Chapter 220: Nephilim Shrine (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 220: Nephilim Shrine (3)
Saintess Yoo Se-in looked at the Hero.
A face carved like a statue, an immaculate demeanor. But was it just his looks and character? He was the wielder of the "Miracle Blessing," the sole Heroic Spirit-class blessing of this era. On top of that, he possessed Balmung, a sword that was both a holy blade and a demonic one.
He monopolized every single miracle and stroke of fortune this world had to offer.
People say that everyone is the protagonist of their own life. But there is a protagonist chosen by destiny itself.
A boy favored by the world, a Hero carrying the duty of humanity. A being born to be loved, needing no reason or explanation. That was Leon von Reinhardt.
And yet.
Those eyes—a pair of blue dots floating in the darkness. Trailing long beams of eye-light, Leon approached like a wolf. His aura was far too ferocious and malevolent to belong to a Hero.
If anyone else had been standing there, they would have questioned if this man was truly the Hero. For here approached a beast, radiating a force as if ready to chew his opponent to pieces.
Whooosh.
Wind blew through the sealed space. It was no natural movement of air.
The Hero growled the Saintess's name. Just hearing it made Se-in's eardrums throb with pain.
“Saintess Yoo Se-in.”
The golden beast's mane disheveled. Baring his teeth ferociously, Leon spoke.
“I don't give a damn which god you serve. I don't care why you pray for Kang Geomma, nor do I care what your plans are.”
Se-in froze. Her body temperature plummeted as if ice water were coursing through her veins.
“However, if you ever breathe a word of my secret to anyone, I will cut off your head without hesitation.”
Se-in clutched her chest tightly. The wrinkles in her linen robe, soaked in cold sweat, were sharply defined. She was terrified. She knew Leon's true "identity." With every approaching step, her dread multiplied.
Even so, Se-in flashed a smirk. Though sweat beaded on her forehead, she refused to bend her resolve. If she were afraid of threats and intimidation, she would never have accepted the duty of a Saintess in the first place.
“Kill me whenever you want. But Leon, you know it too, don't you? If you kill me, this world ends right then and there.”
“……”
“A world destroyed by the Hero's own hands... That sounds nice, too. I'm sure people will just love that.”
Leon's steps faltered. Se-in pressed on.
“You're afraid of yourself, aren't you? You don't know where you're headed. You don't know if this is the right path, or when that thing dormant inside you will run wild. That's why you hypnotize yourself every single day, repeating to yourself: I am human, I am human.”
Leon's sea-blue pupils dilated blankly.
“But what can you do? You aren't human. Yet you aren't a Majin either—you're something else entirely. You could be both, yet you can be neither. Ah, poor Leon. Why do you deny what you are?”
“……”
“To be a human who must defeat the Demon King, and a demon who defies god—that is your destiny, Leon the Nephilim.”
“Shut up! I am not a demon!”
Leon bellowed like a roaring beast. Candle flames flickered wildly, and the glass windows rattled. Yet rather than dimming, the light within the chapel grew even denser.
Fwoosh.
Bright yellow torches burst into flame all around. It was the Saintess's authority—the flame of healing, the Holy Fire. The sacred flames sealed the movements of anyone harbouring evil intent.
Leon's eyes trembled wildly. His body wouldn't budge. He could barely wiggle his fingers.
Se-in staggered to her feet. Something trickled down her upper lip. A nosebleed stained her pure white robes bright red.
Se-in merely gave a bitter smile. She stumbled along, steadying herself against chair backs and walls. The Holy Fire encircled her as if protecting its master.
Unable to take a step, Leon could only grip the hilt of Balmung tightly. Good and evil clashed within his grip.
“Try harder, Leon,” the Saintess said, her back turned to the Hero. “As you are now, you'll never be able to kill the Demon King. You know that better than anyone, don't you?”
* * *
Nephilim Shrine.
Had they called it a place where good and evil coexisted? Perhaps that was why the temple interior was split in half by darkness and light.
The atmosphere was solemn. A murky gray fog and the pungent stench of aromatic oils weighed heavily in the air.
Thud, thud.
I looked around as I walked. The floor, walls, and ceiling were made of snow-white limestone, just as one would imagine a shrine to be. But the things filling that white space were grotesque beyond belief.
An altar where a demon statue with a goat's head and a human body sat; Majin draped in robes bowing repeatedly before it. Beside them, other Majin were doing the exact same thing in front of another statue—again, and again, and again...
Decadent acts performed in a sacred place. The shadows cast over the shrine seemed to wriggle like the entrails of a living creature.
A few Majin glanced at us, but most were absorbed in their religious rites. Though calling those "rites" was a stretch.
I frowned, feeling my mind being corrupted just by looking at them. It might be a religious activity to them, but to my eyes, it was nothing more than devil worship.
'Just as the Sword Emperor said, there isn't a single human besides Majin here.'
Coming here in person made it immediately understandable. Unless someone had nerves of steel, this wasn't a place any human could visit. But apparently, that didn't apply only to humans.
“Lord Geomma...”
Hiding behind me, Hon gently tugged at my sleeve. She pressed close to my back with an anxious expression. Even a dragon, a top-tier demon race, seemed unsettled by this scene of depravity.
“It's alright, Hon.”
I firmly held Hon's tiny hand. Relief washed over her face. In contrast, the Dark Elf Elder walked with relative composure, as if accustomed to it.
