Chapter 131
Chapter 131
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 131
Chapter Title: Butterfly's Dream (9)
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*
The work to reinforce the Necropolis's seal proceeded smoothly. Fernandez drove his longsword into the final seal while chanting an incantation. He already knew about the five conclaves sealed in the tomb, so all he needed to do was strengthen the seals on the conclaves and Mumto.
"A pity, priest. Not getting to kill the archdemon with your own hands—must be a sad affair for you lot."
"To kill him, we'd have to rip this seal open."
Fernandez gazed at the petrified figures dancing with grinning skulls and drinking fire. Beneath them, the hieroglyphs of ancient Asit shimmered. [We are your future.]
-Kududuk.
The blessed longsword sank into the crevice of the rock. Fernandez wrapped chains around the blade, then bound it with hemp cloth inscribed with Gail incantations. It was hemp cloth written with Bible verses in the Pope's blood.
Chanting spells atop it to attune the magic woven into the seal, Fernandez closed his eyes. Beyond that shadow, past the veil of night and death, he could feel Mumto's gaze.
This was the result of his deliberations through the sleepless night, sensing the holy power of the key-sword had vanished. Without divine grace or intervention from the gods, releasing Mumto from his seal was an exceedingly dangerous prospect.
Moreover, Mumto in this era was merely slumbering without having lost his full power. Events like the failure of the Dane Kingdom and the betrayal of the three pharaohs hadn't occurred in this world.
How much blood would flow if they unleashed a great archdemon at full strength into the material world? And if the northerners invaded right after, followed by the White Kingdom demons marching north? Could civilized society bear that devastation?
Fernandez quietly pressed his lips to the key-sword symbol on his rosary and chanted the final incantation. Rising to his feet, he turned toward Kirhas.
"It means we have to release the grand sorcerer who devoured all the heroes of ancient Asit and slew gods themselves. If he can just stay asleep like this, that's fine by us."
"...Whatever. I don't get why you suddenly changed plans."
"We'll select the best among us to guard this seal."
"We'll help too. Not the absolute best, but a solid second choice."
Kirhas chuckled, eyeing Fernandez. Her turquoise eyes drifted to the greatsword slung across his back.
"Not bad, the way you carry that sword."
"Want it back?"
"Of course. But since you helped us, I'll give you a shot."
Kirhas slowly gripped her hilt and drew the blade. With a whisper that sliced the air, the well-honed longsword gleamed in her hand. She spun it once and assumed a stance.
"Come at me."
"I'm a mage, though?"
"You blind? The calluses on your hands, the way you walk, the way your eyes flick to hands and shoulders first when sizing up an opponent. Hey, priest. You're a warrior."
A damn good one, too. Kirhas growled low.
"That's why I trusted you, priest. Don't know the details, but everything that tried to kill me was a mage, and every fool who threw away their life to save me was a warrior. That's why my alliance has no mages."
"If you insist..."
Kirhas grinned fiercely. Fernandez drew the greatsword from his back. Beitasser's key-sword. No holy power emanated from it, but its durability and sharpness remained unmatched in the material world.
Fernandez slowly gripped the greatsword and took his stance. His aged, withered muscles trembled just from holding it. Yet the key-sword was an artifact of immense symbolic value. If he could restore it with this one ordeal, he might get a word in with the Papal Court.
'I'll retire and live peacefully.'
Wouldn't they grant him that much? Priests only retired through excommunication, and excommunicated priests faced eternal surveillance and sanctions from the Church. But beyond that fate, he could dream of a happy old age.
That was all he wished for now. Just to spend his remaining days in happiness. Resolve blazed in his weary eyes.
Kirhas laughed at the sight.
"My eyes don't lie. Priest. You're a warrior. I like you even more now."
"Go easy on me."
"Doesn't look like you're planning to. Hilarious."
Kirhas tittered, flicking the tip of her blade.
"I'll yield the first move. Come on."
*
Fernandez's greatsword tore through the air. Not like the elegant, precise swordplay he'd shared with King Dane in the pre-dawn gloom of old. It was the body of an aged black mage, devoid of Demonica physique or saintly blood.
Yet the experience and skill from that day still lived and breathed, lingering around his wrists. On instinct, he crossed his grip on the hilt and twisted.
