Chapter 269
Chapter 269
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 269
Chapter Title: Faith is the Lantern (3)
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He steadies his stance and charges forward. Through the collapsing ceiling and pillars of the imperial palace, past bricks and tiles that have endured alongside the history of civilized society for ages.
Straight through the debris holding the span of human time, his blade slices the empty air. It shatters everything in its path completely.
-Clang!
The dark silver trajectory draws a line in the air. The Emperor dodges at the last moment, his face twisted in confusion. A sword? He's swinging a blade?
[How dare a human mage?!]
His bewilderment swiftly turns to rage, and even faster to shock. The weight and speed behind that blade are anything but ordinary!
-Clang! Scraaaape!
The Emperor's hand—a clawed gauntlet of chitin—blocks the greatsword's blade and deflects it. A demon's flesh is no ordinary matter. It's entangled with mana and blessings, suspended somewhere between spirit and body.
No common material can harm it. A mere iron sword? No, even a consecrated steel blade would fare the same.
But in this instant, with a single clash, the Emperor's claw crumbles and flakes away. Like stripping scales from a fish, one by one. The chitin's outer shell scatters into powder!
[What...?! What is this...?! You're no human!]
"No chance."
Amid the whirlwind of sword strikes, between the crumbling bricks and roof of the palace. Before the throne where black rain pours down, blue eyes gleaming with a somber light catch the glow.
Long ago, he would have scoffed at such ideals. But now, after these past two years leading to this moment, Fernandez Cerned understands their worth.
The two boons bestowed by Beitasser symbolize humanity itself. Beitasser's design wasn't merely for humanity's revival or the grand victory of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods.
The emblem of human symbolism. The very meaning of victory it embodies. Not just overwhelming the world with mighty champions and great warriors to crush the enemy stronghold—it's an ascetic trial and gamble that seems pointless at first glance.
Yet that is the phenomenon that seals the triumph of humanity and material civilization. Thus, Beitasser required an "untainted human spirit" that would never corrupt.
A scheme to rebuild a defeated human civilization. An ordeal to solidify human value by sending forth a pure human, and the profound meaning inherent in that entire process.
"Unyielding." The boon to rise and advance once more from the ruins of destruction.
"Immortal." Individual death is no end; it's merely a step toward humanity's collective victory. As long as the will endures, civilization lives on.
"Killing monsters and forging legends has always been humanity's role."
-Clang!
In a flash of light, the Emperor's right arm severs clean.
It might look ridiculous saying this now, but that's human history. Humanity's history is the history of defiance.
Myths and legends are often seen as embellished novels likening the conquest of natural phenomena. Regardless of their truth, the core essence of human myths and legends is singular: defiance against overwhelming forces.
Storms rage, volcanoes erupt. Earthquakes topple buildings, and even the terrors of night or winter's chill might fall into myth's domain.
Even monsters in the woods off the beaten path. Trolls, ogres, giants—and even mere beasts like wolves or bears. Nothing is frailer than humanity.
Herbivore-like molars. Strength and stamina that couldn't best a hunting dog of similar size. Yet the sole difference setting humans apart is their refusal to give up. That's it.
Even against overwhelming foes, they never surrender. They always seek a way. They never compromise.
While sturdy ogres or trolls lurked in caves swinging clubs, humans built castles, formed groups, and armored themselves in steel. Humanity's path to survival was acknowledging its own weaknesses and the long struggle to overcome them.
Even if it sometimes seemed pathetic or wretched.
Human history itself is proof of unyielding resolve. Proof that even if all is lost and shattered, the flame reignites from the ashes!
-Scraaaape!
"Pray."
For you face humanity now.
-Clang!
"To any god, any words."
Did you see us as prey? As defenseless herbivores easy to catch? Yes, that's right. We were! But in every moment, there is always a way to overcome and rise.
Religiosa Enmagicka deciphers foes with accumulated knowledge.
Religiosa Heretica tracks enemies in any circumstance.
Religiosa Demonica never fades in the fiercest fray.
-Clang!
"Desperately."
An Inquisitor embodies the human will. In this moment, you face us—pray. Desperately!
Fernandez's sword finally severs both the Emperor's hands, spins through the air, and plunges down. Like a bolt of lightning, the dark trajectory burrows into the Emperor's chest. With a crack, it pierces through and slams into the floor on the opposite side. Fernandez drapes his rosary over the Emperor's head.
The Emperor's compound eyes scan the rosary, then meet Fernandez's gaze.
[Inquisi...tor...!]
Unbelievable. Inquisitors were just tenacious, annoying "humans." Their weapons were mere reverence and authority from the pantheon. Each one is just a frail human.
But how could such puny, worthless beings defy him?
[Hypocrite. Repulsive hypocrites! You've all been like this, but you're the most loathsome of them all! Look at your deeds. Look at the power you've wielded! See the strength you possess, the heart you carry, the atrocities you've committed! Pray? You dare speak of prayer? To whom do you pray? Your god? Do you even have the right?!]
