Chapter 274
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 274
Chapter Title: Farewell, and Encounter (5)
Pope Iliod IV of the Zenith Church could no longer hold back his rage and bellowed.
"Talk sense!!"
He couldn't comprehend the current situation.
The Spiral of the Battlefield had malfunctioned!
The Spiral of the Battlefield was a holy relic bestowed by Zenith himself, a device that simulated every possible war scenario in advance to ensure victory.
This war had been no different.
They had made perfect preparations and even burdened causality through the Spiral to run multiple simulations.
External interferences had naturally been included in those simulations as well.
"Why didn't it predict the enemy raid?!"
The manager of the Spiral sweated profusely amid the pope's fury, offering nothing but apologies and excuses.
"I-I'm sorry, Your Holiness. We clearly analyzed and assessed every situation, and the Spiral consistently produced the same results..."
"And?"
"Jamie Welton's appearance seems to have been unforeseen."
"Are you saying the holy relic from Zenith himself is flawed?"
At Iliod's mocking tone, the manager flailed his hands in panic.
"Th-that can't be! It must have been a grave mistake on my part during the operation!"
"I see. So it's your fault, then."
"Pardon...?"
Sensing something off in the pope's words, the manager snapped his head up.
But he saw nothing.
The moment he raised his head, it severed from his body.
A paladin of the Seven Knights wiped the blood from his blade with a cloth and sheathed it.
"Dispose of the corpse."
At Iliod's command, waiting soldiers carried out the manager's head and body.
With a displeased scowl, he clicked his tongue and turned to Apostle Noah seated beside him.
"What should we do? Give me your opinion, Apostle."
Despite the age gap like grandfather and grandson between Iliod and Noah, even the pope couldn't address an apostle condescendingly.
An apostle was essentially an avatar of the divine.
Thus, Noah didn't answer immediately, stroking his chin thoughtfully instead.
'Jamie Welton... Subduing 50,000 soldiers alone isn't surprising. A superhuman could manage that. But taking down three masters single-handedly...'
There had been solo feats against master-class foes in the past.
Notably, a champion from the dark arena had slain two Sword Masters alone in an event match.
The underworld teemed with powerhouses who could rip apart entry-level Sword Masters.
'The issue is that those three weren't entry-level masters.'
Commander Katarina was a veteran battle mage in the 8th class with vast battlefield experience, while Peros and Draksar had represented Terigia as masters for over a decade.
They were leagues above fresh masters, yet he had defeated all three simultaneously.
Even with Katarina's homunculus unit providing support.
'And Katarina was subdued in the process.'
This implied one thing.
"It seems..."
As Noah spoke, the pope and key executives turned to him.
"Jamie Welton has reached the supreme realm."
"The supreme realm?!"
One man jumped up in shock, shouting.
No one gathered here was ignorant of what the supreme realm meant.
9th class.
The mage's pinnacle that no human in history had ever attained.
Individuals had reached it, but all were erased from records without trace.
And now, evidence suggested Jamie Welton had achieved it.
"Sending in the rabble would be pointless."
Then, a man lounging at the far end spoke up.
Pope Iliod IV called his name.
"Creon."
"Your Holiness. Send me."
Creon rose and approached the pope.
The holy sword Durandal hung at his waist.
Fiddling with its pommel, he said,
"If he's reached the supreme realm, no one else stands a chance. Give me an army. I'll make those northern vermin experience hell."
Creon grinned disgustingly, licking his lips.
Iliod frowned at him.
'He's completely changed in five years.'
Creon had once been calm and considerate.
His exceptional skill made him the envy of many.
Yet after five years missing, he returned as a stranger, exuding natural killing intent and madness just by standing there.
It made one question if he was truly the seeker of old.
Regardless, he had broken through a wall during his absence, growing incomparably stronger.
"Entrust it to Sir Creon."
Apostle Noah agreed.
The others silently signaled assent with their eyes.
With no choice, Iliod summoned another Spiral manager.
"You there. Review the causality through the Spiral immediately."
Grasping the implication, Creon smirked and bowed.
"Thank you, Your Holiness."
To think the opportunity would come so soon.
Creon itched to rush to the battlefield.
'Jamie Welton...!'
He would make that arrogant brat who cast him into hell taste true hell.
All fleeing Terigian soldiers had been captured.
It was child's play for Jamie.
