Chapter 139
Chapter 139
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 139
Chapter Title: Beggar Gritz (14) - God, Shrine Maiden, Man
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Thud thud thud thud thud!
A fierce rumbling shook the earth.
From tiny weeds that barely reached the ankles to colossal trees that seemed to blot out the sun itself.
The plants, infused with the guardian god's holy power, gained an animal-like freedom and sprang into action.
Their sole purpose was one thing.
To punish the foolhardy sinner who dared covet a god's throne and their accomplice.
Their leaves were blades, their stems whips, their roots spears.
Insects like bees and mosquitoes followed in a ferocious swarm, while countless creatures slithered silently from below the ground.
A swordsman who could easily cleave trees apart couldn't fell an entire forest.
A mage who could burn down a village alone couldn't wipe out that horde of bugs in an instant.
Before the wrath of nature, of the gods, all humans could do was tremble in fear and bow their heads.
Thus.
"Holy power is the force of wishes granted. Because it manifests desires exactly as wished, it might seem simpler and more versatile than mana at first glance. But when you really examine it, that's not entirely the case."
Instead of quaking in terror or freezing in place before that fury, the man who casually prattled on didn't seem human no matter how you looked at him.
Deviating from the ordinary made him a madman.
Transcending humanity made him a superhuman.
This man, who belonged to one side—or perhaps both—faced the overwhelming forest army and lightly flicked his wrist.
In his hand was a simple wooden staff.
Not oiled to a shine, not carved from fine timber for a unique hue—just a moderately long branch, a shabby tool at best.
Yet the result when he swung it defied any description like "shabby."
Swish.
A tiny breeze stirred in the wake of the staff's motion.
Compared to the arrow-like onslaught of leaves, it was far too small and feeble.
But the man paid it no mind.
To subdue the swift and strong, one didn't always need something even greater and fiercer.
The feeble moved the weak.
The weak moved the ordinary.
The ordinary moved the mighty.
The gentle puff that couldn't even cool a drop of sweat soon swelled into a massive storm, devouring every last leaf.
The principle of softness overcame the rigid.
The man continued speaking amid the fluttering remnants of leaves, stripped of all momentum.
"The gods of this world are many. Because they aren't singular, each governs specific domains, and thus prayers to them have direction. Who would pray to the god of war for fertility? Regardless of how it started, this guardian god came to be seen as an agricultural deity, so the powers it wields are mostly in that vein."
Next came the whipping stems.
Weapons that would shred flesh on contact and twist the body to pieces in an instant.
In response, the man's staff took on a new subtlety.
Illusion.
Present yet absent, absent yet existing.
The principle of bewildering, deceiving, and captivating with multifaceted, enigmatic movements.
The stems were thrown into chaos by the staff's complex, freeform trajectory, tangling and knotting themselves in the blink of an eye, rendered immobile.
"Of course, that's not inherently bad. Colorless and odorless holy power can do anything but lags in potency and efficiency, while holy power steeped in wishes boasts terrifying performance in its specialty. If you're going to handle holy power from now on, you'd better remember that."
Even as he faced the guardian god, the man's words weren't directed at it.
As if enraged by that fact—or deeming it another opening—the guardian god unleashed a new assault.
Spears of tree roots erupting from the ground without warning.
Facing that hard-to-detect, hard-to-dodge attack, the man nonchalantly struck the earth with the tip of his staff.
There was no sound.
No tremor.
Because it was proof that the impact had been utterly wasted, unable to find its path.
Like striking a mountain to kill a cow beyond it, the heaviness in the crown prince's strike pulverized the roots underground without waste.
The insects wriggling in ambush were crushed alongside them as a bonus.
…
In the midst of that chaotic battle, Grace hadn't budged from her praying posture.
It wasn't easy at all.
Every time something snapped or was sliced echoed in her ears, the reflex was to open her eyes and scan around.
In the heart of a battlefield where a single lapse could mean a fatal wound, keeping her eyes shut to focus on something demanded immense concentration.
Cold sweat poured, her body shuddered unconsciously.
Yet Grace didn't give up.
It was trust in Gritz, who had shown her a new path when she was resigned to becoming a mere sacrifice; stubborn pride and competitive spirit to fulfill the role entrusted to her.
…I can feel it.
A new sense, better called intuition, sharpened beyond her usual five senses.
The intangible flow starting from Bellaria's villagers, passing through the guardian god as intermediary, flowing into Grace herself.
Hard to grasp how to steal something you couldn't touch or clutch, but Grace found a hint in Gritz's words.
Holy power is wishes themselves and the power responding to wishes. Then, all I have to do is wish.
Draw in more power.
Faster, more greedily.
The image was a single tree.
A massive tree growing from the guardian god's earth, absorbing holy power as water and nutrients.