-Clang!
The opening strike fizzled like foam. Kirhas lightly thrust her blade, batting Fernandez's greatsword upward. But Fernandez uncrossed his wrists, using the rebound to whirl the blade in a wide arc.
-Whoosh!
A greatsword wasn't a weapon of brute force. Stronger arms made it easier, sure, but fundamentally, it struck with rotational power! The more strikes chained, the smoother the assault.
"Haha! Yes! Excellent!"
Kirhas's eyes curved softly. She twisted her blade to disrupt Fernandez's strike, playful as a cat batting a yarn ball. Lightly. Yet each blow sent massive shocks rippling through his body.
"Kuh!"
"Haha, put some more oomph into it. Feels good."
-Clang!
Kirhas bared her teeth in a full grin, swinging wildly. Fernandez sweated from every pore, readjusting his grip and slashing relentlessly. What let him endure thus far was the experience of battles danced on the edge of life and death.
Kirhas's eyes sharpened. As Fernandez parried the assault and swung his blade low. In that instant, the stroke extended vertically toward the sky, and at its zenith, strength surged into both his arms.
'Oh no.'
Fernandez, blade raised, dragged it down with a click of his tongue. In that brief clash, he'd momentarily fancied himself 'Saint' Fernandez again. This strike wasn't his.
It was a crude mimicry of King Dane's swordsmanship, etched into his instincts. A slash that rent space itself. Even with a Demonica body, in peak condition and stance, it was no easy feat.
Executing it now, in this frail black mage's form, success was secondary—the strain on his body was unbearable!
'Can't stop now!'
The strike was already committed. Fernandez felt his wrists heating fiercely as he brought the blade down. He could sense his tendons swelling, joints twisting.
-Kachang!
"Ha, you?"
Kirhas's sword struck Fernandez's greatsword, halting the strike midway. She swiftly redirected the force, sparing his wrists from shattering.
"Hup..."
Fernandez staggered forward from the impact. Kirhas knocked his blade away, then caught his falling body. He felt her breath against his shoulder blade.
She whispered quietly in his ear.
"Your body can't keep up with your skills. This is getting more fun by the minute."
"Was that a test?"
"Sort of. I saw a warrior's eyes in you, and a mage's. A weird guy reeking of magic."
"Did I pass?"
"For now. Take that sword. It's just well-balanced and sturdy. No real value to me."
Kirhas shoved Fernandez away. He straightened his robes, then gripped the greatsword wedged in a rock crevice ten paces off.
As he pulled it free and sheathed it on his back, Kirhas flicked her tail with a smack and spoke.
"That was just a qualification test. The deal's separate. Got it?"
"I do. I'll deliver it to the Papal Court myself."
The reason Kirhas aided Fernandez was the Papal Court's official sanction. Recognition of the beastkin alliance as part of civilized society. And dispatching at least cardinal-level figures to baptize their high leaders directly—that was their deal.
This would grant the beastkin alliance status as a nation of the great wilderness. By Holy Pantheon of Good Gods tradition, beastkin could thenceforth claim independence and legitimacy as members of civilized nations.
To the beastkin—once treated as wandering mercenaries, easy prey, or illegal slaves—this held immense meaning. Elders clinging to tradition would rage, but Kirhas's grip on her internals was unparalleled among great chieftains.
It was just what Fernandez wanted. With Kirhas's faction solidified, they could check Karadskhar's great northern advance.
'That settles it.'
Fernandez panted raggedly, meeting Kirhas's smile.
'With this, I've roughly averted civilized society's doom.'
Over the past three years, he'd built a vast intelligence network spanning the continent's east and center. Bridging the Empire's Ironsides, the Sultan's Shakhsi, Fairn's Hunting School, and more.
On that foundation, he'd personally purged countless regions. With magic, force, or public authority. Heretics, apostates, black mages, demon worshippers—he'd slaughtered and impaled them without number.
Their blood had formed rivers, soaking his hands and feet, overflowing. But it was enough. Better than three years ago, when he'd dreamed of this world aflame, heroes baying for his neck.
At least Aria. For her to live out her days safe and peaceful—that was his sole wish.
