Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Conversation (5)
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"I shall grant you the mark of the saint."
Jamie fell into thought upon hearing Pyro's words.
He had no idea what she meant by 'saint.'
'Saint? Does she mean an adult?'
Of course not.
The saint Pyro referred to was a 'special human directly chosen by a god.'
Jamie was well aware of that. He was simply so caught off guard by her sudden proposal that his mind had frozen.
"You seem surprised?"
Pyro laughed as if she enjoyed Jamie's reaction. She had laughed boisterously like an old man moments ago, but now she covered her mouth demurely and chuckled softly.
"Or is it not to your liking?"
"...No, it's not that."
The mark of a saint.
Though the Pyro Church was the weakest among the twelve denominations, a saint was respected everywhere as long as it wasn't an enemy church.
As a being beloved by the gods, they enjoyed 'absolution' from all but the gravest sins.
This was an inviolable realm that even nobles and royalty could not touch.
"You are human. Your family may be prominent, but as a mere human, that name won't shield you from everything. My authority may not be what it once was, but as a saint of the Twelve Gods, the scope of what you can do will widen dramatically."
"And the price?"
If something came, something had to go.
The gods had a hazy concept of equivalent exchange, but since this was a deal, she would surely demand something in return.
"The fall of Zenith."
"...Isn't that too much to ask of a single human?"
"I'm asking because you're no ordinary human."
Pyro's mouth smiled, but her eyes did not.
"Diablo Volpir. Even the Twelve Gods feared that one's power. And you have inherited his legacy. You're still a fledgling, but considering you started as a mere infant, it's an astonishing realm."
"Say what you mean."
"The potential you possess. I want to bet on that."
"I'm a black sorcerer. You know that, right?"
"That doesn't matter to me."
To the goddess of mercy and punishment, a 'black sorcerer' was one of the vile trash committing heinous sins.
He never expected such words as 'it doesn't matter' from her mouth.
Jamie looked at her with genuine surprise.
"Surprised by my words?"
"...Aren't they against divine sanctity?"
"If you were an ordinary black sorcerer, yes. But the black mana you wield is primordial. It's incomparably pure compared to the twisted stuff the current trash play with."
So it didn't matter.
That was what Pyro was saying.
It was laughable.
As Diablo Volpir, Jamie had mocked gods with his current power and extinguished countless lives for his goals.
He hadn't committed the senseless murders and horrific experiments of modern black sorcerers, but could one truly weigh the sins?
Pyro was merely rationalizing.
For her own future.
And Jamie found that side of the goddess quite agreeable.
'Righteousness would just be a hassle.'
"Not a bad deal, is it?"
She buys Jamie's potential with the mark of a saint.
To one day eliminate Zenith.
"Do you truly believe I have such power?"
"If the power you possess is truly Diablo Volpir's."
Her eyesight was impeccable, at least.
Jamie suppressed the corners of his mouth that threatened to curl up mischievously.
The situation was already flowing against Zenith anyway.
The groundwork was laid, and with political pressure from various factions, their scale would gradually shrink.
He wasn't sure if Pyro knew that, but the saint's mark was essentially free.
"Very well."
He only pretended to deliberate; Jamie had made up his mind the moment the goddess mentioned the saint's mark.
"No need for further thought, then."
Pyro smiled and raised her hand toward Jamie—
"It's done."
What? Already?
Just by extending her hand, he was a saint?
"Look at your left palm."
Jamie glanced at his left palm and his eyes widened.
A slightly tilted scale was engraved there.
The scale of justice that weighs sins, one of the symbols of the Pyro Church.
"It won't grant the divine power of a true saint, but it should prove that you have received power from me."
He never imagined becoming a saint of one of the Twelve Gods he despised so much.
Jamie let out a hollow laugh.
'Something I couldn't have dreamed of back then...'
Alliances with gods were inconceivable to begin with.
The Twelve Gods were bound by immense solidarity at the time.
That formidable collective power had defeated even Diablo Volpir, who had reached the pinnacle alone.
So the current situation was simply amusing.
Jamie rubbed the saint's mark and asked Pyro.
"What's your standing in the heavens?"
"Asking to mock me, black sorcerer?"
"To grasp the objective facts."
"Hm. 'Isolated' sums it up."
It meant she was utterly alone among the Twelve Gods in the heavens.
At that point, wasn't the mark useless?
But there was no need to provoke her, so he held his tongue.
"Factions?"
"Split into seven."
"...Halved, then."
It meant the long peace had frayed even those who chanted 'the twelve are one.'
"How are the divided forces structured?"
"Zenith, Lily, and Brahman on one side; Dorian and Krolan another; Tantiras and Arvela; Gillian and Oblion. Then Yeonje and Ra are alone, and so am I."
Jamie nearly burst out laughing at Pyro's words.
The ones who had been closest in the past had formed sets.
The surprise was Ra.
'The Sun God alone?'
As Jamie made a puzzled face, Pyro noticed and explained.
"Ra isn't truly alone; he still reigns as the 'Absolute God.'"
"...That explains it. Something felt off."
The Sun God Ra.
The Twelve Gods claimed 'the twelve are one,' but that one was truly Ra.
