The Sins of the Righteous
Humans are weak. Because they are weak, they cannot protect anything. That is what people always said. They said that if one devoted themselves to the Church and repented, they could escape the whispers of the devil. They said it constantly.
—Then why was my mother killed by you humans?
I hated that contradiction. Just as you said, we devoted ourselves to the Church, and my mother worked tirelessly as the previous generation's Saintess. It wasn't just for a day or two. Do you know what her face looked like when she came home? Exhausted, terrified, desperately trying to hide something?
I was so worried that I stopped by the cathedral that afternoon. I shouldn't have looked. I should never have gone to the cathedral. What I heard, what met my eyes, was my mother surrounded by a crowd, and the wanton whimpers forced from her throat.
My mother was in agony. She thrashed and resisted. But they did not stop. Eventually, our eyes met. She flinched, weeping in even greater torment. Do you know what I felt at that moment? I felt an overwhelming, murderous intent.
Did you not say that devoting oneself to the Church washes away all sin? Then why are you the ones committing these sins? Her bruises and wounds only multiplied day by day. My mother's movements, as if trying to hide her body, and the look she gave me were stained with pure terror.
Why? Why do you, who are also human, commit such atrocities? Isn't the Ludmilia Holy Church supposed to be the executioner of devils? Why is my mother afraid of me? Why does she avert her eyes from her own son? Why... why are you violating my mother?
"...Why?" My mind was perfectly still. The storm had already ravaged it so many times that I could no longer feel anything. There was only a faint smile blooming on my lips, and a black sword that had somehow found its way into my hand. Ah... this must be the corruption you always spoke of.
What is a devil? Is it not an entity that seduces humans and stains them with corruption? If devils truly exist, then the devils who made me like this are none other than you. You were the ones who begged me to kill you first, and so I am merely answering your plea. "Someone" watching everything from afar must have placed this sword in my hand.
"Hahaha..." My body moved. Toward those disgusting humans who were still thrusting against my mother's body, too distracted to even notice me. I walked toward those walking contradictions, step by step.
Only now did I realize why they had dragged our innocent family into the Church. It was all for my mother's body! Those fucking bastards had approached us from the very beginning just to violate her! I will never forgive them! Forgiveness is only granted to those who have done something worthy of being forgiven!
I did not fall to my knees. They didn't even look at me, merely groping my mother's breasts with greedy hands. I couldn't endure it. Why should I be the one to endure and hold back? Why must I suppress the agony filling my mind? Punishment for the sinners. Weren't you the ones who taught me that?
The midpoint between good and evil. I stood at that crossroads. I was merely executing your teachings. I was simply a holy warrior smiting the devils before me. If this sword is not a holy sword—if this blade emitting a sickening energy is not a holy sword, then what else could it be?
...But I had no choice but to accept reality. I knew. I knew this was no holy sword. I knew it was a demonic sword. Perhaps that was why the urge to slaughter them boiled even hotter within me.
"...Nome?" "Why are you here?!" "Ah... you want a turn too?" Those words echoed in my head. At that moment, before I even realized it, I ripped apart the mouth that dared to utter them.
"Aaaagh!... Ugh, guh... aaargh?" "Shut up."
Splat. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.
How many times did I stab and tear? The entrails and blood of the man who had been thrusting scattered in all directions. The others who had been violating my mother froze, paralyzed by sheer terror. Were they trying to comprehend what was happening? There was really no need. After all, they were all going to die anyway.
When I finally came to, the cathedral was drenched in blood. Belatedly, I turned to my mother. I had killed all those who tried to flee. Now, my mother could live her life in peace. We would live happily together, just like before. She would see her grandchildren, live out her days in tranquility, and eventually close her eyes in peace. That was her wish.
"...Mother?" But I could not grant it. The mother before my eyes was already a cold corpse.
"Ah...!" The demonic sword? No. My mother had lost her life to those beasts. Red handprints stained her neck. They had choked her to death while taking their pleasure. Even though I had killed them all, this filthy sensation consumed me.
[You did nothing wrong.]
"...I know."
[I lent you my strength. Now, I will take my price.]
"You did everything on your own! I never agreed to this...!"
[I merely lent you the demonic sword. The choice was yours.]
Yes. The choice was mine. My mother's choice to remain at the cathedral was a choice. The beasts' choice to violate and murder her was also a choice! And every choice always demanded a price.
"...A price."
[Hehehe. Yes, a price.]
"What do you want from me?"
[Well, you see. It is—]
His words—no, His Lordship's words—compelled me to move.
Black magi seethed within the holy cathedral. What is repentance? Is it not begging the radiant Lord for forgiveness, offering up one's sins and transgressions? I had no intention of repenting. Your lambs—your filthy followers—violated my mother. That is unforgivable!
A fierce blaze consumed the cathedral, burning it to the ground along with my mother's corpse. What did my face look like, reflected in the demonic sword? Now, nine years later, I cannot remember. Yet, there was one thing I knew for certain. It was from that moment. From that very instant, I lost my facial expressions.
The devil swung a demonic sword shaped like a crucifix. It was a contradiction, a blasphemy that should never have been allowed to exist. Yet, such rules did not apply to Nome. For he had chosen neither path at the crossroads of good and evil.
He used evil because strength ensured he would never lose those precious to him, and he immersed himself in good so that his sins could be forgiven at any moment. He had lost his expressions, lost his emotions—all to offer up the price His Lordship had demanded on that fateful day.
[Become my vessel.]
