Chapter 150
Chapter 150
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 150
Chapter Title: Agatodo Tower
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Half a year later.
"Is this the place?"
A tower soaring majestically into the sky.
Agatodo.
A new outsider had arrived there.
The pilgrim shuddered as he gazed up at the towering structure.
A tower that had stood tall for over a thousand years—it made it abundantly clear that this was a holy site.
"The tower's trials..."
"Hey, Rolang. Let's go in together. It's too nerve-wracking alone."
"Is that okay?"
"There are twelve masters residing in Agatodo anyway. They adjust the trials to match the number of challengers, so it doesn't matter!"
"Oh! In that case, no problem! Let's go together."
Agatodo had stood for ages.
From eavesdropping, they knew plenty about the first-floor trial.
Wooden puppets would appear.
Then darkness would fall.
A restricted battle where one had to fight relying solely on hearing and qi sense.
But they were confident.
Of course.
That was before opening the door to the first floor.
"Hm?"
"It's bright?"
Contrary to their tense resolve upon entering, the first floor was lit by torches.
A fairly spacious area.
But there was nothing there.
Absolutely nothing.
"Huh?"
Clank, clank.
Knights in black armor appeared. Ten black knights, emerging without any warning as to where they'd been hiding.
The ten black knights stood in a line before the challengers, each gripping their weapons.
The trial imposed upon them was battle.
Pure combat.
"Ow! Ouch!!"
The black knights were strong.
On par with a single pilgrim.
But with ten of them, the numerical disadvantage was overwhelming, and their coordination was flawless—no chance for a proper counterattack.
'No hero stands against a gang beating!'
Indeed.
The first-floor trial was a many-against-one ordeal.
A brawl.
They struck with such painful precision.
Wooden swords and spears battered the sides without drawing blood, while spear shafts hammered the backs of their heads—it hurt like hell, bringing tears to their eyes.
"Argh!"
"Gah!"
Of course.
They were Kallias's Ashen Legion.
Ordinary knights among them.
* * *
Slice, slice.
Agatodo.
The tower's topmost floor.
Behind the shadows cast by pillars.
Kallias lounged obliquely at a large table, whittling a stick.
Beside him lay heaps of wooden swords, all carved by his own hand.
Yes.
Kallias had proven himself to the tower's master.
His strength. His resolve.
And he had desired something in return.
Orville's sword that had countered his Ashen Bloom.
'Radiant Halo.'
To experience it time and again.
That was the price of accepting her proposal.
"Damn it."
Kallias was carving wooden swords because he'd broken hers.
These were for the Iron Lord.
No—now they could be called the Ashen Lord—knights sworn to the sword, infused with Kallias's essence.
"My eyes didn't deceive me. Just a bit more effort, and your whittling skills have improved beyond recognition."
Orville, seated nearby, laughed heartily as she carved her own wooden sword.
Orville's proposal.
It was the loan of his army.
In essence, making his forces temporary custodians of the tower.
When Kallias had ascended the tower with the Ashen Legion.
He had shattered every single wooden puppet without fail.
This left the tower unable to conduct its trials properly, so Orville—knowing what he wanted—had replaced them with Kallias's Ashen Legion.
The results weren't bad.
'Plenty can't even clear the first floor.'
Of course, it hadn't started that way.
He'd said the ordinary knights were on par with the Empire's regular knights.
So they weren't strong from the outset.
Yet in just half a year, the first-floor knights had grown remarkably.
Half a year's growth.
The baseline level had risen steadily.
But Orville didn't mind.
He would leave eventually anyway.
She had nearly restored the original training puppets by now.
Kallias grew his army.
Orville could continue the tower's trials.
A win-win.
【Ashen Legion Roster】
Total Grand Marshal ―
Grand Marshal ―
Superior Generals: 2
Generals: 16
Elite Knights: 659
Regular Knights: 514
347 regular knights had advanced to elite.
Two elites had reclaimed their general-level prowess.
The general-level knights had also regained some of their lost strength over the half year.
The same for the superior generals.
Impressive results.
Had they wielded real swords and slain foes, the growth would have been even greater.
But this was a holy site.
Killing was forbidden, so there was no helping it.
'Even setting that aside, the gains are substantial.'
The army grew ever stronger.
And they did not die.
Once they fully regained their pre-death power, growth might stall or slow—but that was fine.
"Your comrades have climbed quite high."
"I've been focusing training on them."
His comrades: Serena, Aldu, and Philo.
They had struggled around floors 3 and 40 at first, but over the past half year, the Ashen Legion had drilled them intensively.
Now Serena was at floor 60, Aldu in the early 50s, Philo in the late 50s.
As expected from their high potential, their growth outpaced others.
In another month, Serena might break through her wall, and Aldu and Philo would advance further.
Philo's growth was especially dazzling.
Kallias had thought him mad for selling his own tail, but his potential was sky-high.
Despite starting with the lowest average skill, his insights were exceptional.
Moreover, the past half year had been rewarding for Kallias too.
Training alongside the tower lord, Orville.
He had learned much.
How to breathe.
How to shed habits.
How to empty the mind.
And how to fill it anew.
Shallow theories of her swordsmanship, and more.
A time rich in observation and learning.
That said, had Kallias achieved massive growth? No.
He was simply learning to wield his inherent gifts more efficiently.
His mind and body had been imbalanced from the start.
