48. God (God) (2)
48. God (God) (2)
The Astes Temple stood in isolation within the eastern part of the empire.
To all but a select few high-ranking nobles, even the location of this temple was unknown. As the place where oracles were received, its security was strictly managed.
Saint Ermel, who lived in that temple, spoke.
"Only when the subjects of the prophecy ascend the Seat of the Oracle can we know the outcome of the oracle's execution."
The Seat of the Oracle.
It was a circular platform on the floor, filled with a cluster of light.
Saint Ermel surveyed the imperial party.
And then her brown eyes came to rest on Yuma.
'...That man is Yuma.'
The very person who was shaking up the empire—no, the entire continent. Yet, strangely, a being not mentioned even once in the oracles.
It was natural for an individual human not to be directly mentioned, but given the influence Yuma currently wielded over this land, it would not have been strange if he had been mentioned.
She was a saint, but from her position as a mere creation, she dared not judge the deep will of a god.
'He possesses great power, but perhaps he is not a vessel meant to save the world....'
Saint Ermel, who had never witnessed Yuma's martial prowess with her own eyes, was trapped within her own framework of thought and had no choice but to judge him that way.
Ermel shifted her gaze away from Yuma and looked at the three who could be called the protagonists of this occasion.
-When the daughter of the witch who fell into the hell of black flames meets the Blue-haired Sword Saint, the white-haired lady shall save the world.
That was the New Year's oracle delivered eight months ago.
The daughter of the witch who fell into the hell of black flames, Cloné.
The Blue-haired Sword Saint, Bel.
The white-haired lady, Brigitte.
Hearing Bel's name, Ermel smiled brightly and patted Bel's shoulder.
"Please become a great star of the empire."
Bel nodded vaguely.
Because the fact that he had become a member of the empire hadn't fully sunk in yet.
Of course, the feeling that he had become Yuma's sword had already sunk in deeply.
Ermel took a deep breath, then spoke again.
"Then, I shall now confirm whether the oracle is established."
"So we just go up there?"
"Yes, Bel."
At Bel's words, Ermel smiled and nodded.
Step, step.
Brigitte, Cloné, and Bel slowly ascended the Seat of the Oracle.
And the one whose fury boiled most fiercely at this moment was undoubtedly the First Prince Schubertche.
'Damn it.'
Why.
Why on earth did a bastard like that God of War, Yuma, not belong to him? Why did such blessings only come to Brigitte?
Why did such blessings not come to him?
Kkadeudeuk!
He ground his teeth.
The fact that two members of the oracle had been gathered—wasn't it all thanks to that Yuma?
'I... cannot acknowledge you. Brigitte.'
Schubertche hoped, in whatever form, that some variable would arise and the establishment of this oracle would be rejected.
Very desperately.
The Seat of the Oracle.
Before the Seat of the Oracle, where the three mentioned in the prophecy had ascended, Saint Ermel stepped forward.
And she raised her right hand high toward the sky.
"O supreme light, who encompasses all creation and watches over the peace of the Astes Empire."
An aura of light began to shimmer from Ermel's body.
"Answer the call of this unworthy child. O Inkrinew."
As Ermel's words ended, the aura shimmering from her body spread out far and wide.
Drawing in light like the sun.
—And then a single beam of light fell from the sky.
The light began to accumulate, point by point.
Along with a wavering cluster of light.
Kugugugugugugugugu!!
Everyone within the temple could tell. That something was manifesting.
Divine Advent.
Currents of light crawled slowly up from the floor.
Jjeojeok—
The atmosphere let out a faint scream.
An overwhelming presence filled not just the temple, but the entire space.
"......!"
Even Duke Balzac, a Grand Sword Master, was crushed by a sensation that numbed his entire body.
Everyone felt it.
As creations called humans, the primal terror of facing a god.
The sense of reverence that naturally arose.
Nobility.
-You are the most noble being in this world. You do not yield to external pressure.
Of course, Yuma, who possessed the Nobility trait, was excluded.
The cluster of light slowly lifted.
What revealed itself was a being whose outward appearance was not much different from an adult human male.
Except that his skin color exuded a deep violet hue.
And he possessed pure white hair and intense red eyes.
Yuma faced the being directly with Searching Eye.
[Lv.666] Inkrinew
Race: God
God Name: ???
Realm: God
[Information on beings of the God level or higher is restricted.]
