Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: White Forest Grudge
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Clink.
Shards of glass scattered underfoot.
The stench of rotting flesh.
A dank basement.
A laboratory in utter disarray.
Iron Heretic Inquisitor Raibun adjusted his glasses and furrowed his brow.
"Captain. Take a look at this."
"Hm."
It had been a long time since they began pursuing the apostate.
An underground lab left behind by the apostate who had cleverly slipped through his search net.
It was a horrific place rife with vivisections.
"The related test subjects all appear to have been disposed of. Of course...."
There were signs of battle too.
Though some time had passed, it wasn't hard to infer that something had happened.
"A heretic who violated taboos and an apostate hiding a holy relic... a predictable pairing."
No one could set up a lab like this alone.
Someone must have assisted, and that was undoubtedly the apostate.
"Kallias."
It had to be him.
"Seems there was a falling out."
"They're the type who used brute force. They must have collaborated for personal gain, so it's easy for them to split."
Or perhaps not.
"The one with the holy relic's power might have unilaterally eliminated them."
Deluin, standing beside Raibun and nodding, crossed his arms as if to say it was entirely possible.
"But is that okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"...You saw the traces of the battle between Pilgrim Esther and Kallias."
Raibun's mouth tightened.
He had seen it.
The traces of their battle.
The forest floor turned into a mess.
And at the end, the vividly clear sword marks.
Deep gashes in the ground, as if clawed by a dragon.
"What did Pilgrim Esther say to you?"
"...He said he was defeated. That he's a skilled fighter who isn't an apostate and doesn't possess a holy relic."
Even hearing it again, it made no sense.
Raibun snorted.
If that wastrel didn't have the holy relic's power, how could he defeat Esther, the Church's holy figure and genius of geniuses, in just three years?
"Pilgrim Esther had no injuries anywhere, right?"
"Yes, that's what's a bit suspicious to me too...."
Deluin clamped his mouth shut under Raibun's sharpening gaze.
"If we uncover every sin of Kallias, we might end up pursuing Pilgrim Esther afterward."
"......Yes."
No one knew what someone like him was doing sniffing around an underground lab like this.
Even if Esther's words were true, he was a suspicious man with many enigmas.
There was no reason for Iron Heretic Inquisitor Raibun's footsteps not to turn toward him.
"He headed north, right?"
"Yes, the vanguard reported rumors circulating about a pilgrim who wiped out all the bandits."
"Inquisitor Deluin."
"Yes, Captain."
"Send word to the Church."
"What...."
Pilgrim Kallias.
He possesses a holy relic, one enabling explosive growth step by step.
His growth is beyond what he can gauge, and it's ongoing even now.
If left alone, he'll obviously become a monster too much to handle.
Moreover, with evidence of deep involvement with forbidden alchemists tied to taboo research, he could no longer be ignored.
"By the name of Raibun, Captain of the Heretic Inquisition. Raise Pilgrim Kallias's threat level from 5 to 2, and request active support from the Church accordingly."
"Active support means...."
"Request support from five squads of the Church's Heretic Inquisition, excluding 1st and 2nd Squads from the seven total."
The target is apostate Kallias.
His life and the holy relic.
And.
Raibun gazed at the largest shattered beaker at the end of the lab.
"The result of forbidden research."
Seize it.
* * *
Whooo.
The bone-chilling north wind sliced deep through the White Forest.
The man, hood pulled low over his thick cloak, suddenly lifted his head and exhaled deeply.
His white breath swirled in the wind, stretching long before vanishing.
White Forest.
A notoriously high-risk area even in the north.
Right before the border guards, towering trees of freakish size reached toward the sky.
The forest they formed.
That was the north's White Forest.
Each tree dwarfed houses, soaring high enough to block the sun, filling the northernmost expanse.
From afar, it was a sublime sight, evoking nature's grandeur—but hadn't someone said it?
Life is comedy from a distance, tragedy up close.
The White Forest was the same.
Matching its vast size, the magic beasts were enormous too.
And more ferocious, more cunning.
Not only did they fight over territory among themselves, but many moved in packs, making them no easy prey.
Magic beasts that saw humans as food and prowled across the border were plentiful.
Every year, a considerable number of knights entered the White Forest only to be hunted and become their prey.
One might say, why not chop down all the trees? No matter how big, trees can be felled.
Over generations of logging, the White Forest wouldn't exist, and breeding magic beasts there would be no threat.
But that was the talk of those who'd never properly seen the White Forest even once.
Most of the White Forest's trees were petrified wood—trees turned to stone, in a word.
How do you fell a tree turned to stone?
You can't.
A holy knight might manage it over days of effort.
But on what timeline would they fell every petrified tree in the White Forest?
Who would bother with such tedious work?
Would those who arduously trained to become holy knights want to spend their lives hacking at stone-hard trees?
That's nonsense.
Thus, it was Jerban's mission to lead knights and soldiers to hunt the magic beasts here time and again.
They couldn't fell the trees, couldn't burn them, couldn't dry up the beasts' seed... yet Jerban existed in the north nonetheless.
"Cold."
At the White Forest's heart, the man gazed at sword marks on a petrified tree, feeling a twinge of nostalgia and boredom.
Three years ago.
Kallias had been here.
Right after gaining pilgrim status, he'd wandered aimlessly, nearly dying, tally immeasurable.
After sorting his thoughts, he'd resolved to temper his body, and so he came to the White Forest.
No, precisely, he sought the one in the White Forest.
"...But why isn't he here."
He was always here.
