Chapter 261
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 261
Chapter Title: Apostle (1)
Jamie watched the sword crumble to pieces.
Even though it had been forged by Ironwill, it couldn't fully contain Clark's 'Ruin's Game'.
Not only that, it had also failed to perfectly fuse with Convergence.
That was because it was a power on a higher realm than his current self.
And yet, it possessed such destructive force.
Jamie clicked his tongue as he gazed at the section of the blue meadow that had been completely vaporized.
He was astonished by the sheer destructive power, but that wasn't the only reason.
"Monstrous bastard."
A single arm burst through the billowing smoke.
The arm was covered in minor scratches here and there, but no serious wounds were visible.
The arm bent inward with a grand sweep.
Following its motion, the smoke parted cleanly as if swept away by a hand.
Clark stood there unscathed.
His clothes were slightly disheveled, but despite taking that attack head-on, he didn't appear hurt in the slightest.
The only difference was the gray gem embedded in his forehead, glowing faintly.
His gray hair shimmered softly in tandem.
"A Lanstone, huh."
Dragons are born harboring a Dragon Heart within their bodies, and High Elves are born basking in nature's favor.
And the Lan are born with a small gem called a Lanstone affixed to their foreheads.
The Lanstone's role is simple.
A repository.
A storage vault for all the power they have amassed over their lifetime, regardless of type.
A stone that allows them to draw out stored power when needed, multiplying their existing strength several times over.
That is why the Lan are the race with the greatest martial might.
"To think you'd force me to use my Lanstone."
Clark brushed the dust off his clothes and leaped forward.
The distance closed in an instant.
He landed softly right in front of Jamie.
With a sense of foreboding, Isis shouted at him.
"Clark! That's enough now!"
Clark glanced at her briefly before turning back to Jamie.
Jamie didn't avoid his gaze.
He had lost his sword, but he could fight on if needed.
The tension hung thick in the air.
Clark snorted and spoke.
"The thrill's gone."
"What?"
He gave no reply and vanished in a whoosh.
As expected, his speed was too fast to track with the naked eye.
Once Clark had disappeared, Isis and the executives approached Jamie.
"What did he say?"
Isis asked, staring in the direction Clark had gone.
Jamie shrugged.
"Said the thrill's gone."
"Classic Clark."
"Yeah, just like him."
"Still, glad you're safe."
Hawks, Han, and Jin spoke in turn.
Isis let out a sigh of relief.
"Didn't know how he'd react, but good thing it ended well."
"Hm."
At her words of relief, Jamie's expression soured slightly.
He hadn't clashed with Isis yet, but even after awakening as a Sword Master, whether he could beat her remained uncertain.
And Clark was a Lan warrior whom even Isis herself acknowledged as stronger than her.
Having experienced that power firsthand left a bitter taste in his mouth.
'I need to regain my full strength soon.'
Jamie's eyes darkened.
His thirst for power had always been great, but facing an opponent with such a clear gap in skill intensified it even further.
"By the way... becoming a Sword Master in just one day. Unbelievable."
As Jamie wore a serious expression, Jin's voice came from behind.
Hearing that, Han replied in a voice laced with amusement.
"Damn it. That cursed talent supremacy. How the hell is a mere thirteen-year-old a 9th Class sorcerer and a Sword Master?"
"Train harder. You can do it if you train."
"What the hell are you saying now? You used to parrot on like a bird about how weak humans are."
"You guys are weak."
Hawks's calm tone grated on Han's nerves, and he snapped back.
"Fine! Let's have a go today! Draw your weapon, you feathered freak!"
"Give it up, Han. You'll lose anyway."
"Why are you jinxing me too?"
"He's right. Why waste energy on a sure loss? Just train~"
"Hey, Isis! Even you?!"
Listening to their petty banter, his serious mood evaporated like a lie.
Jamie smirked at them and turned away.
"I'm heading back first."
He teleported to the lodging without hearing their farewells.
When he returned, someone was sitting there.
It was Beryl.
He had apparently brewed and drunk tea alone, as an empty cup sat on the table.
"You're back."
"How long have you been here?"
"Since right after the fight started."
Come to think of it, unlike the other executives, Beryl hadn't appeared on the meadow.
One would think such a clash of power would pique his interest, yet he'd come here instead.
Beryl gestured to the seat across from him.
"Sit."
"Yes."
Perhaps because of his ties to Jamie's parents, it was hard to refuse Beryl's words.
Not that there was any reason to refuse sitting down, but somehow his words carried weight.
Beryl spoke.
"So, you've become a Sword Master."
In his calm tone, Jamie relaxed and replied.
"That's how it turned out."
"Heh. Not rejoicing at becoming a Sword Master, but that's all you have to say?"
"Hm. Maybe it hasn't fully sunk in yet."
"Your father would faint if he saw. You were just a novice with the sword before leaving home, and now suddenly a Sword Master. I'd love to see Count Welton's shocked face up close."
Beryl chuckled merrily at whatever amused him.
He looked straight at Jamie's face.
