Chapter 156
Chapter 156
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 156
Chapter Title: The False Shrine Maiden
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"Lin, Rain, Lin—emergency, emergency, super emergency!"
Unnoticed when it had flown in, Pipi circled above my head, warning of the enemy's threat approaching through the thick fog beyond.
Hostile presences pressed in from all directions... but I couldn't use Bell Sidias. Just like that time, this fog interfered with everything.
If this was the method to seal Bell Sidias and Bell Quirius, then all I had to do was create another way.
"Mental image construct... Fire Alert, Flow-Quantity-World-Honor."
A massive fire rune unfurled across the ground centered on me, and soon triangular forms bearing runes rose one after another at the five positions around its circle.
Flow.
Quantity.
World.
Honor.
Alert.
The mental rune to use was Quantity; the desired spell was a detection magic to dispel this fog. Moments later, Probe and Capture runes flashed into existence within Quantity's formation.
"Deploy..."
The sensation of extending my senses and mana outward across a vast expanse. It detected the presences of supernatural abilities laced with killing intent.
Soon, hazy outlines began to take shape within the fog. Seven witches unfurling long scrolls and chanting, amplifying their shamanic power by reciting the entirety of the Dragon Scripture's incantations.
Hundreds of ice spears launched from that grand array of characters, slicing through the air with sharp whistles as they flew in unison.
"Rune engraving shift... Melt, Burst."
The instant the Flow rune flashed, the supernatural detection waves that had stretched out like heat haze across a thirty-meter radius transformed into ferocious flames.
The ice spears and fog in the area vaporized entirely, spewing massive clouds of steam, and the witches caught in the midst were engulfed in fire, screaming in agony before collapsing as charred husks.
At that moment, the boy had to clutch the major joint near his scapula with a short groan.
"Mana depletion...?"
Though Yeouiju's infinite mana resonated with Black Yang Lin to immediately infuse his body with fresh power, it was an utterly bizarre phenomenon.
'It felt like this when I used Bell Quirius during <Landkeep> too... Is it because of this fog?'
There was no time to dwell on it.
Amid the acrid stench of sulfur and burning flesh seeping into the fog, he propped himself up using Four Barrier Palms.
"Wh-which way, Pipi...? Where are Aki and Miria...?"
He asked again, vomiting blood.
He felt a dull ache inside his flesh as transcendent flames smoldered, reassembling his broken ribs and regenerating his severely damaged organs.
It was akin to emergency treatment manifested by transcendent power to protect his frail body—embarrassingly inferior compared to ultra-high-speed regeneration.
"North, north, north!"
The fog vaporized by the heat condensed as dew on the marble statue of Fride, who puffed on her pipe. As that dew trickled down like tears, the boy dragged his legs along the main street.
Then footsteps echoed from somewhere, spearmen poured out, and a flock of crows descended from the sky... but Pipi spread wings of flame and shot toward them fiercely.
"Go, go, go, go."
Meanwhile, in the bustling northern district of the city, a squelching explosion erupted once more, and a two-story brothel building ignited and melted simultaneously.
Startled by the commotion, a few citizens woke and blinked sleepily... but amid the overwhelming killing intent that choked their breath, they foamed at the mouth and fainted again.
Thus, a woman in a sedge hat crossed through the gaps between sleeping or convulsing citizens with dignified strides.
"......"
She walked leisurely for only a moment before silencing even her breath and footsteps, carefully listening toward somewhere beyond the fog.
She heard it—a crying sound.
The instant she pinpointed the direction, she thrust out her pipe, and the fog parted to both sides, imprinting the source of the noise onto her mind's eye.
"Aba—ot... Aba—ot... Aba—ot..."
Not merely resembling flames, but flames incarnate: red hair and golden eyes.
Though its body was so small, the faintly sensed ultimate power left no doubt—it was a true dragon's spirit.
Left alone by the roadside, it crawled desperately in search of its parents. As the woman moved to approach, she suddenly halted.