The northerners? Their invasion would engulf the East Kingdom Alliance's northeast coast and the entire Levinein Empire in flames.
'Let it.'
The White Kingdom demons' grand push? Their northwards march would torch the Kirzhat Sultanate, southern border kingdoms, jungle tribes, and myriad small realms and baronies.
'Let it.'
But the world wouldn't end. Fernandez had deliberately excluded those two events from his preparations. What he'd braced for was humanity's final great war. That alone.
And now, it was enough. The prelude to humanity's fall was the archdemon's descent. He'd devoted this life to butchering everyone who could summon it.
The unripe young black mages and demon cultists. Given another twenty or thirty years, they'd be the 'Fifteen Evils Who Doomed the World.' One by one.
The three years since founding the Religiosa Maledica weren't to avert near-future calamities. They'd relentlessly executed demon worshippers.
'Now it's done.'
Even if north and south burned in total war, setting human civilization back decades. It didn't matter anymore. Fernandez smiled to himself. He was confident he could name at least five safe havens from that chaos.
Offer the key-sword to the Papal Court, strike a deal with the Pope. A safe, complete retirement. And henceforth, spend his amassed wealth lavishly with Aria till his days ended.
'I'm coming home, Aria.'
Life's too easy. Fernandez smiled at the thick mana circuits running from wrist to shoulder. With the same power, his past struggles chasing demons seemed laughable now.
'Too easy...'
Fernandez left the underground tomb with clouded eyes. The wasteland night sky unfolded before him.
Mana flowed in the night sky. Amid moonlight and star clusters. The celestial currents felt tangible, vivid and near.
Stars stretched endlessly, embroidered across the void. Time to go home. It felt both long overdue and over in a flash. Like a sweet dream, or a bitter dawn.
"Don't covet that star."
"What was that?"
"From there to there—see it? That turquoise one. That's my star."
Kirhas sidled up, slinging an arm around his shoulder familiarly, pointing at the night sky with glee.
"That one, and that. Connect them—that constellation. I'll call it the Kirhas Seat."
-Thud.
Her words echoed in his ear. Then his heart pounded wildly. He'd heard words like these before.
-Right beside my constellation, I want to carve a place for you.
Autumn sun over wheat fields, golden hair gleaming brilliantly—
-Ah, Fernandez. We're drifters, aren't we?
Those beautiful blue eyes gazing at him. Always curving gently with a smile when they lit upon him, delicate brows and lashes.
"Hey, you listening?"
-Thud.
He'd forgotten. Forgotten her. That moment, that woman who'd said such things.
"Hey!"
"I can't remember."
"What?"
"You, Aria, Zephys, Fabiano, Paul. The black mages, the heretical groups—all come back clear. But why?"
Why couldn't he remember her? Her name. The guardian dragon of humanity's era, who loved it so. Her name wouldn't come.
His head throbbed. A sharp pain stabbed his crown like a spike. Fernandez staggered, gasping.
"You okay? What's wrong all of a sudden?"
"This can't be!"
It wasn't faded or naturally evaporated. Not like forgetting last night's dream at morning light, senses and feelings lingering on the tongue!
Her name, her face—everything about her was gone!
"This can't be. It can't."
A spell to erase specific memories? Simple cantrip, but impossible to lay on Fernandez. He wasn't some novice mage. His defenses on mind and soul were near perfect.
It was gone clean, like carved out with a knife. If not for Kirhas's joke, he couldn't even picture it.
He revisited memories of his 'saint' days. Could've been a midsummer night's dream, or a prophetic vision. In that case, his unease and pain were mere self-loathing hallucinations.
But if not? If this moment was his pre-dawn? If the peaceful life and happy old age before him were mere illusions?
Fernandez bent low, clutching a handful of sand with trembling hands. Grains slipped through his fingers vividly. Could this be illusion? Such intricate hallucination...
"Why her, of all people?"
Why was his memory of her erased? Fernandez's eyelids twitched as he pondered. Why? He had countless memories and experiences. Many vital, potentially fatal to his life and plans.
So why hers?
"I need to check."
"Uh, uh... yeah. Need help?"
"No."
He had to do it alone. Fernandez bit his lip, glaring at the horizon beyond the wasteland.