He'd grown a lot in five years, but traces of that youthful innocence from their first meeting lingered here and there.
He'd known back then that the boy would become someone extraordinary someday, but he hadn't expected it this soon.
On one hand, he felt proud and gratified; on the other, there was a pang of regret that the child had grown up so fast.
'No. Mentally, he's probably not much different from back then.'
Appearances matter in such things.
A child acting mature feels different from an adult doing the same.
Beryl leaned back deeply into his chair.
"Jamie."
"Yes."
"I've always lived with the heart of a godfather. You and your parents might not see it that way, but I've always thought of you."
"......"
"Even if you don't acknowledge it, I intend to live as your godfather. It's not anything special. A godfather is a pillar that supports you alongside your parents' pillar."
"Yes."
"As your godfather, I plan to watch your path straight on. When you tire, I'll offer my back; when you need strength for something, I'll lend it. So always charge forward. If you ever look back, I'll be standing there—then we can share a drink."
"Yes."
"I'm proud of you. As much as your parents are, I think of you with pride. That's what I wanted to say."
Beryl rose from his seat with a smile.
"Good work. Rest now."
He left those words and walked toward the door.
Jamie watched his back and said.
"Thank you, Godfather."
Beryl paused there for a moment, then nodded slightly and vanished out the door.
Jamie gazed in the direction he'd gone, then looked up at the high ceiling.
"Not a bad feeling."
With their ambiguous relationship now firmly established, a weight lifted from his heart.
He pondered why it felt lighter.
Clearly, because he had one more ally.
Jamie walked to the bed and lay down.
He felt like he could finally catch up on last night's missed sleep.
"Who goes there!"
"Halt and prove your identity!"
In the pre-dawn hours, heavy rain poured down.
A man arrived at the Zenith Church's main headquarters.
The church soldiers on guard thrust their weapons forward with threatening glares, demanding his identity.
The man swept back his wet hair and looked at the soldiers.
"To think... even after all this time, you don't recognize me?"
"Wh-who are you?"
"Please state your identity..."
Sensing his intimidating demeanor, the soldiers softened their tone, wondering if he was someone important.
The man, Crion, twisted his lips into a sneer.
"Failing to recognize me is crime enough. Death sentence for both of you."
The two soldiers had no chance to react.
Crion passed between them nonchalantly.
His hand was merely bloodied.
"Gahk-"
"Gurgle..."
The soldier on the right died with his heart pierced; the one on the left clutched his throat in agony as he collapsed.
Foam bubbled from his mouth, and blood gushed between his clutching fingers.
"What kind of discipline is this? When the head of the Seven Knights arrives, shouldn't you snap to and greet him properly?"
Crion grimaced and strode inward.
Rumble-
Lightning flashed across the sky with a deafening thunderclap.
The flickering light on his face made his presence even heavier.
Irritated by his soaked, heavy clothes, he entered the grand cathedral.
At that moment, blaring horns echoed from outside.
Apparently, the deaths of the gate guards had been discovered.
Crion ignored the horns and pressed on.
But soon, more soldiers blocked his path.
He hadn't bothered hiding his presence, after all.
"Who are you!"
A Zenith Church Paladin leading the soldiers drew his sword and aimed it at Crion.
Crion eyed the blade and bared his teeth.
"You lot really... all of you want to die?"
Madness gleamed in his eyes.
Five years.
Locked in the deepest level of the Sun Church's infamous underground Catacombs prison, in total darkness, bound head to toe.
During that time, Crion lost his sanity and went mad.
In such a state, the very ones who should have upheld him instead drew swords without so much as a greeting.
"All of you, death. Death. Death death death death death death death death!!"
An overwhelming aura erupted from Crion's body.
He had broken through his previous limits during his madness.
His power was on a level few in the human realm could oppose.
Sweeping away all the forces here would be effortless, even barehanded.
He could always recruit new pawns.
This time, he'd fill the ranks with those who would lick his feet.
At that thought, a manic smile bloomed on his face.
He swung the aura gathered in his hand toward the Paladin and soldiers.
"R-run!!!"
The Paladin's scream like a shriek sent all the soldiers fleeing in panic.
But it was too late.
His authority hastens the result.
That was when it happened.
"Oh dear, oh dear. It seems His Excellency the Sword of Zenith is quite agitated after such a long absence."
A young man with flowing silver hair appeared amid dazzling light.
He smiled leisurely and said,
"Please restrain yourself. This is the presence of Zenith's..."
Divine authority unfolded in his hand.
"...sanctuary."
"You...?!"
Crion's aura was swept away as if it were a lie.
Even his authority, 'Causal Reversal', fizzled out.
Crion stared wide-eyed at the suddenly appeared man in disbelief.
The silver-haired man had eyes the same color as his hair, and Crion knew his identity at once.
The man introduced himself.
"Pity our first meeting is like this, but... pleased to meet you, Sir Crion. My name is Noah."
Noah showed the Zenith crest emblazoned on the back of his hand.
"I am the Apostle of Zenith God."