Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: The Archbishops' Descent (2)
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Paht!
Liz was slicing through Dialogue Church acolytes with her blade unfurled in sword aura when she heard Kain and Robel's voices from nearby.
"Liz! Over there!"
"This is bad……!"
Liz immediately jerked her head up.
Sion, cloaked in his mantle, was facing off against a white-haired old man.
"It's Archbishop Mekringel of the Dialogue Church! Damn it!"
Archbishop Mekringel.
A famous figure active for over a century, someone Liz and Kain could recognize at a glance.
One of the central figures in the Dialogue Church's infiltration faction, he had slain countless people up to now.
"Just as Sion predicted……!"
Kain ground his teeth as he spoke.
"Those Dialogue Church bastards…… to think they'd target the Imperial Palace!"
When Sion had said the Dialogue Church might raid the Imperial Palace, everyone present was stunned.
The assault on Princess Brishura seemed to be nothing more than a diversion to disrupt the Imperial Guard Knights and Holy Knights, with the real objective being the palace itself.
The problem was that it was just Sion's speculation, with no concrete evidence.
But Sion had borrowed Princess Atria's authority to convince the Imperial Guard Knights and deploy forces as he wished.
The Imperial Guard Knights were currently concentrated at the palace's rear gate, while Sion, Kain, Robel, and Liz manned the front gate.
Sena had gone toward the city center, considering the possibility of them setting Romancia ablaze.
"B-Brother. Isn't this dangerous?"
Thanks to lying in ambush as Sion instructed, they'd taken out a good number of Dialogue Church acolytes ascending the walls, but the issue was the archbishop standing there unscathed all by himself.
Unlike Archbishop Brishura, whom they'd captured last time, he was a bona fide "combat operative" archbishop.
He possessed combat prowess on an entirely different level.
"Shouldn't we call Sir Agatram and Sir Cassius from the Imperial Guard Knights at the rear gate?"
"Sion said there's a high chance of Dialogue Church forces showing up there too…… so that might be tough."
"Are we all gonna die today……?"
"Kain, Robel."
Liz addressed the two panicking men.
"This isn't the time to worry about that. Keep watch around us."
More Dialogue Church forces might appear.
At the very least, the small fry had to be handled by Liz, Kain, and Robel.
"For now, all we can do is trust Sion."
Even with absolute powerhouses like the archbishops appearing.
Liz wasn't all that worried.
* * *
The white robes draped over Mekringel billowed fiercely.
It wasn't the wind.
The Demon Spirit Robe "Vitelfel's Shroud" was activating its power through the violently released mana.
"I…… like lively young men."
Mekringel smacked his lips as he eyed me.
"Not just the vitality of the flesh, but the intensity of their spirit as well."
"……."
"The death cries echoing as you tear such youths apart…… they're as sweet as the juice bursting from fresh fruit."
Hearing Mekringel's voice filled me with disgust.
As he'd openly admitted, Mekringel had long enjoyed murdering young men in their boyhood or early adulthood.
He seemed to believe killing the young rejuvenated him.
"Sion Aleyas, I wonder what you'll taste like."
"……."
"Like a ripe citrus fruit…… tangy and sweet, I imagine."
I didn't respond, instead drawing up my mana.
Because Mekringel was about to hurl Xantia at me.
"Hup!"
Boom!
Xantia tore through the air with an explosive roar as it flew at me.
Taking it head-on with my body would cost me a limb or two.
I fired a sword bullet from Ashurai to blunt its force in midair.
[Above us!]
While I blocked Xantia, Mekringel soared into the sky.
He'd just thrown it with immense power, but magic was his main weapon.
[Deploy Mana Armor! Powerful magic incoming!]
Boom boom boom!
White mana wriggled down like serpents.
It was impact magic that converted pure mana into physical damage, strong enough to easily crumble the palace walls.
But I ignored it and launched myself forward.
"Hm?"
Mekringel widened his eyes at the sight of me leaping from the crumbling walls.
"How…… from within my magic……."
Mekringel's spells writhed like snakes to engulf their target.
Dozens attacked simultaneously, making evasion nearly impossible.
But I'd already analyzed how Mekringel's magic writhed and approached during my time as Archbishop Hausel.
'I already…… beat you once before.'
Recalling how I'd subdued him in the Dialogue Church's internal strife, I swung Ashurai, its crimson-black sword aura unfurled.
* * *
"Urk……!"
The moment Mekringel swallowed hard at the encroaching crimson-black sword aura.
The Demon Spirit Robe "Vitelfel's Shroud" moved on its own.
At a glance, Vitelfel's Shroud looked like loose robes, but infused with mana, it billowed automatically to block physical attacks like blades or arrows. It couldn't protect the limbs fully, but the head and torso were perfectly defended.
A "fluttering cloth" could sometimes outperform steel plate by dispersing force on impact.
Moreover, Vitelfel's Shroud was made of a special material that even sword aura optimized for slashing couldn't cut.
"Heh, hehehe……!"
Vitelfel's Shroud deflected the crimson-black sword aura.
Sion kept swinging his sword, mantle flapping, but the shroud moved automatically to defend against his strikes.
Though originally a mage, thanks to Vitelfel's Shroud, Mekringel held the advantage even in close quarters.
"It's no use……!"
Mana concentrated in Mekringel's hands.
While the shroud blocked Sion's sword aura, he reached out to crush Sion's head.
But the Demon Spirit Sword Xantia, hovering in the air, grazed the back of his hand.
"Such……!"
Mekringel clicked his tongue.
He'd forgotten Sion wielded two Demon Spirit Swords: Ashurai and Xantia.