-Insolent and irreverent.
Detecting Grace's attempt, perhaps, the guardian god's voice mingled with the incoming holy power.
-I am the god you wished for. The blessing you yearned for. After growing under my care for eons, you dare repay it with enmity?
Grace retorted.
What god? What blessing? You're just a monster. This land would prosper without you. You've merely deceived people by posing as a curse that brings poor harvests.
-How can you assert that?
-Do you truly believe the patriarch's ravings as fact? Even if the patriarch didn't lie, don't you consider they might have been deceived themselves?
-Would parents confess their shame to their child? Do you believe not a single patriarch claimed victimhood, blaming everything on the evil god?
Grace swallowed dryly for a moment.
As if following her hesitation, the momentum of the holy power flowing from there weakened.
-Child, gray-haired child born in Bellaria. If I vanish, the blessings on this land will too.
-Many will starve, reduced to skin and bones, cursing you.
-How will you bear that karma? How will you accept that hatred?
Even if that's true, I'll take your place. Then no one has to be sacrificed.
-How can you be sure of that knowledge? Isn't it just hearsay? Where's the guarantee he didn't lie?
-What do you know of him? His identity? Have you even seen his face? Do you know what he is, why he has such prowess, where he came from?
-When you're in despair, doesn't it strike you as suspicious that a convenient ally appears right then with a plausible solution?
The guardian god ceaselessly sowed doubts, relentlessly trying to shake Grace.
And Grace admitted there was merit to its words.
Gritz's existence was indeed riddled with mysteries.
Even as she wagered her life's greatest gamble on his words, Grace realized she knew next to nothing about him.
Who was he?
How did he possess so many abilities, know so much?
Why show her such kindness? Why the sudden shift in speech? What were his true intentions?
She didn't know. Couldn't know. Suspicious.
…Even so, it's fine.
Yet Grace declared it firmly.
As you say, I don't know much about him. I might be deceived. I might be used. I might regret this someday.
But even so.
When I found him, I felt intrigue. When he showed me a new path, hope. Laughing and chatting with him eased my heart. His comfort and encouragement truly gladdened me.
No matter Gritz's identity, his schemes, even if it all proves fiction and lies.
The emotions felt through him, with him, were undeniably real.
That was enough.
My answer remains unchanged.
As if proving her resolve, the holy power's flow steepened and accelerated.
The sapling grew into a towering tree, countless flowers blooming around it.
-Ah, what ignorant, shameless life this is!!
Just as the guardian god gleaned Grace's heart and knowledge through the linked holy power, Grace sensed its inner thoughts.
Realizing it could no longer persuade her, the god poured all its might into killing her heedless of cost.
Focused solely on absorbing holy power in her mindscape, Grace was utterly defenseless and powerless in reality.
A leaf to the throat, venom from pests—any attack that landed would claim her life.
"Hm, maybe because I've used it often lately. Not as good as a sword, but the staff isn't bad either. Familiarity really matters."
But that simplest of acts was forbidden before this man.
Nature's violence, a calamity that could slaughter every soul in Bellaria if willed, couldn't breach one human's protection.
Before long, the golden halo filling the surroundings visibly dwindled, replaced by a silvery-gray glow permeating the forest.
The ratio was about fifty-fifty.
Though skill gap prevented Grace from wielding guardian-god-level power yet, she'd caught up in sheer force.
Groooaaar!
As if in a final frenzy, the forest convulsed.
Trees intertwined into bones.
Stems wove into flesh.
Leaves overlapped into skin.
At the heart's position: the guardian god itself.
-■■■■■■■■■!!
The colossal tree giant, over a hundred meters tall, roared.
A monster of such overwhelming scale it made humans seem like insects slammed its fist down at Grace and the man with full force.
"Hm... impressive. In technique, it falls short of transcendence, but in raw power, it's a match. Even as a half-baked god, this is something. The pantheon's prime must have been terrifying."
The man readjusted his grip on the staff.
Until now, he'd swung it freely without stance, but for the first time, he assumed a proper one.
"Lately, I've been a bit arrogant. Thanks to this, it's a good lesson. The world's vast, much to learn. Glad for it."
Rigidity.
Not deflecting, enduring, or striking weak points.
Simply smashing head-on.
That was the man's choice.
Immense aura surged around the staff.
Simultaneously, a magic circle bloomed at Grace's feet, enveloping and shielding her from the shock.
The giant's fist met the man's staff.
Bellaria's residents, roused from sleep by the ensuing quakes and clamor, clutched their heads and trembled at the thunderous boom unlike anything in their lives.
No one witnessed the clash fully.
The giant's wreckage: over half its upper body, starting from the right arm, obliterated.
And the light, now purely silvery-gray without a trace of gold, told the tale of the outcome.