Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: As Prophesied, You Have Come, Great Slayer!
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* * *
-Kwaaaang!!!
“Die!!! Demon!!!!”
As Fernandez sighed and pulled out his censer, one wall of the ossuary far in the distance exploded, sending the remains of a Walker—or what had once been a Walker—flying through the sky.
“...Brother. It’s over.”
“Hmm, what! The bastard?!”
“I took it down.”
“Ooo!!!!”
The thick dust cleared, revealing a massive figure within. Demonica Fabiano, his fists drenched in blood, charged forward, crushing the oncoming Walkers.
“Justice prevails! Praise be!!!!”
“Ah, yes...”
Fernandez awkwardly stowed his censer and traced the holy sign alongside Fabiano. Even in these times, the Demonica remained a band of monsters and a breeding ground. No wonder the demon cults scattered at the mere sight of them.
But now, they were on his side. Fernandez smiled inwardly, relieved. It was time to wrap things up.
*
Jerail and the Red Axe Company were tearing through the Walker horde bit by bit, steadily advancing.
The density of Walkers only grew as they pressed on. This, at least, was a positive sign.
They were nearing the administrative district soon, which meant massive Walker swarms were converging there right now.
“Shit, fucking hell. Who the hell’s in front of the boss...”
“Walkers?”
“Swinging swords or what?”
“Fuck, lads, battle stations!”
Mercenary, survivor, or City Guard—it didn’t matter. Jerail resolved to butcher anything that moved before his eyes.
Blood and silver. Those were the two forces driving him. Jerail toyed with his axe blade and grinned wickedly.
Until a Walker bisected vertically lunged at him.
“Uwaaak!! Shit!! What the hell is this!”
A flying Walker! Jerail screamed in terror and swung his axe. The halved Walker hit the blade and tumbled across the ground, instantly downgraded from half-flying Walker to quarter-flying Walker.
Fortunately, it wasn’t some horrific, nightmarish flying Walker abomination.
It was literally just a Walker sliced clean in half.
“...?”
It was perfectly cleaved from top to bottom. Who bisects a living person vertically...? Jerail cautiously peered ahead.
“...Fuck?”
The Walkers were flying in formation. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Walkers missing at least one body part flapped through the sky in an utterly surreal display.
“What the hell is that, lads?”
“...Uh...”
A hulking brute and a young man were launching Walkers into the air! One was an ogre-like giant packed with bulging muscles, the other a slender youth about half his size.
They handled the Walkers like trash collectors hurling bundled garbage—slicing them, tossing them skyward, slicing them again.
A casting factory stamping out half-Walkers!
“What the actual fuck! What are those crazy bastards!!!!”
They were slaughtermen pure and simple! Jerail shuddered as he watched the Walker cleaners. The slender youth moved with agile grace hinting at some shred of reason, dispatching Walkers with swordplay.
But the colossus beside him simply rent Walkers apart like an ogre tearing into a deer! Not with an axe, but a longsword!
The slaughterers turned at Jerail’s scream.
“Oh! Ooo! Survivors! Splendid! Welcome! Come here!”
“G-Get lost!!!!”
Jerail’s plan to cut down everything that moved shattered to pieces before a giant who butchered literally everything that moved!
“S-Silver benefactor?!”
Then, Kirhas Hearttaker, stabbing a charging Walker beside him, let out a strangled scream. The giant and youth’s gazes fixed on her.
“Ooo! Sister!”
“Uh... uh... Brother. Good to see you...”
Kirhas flinched at the giant’s booming voice. But she soon perked up her ears and cried out joyfully.
“Benefactor! You’re safe!”
“Yes! Good to see you! Those gentlemen over there—you’re the Red Axe Company, right?”
“Y-Yes!”
Overhearing Kirhas and the youth’s exchange, Jerail finally regained his wits. Thankfully, they weren’t ruthless mercenaries gunning for the mint.
With no clash in interests, Jerail steadied himself.
“Uh, uh... Those are knights too?”
“Knights... well. Yes! My seniors!”
“Fucking hell...”
Better steer clear of the Order of St. John garrison too. Jerail groaned inwardly. No—even rumors of their involvement meant abandoning any operation there.
The Walker pressure ahead had all but vanished. The two slaughterers had wiped them out.
The slender youth thrust out a hand toward Jerail and declared.
