Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Holy Grail Struggle (6)
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“Sion!”
The one who pulled me out from the collapsing earth and debris was Kurt.
He was already carrying both Hazel and Helmut on his shoulders.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Is Father alright?”
“I’m fine, of course.”
As expected of a ninth-rank Sky Knight.
Even after unleashing his sword style to wreak such massive destruction, he still had energy to spare.
“But Father, what about Archbishop Sapphireus...?”
“We lost him.”
Kurt made a bitter face as he spoke.
“I definitely landed some damage. But he slipped away somehow.”
“Couldn’t we chase him?”
“Tracking Sapphireus after he fled into the mountains would be next to impossible.”
From Sapphireus’s perspective, there was no need to risk his life fighting here.
The Holy Grail might be a supreme holy relic, but it wasn’t worth going all-out against Kurt in a deathmatch over it.
So once he took damage from Kurt’s Heavenly Bow Emperor Style, he had no choice but to retreat in a hurry.
“No helping it. Our goal this time was just to protect the Holy Grail from the Dialogue Church’s demonic beasts. We’ll have to be satisfied with repelling them.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“But Sion.”
Kurt looked at my face.
“That attack you hit Sapphireus with earlier—what the hell was that?”
“Oh, that.”
I picked up Ashurai, which had fallen nearby, as I replied.
“When I channeled mana into the sword, this mysterious power suddenly surged up.”
“What?”
“Ashurai was originally forged by spirits, right? So maybe it reacted to the lightning Archbishop Sapphireus conjured and recreated the power of a lightning spirit?”
“Hmm...”
Kurt tilted his head.
“Is there still some hidden power in the Demon Spirit Sword that we haven’t figured out? Amazing.”
It was impossible for someone like me, with only sixth-rank mana levels, to land a solid hit on Sapphireus. In the end, I had to chalk it up to Ashurai’s latent power manifesting.
“Archbishop Hazel never drew that kind of power from the sword, though.”
“He didn’t?”
“No, he mostly unleashed this crimson flame-like mana.”
There was a hint of melancholy in Kurt’s voice as he said it.
“My goal was always to one day surpass that bastard... but he ended up dying so pointlessly, and now you’re the one wielding his sword.”
“...”
“It’s a strange feeling.”
I felt the same strange mix of emotions.
Back when I was Archbishop Hazel, I’d clashed with Kurt multiple times in fierce battles.
Thinking of that same Kurt now protecting me as his son made fate seem like one hell of a joke.
“Sion, don’t put that technique you just used in any reports. Don’t tell a soul.”
“Is that okay?”
“If word gets to Brother Sershes or Sister Helena, they’ll try to take it back.”
Kurt winked at me.
“Study it well and make that power your own.”
“Got it, Father.”
Hearing my reply, Kurt placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Anyway... you did great today, Sion.”
Kurt led me toward the gorge.
Gazing down at the ravine, now unrecognizable from the landslide, he spoke in a gentle tone.
“This victory belongs to me and you—father and son.”
Down below, Kurt’s Judgment Knight Brigade and our 13th Unit stood shoulder to shoulder, roaring in triumph.
Almost all the Dialogue Church forces were either dead or captured.
“Wave to them, Sion.”
When Kurt and I waved together, the cheers from below grew even louder.
They were cheering for me and Kurt equally.
“I was really worried at first, but now you’re a proper Holy Knight.”
“Father...”
“I’m proud of you.”
Hearing that, as Sion Aleyas—Kurt’s son—I felt a pure swell of pride.
* * *
“Huff... huff...”
Bishop Mateur lay sprawled in the carriage, utterly spent.
He’d exhausted his mana and stamina treating the wounded and supporting the allies.
“Damn it, an elite like me, going through this...”
Mateur was originally a bishop who worked in administration and research, with hardly any combat experience.
He’d joined the escort for negotiations with Count Klaus and to ensure the Holy Grail’s safe transport, never imagining he’d end up in such a brutal fight.
“That damn Sion Aleyas, that Holy Knight who’s no Holy Knight...”
Grinding his teeth, Mateur glanced around warily.
But the carriage only held a low-ranking knight who was asleep, and outside was abuzz with victory cheers.
“Hmph, everyone’s so worked up.”
Truth be told, Mateur wanted to join the festivities too, but dignity held him back.
A high-ranking Holy Spirit Church cleric couldn’t go hugging rough Holy Knights in celebration.
“My mission is just to deliver the Holy Grail safely to the Papal Court. No need to mingle with those types.”
Muttering to himself, Mateur turned his head.
He wanted to check on the Holy Grail, securely stored in the carriage.
“Huh...?”
For a moment, Mateur wondered if he was seeing things.
There, reaching toward the Holy Grail, was a strange woman who hadn’t been in the carriage moments ago.
“You, what the...”
He tried to raise his voice in alarm, but it was no use.
The woman crooked her finger, and Mateur blacked out.
* * *
Taking advantage of the knights’ relaxed vigilance, the woman had slipped into the carriage.
