Chapter 340
Chapter 340
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 340
Chapter Title: Immortals and Mortals (9)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Zephys Shiradast is heading for Ivaris City right now.”
“How do you know that?”
Everis tilted her head at Robert’s words. Even with Iron Side throwing everything they had at it, tracking Zephys’s whereabouts had been impossible. Zephys was a thoroughly trained inquisitor.
But Robert just shrugged.
“It’s a possibility that holds true in every scenario.”
Thousands of futures and thousands of endings. And a single thread of hope. That was the conclusion of the ‘scenarios’ Robert and Piel had calculated over these past few months. A single, exceedingly slim hope that bordered on sheer luck.
And in more than half of those cases, Zephys at this point was heading to Ivaris. It was astonishing. Without any clues, when even Iron Side, Shaxixi, and the Inquisition’s investigators couldn’t pinpoint Fernandez’s location, Zephys had figured it out alone.
“Prophecy, huh. All right, Robert. So what’s the next prophecy?”
“You’ll rush off to Ivaris. You’ll want to see Zephys, after all.”
“……That a prophecy too?”
“Nah, that much I can see coming.”
Everis’s cheeks flushed at Robert’s teasing words. She turned her head away and muttered.
“From now on, don’t call him Sir Shiradast. Call him brother-in-law.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Why not? Even the elders of the Guild wouldn’t dare object.”
“The head of House Tremule is in a tight spot right now—what are you talking about?”
“Oh, didn’t your prophecies mention I got stripped of my title? I’m the head now. It was decided at your funeral.”
Everis said it with cheeky bluntness. Robert burst out laughing and looked at her face.
“So why did you come find me, Everis?”
“I…… I didn’t come to find you!”
“From the moment I went missing, command of Iron Side has been with His Majesty the Emperor. There’s no way he’d deploy Iron Side forces in this crisis just to support your crush.”
At a loss for words, Everis stared at Robert with an “uh, um,” before abruptly turning her head away and grumbling.
“You’re such a pain. Total pain in the ass.”
“I missed you, sis.”
“……Yeah. Little bro. Glad you look healthy.”
Robert grinned and reached out his hand. Everis flashed the same grin and clasped his hand. A brief, light handshake passed between the siblings, and they sat across from each other at the table, gazing at one another.
“What next, after I go find Sir Shiradast?”
“Keep Lord Cerned tied up for at least a fortnight. Make sure he gets no information from the inland at all.”
“……Why?”
“In a fortnight, the entire eastern kingdom will be in flames, and the Inquisition will collapse.”
Robert continued in a chilling tone.
“To end the apocalypse, you have to face it head-on.”
To acknowledge that fact, over two thousand three hundred scenarios had been discarded. Robert gave a bitter smile.
* * *
A quiet burst of flesh and blood erupted. The person who spotted him barely had time to draw half a breath before their jaw hung empty in the air, hands trembling.
Even as the spear blade spun and vanished back into the shadows, the man in priestly robes clawed desperately at the empty air. In his eyes, it looked like nothing more than pathetic denial of his own death.
-Pierk!
At the same moment, a whistle cut through the air from somewhere. The man swung his spear blade silently through the darkness. A blackened shortsword clanged off the shaft and ricocheted away. The man steadied his stance, glaring toward where the sword had flown from.
“Who dares…… who dares, what heretic attacks the Inquisition!?”
His rage-filled voice boomed through the shadows. Instinctively, the man crouched low. Demonica—there were still Demonica monks left in the monastery.
“No slipping by quietly, then.”
“You scum!!”
-Boom!
No sooner had he heard the stomp from ahead than a massive figure barreled into view. Immense speed and power. A silver-flashing blade swept right in front of his throat in an instant.
-Clang! Kaang!
But only twice. After just two strikes, the longsword aiming for him snapped in half and flew off. The Demonica monk retreated with a stunned expression, staring at his broken blade, then glared at him with fury.
“You’re the one. The bastard who burned the monasteries!”
“If I did, then you know why now, right?”
“Did you think you could topple the central headquarters alone? Did you think this moment, with the brothers focused outward, was your chance!?”
The Demonica monk stomped forward with a thud. In the monastery garden cloaked in deep shadow, he stared straight at him and bellowed.
“Come on, you foolish heretic. The demon you worship desires only destruction, even if it’s yours. You’re nothing but a cultist offering yourself up for your own ruin!”
“Long-winded. Waiting for reinforcements?”
He slowly stepped out of the shadows. Under the lanterns illuminating the monastery grounds, he limped slightly on one foot, turning the spear blade back as he assumed position.
The Demonica monk’s eyes widened. Then he glared fiercely.
“……Cathedral Knight Darian Shrike!!”
“Once, yeah. Up until your crusaders, anyway.”
“Your fall will be recorded as a shame upon the Holy Pantheon!”
“It’ll be recorded as the Pantheon’s terror. If anyone’s left to record it.”
The Demonica monk charged like a roaring bear, clutching his half-broken sword and small shield. It felt like a wall rushing forward. Darian smirked and readied his spear.
“Pray, priest. Pray hard. Beg to live.”
“Shut—up!!”
-Kwaang!
With the Demonica monk’s shout, the spear blade smashed his shield. Then—
-Puk! Puck!
Wrists, both arms and shoulders, both knees. Seven strikes unfolded in a single instant. Too fast for even the Demonica monk’s eyes to track. Before he could draw a breath, he’d dropped all his weapons and hit the ground rolling.
-Kuwoong!
Unable to stop his momentum, the Demonica monk tumbled noisily across the ground. With a face lost in confusion, he looked at his body gushing blood.