Thus, he trained to better distribute power, avoiding waste—through meditation and discipline.
Daily, whittling wooden swords.
Gazing at the blue sky.
Basking in the rising sun, enduring the cool night air and twinkling stars, solidifying his intent as he carved.
Of course.
Sparring with Orville using those wooden swords always ended in defeat.
'Saints are saints for a reason.'
Fundamentals of swordsmanship.
Understanding of the blade.
Purity of holy power.
Usage of divine energy.
All surpassed Kallias.
She was a saint whose divine power ranked beyond first-class—special grade.
A different quality altogether.
Even with Kallias binding three energies into one remnant force.
It couldn't yet overcome a saint's divine power.
Moreover, her manipulation alone warranted the title of transcendent.
Not a speck of her holy power wasted; even now, beside her, she emanated none.
She seemed utterly ordinary.
'No—more like she doesn't exist.'
A presence akin to nature itself.
It was even more pronounced when whittling.
As if one with the wood, she sometimes felt absent from the world entirely—startling him.
He had asked once.
Why stay here?
Born and raised in Carpe, devotee of Valterus.
Knowing the Empire's persecution, why not aid them?
'What was her answer?'
Orville had gazed skyward and replied.
"Gods... are merely gods."
Layers of meaning.
Kallias hadn't grasped it at first.
But now, half a year later.
He felt he understood a little.
She had no sword.
Only a wooden one.
Orville was a saint, a pilgrim.
Tower lord as well.
To her.
Carpe or the Sword God made little difference.
The implication was complex yet simple—hard to articulate.
His best guess:
The land one stands on is one's homeland.
What one holds is a sword, yet not a sword; gods are the heavens, so wherever one goes with faith, that is the church, the holy site.
In short.
'Whether it falls or not is none of her concern.'
Watching Orville speak thus, Kallias recalled her archetype.
Saint.
Arrogance.
Yet compassion dwelled within.
Thus, she wielded a sword that was not a carcass sword.
Arrogance rejecting divine power, pity for souls held hostage.
When asked why wooden swords.
"Easy to make."
An enigmatic answer.
Should one call her unknowable?
"Kallias."
"What."
"Why do you seek strength? Power's foundation is fleeting."
"Why do you think that?"
"Gods... merely exist. The Empire babbles of absorbing the sacred relics of the Armory Gods into the Creation God Lactus to exalt him and conquer the Fallen Lands—but will it work? I doubt it."
"..."
"Gods merely exist. Such meddling won't splinter divine power or erase it from memory. Those fools cry for spears, yet know the utility of swords and axes. They'll be used somehow, regardless."
Even if carcass swords vanish, blades endure.
Made for purpose.
Thus, gods won't be forgotten.
Even if church and nation crumble, time will raise them anew.
"So you call it fleeting."
"Not only that. Do you know what makes a god a god?"
"They're gods, so godly."
"Most doctrines overlap on one point. Essential for any faith. Know what it is?"
"...Offerings to the god?"
"Yes. Every god demands the finest among armaments as offering. It's in every doctrine. Ever wondered why?"
Kallias didn't answer.
He stayed silent.
Undeterred by his ambiguity, Orville continued.
"No sacred rite physically offers armaments to gods. Yet I've seen and heard saints vanish from the world."
What was the reason?
What message did she wish to impart?
Likely suspicion.
Uncertain conjecture, mere doubt.
Irreverent faith toward gods.
A saint like that? Lamentable.
For anyone else, that is.
"Did I ever mention I was a heretic inquisitor?"
"A heretic inquisitor? Nonsense. I'd have misjudged you if so."
"Ancient history."
"Enough then."
The conversation trailed off with a chuckle.
Yet Kallias grasped its thread and crux.
-Where do saints go?-
-Why does such doctrine exist?-
Kallias thought of Stella.
The first saintess.
She vanished one day.
Successors of exceptional talent had done the same.
His thoughts linked to Patalite.
But he shook it off.
An answer known only to him in this world.
Not yet time to voice it.
"You're finally carving decent ones."
Finishing a wooden sword, Kallias gripped and swung it.
Well-balanced.
Half a year of whittling had honed his skill.
He took that smoothly carved wooden sword and approached Orville.
"Use Radiant Halo. I'll deploy Ashen Bloom once more."
"Arrogant fool. My sacred ultimate isn't for casual viewing. Even Felice turns meek pup before me—don't you know?"
"Just fulfilling our promise."
The past half year.
His stay here was solely due to Orville's proposal and promise.
But now the time had come.
"This time, I'll shatter it."
Orville's famed ultimate.
Radiant Halo.
The sword that erased every mote of ash in Kallias's Ashen Bloom with light.
Half a year on.
Kallias challenged anew.
"Not a bad idea."
And that day.
Kallias departed the holy site.
* * *
The tower's topmost floor.
Beside solitary Orville approached the 61st floor's layer lord, staff in hand.
Ovarna.
"He left?"
"Yes."
The tower lord's eyes, fixed on the distant horizon, were wistful.
Chasing his unseen form, or something else—Ovarna couldn't tell.
"Where to, did he say?"
"...Planning to leave yourself?"
"Yes. Feels like my time to experience the wider world."
"Not because that bastard crushed you humiliatingly?"
"..."
Ovarna didn't rebut.
"Fair enough. You're of age now—time indeed. Go. He..."
Headed to the Empire.