in Creighton's ears.
In the last moments of his life, it sounded remarkably clear, as if he had regained peace.
"......"
"What did you offer, and what did you gain, Creighton."
Austin Rainer asked him.
"My everything."
And Creighton Lukebart answered him.
A short phrase.
However, the meaning contained within was not light.
With that one phrase alone, Austin came to understand one mage's lifetime.
Hearing Creighton's answer, Austin quietly began to close his eyes.
"Sweet dreams, young friend."
Toward Austin facing his final moment, Creighton's warm farewell echoed out.
Thud.
The strength drained from the dying Austin's hand.
Watching the closed-eyed Austin, Creighton quietly swung the staff in his hand.
Rumble, rumble—.
The vibrating earth extended thorns in all directions.
"If fate allows, we'll meet again."
With those final words, Creighton began to unleash his magic at full power.
Boom! Boooom—!
Thorns shot out with deafening roars, shaking the ground.
The mountain trembled, bridges vibrated fiercely, and screams echoed from all directions.
Booooom!
The thorns mercilessly pierced the black mages hiding in the mountain.
As Creighton recreated the library's mysteries, every swing of his staff brought forth countless thorn flowers following his gesture.
Amid Creighton's magic rampaging to annihilate all life atop the mountain.
Stumble, stumble—.
From behind a nearby tree, a small-statured dwarf came running, trembling.
"P-please, please, spare me...!"
A dwarf male with thick, unkempt beard and body covered in wounds.
Creighton took in the sight of such a dwarf.
Thud—.
Was it failure to keep balance amid the ground-shaking vibrations?
The fallen dwarf artisan, Tuga, crawled desperately toward Creighton and clung to him.
"Please! P-please spare me...! I'm not a black mage...!"
"......"
"Those bastards... I was kidnapped by those bastards and just used...!"
Grip—.
Tuga's trembling hand clutched Creighton's leg tightly.
Creighton let out a hollow chuckle at the dwarf's grip strength transmitted through his leg.
"Do you know why I kindly explained to the dying holy knight?"
Creighton and Austin's conversation.
He saw no need to save a dwarf who had overheard it.
"N-no! I... I didn't hear... anything... really nothing...!"
Tuga, clinging to his leg, began to wail.
His hands, swept by the intense vibrations, trembled violently as well.
Swish.
Creighton, cigarette in mouth, looked at the dwarf before him.
From that dwarf's mouth, pleas continued to pour out.
"Anything! I'll do anything!"
"......"
"I'll do whatever you command, just please spare my life...!"
The sight of the weeping, begging dwarf Tuga.
Creighton, watching him, pondered only briefly.
Tsk—.
Soon, clicking his tongue and exhaling smoke, Creighton spoke.
"Have you ever seen a god, lad?"
"......Yes?"
Hearing Creighton's question, Tuga looked up with a panicked face.
"N-never! I don't believe in human temples...!"
"Well, of course. If even a devout holy knight hasn't seen one, how could a dwarf like you?"
Rumble, rumble—.
Creighton's hand halted the vibrating earth.
Then, he slowly looked down at the dwarf before him.
Small stature.
But hands rough beyond his size.
Looking at the artisan before him, Creighton burst into hollow laughter.
"I'll give you a chance. Prove your worth."
Creighton Lukebart.
Having finished his farewell, a new encounter came to him.
* * * * * *
A cliff crumbling and blood stench vibrating along the mountain path.
A white-haired old man with a beard walked there alongside a boy who still looked youthful.
Step, step—.
The old man's footsteps slowly climbed the rugged mountain path.
And nimble footsteps of the boy quickly followed behind such an old man.
On the boy's collar climbing the mountain path was embroidered the crest symbolizing Islat's royal family.
"......"
It was only a moment before the boy's steps reached the steep mountain peak.
Swish—.
Soon, reaching the summit and turning his head, the boy spotted something and pointed there with his hand.
"Bartov! Look over there!"
"Julius, did you find something?"
Seeing the boy's gesture, the old man smiled kindly and climbed to the mountain peak.
The old man's deep eyes, filled with the weight of years, followed the boy's hand.
Below the half-collapsed hideous altar.
Wriggle—.
Black tentacles moved there.
Moreover, at the tips of those black tentacles, green crystals were entwined.
"Bartov. Do you know what this monster visible here is?"
The boy pointed at those tentacles with his fingertip, asking their identity.
Swish—.
As the tentacle the boy pointed at clutched the crystal and crawled into the shadows.
Watching that, the pilgrim Bartov's eyes gleamed with interest.
"They are existences drifting outside the world without forming rules. In some sense, they could be called 'God's shadows' circling the great rules."
Bartov explained to the boy before him, then looked at the fallen holy knight's body on the ground.
The holy knight's abdomen had a large hole.
"The vow of vengeance has been fulfilled. It seems the temple's holy knight was caught by an outer world existence without receiving guidance."
"Vow of vengeance...?"
"One for one—. It is a vow that demands equal compensation for loss by taking the flesh and soul of the one who killed the alcoholic
The youth fallen with his abdomen pierced had closed his eyes with a somewhat bitter expression.
Opposite such a holy knight was the figure of what seemed a black mage who had perished together.
The blade that pierced the black mage conducting the ritual—.
In other words, the holy knight before their eyes had slain the black mage at the cost of his own life.
"What a pity. If he hadn't been caught by an outer existence, he could have joined the sacred pilgrimage procession."
Tsk, tsk—.
Bartov clicked his tongue, lamenting the holy knight's situation.
Toward such a Bartov, the young boy posed another question.
"If a temple cleric wasn't called by the guide... what happens to that holy knight's soul from now on?"
Hmm—.
Pilgrim Bartov looked at the curiosity-filled boy, placed a hand on him, and gently stroked his head.
Swish, stroke.
The boy's eyes, receiving the gentle touch, were filled with clear curiosity.
Bartov stroked the boy's head and gave him a most affectionate and kind answer.
"That soul will drift outside the world for a lifetime."
"......"
"Held in the shadow's grasp, it may never join the great cycle... eternally."
The Guide of the White Garden.
He was the one who granted rest to the baptized.
However, there were inevitably those who could not receive eternal rest.
Like the certain holy knight before Bartov's eyes now.
"But if he's extremely lucky... someday he might be taken in by one of the great rules drifting outside the world."
What end would the holy knight who chose sacrifice meet?
Even pilgrim Bartov did not know.
Step, step—.
Bartov's footsteps, wandering the mountain peak, began to move from their place once more.
Mourning the dead was not the pilgrim's role.
"Let's head back, Julius."
Toward the endless pilgrimage—.
The chairman of the Extremist Magical Research Society continued his unrelenting journey.