When, how? Sorcery……? No. If it were sorcery, he of all people would have sensed it first.
Terror twisted his face. This was a fragment of martial prowess beyond belief. Swordplay that transcended the gap between a Demonica monk and an ordinary man.
“Afraid, priest?”
Darian’s boot appeared right before his head. The spear blade slid down, pressing firmly against his throat. The Demonica monk looked up with a deathly pale face. Darian’s expressionless visage stared down.
It wasn’t fear of death. This priest’s dread wasn’t mere survival instinct. Darian let out a short note of admiration.
The priest had realized no one short of Demonica level could even attempt to stop him. And with no Demonica left inside the monastery at this moment, he feared his remaining brothers would become vengeful spirits.
“The Lord looks upon you, Darian Shrike. Your petty victory leads only to your despair…….”
-Puk!
The Demonica monk’s hate-filled words cut off unfinished. Darian drove the spear down, piercing his skull. He shook the blood from the blade and walked forward, then suddenly halted.
“I told you not to follow. Carlo Mano Pavilos.”
“I couldn’t help worrying about you, Sir Shrike.”
“You’re a lousy liar, professor. Where’s Sayri? Why’d you come up alone?”
“Oh, that young lady’s taking a nap. Don’t worry.”
Karl emerged from the darkness with a grin. Darian gripped his spear shaft, glaring at him. Suspicious presences stirred behind him.
“You didn’t come alone. Who are they?”
“Those who share your goals, sir. Greet them.”
“You…… bastards…….”
Darian’s eyes blazed with fury. Behind Karl, men with grotesquely twisted bodies appeared. Eyes glowing red, limbs bent in impossible directions, and a sticky stench oozing from their entire forms…… Beings corrupted by hellish mana.
“Fairn’s prince imperial doesn’t put his faith in the Maclaren Church after all. Carlo Mano Pavilos. You used me.”
“We walk the same path because our goals align. Now’s not the time to debate justice with me, is it, sir?”
Shadows poured over the monastery walls—not a few. The foul reek of hellish mana stung Darian’s nose. He stared silently at Karl, then abruptly swung his hand.
-Puk!
The nearest monster’s head exploded. Karl halted mid-step, and the shapes in the darkness froze as one.
“What is this?”
“Don’t misunderstand. Walking the same path? Does eating beasts make man and wild dog the same species?”
Darian glared at Karl’s face, spitting out each word like venom.
“You won’t die today. But if you show yourself before me again after this, there’ll be no mercy like today. Get lost. In trying to devour the rotten flesh of an immortal, you’re no different from these curs.”
“Haha…… Fair enough.”
Karl smirked and slowly backed away. Like facing a starving beast, without turning his back, eyes locked straight ahead.
The hunting school professor vanished into the darkness with a pale smile. Darian shook his head and stepped over the fallen priests at the gate, entering the monastery depths.
* * *
“The end of the world……? What do you mean, what’s left?”
“What kind of being? Haha, you’ve read quite a few Gray Circle internal docs, huh?”
“I’m the court bailiff of House Tremule now. Robert.”
At Everis’s question, Robert smiled softly. In his fatigue-worn eyes, Piel’s sleeping form rose and fell with colored breaths. He gazed at her worriedly for a moment, then draped a blanket over her.
“There are three beings that could be classified as great demons left. You know that much, right?”
“……Yeah. But two of them are evaluated as no longer able to act.”
“They’ve lost power, and their followers massacred, so they’ll fade eventually. Maybe not our generation, but someday for sure.”
Immortals, beings who hold divinity, grow by devouring the awe of mortals. That’s why the demons of hell and the gods of heaven itch to exert influence on the material world.
The churches of the Holy Pantheon hide the demons’ existence. Merely knowing of them, fearing them, swells their power.
Conversely, hell’s minions strive to burn the churches. Beyond revealing their own existence, toppling the Pantheon’s solid authority in itself garners awe.
So at this point, for those immortals called great demons, only slow extinction remains. They’ve lost most followers and been defeated by mortals before countless eyes.
Gray Circle judged that hell’s minions had taken irreparable fatal wounds. Correct. But Robert slowly shook his head.
“If we know that, think they don’t?”
Each one at least a thousand years old. Perhaps even longer. Ancient fiends who’ve lived longer than the history piled up by material world civilizations—would they truly not sense their unavoidable end?
Robert looked at Everis with hollow eyes.
“Just as gods send saints, great demons send apostles.”
“That apostle died and fell from grace. Yeah, I know that.”
“Then wouldn’t gods take a hit when their saint, infused with their power, dies?”
“……What?”
“Hell’s fiends and heaven’s proxies aren’t fundamentally different. Just opposite directions, but all immortals bearing divinity. If demons lose power and influence when their apostle dies, what happens when a saint dies?”
Everis stood silently for a moment, mulling his words. Her face grew steadily paler.
“With both apostles and saints dead in this situation. For those doomed to slow extinction, now’s their one chance.”
Luckily, our saint’s highness isn’t dead yet. Robert paused briefly and took a sip of tea.
“What might they do, cornered like rats that bite cats. What will they try?”
“What are you getting at, Robert.”
“Everis. If all of hell’s might concentrates in the body of the one person who should have been—in history—the strongest. Even with the blessings of the entire Holy Pantheon of Good Gods, could it be stopped?”
Robert set down his teacup and closed his eyes.
“Four thousand six hundred hypotheses. Three thousand seven hundred fifty scenarios all raced to the same end.”
Even if not him, then the next. And the next after that, inevitably. So better to seize a clear, predictable target.
“When their forces gather in one place, strike that moment.”
That was the sole, perfect victory condition amid thousands of apocalypses.