He scanned the massive mana prisons, then eyed the middle-aged woman kneeling before him and the man whose body was half-charred black.
The woman was Terigia's grand mage, the puppeteer Katarina, famed by that moniker. The charred man was Draksar, the Lance Master.
One other had been there, but he seemed vaporized by the light.
"Kill me."
Katarina spoke to Jamie, feeling the void of her missing left arm.
As a prisoner, she had no say, but a clean death was preferable.
Having seen many battlefields, she knew the misery of captivity well.
Of course, it depended on the captor's whim—she merely hoped for death.
Jamie had no intention of granting it.
"Are you mad? Kill master-class prisoners?"
"The war's begun anyway, and you know our heads aren't worth much, Black Sorcerer."
Katarina recalled the ominous black power of Jamie's decisive technique.
Different from known black mana, yet unmistakably of dark nature.
"I don't care that you're a Black Sorcerer. We've lost all value as prisoners. Not even useful as threats."
"I know. I don't see you as valuable either."
"Then why not kill us?"
"Because..."
Jamie leaned close to Katarina's face, whispering cruelly.
"You must pay for disrupting this land, right?"
"...What?"
"And turning master-class live sacrifices into undead... their power speaks for itself, doesn't it?"
"You bastard! Kill me! Just kill me!"
Ignoring the thrashing Katarina, even in restraints, Jamie walked toward the neatly seated magic soldier unit.
"Don't touch my creations!!"
He ignored her shout from behind.
Jamie admired the homunculus-only magic unit.
The puppeteer's title was well-earned; these magic-born artificial humans boasted impressive perfection.
A product of modern magical engineering.
"These could be useful."
Modified to his taste, they'd make fine troops.
"Jamie!"
"Why handle it alone so hastily?!"
Simon and Marquis Linmel arrived then.
Jamie turned to them.
"Sorry for the late greeting. Neutralizing the enemy came first."
"No need. You did well. Very well."
Linmel uttered a soft groan at the sight of over 20,000 soldiers imprisoned in massive mana cages, masters included.
Could one person subdue a master-inclusive battlefield alone?
Such a hypothesis existed.
Linmel had been skeptical.
No matter how mighty the master, solo-subduing a tens-of-thousands-strong army with masters was impossible, he'd thought.
And he wasn't wrong.
Mages below 8th class or mere masters couldn't subdue such forces.
Proven in countless wars.
But Jamie had just validated the hypothesis.
"Incredible, Jamie. Have you attained it?"
Simon, uncharacteristically effusive, gauged Jamie's state.
Once, he could estimate his class visually; now, it felt like facing an ocean.
"Indeed, you've reached the supreme realm."
Linmel had to concede.
No other explanation for such a feat.
"I've finally attained it."
"So, finally."
They knew Jamie's secret.
Thus, no great surprise at his supreme realm achievement.
Still, awe was inevitable.
A human had reached the realm all mages coveted and revered.
News of this would rock the world once more with genius tales.
But Jamie cared little.
"We need a place to gather the enemy soldiers first."
"Tell the lord. Plenty of uses for war prisoners. Ship them elsewhere if needed."
War prisoners without value typically became slaves.
These over 20,000 wouldn't escape that fate.
Pity aside, it was the loser's end.
"What of them?"
Linmel nodded toward Katarina and Draksar.
"Could shatter their mana cores for slaves, but there's a better way."
"I'll consume them."
"Consume... meaning undead?"
"Yes. Vital forces for the coming wars."
At the undead mention, the grand mages nodded uncomfortably.
Jamie understood.
Even trusted allies recoil at commanding corpses.
Linmel nodded with grim resolve.
"For humanity, I'd do anything."
"Same here."
Simon concurred.
Jamie smiled and nodded.
"Thank you. Where's Sir Beryl?"
"With the lord. Said he'd handle the chaos."
"I see."
Beryl would earn more trust than the mages.
Sword Masters fared better on battlefields than mages.
"More importantly, Count Welton approaches."
"Father?"
Jamie hadn't heard of Count Welton's arrival.
His eyes widened toward the next city's direction.
Father was coming that way.
Not long separated, yet reuniting with parents from afar stirred odd emotions.
Simon patted Jamie's back.
"It'll take time, so rest. Came from afar, I hear."
"Leave this to us."
"Thanks. I wanted a wash anyway."
Warp travel was instant, but the dust upon arrival felt grimy.
Jamie entered the city with light steps.