[Depending on the target's actions, the Searching Eye's investigation progress may advance, and information may be unlocked.]
Levels 300 to 499 belonged to the category of Demigod—'Demi God'. From Level 500 and above, they entered the complete divine category.
The Black Dragon Elkam-Akreon, which had been a Demigod-class being at Level 421, had been the most superior being he had encountered so far.
But that record had just been updated.
With the God of Level 666, Inkrinew.
A god with notably violet skin.
Inkrinew raised the corners of his mouth.
He did not even spare a glance for those below the Seat of the Oracle. He only gazed at the protagonists of the oracle he himself had delivered, standing upon the Seat.
Saint Ermel lay flat, prostrating herself, her body trembling.
The oracle she had received a few days ago surfaced in her mind.
-If the oracle is properly carried out this time, I shall manifest directly.
It was the oracle delivered by Inkrinew before her eyes.
Inkrinew had kept his word to manifest directly.
"Well met, Brigitte von Astes. O great bloodline of Astes."
Inkrinew's blazing red eyes met Brigitte's.
First Princess Brigitte knelt on her right knee and paid her respects.
"I behold the light that shines upon the empire, Lord Inkrinew."
Though this was the land of Astes, she could not stand stiffly before the greeting of God Inkrinew.
Inkrinew smiled benevolently and passed Brigitte by.
And this time, he gazed at Cloné and Bel.
"Well met, Cloné."
The daughter of the witch who fell into the hell of black flames, and.
"A pleasure to meet you, Bel."
The Blue-haired Sword Saint.
Inkrinew turned half around and strode back to stand before Brigitte.
"You have managed to gather the members of the oracle well, O great bloodline."
Brigitte, still holding her courteous posture, spoke.
"I thank you for the mercy of Lord Inkrinew."
Right after Brigitte finished speaking.
Inkrinew's eyes narrowed thinly like crescent moons.
"The oracle is established."
It was clearly Inkrinew declaring the oracle's establishment.
But First Princess Brigitte felt an intense sense of dissonance. And that dissonance soon manifested as reality.
"However, one final condition for the oracle's fulfillment remains."
Inkrinew continued.
"One of either the Witch's Daughter or the Blue-haired Sword Saint must die. Regrettably so."
The assembly was plunged into silence.
"Worry not, you need not lament the loss of one's talent. Should one of the two die, Brigitte, that talent shall be transferred to you."
Only the words of the god, Inkrinew, continued on.
"What method would be best? Indeed, Cloné and Bel. Wouldn't it be better for you two to fight and decide?"
Bel's expression crumpled abruptly.
Srrk...
Cloné retreated a step backward.
Neither of them understood what the god was talking about, not even a little.
First Princess Brigitte's lips slowly parted.
"Lord Inkrinew... must one of the two truly die?"
"The birth of a great sovereign requires trials commensurate to that greatness."
Inkrinew still spoke with a benevolent face.
"From the very moment I delivered the oracle to that saint. The fate that one of those two, excluding yourself, would die was already established. That cannot be changed. For it is the rule of my oracle, set since the beginning of time."
To Brigitte's eyes, those benevolent words and expression began to feel like those of an evil spirit.
"That is the law of I, the god Inkrinew."
From that statement onward, the color of the white aura flowing from Inkrinew began to shift abruptly.
Into a color mixed with violet and black.
That aura was still warm and sublime.
But it also contained a faintly sprinkled, terrible ominousness.
Yuma examined Inkrinew with the Searching Eye once again.
The information regarding the previously invisible God Name had been unlocked.
God Name: Halved Mercy, Scales of Choice, Endless Anguish.
"Now, I cannot give you much time. Thirty minutes by the time of the Middle Realm. Within that time, either Bel or Cloné must lose their life. If that does not happen... all three protagonists of the oracle must die."
Clap!
Inkrinew clapped his hands.
Along with the clap, killing intent identical to the wavelength of that sound extended outward.
The killing intent encroached upon the entire temple.
Bel's eyes flew open at the immense terror crushing his mind.
The pressure he had felt from his father, Luke, Patriarch of the White Night Clan, was a mere joke in comparison.
Even the pressure he had felt from the Giant God Tribe's King, Ades, felt insignificant compared to the god, Inkrinew, standing before him now.
Brigitte's pupils shook violently.
Cloné's body trembled uncontrollably.
