Chapter 292
Chapter 292
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 292
Chapter Title: The Prophecy Points to Death (4)
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Delohim Church had fallen.
More precisely, it was in the midst of falling. It had been that way long before Sara was even born. For hundreds of years, the Delohim Church had been on a steady decline.
Even so, the church's influence remained formidable, though it paled in comparison to its past glory—that much was undeniable.
The church's higher-ups chased after that bygone splendor. They longed to climb even higher by borrowing the might of the gods. They yearned for the radiant days of the kingdom's founding, when even the king had to bow in silence before the church.
Since they had never experienced it themselves and could never reach it, one could only call it a delusion. Under normal circumstances, it would have remained just that—a mere delusion.
Until a new saintess appeared, someone talented enough to lead the church for the next few centuries.
"This child is a gift from the gods."
"Child, from now on, your name is Sara."
"You will become the church's representative."
This child, born with the blessings of the gods.
In the church's centuries-long history, no one had been born with blessings as powerful as hers. And so, the church confined the girl to a narrow room and subjected her to relentless education.
All believers exist for the gods.
You are the apostle of the gods, so the believers exist for you as well. Use them as you please. They are your children, your possessions.
They instilled in her a twisted faith.
They arranged meetings with nobles who held that same warped belief, bestowing Sara's blessings upon those who had grown old and frail. In this way, the church amassed power.
"This cannot be."
"We can't let it be taken like this...!"
"Kyle, Kyle Toben!"
That continued until the hero appeared.
Kyle Toben. From the moment that hero, bearer of powerful starlight, emerged, the church's plans began to unravel. When the hero requested the saintess's companionship, the church could not refuse.
Not with centuries of tradition binding them.
No matter how corrupt the church had become, it could not discard the traditions built over hundreds of years. And so, when Sara joined the hero's journey, the church elders whispered into her ear.
"Sara, do you know what that hero truly is? He was originally a slave to the nobles. A lowly human who did menial labor under them."
"And such a one claims to embody the will of the gods. He is a heretic. You must not go near him. Cast him out and return to the church, far from that man."
Sara faithfully carried out those words.
In the early days of the journey, she relentlessly tormented Kyle. But one day, she stopped.
"I can't hear it, I can't hear it, I can't hear it..."
She had once been captured by the Demon King's army due to her own mistake.
They didn't kill her outright but locked her in a dim room where the voice of the gods could not reach. Terrified, Sara spent sleepless nights there.
No one came.
For Sara, who had lived hearing the gods' voice every day, this severance was a terror she had never experienced before.
"Delohim, Delohim, Delohim..."
Paralyzed with fear, Sara cried out to the gods. Her voice did not reach them. Though it never reached the gods...
Slash.
It reached one human.
"I've come to save you, Sara."
The hero she had mistreated.
"Grab on. We need to escape quickly."
Kyle appeared before her, slicing through the pitch-black walls. Sara could no longer push him away. In that moment, she truly faced Kyle as a person for the first time.
Curiosity stirred. Interest bloomed.
And it wasn't long before that interest turned into love.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Kyle."
Sara looks at the man standing before her.
The man who shattered the walls confining her. The man she cherishes most—Sara gazes at him.
"Let's call it quits here."
She looks at Kyle Toben, the man who occupies a greater place in her heart than even Delohim, and speaks.
"There's no need to face the Sword of Death, right? We can just spread this information and sound the evacuation alarm in the north. No need to step onto a battlefield like this..."
A prophecy shows a future that will inevitably come to pass.
The prophet cannot change the future they have seen. Only those who have not witnessed that future can introduce variables.
"So."
Thus, the words she uttered now would likely mean nothing. Knowing this, Sara continued anyway.
"There's no need for you to risk your life, Kyle."
"......"
"Right? Who the hell is going to face the Sword of Death? Who could possibly stand against a monster that can cleave a canyon with a single swing?"
Sara pleaded.
"It's futile. You'll just die if you go."
"Did I die in your dream?"
Sara swallowed hard at Kyle's words.
Kyle silently watched her. Unable to withstand his gaze, Sara turned her head away.