To evade the relentlessly pursuing Xantia, Mekringel retreated.
But Sion pressed forward relentlessly, refusing to let him escape.
"This is quite……!"
Boom! Kwaboom!
Magic clashed with sword aura.
Leaping across the crumbling walls, Mekringel engaged the young knight in fierce exchanges.
* * *
"……."
Dietrich silently watched the battle unfolding at the palace.
He was currently floating in the skies above Romancia, on standby.
He'd been ordered to covertly prevent Dialogue Church purification priests from setting the city ablaze and assist Sena and the others in subduing them.
But Holy Knights from the southern branch had already mobilized, so there was no need for him to intervene.
'My lord ordered me to pull back before my presence is exposed.'
With that thought, Dietrich continued observing the palace.
'Mekringel…… still the same.'
Dietrich knew Mekringel's level of skill.
A mage strong in close combat as well, with agility belying his white-haired elder appearance.
His Demon Spirit Robe was specialized in "deflecting" attacks, making it extremely hard to cut with a sword.
'But…… is he holding back?'
Mekringel was clearly fighting with restraint.
With his preferred prey—a "young boy knight"—before him, he seemed intent on prolonging the fight for enjoyment.
It stemmed from confidence that he could crush his opponent whenever he wished.
'But, Archbishop Mekringel.'
Dietrich sneered inwardly.
'You wouldn't be so relaxed if you knew who you're really facing.'
* * *
'A strange feeling.'
Exchanging blows continuously, Mekringel sensed something odd.
An inexplicable sense of déjà vu.
'When did I ever fight like this?'
He'd had a duel flowing just like this before.
But when?
Who was it against?
'Am I imagining it?'
He'd ravaged countless youths before.
He didn't remember every one.
'Anyway…… this is delightful.'
Mekringel remained thrilled.
Sion Aleyas's attacks were sharp and bold.
The slightest opening, and he'd go straight for the throat.
Of course, Mekringel was deliberately taking it easy now.
He wanted to savor the fight with the young knight giving his all.
Crushing him with 9th-circle mana would end it too soon.
He preferred to draw it out leisurely before delivering the killing blow for maximum ecstasy.
'Yes, so…… thrash about more, Sion Aleyas!'
His excitement mounting, Mekringel unleashed attacks.
He fired volleys of white, serpent-like mana clumps.
The writhing snake-magic sought to engulf Sion entirely, but Sion evaded every one with deft movements.
'You dance beautifully……!'
His mantle flapping as he darted every which way, it was like watching a dancer.
The sight only heightened Mekringel's arousal.
'Ah, let's fight even more fiercely, Sion Aleyas!'
Crying out inwardly, he thrust both hands forward.
The motion resembled an embrace, but immense mana dwelled in his palms—mere contact would tear Sion's flesh.
"Hahaha……!"
Bursting into laughter, he reached out leisurely.
Then pain shot through his fingertips.
"Ah……?"
Realizing Sion's sword aura had severed his finger, Mekringel fell into confusion.
It was a "speed" utterly impossible for the level he'd gauged from their exchanges so far.
'Wait, this memory…….'
Mekringel recalled.
Over 30 years ago—perhaps 40.
Back when internal conflicts plagued the Dialogue Church, he'd clashed with the rising star of the Zealot faction: the Execution Squad leader.
Delighted at finding a boy worth hunting, they'd traded blows…… until the youth suddenly accelerated, inflicting a minor wound.
Enraged, he'd tried to kill him on the spot, but an intervening Zealot archbishop foiled it.
'Yes, that boy……!'
Later, time passed, and Mekringel faced him again.
The boy had grown into an adult and, like Mekringel, risen to archbishop.
And that time, Mekringel…… suffered total defeat.
'Archbishop Hausel……!'
The memory hit, and Mekringel's mindset shifted.
He couldn't toy with the man before him any longer.
No more holding back—he had to kill decisively.
Failing to finish him here would lead to regret later.
Such a premonition swept through him.
"Die!"
Roaring, Mekringel summoned vast mana.
He planned to convert the overwhelming amount into physical force and pulverize him.
This much mana could instantly kill an 8th-circle upstart.
But almost simultaneously.
"……!"
The mantle Sion had worn throughout.
It moved for the first time "with intent," flying toward him.
Vitelfel's Shroud didn't react. It only responded to weapons like swords or arrows, ignoring kin like another "fluttering cloth."
'No way……!'
The moment the extended mantle covered his face, Mekringel realized.
Hidden within this mantle was Archbishop Brishura's Demon Spirit Robe, specialized in binding: "Agrun's White Cloak."
'The spoils from the captured Brishura…… in Sion Aleyas's possession?!'
What kind of monster was this guy?
He already wielded two Demon Spirit Swords simultaneously, and now he'd claimed a Demon Spirit Robe too.
How had he sweet-talked the higher-ups to amass more treasures than active Dialogue Church archbishops?
And…… how had he mastered them more proficiently than the archbishops themselves?
'Wait, come to think of it…….'
Then, Mekringel realized one more thing.
Though the methods differed, this flow mirrored his past battle with the man who'd defeated him.
The boy who'd wounded him slightly in their first clash completely dominated him in the second, proving himself the Dialogue Church's strongest.
"Uuugh……!"
Agrun's White Cloak smothered his face completely, cutting off his breath.
Unable to properly circulate mana, Vitelfel's Shroud's auto-defense faltered.
At the same instant, a sword aura far more potent than before dug into his nape.
Its feel was identical to the sword aura of Archbishop Hausel, who had once subdued him.