Jamie was confident he could defeat any god one-on-one. Except for one.
That one was the Sun God Ra.
Leader of the Twelve Gods and supreme deity.
Even now, Ra's church dominated the entire southern continent of Brion.
'An unfathomable bastard.'
He recalled the figure standing loftily amid golden flames.
Such a one wouldn't be isolated.
"Yeonje has always been alone."
Yeonje, the god of farming and bountiful harvests.
The god who communicated most actively with humans.
He had been close to Jamie until he learned of the Twelve Gods' plan.
But in the end, he betrayed humanity.
So he never appeared before Jamie, only manifesting before his consciousness sealed for eons.
"Yeonje is alone too, so why are you the isolated one?"
"...Because of that Zenith bastard."
Pyro's eyes darkened ominously.
Her green hair turned black, her lips stained crimson.
Her innocent appearance vanished, her attire shifting to a crimson dress that clung revealingly to her form.
This was her other form, revealed in rage.
"That bastard I could tear apart and it still wouldn't sate me."
Her emotions ran high; thick makeup accentuated her eyes.
"Cast aside by Ra, he felt threatened and targeted me. To steal everything I had and challenge Ra!"
The surrounding air grew hot.
Her fury toward Zenith surged anew.
"I'll reclaim all that was taken, and now it's my turn to covet his!"
Her pitch-black eyes fixed on Jamie.
They were calm like deep abysses, yet burned fiercely.
Feeling her rage on his skin, Jamie thought.
'Cast aside by Ra?'
Zenith, who always yearned to stand equal with Ra, had been his lackey in reality.
Now discarded, all that remained for that prideful bastard was alliance.
His plan to absorb Pyro's forces had backfired spectacularly, and now his own throat was at risk.
Few options remained for him.
'Zenith. Looks like we'll meet soon.'
He didn't know what Zenith was thinking now, but the board was set.
Still, it wouldn't explode right away.
'Think long-term, long-term.'
At least, he needed the power to sever that neck.
Watching Pyro roar in fury, Jamie let out a sinister smile.
Bang!
The armrest of the gold-adorned chair shattered.
A man with black beard and red skin bellowed at the man kneeling below.
"Are you mocking Us now?!"
"...I am ashamed."
The kneeling man bowed his head lower.
He was Valba, a member of the Seven Knights who had blocked the holy enforcer's path in Filros.
And the red-skinned, black-bearded man seated high above, fuming, was Pope Iliod IV of the Zenith Church.
"Not only did the plan in Uptown fail, but Lord Creon has gone missing!"
Creon was Sabal's true name.
"You know how vital he is!"
"By the time I arrived, everything was already over."
"And you call that an excuse...!"
Pope Iliod IV shot to his feet, panting with rage, before slumping back down.
Venting wouldn't help; it would only give him a headache.
Iliod IV muttered bitterly.
"Hoo... How are we to proceed without Lord Creon? Rumors of a pact with demons are spreading fast, and political pressure is sure to mount..."
With Creon, he could have launched a holy war outright. But the Zenith Church's advanced war simulations predicted utter defeat without him.
"That mighty Sword Master—how in the world...!"
Even scouring the entire Seldam Kingdom beyond Uptown, only the king's sword, 'Sword Duke' Tariks Pan, could match Creon—and he hadn't stirred from his domain.
"Not magic either."
He didn't think him dead.
Few humans across the continent could kill Creon.
Iliod IV glared fiercely at Valba.
"You must find Lord Creon by any means and bring him before me."
"As you command."
Valba couldn't fathom why he was treated this way, but defying the pope wasn't an option, so he obeyed without protest.
At that moment.
Sabal—no, Creon—tightened his grip on his sword.
He eyed the paladins of the Sun Church encircling him. They had appeared just as he thought he had crossed the desert.
But that was fine.
If it were just paladins, he was confident he could break through and escape.
The problem was they hadn't come alone.
"Good to see you, Creon."
The man was pitch-black, like charred remains.
His head was neatly shaved, his honed upper body tougher than any armor.
And the sword in his hand.
Or could it even be called a sword?
"...Not mutual."
"Doesn't matter."
The black man's eyes turned golden.
Creon swallowed dryly.
He had crossed blades with the man before him only twice.
No victor emerged.
Not because their skills were even.
'Both times, I fled.'
He had consoled himself that surviving a deathmatch wasn't defeat, but anyone would call it a loss.
The issue now was the ominous premonition that he couldn't flee this time.
'Monstrous bastard.'
The horrifically powerful monster of the Sun Church.
"Fine. Shall I hear why you've come to this distant land?"
A radiant light bloomed in the sword gripped by the black man, 'Sword of the Sun' Blazer, shooting toward the heavens.
Sabal's face darkened sharply at the sight.
He knew better than anyone what that light was.
'...Still an absurdly massive aura blade.'
The Sword Master's domain: the aura blade.
That was the nature of the light unfurled from Blazer's hand.
An immense aura reaching the sky gleamed dazzlingly.
Blazer spoke, eyeing Sabal's stiffened face.
"By turning you into half a corpse."
Like an exploding sun, the golden aura blade, blazing like flames, plunged into the ground.