"Sara."
"......"
"Sara, one more question."
Kyle placed a hand on Sara's shoulder.
"Who was by my side?"
"...That."
"I think that if this prophecy spreads and we gather forces capable of facing the Sword of Death... that guy will definitely be included. He will absolutely show up there."
A voice full of conviction.
"Even if I don't go. Even if neither Destel nor any other superhuman shows up, leaving us with no chance of victory... that guy will go there alone."
If it's that guy, he definitely will.
Sara sensed a hint of madness in Kyle's murmuring, laced with certainty.
"Raniel."
Kyle said.
"Raniel van Trias. Wasn't that guy by my side?"
Sara could say nothing.
Affirming it would make Kyle charge straight there. In the end, after a long silence, she shook her head, but Kyle, who had spent so much time with her, saw through it.
"Just as I thought."
Such a simple lie wouldn't fool him.
"Then, I'm going too."
"Kyle...!"
Sara raised her voice, but Kyle seemed uninterested. Sara looked at him. Having spent so long together, just as Kyle could read her heart, she could do the same.
Examining Kyle's expression, Sara bit her lip hard.
He had already made up his mind.
That decision would not be reversed. Kyle Toben was stubborn to a fault in such matters.
'Why...!'
She couldn't understand.
Why he still obsessed over Raniel even after driving him away with her own hands. Why he kept fixating on that mage's movements.
In the midst of it, Kyle spoke.
"I have to go."
Kyle touched the hilt of his sword.
"If that guy's going there, then I have to go too."
Not a choice, but an obligation.
That was what Kyle seemed to say.
2.
"You don't use a greatsword?"
"Pardon?"
"A greatsword. You know, a big sword."
"Why bring up greatswords all of a sudden...?"
Lania pointed at the axe Rak held.
"Don't you ever think about wielding something bigger? That a greatsword might suit your hands better? Or maybe it's actually a better fit for you..."
Even as she said it, Lania trailed off, doubting it herself. It felt ridiculous, but it was a necessary check.
"I wield an axe the best."
Rak tilted his head and drew the axe from his belt. His hand snatched the spinning handaxe out of the air in a flashy motion.
"The first weapon I picked up as a kid was an axe, and swords just don't feel right in my hands."
Rak scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"It's great for throwing, and the impact when you bring it down feels satisfying. With longswords and such, it's like... they lack that smashing sensation."
With him putting it that way, she couldn't press further.
Lania sighed inwardly and recalled what she had seen in the northern holy site. The hole-riddled greatsword at the center of the lake.
Ganikalt van Galatrik.
The holy sword (? ?) used by the first hero.
Even after so much time, the starlight on that sword had not faded. And having glimpsed the past from the northern tower, Lania knew just how absurd a weapon it was.
'A sword that slays demons (? ). It was called something like a demon-slaying sword...'
But to Lania, it was no such simple thing.
The sword itself was cloaked in starlight. The weapon wielded by the first sword saint, who could cleave anything, transcended mere blades.
"No matter how I look at it, it seems like a sword meant for you."
Lania glanced sideways at Rak.
Imagining Rak, blinking in confusion, swinging a greatsword was difficult even for her.
But it was undoubtedly a sword prepared for Rak.
The connection between Ganikalt and the Grace family.
Lania couldn't ignore it. She had been doubtful before, but Ganikalt's appearance in Rak's trial had confirmed his aptitude.
"Maybe I should teach you the sword from now on..."
"Is that why you called me?"
Lania glanced to the side.
There sat Kalt on a tree stump, looking utterly exhausted. He seemed so weary she almost wanted to tell him to go sleep.
"You look sleepier every time I see you."
"I am sleepy. With all the doomsayers swarming the capital lately, these vermin keep sneaking in amid the chaos."
After Galahal's death, many had begun proclaiming that an era of darkness was coming. And there were those manipulating them from the shadows.
"Catch them and more keep coming. The crap they pull to evade me is so laughable, but the fact that it works is the real problem."
"...What exactly do they do?"
"They grind up the ones I've marked."