A paladin who'd completed his pilgrimage, yet didn't return to the Church—instead hunting magic beasts in the White Forest, an odd old man.
"Bernard."
Owner of the Thunder Blue Sword, Rakhan, which used Rosario as its sheath. A pilgrim who'd finished his pilgrimage. A sworn paladin who never left the north, a hunter slaying White Forest magic beasts.
Kallias had come to find him.
"Hm? You. Who are you? The White Forest isn't for just anyone."
The emblem on his chest: a gray wolf entwined with a sword.
Jerban's symbol.
'A Jerban knight.'
But no ashen hue in his eyes, just faint holy power—he was a knight who'd received simple baptism.
Yet the sword he held was a carcass-grade.
Close to a famous sword.
"My words not making sense?"
Clang! Azure blades drew from the scabbards of the knights following him.
Each knight's gaze was fierce, their hands unflinching.
As expected of northern knights, their aura differed entirely from elsewhere.
The prickling aura and killing intent stirred his blood as a knight.
But Kallias didn't draw his sword. He stared at them briefly, sighed, and threw back his hood.
"Ah."
The knight captain let out a small exclamation and bowed his head.
His attitude shifted instantly.
The stiff neck of the knight captain, who had interrogated him high-handedly, bowed at once.
A scene showing Jerban's immense prestige in the north.
"So it's Lord Jerban."
Kallias nodded unenthusiastically and pulled his hood back up.
He didn't want to show his face, but better than needless swordplay.
He wasn't afraid of fighting the knights, but Kallias wasn't a murderer.
He wanted to avoid pointless fights, and spilling blood here would draw White Forest magic beasts in droves.
Killing Jerban knights gained him nothing anyway.
"Then."
As he moved to pass by.
"W-Wait!"
Kallias halted at the knight's urgent call.
"Could you be... Lord Kallias?"
"...."
Silent stare, and conviction filled the knight captain's eyes.
"As I thought, it is you."
"You know me."
"You don't recognize me?"
Frowning as if clueless, the captain laughed heartily and removed his helmet.
"As a child, I guarded young master. Orphin de Riofing!"
Orphin de Riofing.
The knight introducing herself beamed with delight.
'I don't know her.'
Talking of childhood, it was a memory the current Kallias lacked.
"You've grown."
"...."
From demeanor and words, she seemed a knight assigned to guard young Kallias.
'A name I've never heard.... Not a major figure, then.'
But it was unfamiliar.
If even slightly familiar, he'd know—but nothing.
"We were on patrol. Quite the coincidence—care to join us briefly?"
"...Sure."
"You lot, wait here."
"Understood."
Whooo.
Crunch. Crackle.
Treading broken snow, Kallias and Orphin crossed the White Forest, sharing much talk.
"I see. The family head adopted an heir...."
Jerban direct line.
Current head had one son, one daughter.
One of them was Kallias.
His only son was a wastrel, practically exiled from the family, so they needed a new one.
"Yes. Even among the branch family, he's outstanding in swordsmanship and all fields. Everyone thinks he'll succeed as next head."
"Hm...."
"Ah, I misspoke."
"No."
'I'm too busy surviving to play family head.'
No interest from the start.
Not just any family—Jerban.
Vast lands, defending the border, a region ever exposed to White Forest dangers.
Feeding countless territory folk and retainers wasn't for just anyone. Protecting himself was burden enough.
He lacked the caliber to covet the headship from bare dirt.
Clank.
Orphin suddenly stopped, gazing wistfully at her sword.
"Do you remember?"
He didn't.
Kallias grew uncomfortable with this knight so gleefully familiar.
Time wasted on forgotten past tales, no interest anyway.
He needed to find Bernard quickly.
She seemed to have words, hesitating frustratingly.
"As a child, young master asked me for a spar to train swordsmanship."
"Was that so."
"Then, you dropped your wooden sword to my blade and got angry."
Wastrels don't change.
Seems he'd tormented his guard knight with his temper.
"You kicked my shin and said, 'A peasant like you thinks she's noble just 'cause she swings a sword and became a knight?'"
"...Did I."
Sring. Orphin's sword slowly drew, gleaming coldly.
So that's what she wanted—not words.
"After that, you thrashed me soundly with a wooden sword. Threatened if I resisted, you'd accuse me of drawing steel on my lord, brand me honorless, and boot me out."
Bittersweet smile, her face mingling sorrow and relief.
To hurl such shame at a knight who lives and dies by honor.
Wastrel through and through.
"This must be fate too. Like you bearing no Jerban name, becoming a Church pilgrim. My sword felling a dishonored wastrel met beyond the border."
God's will, no doubt.
Kallias's brow twitched.
"Kallias. Wastrels like you shouldn't return north."
A sword bearing old grudge unsung aimed at him.
Kallias eyed Orphin's blade and sighed deeply.
"That's why I hate the north."
"Kallias! Draw your sword!"
Unjust, but what to do.
Draw? He'd draw.
Sring—clank.
He gripped [Predatory Sword - Roas] to draw, then sheathed it and drew Famous Sword - Lucen instead.
"Talentless in swordplay, yet lugging a fine blade. Pearl necklace on a pig!"
"Seems so."
"Thought pilgrimage changed you a bit. But that pitiful holy power in you—wastrel stays wastrel! Miracle you're alive."
"...."
"My honor sullied by trash like you.... Come on. For old times, I'll yield first strike."
"Is that so."
Kallias raised his sword, eyed the blade, and muttered.
"Thanks."
In that instant. Kallias's sword struck like lightning.