To become a vessel worthy of His Lordship's soul, he had to unite the Demon Sect. He was a walking contradiction. He participated in evil while desperately rejecting it. To Nome, evil was good. But now, even Nome's expressionless face contorted. His bones were shattered, his internal organs reduced to tatters. He had forcibly cauterized his flesh with fire to seal his wounds, barely holding himself together.
"...Why?"
He could not understand. Even as he tried to comprehend, the relentless bombardment of ice closing in around him left him no room to breathe. They were not spears; they were swords. Yet, whenever he blinked, spears and shields—not swords—unleashed black sword energy, hacking away at him.
"Why can't I keep up with him, even after awakening the Devil Look...?"
He was shaken. A wave of emotion, unfelt for eight long years, surged within him. It was bewilderment. He had suppressed his emotions as much as possible to satisfy His Lordship's demands, yet the bastard of Balenos was incredibly resilient.
"The further down the line they go, the stronger my children become. Your failure to foresee this is your defeat!"
The manifested Spirit King Balenos brought down a thunderbolt of mana. Beside him, a legion of high-ranking spirits charged toward Nome.
Nome unleashed a strike with his demonic sword, Carta. The spirits' bodies were sliced in half, and he used the opening to slip away. But another spirit, the Sword Saint Kajin Balenos, unleashed a devastating slash.
"You are steeped in hatred. Do you truly despise humans that much?"
"Kajin, there's no need to read his mind. In the end, he's just a bastard who threw his lot in with the devils."
"I know, Rowen."
"Then that's all that matters."
Shattering the slash, Nome rushed toward Rowen. He could not let it end here. The human before him was a chaotic amalgamation of inexplicable forces: the Dragonic race, spirits, angelic and divine blessings, and eternal power. Though Rowen did not seem capable of drawing out the absolute limit of all these powers, he was still a formidable foe.
"...To wield such power despite not having transcended the mortal realm..."
"Don't worry. I'll be able to use all of it soon enough."
An insatiable curiosity and obsession with magic—this was something Rowen had possessed since childhood. That obsession stemmed from a deep-seated thirst for power. It was born from his past-life defeat. If only he had been a little stronger, if only he had honed his techniques further, if only his mana had been abundant enough to cast spells without restraint... would the outcome have been different? Such thoughts had constantly plagued his mind.
Balenos had warned him that his body would collapse if he accepted power that transcended his mortal realm. If so, now that he had integrated most of that power, he was certain his realm had elevated. Before the day came to face the Demon Kings once more, he had to master every ounce of his strength.
The Dragonic power he had awakened without even realizing it lent Rowen incredible momentum. Keeping his wings level, he accelerated to extreme speeds. He clashed blades with Nome in the microscopic gaps of time. He could see Nome growing fatigued; the Prophet was visibly slower than before. However, the same was true for Rowen. His arms were in tatters. Forcing his barely-attached limbs to move, he parried the demonic sword. The magi radiating from Nome's eyes was toxic. Thus, Rowen resolved to shatter it.
Tsk, I guess he really is the leader of the Prophets for a reason.
What should I do? If this drags on, I'll run out of mana. Even with my capacity, maintaining the souls of ancestors passed down over thousands of years takes a heavy toll. In that case... the only answer is to end this in a single strike. But that's only if I can pull it off. Even with his head spinning and his organs ruptured, Nome was determined to block Rowen's blade.
...There was no other choice. He had to try.
"...Balenos. You know what I'm thinking right now, don't you?"
"It flows into me even if I do not wish to know. Are you sure about this?"
"I have to try. It won't kill me."
"The risk is immense. I have no idea what will happen if you synchronize the souls of all our ancestors into a single body!"
Rowen let out a soft chuckle. This old man worried far too much.
"I'm still your descendant, you know. I'm not that weak."
"If you die, I die as well."
"You bastard. Was that the real issue? Not worrying about me?"
"You ask the obvious. Of course I am more important than you! And Rowen, do something about that mouth of yours. You are starting to sound more and more like Arahan."
"...Shut up."
Regardless of his grumbling, Balenos would ultimately agree with Rowen's decision. At the very least, he wouldn't refuse. Rowen had already made up his mind. He would endure, ensuring his body did not collapse. He gazed at the Holy Sword. He rewound his past memories—no, his body already remembered. Borrowing the Divine Power of the Holy Sword, he reinforced his physical vessel, strengthening it so his mind wouldn't fracture or crumble through any gaps.
"...What are you planning?"
"None of your business."
Kajin and Casiel fought Nome with everything they had. Rowen had never been able to defeat Kajin in a pure clash of blades. He had only won by utilizing magic and sword energy; in terms of pure swordsmanship skill, it was only natural that he would lose to him. That was why Rowen had Kajin buy him some time.
"I am holding him back even without you telling me!"
So he said. Well, it didn't seem like Nome would lose easily, but since Rowen needed every single second, leaving it to Kajin was the wisest choice.
"...Come."
"Come forth."
Balenos embraced Rowen, cradling him gently and calmly. A freezing frost washed over him as the winds of the North began to dwell within Rowen. The souls of all his ancestors began to synchronize with him. Soft snowflakes began to flutter in the air. Piercing shards of frost gathered around Rowen, transforming into sharp blades.
The memories, experiences, abilities, and powers of his ancestors overlapped. A pain and terror that felt as though his body would disintegrate washed over him. If he could not endure this, everything he had done up to this point would turn to ash. He desperately seized control of his mind. He felt the blue rose blooming in his heart. He read the memories of both the Rose family and the Balenos family. Using Leah's warmth as his anchor, he held onto his sanity with a death grip.
"Found it."
Amidst a torrent of memories so overwhelming that he almost forgot his own identity, Rowen found it—the perfect compromise to stably wield the power of all his ancestors.