But as her hand reached for the Holy Grail, a low-ranking knight—who’d been asleep until just now—stopped her.
“So you showed up here after all.”
Dietrich dispelled his disguise magic and reverted to his true form.
The moment his legendary elf-like features emerged, the woman trying to steal the Holy Grail flinched in surprise.
“Dietrich...?”
“That’s right, me.”
Moments ago, Dietrich had disguised himself as an injured knight to enter the carriage.
He’d lain next to Mateur, pretending to be unconscious, waiting.
For the moment this woman appeared.
“Striking not amid the fierce chaos, but when victory’s won and everyone’s guard is down. Just like you.”
“...”
“Sixteen years, huh? You haven’t changed a bit either. Must be your heritage.”
Staring at the woman with her red-and-white streaked hair, Dietrich spoke calmly.
“You’ve finally revealed yourself, Casaria.”
Casaria.
The subordinate of Archbishop Hazel, known by the moniker White Butterfly.
The fanatic devotee of Archbishop Hazel had at last appeared.
“You were after the Holy Grail, weren’t you?”
“You can see that, Dietrich.”
Her voice was icy.
“How’d you predict I’d show up?”
“With rumors spreading this far, I figured it’d reach your ears.”
“...”
“I didn’t know back then, but now I understand your true goal. So it wasn’t hard to predict how you’d act in a situation like this.”
Indeed.
In his recent conversation with his lord, Dietrich had realized what Casaria’s real purpose was.
“Casaria, your goal... is to resurrect our lord.”
Even hearing Dietrich’s words, Casaria said nothing.
But Dietrich knew that silence meant affirmation.
“The truth is, it never sat right with me. You, who revered our lord more than anyone, fleeing over the Winter Mountains instead of seeking revenge on his killer.”
“...”
“If you’d stepped up for vengeance, I and the others would’ve joined you. And... we’d have failed, following our lord to the grave.”
No one would’ve bet on success.
But Dietrich and the others had thought Casaria would charge at them madly anyway, win or lose.
“You didn’t seek revenge. But it wasn’t because you valued your life too much.”
“...”
“You had another purpose. Bringing back our lord, who’d already lost his life.”
Yes.
Casaria’s goal was the resurrection of Archbishop Hazel.
For that, she’d wandered the continent for over a decade.
And now she’d appeared here to seize the Holy Grail.
“Casaria, why didn’t you ever tell us your plan?”
“If I had...”
Her voice remained cold.
“...would you have cooperated?”
“We... probably wouldn’t have.”
Reviving someone who’d died once was an absurd notion.
Necromancy could reanimate them as undead even now, but they’d just be mindless monsters, stripped of human reason.
“Casaria, true resurrection of the dead is absolutely impossible by modern magical theory.”
“But the Holy Spirit Church scriptures mention resurrection multiple times.”
“That’s the church exaggerating! Even their internal research concluded it wasn’t real resurrection!”
“I don’t buy that.”
“Casaria!”
“If there’s even a 0.1% chance, I’ll stake my entire life on it.”
Casaria’s eyes burned with resolve.
“Beyond the church scriptures, this continent’s full of resurrection legends. Some even say someone dead for a thousand years came back.”
“Casaria...”
“I’ll verify every one of them. Until the day I die.”
Looking at Casaria, Dietrich felt chills run down his spine.
What she was doing wasn’t rational.
‘She’s... consumed by madness, just like lord said.’
Casaria’s loyalty to Archbishop Hazel was fanaticism, in a different vein from Dietrich’s.
But with Hazel’s murder... Casaria had completely lost it.
‘Logically, verifying every resurrection legend on the continent alone is near impossible. Especially since she’s no mage and lacks knowledge in the field.’
Casaria was even more inept than Dietrich when it came to such things.
She couldn’t gather manpower or resources for proper research.
She’d probably bumbled through it solo, piecing things together haphazardly.
‘Any sane person would’ve given up long ago.’
The odds weren’t 0.1%. They were far lower—practically zero.
To wander alone for over a decade like that... only madness could sustain it.
‘Just as lord pointed out.’
He’d heard it recently.
Casaria might not be in a normal state of mind, so if they met, persuade her with extreme caution.
‘Right. I’ll explain it carefully.’
Dietrich took a deep breath and spoke.
“Casaria, listen up.”
“What?”
“I get where you’re coming from. But you need to know this.”
“What are you getting at?”
Looking at her puzzled face, Dietrich spoke slowly.
“I’m acting on our lord’s orders right now.”
“What?”
“Our lord has reincarnated in a new body. I’ve been with the reborn lord for months now.”
As calmly as possible, to avoid shocking her.
“So there’s no need to try resurrecting him. He’s already reincarnated.”
Dietrich watched Casaria’s face as he said it.
But her expression didn’t change.
Maintaining her cold demeanor, Casaria opened her mouth.
“Dietrich.”
“Casaria...”
“There’s no such thing as reincarnation in reality. Have you lost your mind?”
Her perfectly sane reaction left Dietrich on the verge of madness himself.