“I’ve heard of your band! Pleased to meet you. I’m Angelo of the Order of St. John!”
“Uh... I’m Jerail of the Red Axe Company, but... how do you know us...?”
“I’ve got urgent words for you! One moment!”
-Kwaaaang!
The cheerful youth—Fernandez—swung his scarlet-robed fist without warning.
“Eek?!”
Jerail flinched at the momentum, just as a Walker lunging at his side crumpled to the ground with a snapped neck.
“Brother! You’ve grown stronger! Beitasser’s blessing is with you! Mac to!”
“Ah... yes. Brother. Mac to supelau do...”
The giant bellowed a laugh and leaped into the rear, where Walkers swarmed thickest.
Staring blankly at the sight, Fernandez whispered to Jerail.
“Victory to the Crimson Archduke.”
“!!!!! Eternal victory!”
Jerail nearly fainted in shock at Fernandez’s words. The Order of St. John was a militant order under Beitasser. How could they...
How could they praise Crimson Archduke Tyban? Jerail stared blankly at Fernandez’s face and ventured cautiously.
“...Are you sanctified?”
“That’s why I sought you out. But with things as they are, a proper talk must wait.”
“Show me the mark.”
Crimson Archduke Tyban. God of war and slaughtering demon king. The great demon sealed somewhere in the material world of the Fifth Realm, according to legend...
Sealed in such ancient times, with meager blessings even for his own faithful. He had virtually no organized following...
‘A knight’s no different from a warrior, after all...’
Jerail swallowed hard, eyeing Fernandez. Fernandez shrugged and loosened his scarlet robe slightly.
An odd mark like a burn scar branded his left fist.
To the unknowing, it might pass for a meaningless wound. The back of the hand was prone to injury, after all.
But Jerail, one of the last warriors of Crimson Archduke Tyban in this era, recognized the sigil on Fernandez’s hand without doubt.
“My god... As prophesied, you have come. Great Slayer...”
It was the mark bestowed only upon Tyban’s most favored champion. The clear stigmata appearing solely in those anointed with his holy oil!
Fernandez smirked and clapped the trembling Jerail’s shoulder. He rewrapped his robe, concealing his hand, and said quietly.
“Someday, I’ll need your strength. Build your forces until then.”
“How shall I find you, great one?”
“No need for my name or rank, brother. Simply do as He desires, and I’ll find you.”
“Ooo... For victory to the Crimson Archduke!”
Jerail unleashed a ferocious red aura from his axe, overcome with emotion. The appearance of Tyban’s great warrior meant a world-burning great war in his lifetime!
Fernandez decided to ignore his fervor entirely. Even if unused this mission, they were valuable cards. He approached the dazed Kirhas staring at him.
“Returning to base. Sir Basil. Mission complete.”
“...Yes?? But Sir Angelo! The Walker outbreak here...”
“No need to mind Walkers. The City Guard can handle it. ‘The chain is broken.’ No more business in Merlinport.”
Fernandez grinned. The bronze throne in his mystic sight—an enormous haul.
“I... I didn’t do anything... Sir Angelo. Was I of any help...?”
Kirhas, meanwhile, had only tagged along with the mercenaries and culled a few Walkers. Fernandez patted her shoulder.
“More than enough. Meeting these people was one of this journey’s main goals.”
Jerail shuddered once more with emotion at Fernandez’s words.
-What simpletons.
Feizashi grumbled quietly.
-Better to summon Urkasia or Mumto... or even Sadarkelia. Why summon Tyban and end up like this, wizard?
‘Quit griping, Feizashi. We didn’t know what’d come out.’
-Ignorance of magic is no excuse—it’s a disgrace!
‘Fair enough. Tyban wasn’t bad, though. These guys are useful too.’
In his past life, Tyban’s faithful were little more than human butchers. Blood-mad to be sure, but under his blessings on the battlefield, they ground knight orders to mincemeat.
Though Tyban now slumbered in some ancient dwarf ruin, granting scant blessings... that was another matter.
Fernandez gathered Kirhas and carefully extricated from the battlefield. The Red Axe mercenaries nearly rolled their eyes in zeal, clearing his path.
Now, time to go home. Fernandez dispelled the illusion on his hand, smiling through his fatigue.
*
[Operation Report: Chain Breaker]
Operation Area: Fairem Kingdom 3rd Checkpoint, Merlinport.