"Grind?"
"Yeah, literally... Hmm. Not something to say in front of a student."
Lania shot Rak a look.
Then she beckoned with her finger. Rak nodded and covered his ears.
"Now talk."
"...That enough?"
"Yeah, that'll do. So, what do you mean by 'grind up'?"
"They tear them to shreds and scatter the pieces everywhere. Hide bits in every nook and cranny, so tracking fails... Go look, and it's all for nothing."
"...Sounds like someone who knows you."
"Exactly the problem."
Kalt nodded.
This was a tactic the Demon King's army had used against him on the battlefield. Once marked, Kalt never lost a target. So they exploited that to block his tracking.
"No matter how you slice it, the one pulling strings behind this is off."
Kalt said.
"At first, I thought they were just petty criminals stirring chaos, but it's not that. Chasing them turned up signs of biological experiments, and the scale keeps growing. That's why I'm so busy lately."
"I see."
"Finally got a breather to catch up on sleep, and then..."
Kalt eyed Lania with narrowed eyes.
"You called me, Senior."
"Yeah, that happened."
Lania smiled awkwardly. Pondering what to say, she finally spoke.
"Hey, I pulled all-nighters for ten days straight, and it's more doable than I thought..."
"Is that supposed to be consolation?"
"No, I mean, for me it was..."
Kalt sighed and pointed at Rak.
"So you want me to teach that kid the sword?"
"Yeah."
Lania beckoned Rak over.
Rak removed his hands from his ears and stood before Kalt.
"Hm."
Kalt scanned Rak.
"Body's well-built. Honestly, he'd handle anything decently. Got the frame for it."
"Right?"
"Let's see."
Kalt drew the sword from his side and handed it to Rak.
"A famed sword among famed swords. Won't break no matter what. Swing it full force at that tree trunk over there."
"Yes, sir."
Rak assumed position immediately.
Gripping the sword tight, he swung at the tree like he would an axe. The blade struck with a solid thunk!
Crack!
The tree dented where the blade hit.
Not sliced, but dented. Looking closely, cracks radiated from where the sword had embedded.
"Whoa."
Kalt clicked his tongue.
"Even if I told him to, he couldn't do that."
This famed sword could fell a tree with raw power alone. Yet here he was, hacking at it like chopping firewood...
"No sword talent at all, Senior."
Shockingly devoid of it. Kalt shook his head—no point teaching that. As Rak handed the sword back...
Thud, crash.
Suddenly, a tree toppled with a deafening roar. Kalt receiving the sword and Lania both froze. Their eyes locked on the fallen tree—but not the one the sword had hit.
A distant tree had tilted and crashed down. More followed with thud, crash sounds. Kalt and Lania turned creakily to Rak.
"Huh? What's wrong?"
Only Rak blinked innocently.
The distant trees were shattered to splinters.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The great Grace was a sword superhuman, yet Grace hid his prowess. He rarely swung a sword before others, favoring axes instead. Some warriors, seeing this undignified sight, asked Grace.
Why not use a sword?
Are you actually an axe master?
To this absurd question, Grace burst into hearty laughter.
'My master told me I had zero sword talent, so ditch the damn sword and grab an axe.'
Who could say such to Grace?
'Even if you brought swordsmen as numerous as snow on the mountains, he'd end them in one swing.'
But, Grace continued.
'He still taught me swordsmanship in the end. I guess he got tired of me following him daily. And when I showed him what I'd learned, my master laughed.'
Laughed heartily.
'Like he'd seen something hilarious, he took me as his first disciple. Then warned me not to swing a sword before others.'
Why, the warriors asked.
Grace just smiled bitterly.
'You'll know once you see it. Want to?'
The warriors' eyes lit up, following Grace to the back mountain. That night, they returned and never asked to see his swordsmanship again.
Those who witnessed the great Grace's sword all agreed: it wasn't a sword he wielded. Though he held one and performed techniques, it wasn't a sword.
They only muttered cryptic words.
The next morning, the back mountain of Baekya Castle revealed trees uprooted across the area—not sword marks, but mangled wreckage.