The Emperor's voice fractures into dozens, buzzing shrilly. His body shatters and explodes outward. Each fragment takes the form of swarming flies.
The vermin swarm in the air, forming clusters. Pat-pat. A chilling friction of wings. The clusters reshape into human form.
Fernandez, still in the pose with his sword inverted, catches his breath to steady it. His body isn't fully recovered enough to handle such fierce clashes.
And why would it be? It was the mana of a great demon. No Religiosa Demonica could emerge unscathed.
But the foe fares no better. Having discarded his human flesh for his true demonic form, he has no path back. He can no longer remain the human Emperor.
The palace crumbles, the throne ends. The political justification to unite the warlords is gone. The Levintear Empire ceases to exist in truth. The true fall of the empire.
If only he could finish off this noisy bastard here completely. Fernandez spins his sword onto his shoulder and slowly draws it back.
Seeing this, the Emperor's enraged roar builds to a crescendo.
[You will fail! No one can rule this land—no one! Only I! This empire is mine alone, and no one else's! Forever!]
-Rumble!
Fernandez watches and slowly bends his knees. Preparing to leap, he assesses the demon's body. Shedding flesh was fine, but it's far from normal.
Backlash from the failed spell, the effort and mana poured into summoning Urkasia—all rebound as blows, leaving his spirit body on the verge of collapse.
The effect of the five thrones was simple yet devastating. The magic circle centered on the palace, the countless protective wards on the palace, and the demonic worship runes he carved himself—all obliterated in an instant.
He couldn't emerge unscathed from that destruction. Fernandez clearly senses his spirit-flesh withering rapidly.
[You will all submit to the legions. The Lord of Decay shall descend upon your corpses! You, hypocrite! The most revolting one, uttering goodness with that horrific power! What do you believe in to tell me to pray to whom?!]
The Emperor raises a trembling hand and screams. At his gesture, the palace shudders. Magic circles laid across the capital and palace drain his life to conjure spells.
>Can you analyze it?
-Summoning series.
>The catalyst is the sky.
-Not the sky—the raindrops. Yes. I can analyze it.
Fernandez ignores the bellowing Emperor, tilts his head back, and gazes skyward. Beyond the smog-choked heavens, he feels a gaze steeped in malice.
Black rainwater falls beneath it. Each drop feels like a sharp arrow. Like spears of malice blanketing the capital.
>Summoning medium: raindrops. The sacrifice...
-The empire's citizens, all of them.
Any civilian touched by this rain will corrupt into demons instantly or melt as offerings to summon them. Then, as he said, the Lord of Decay's legions will arrive.
This city is done for. Fernandez shakes his head ruefully. Far worse than the Walker incident or vampire uprising—unimaginable horror.
>Way to stop it?
>Can't use magic directly, so sever his head.
>Will the blade reach?
>That's your domain... hard for me to say.
Feizashi Wildcast smacks his lips. Right—physical feats are Fernandez's role. He eyes the distance carefully and coils his body. Floating amid the ruins, the angle for a full-powered swing is awkward.
But he has to try. Fernandez spins his sword to his back and prepares to leap.
In that moment, a voice echoes from beyond the ruins.
"Our faith is the lantern within our hearts."
Both Fernandez and the Emperor flinch at the sudden voice and turn toward it. Atop the half-ruined pillars of the throne hall stands a figure.
"Be just, and do righteousness. Seek good. Pursue virtue. Then the Lord shall add His favor unto you."
-Step.
A small but weighty footfall. A tattered, rain-soaked robe rolls up with a rustle. Beneath gleams something faintly.
A Saintsteel longsword wrapped in a rosary. No legendary holy sword, no immense relic. Just a consecrated iron blade.
It shines with the unyielding resolve of an executioner's axe on the scaffold.
"Zephys... Brother...!"
"I'm no longer an Inquisitor, Brother Cerned."
Beneath the hood emerges the weathered yet resolute face of an older man. Zephys glances at Fernandez and chuckles softly.
He declares solemnly to the Emperor.
"But in proxy for the Inquisitor unable to continue combat, I humbly attend here as one faithful soul. By his authority, I shall conduct the trial for heresy."
"Religious court jurisdiction, summary execution for heresy, authority to command exorcism forces, proxy rights for church sacraments. By the powers guaranteed by the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods, I affirm your attendance."
"Holy Pantheon, grant Your boon. The defendant's penalty is..."
Zephys kicks off the pillar and leaps toward the Emperor's head. Fernandez rears his arm back and hurls the greatsword with all his might.
Erupting pure white light, the keyblade flies like a ballista bolt. Right before the Emperor's body, Zephys spins midair and snatches the sword's hilt.
"Death!!"
Clutching a blade in each hand, the aged Religiosa Demonica slashes horizontally with full force. The Saintsteel longsword and keyblade cross, tracing a ring of blue light in the air.