Operation Summary: Bronze Scales covert search and heretic hunt. Walker Plague origin investigation.
Operation Progress:
1) Ancient Lich [Gian-Kel] eliminated; Maclaren Parish in Merlinport city center deemed heretical.
2) City center mass hysteria incident resolved.
3) Confirmed Bronze Scales triggered large-scale Walker outbreak in city; responded accordingly.
4) Captured and eliminated unidentified greater demon summoning.
5) Bronze Scales High Priest [Dale Pertus] eliminated; branch cult eradicated.
6) Requested support for city center large-scale Walker suppression.
Operation Task Force:
1) Demonica, Fernandez Cerned – Returned
2) Demonica, Fabiano Meidas – Joined and Returned
3) Torchman, Kirhas Hearttaker – Returned
We shall burn demons, heretics, and witches.
Operation Lead: Demonica Fernandez Cerned.
*
Abbot Beorn Shieldbane pushed up his monocle and eyed Fernandez. If eyes could kill, Beorn’s gaze was a strategic weapon.
“You annihilated the Bronze Scales?”
“At least those who fled Merlinport and vicinity.”
“And what’s this Gian-Kel?”
“A lich disguised as Maclaren Parish bishop. Eliminated.”
Beorn reread the report. Verified on receipt, reread, questioned the subject directly—still incomprehensible.
“You took down a lich solo?”
“That lich was mysteriously weakened. Fortunate, really.”
“How do you know it was weakened? Met one before?”
Beorn’s sharp words nearly stopped Fernandez’s heart. But his expression unchanged, he replied flatly.
“If I killed it with my fists, wasn’t it weakened?”
“Tch... No way...”
Beorn stroked his chin. In his long service, he’d clashed with demon-worshipping liches too—but mythic battles premised on cult relics and brothers’ sacrifices.
Handled like some side errand...?
“And the Bronze Scales High Priest? Where’d this one pop from? Did he charge you begging to be caught?”
“Fabiano Brother nearly had him at the 6th Checkpoint. He fled here, so we finished him together.”
“What in the world...”
Beorn sighed, setting down the report. He crossed his arms, staring at Fernandez. Even for a saint, even a prodigy—was this feat possible?
“The Lord must have aided you.”
“And Merlinport won’t function for a while. Mint halted, Goldharbor too. City recovery? A decade’s child’s play. Brother Fernandez. Fairem Kingdom faces crisis.”
Beorn removed his spectacles, cleaning them carefully. Fatigue lined his eyes.
“You asked Brother Zephys to watch the royals?”
“...Yes.”
“On what grounds?”
“Intel from Demdrizad cult wipeout.”
“Why not report to me?”
“Wanted solid info only. Couldn’t fully trust demon words.”
“...Fine. Understood. You handled this superbly. Good news soon. Rest up, well done.”
Beorn sighed, dismissing him. Heretic outbreaks across Fairem had the Inquisition reeling from manpower shortages.
No time for rest or interrogations. Yet Fernandez didn’t rise.
“More to say?”
“What’s Brother Zephys doing now?”
“At the Fairem court. Right you were, Brother Fernandez. Heretic cult nested in the palace. Zephys tied up with that awhile.”
“Understood.”
Among the faithful, Zephys trusted ‘Inquisitor’ Fernandez most. Yet Fernandez saw Zephys as his greatest obstacle.
Zephys believed in Fernandez’s prowess. From first mission standout, he took keen interest.
Fernandez had work needing others’ eyes averted. Zephys’s absence from Inquisition Keep? Glad tidings.
Fernandez bowed and exited with a smile. Free experimentation time assured. The thin bronze bracelet on his wrist gleamed in the light.
*
“Whew...”
Beorn sighed at the closing door. His mouth tasted foul.
‘A saint? Divine revelation? God’s grace?’
Logically incomprehensible? No. Faithfully? No. But ‘instinct’ refused it.
Decades rooting out subterranean heretic cults had honed Heretica Beorn Shieldbane’s senses—they screamed something amiss.
Yet Beorn lifted his pen, pondering.
If it rebuilt crumbling humanity, anything sufficed. Fernandez’s schemes, thoughts, plots—irrelevant if for mankind.
Beorn had no time for doubts. Nor did the civilized world.