A forewarning of inevitable death.
The pressure of death that could not be resisted.
The three protagonists of the oracle, of course, but also the saint and the two high-ranking nobles standing below directly faced that sensation.
'Huh.'
To Balzac, all the martial arts he had built up until now felt meaningless.
Countless physical trainings.
Tens of thousands of sword paths swung.
All of it looked as precarious as a castle built of sand.
A sandcastle that god would topple in an instant.
'If that god intends to kill me—.'
That death could never be avoided.
The nature of their existence was different.
If Sword Aura was ultimately a technique for killing life.
What that Inkrinew was extending down to the earth right now was death itself.
A mortal who used techniques for killing life.
How could they possibly kill a god who emanated death itself?
The Empire's Guardian, the empire's strongest Balzac, thought that this entire temple was in the palm of Inkrinew's hand.
Everyone standing in this place now was standing precariously upon that palm.
Their life or death could be decided by Inkrinew's mood.
If his mood turned foul and he flipped his palm over, all their breaths would be cut off.
'In the end, was I also nothing more than a worthless creation?'
Balzac, who had transcended human limits hundreds of times over, slowly began to despair at the emergence of a gap he could absolutely never cross.
Inkrinew grinned, then gazed at Brigitte again.
"Kill one of the two, and you can gain many things. Hmm, shall I help you a little more with the choice? I shall grant you one mercy in advance, as a gift."
Inkrinew bent his waist to meet the eye level of Brigitte, who was on her knees, staring piercingly at him.
"In five months, the Demon Realm Army will descend from the Demon Realm. With the purpose of continental invasion. The force will number in the millions. Furthermore, the ones invading will be far stronger than any demons or demonic beasts that have invaded until now. It is certain, for it is a future prophecy written in the Book of Revelation, which only gods may read."
Inkrinew continued.
"If you, Brigitte von Astes, will only make this choice of hardship and anguish, I shall enhance the abilities of the human soldiers with divine power in the war against the Demon Realm Army five months from now. And I shall also create barriers with divine power to delay the invasion."
Slowly...
Inkrinew's right hand, which had been gesturing as he explained, suddenly turned toward Duke Balzac, who was barely standing on his two feet, radiating power throughout his entire body.
Inkrinew's right hand slowly fell vertically. It was like the gesture of a conductor directing an orchestra.
What appeared following that gesture.
Was a single line of violet.
The violet line rushed toward Duke Balzac at a speed akin to light.
"...!"
Balzac urgently gathered the power throughout his entire body and converted it into the form of a Protective Energy Armor.
Kiiiing—!
And he raised his sword, layering defensive barriers made of Sword Aura—a Sword Veil—stack upon stack.
A total of twelve layers of Sword Veil.
It was a Sword Veil of such high perfection that not even a Sword Master could tear through it.
But it was useless.
Seo─geogeok.
Seogeok.
A single line of violet.
Just one stroke of divine power tore through the Grand Sword Master's Sword Veil like paper as it advanced.
Seogeok...
All twelve layers of the Sword Veil were cut away.
Jjeo──────────eok.
The violet line cut diagonally across Duke Balzac's body.
"Kuh-huh-uh-eok!"
The Protective Energy Armor distorted along with the armor it protected.
Miserably.
A diagonal scar was etched onto the upper body of Balzac, who had collapsed to the floor. And that scar was heavily caved in.
Blood poured out endlessly.
"Cough!"
A mouthful of blood burst from his lips as well.
"He will not die."
Brigitte looked at the master of the North, the Empire's Guardian, who had crumbled so easily at a single gesture from the god.
Brigitte was certain.
That this current situation.
"I am saying I will help so that your army does not collapse so vainly as that five months from now. Come, Brigitte von Astes. O great bloodline."
This irrational situation was simply a game to God Inkrinew. She could tell just by looking at that long, torn smile.
Half-killing Duke Balzac out of the blue was surely just part of the amusement.
It was also meant as a show of force to prevent anyone from entertaining other thoughts.
"Choose quickly who shall die."
Inkrinew urged mischievously.
"Enough."
It was someone's voice.
Brigitte's, Bel's, and Cloné's gazes all converged toward the direction the voice had come from.
"Shut your mouth, Inkrinew."
Step—.
It was the sound of noble footsteps.
The man, Yuma, slowly walked forward.
Toward the Seat of the Oracle.