Of course, his expression was still rotten from what had happened before entering the shrine. The elder had just engaged in a spat with Kuarne, the 2nd Corps Commander and a leader of the Demon King's Army. It wouldn't be surprising if his neck were snapped at any second. Even a demilitarized zone like the shrine was like thin ice to him.
Thus, the Dark Elf Elder trod carefully as if crossing a stone bridge, keeping his eyes glued to the pure-white back walking ahead. It looked as if he were ready to bolt—or rather, hide behind me—the second he sensed anything off.
'Why are these Majin hiding behind a human?'
Majin—objects of terror—and high-ranking ones at that, a dragon and a dark elf, were using me as a shield. Objects of terror trembling in fear and hiding behind a human? It was ridiculous. Was I some kind of human breakwater?
Just then, Kuarne came to a halt. The Dark Elf Elder flinched violently, while Hon flinched slightly less.
Kuarne turned around slowly like a clockwork doll. Then, with a faint smile, he spoke.
“It is here.”
Kuarne led us to a massive altar. A colossal stone statue towered high enough to touch the ceiling. It was humanoid, with its hands rested over the pommel of a sword. It was strikingly alien compared to the demonic statues around it. Kuarne spoke:
“The 'god' worshipped in the Nephilim Shrine. That is this very being.”
Kuarne looked up at the statue's distant face with a strange gaze. The interior lights flickered, casting a glow that seemed to envelop only the statue and Kuarne.
“In truth, this is not this being's true appearance. Appearance is merely a shell meant to hold mortals like us. A true god such as this being can become anything.”
“Cut the vague nonsense. Just tell us why you brought us all the way here and what you want to say,” I said warningly.
Kuarne gave a silent smile and nodded.
“You are impatient. Very well.”
Kuarne looked at me. His frost-white eyes and lashes curved softly.
“Did you know? When this world was born, there was no distinction between good and evil. There was only chaos. It was a world where white could be evil, and black could be good. Much like you and me, Kang Geomma.”
Kuarne's voice mingled with the faint scent of incense oils, lulling the senses.
“Since ancient times, black has been the color representing the nature of the 'demonic.' Yet look at us. You, standing at the forefront of humanity, have black hair and black eyes. And I, standing at the opposite extreme, am pure white.”
Kuarne flicked his finger. Hazy gray smoke swirled, soon tracing a grayish-white circle in midair.
“This ash-gray was the true color of chaos, the original nature of Majin and humans, humans and Majin. However...”
His long index finger sliced the circle in a curve. The gray split along an S-shape into black and white.
“We were forced apart by the False Gods. Divided so that we could never mix, like water and oil. You have a look asking 'Why?' on your face. It is simple. They merely wanted entertainment. Whether Majin and humans bleed and fight, or perish together, to them, it is nothing more than amusement.”
Kuarne reached toward the circle and squeezed his fist tightly. The circle, now resembling a Yin-Yang symbol, scattered back into smoke.
“How do I know if any of that is true? It could just be your delusions.”
At my words, Kuarne smiled.
“I cannot help but know. For I was once one of the wings that protected those False Gods.”
So I was right...
This confirmed the suspicion I had felt when I first met Kuarne.
He had just admitted it with his own mouth. A wing protecting the False Gods. That inevitably meant an angel—in other words, one of those pigeons I had slaughtered before.
“I was the second brightest wing among them. Though it is a name I have now abandoned, in those days I was called 'Azazel.' I executed the gods' decrees more faithfully than anyone and took the most lives on earth. I take pride in knowing I killed even more than the brightest wing.”
So he was basically Number Two among the pigeons.
To be fair, the ones I slaughtered weren't weak, but they couldn't compare to Kuarne.
In fact, even the aura emanating from this clone of his far surpassed that flock of pigeons.
If so, how strong was Kuarne's true body? And going even further, what about the strongest pigeon? I decided not to overthink it. That wasn't what was important right now anyway.
“It was when I had spent thousands of years under the False Gods, deceived by them, that That Person appeared.”
Kuarne bared his teeth. For the first time, the guy who had worn nothing but fake smiles displayed genuine emotion.
“Though false, they were undeniably transcendent beings. Yet That Person single-handedly annihilated every single spiritual entity with a single blade. Ah...! How beautiful and majestic that sight was!”
Kuarne's voice bubbled with excitement. At this, Hon and the Dark Elf Elder retreated a few steps. The elder, in particular, gasped and wheezed as if choking.
“That was when I realized it! That That Person was the only one who could sever the false truths created by the False Gods—this chain of evil between black and white! The sole entity who will bring chaos back to this false world!”
Madness tinged Kuarne's tone. The composure he had displayed until now was completely gone. He clawed at his face like a raving lunatic.
“Ah, but as fate would have it, That Person did no such thing. Instead, He severely punished the False Gods and took His own life with His own sword.”
This was the moment the identity of "That Person" Kuarne was talking about became clear.
In truth, I had suspected it ever since I got a tip from the Sword Emperor.
The God of Sword.
“However, the time is now at hand! Soon, He will return this hypocritical world to chaos once more!”
Then, Kuarne spat out the name of the entity he so fervently idolized. A name completely different from what I had expected.
“The Demon King.”
A heavy darkness fell over my face. The faint light vanished, and the pitch-black night swallowed the shrine whole.