'Why is the hatchling alone? Where did the swordmaster who was with its guardian go?'
Right behind her.
An arrow piercing through the fog might have skewered her nape. Had she not spun around and swung her pipe at that instant.
It was a master assassin's strike, timing the disrupted breath to target her heart.
But as the woman extended her hand, shamanic power rapidly coalesced in her grasp, forming a staff... and the blade glancing off that lowered thrust.
"......!"
Had it not even anticipated the counter? The eyes of the goblin slayer who had burst from the fog widened in shock.
A mage from three hundred years ago would have called this exquisite counter "Lin's staff arts," while a modern mage witnessing it would have shouted "Osarius-style staff arts."
It was no surprise. The woman had been present when Archmage Lin learned staff arts from Hero Rista.
"No, you are......"
But the reason Miria was stunned lay elsewhere...
No.
This can't be.
The figure etched in her retina was far too identical to the marble statue beyond, wearing a worn sedge hat and puffing a pipe.
A national hero impossible to ignore for any citizen of the Republic... the Ashen Shrine Maiden, Tureina.
Separate from that, for some reason, a dizzying vertigo resonated from the depths of her soul, striking her mind. That instant of shock decided victory and defeat.
As the woman spun and thrust her staff deep into Miria's abdomen, the shamanic power concentrated at its tip erupted, blasting Miria away.
"───!"
Crashing through fruit stalls, splintering wooden pillars, tumbling amid shattered fruit, Miria spewed blood.
As the woman aimed her pipe and murmured quietly, causing lethal shamanic power to gather in a whirlwind of air—
She instantly shifted her offensive runes to defensive ones; no sooner had a square barrier unfolded around the woman than a torrent of flames surged in.
Kwarrr rumble───!
No sooner had the raging flames been neutralized by the barrier than the runes shifted again. The barrier's power fragmented into countless wind blades, surging toward the direction the flames had come from.
────Shhhh shhhh shhhh!
Rune engraving shift...?
By the time the boy incredulously raised a wall of fire to block all those sharp winds, the fog had thickened once more, obscuring everything.
'As I thought, this fog is the problem...'
Not just Bell Quirius.
My innate power wouldn't manifest properly. The dull pain of mana limits pressed on my heart and major joints.
'Some force controlling dragon power...?'
In the thick fog where only the opponent's mana was faintly detectable, magic and shamanism clashed repeatedly, crumbling a city block into rubble and swirling dust.
Flames incinerated abyssal venom fire, shamanic light repelled transcendent hellfire.
Sweat slicked his entire body. He'd unleashed at least ten 3rd and 4th-star magics enhanced by the Honor of the mental barrier without mercy, yet she blocked them all and counterattacked?
'Even roughly estimating, she's several levels above a magic fortress's level. Perhaps on par with me three hundred years ago—or even a cut above...'
But beyond that, something was off.
Her way of using supernatural attributes was far too identical... to my old self, Lin. How could it be this similar?
He'd thought reaching close quarters would seize the advantage, but her staff lightly deflected his flaming stone staff, scattering embers.
'This...?'
There was something else hard to comprehend.
Osarius-style staff arts were proficiently used even by Libenina and Ribadin, so another black mage employing them wasn't particularly shocking. They were always somewhat crude compared to him, after all.
But this one's staff arts... even setting aside his current sluggishness from injuries, surpassed the creator himself.
'How is this possible? If it were just superior swordsmanship or spearmanship, fine—but staff arts taught by Rista more refined than mine?'
Strange.
Far too strange.
Amid the countless clashes in the fog, the instant her staff struck his wrist with a cracking fracture, his stone staff smashed her side, sending her flying into the fog.
"Ha, kgh, haa..."
Thinking he'd ruptured a couple organs, he caught his breath—but soon a chilling pulse of power echoed from the fog, making his heart leap.
"Primal Holy Light Creates Heaven and Earth, the Land is Vast Chaos, Abyss Face is Darkened Eclipse, Holy Light Spirit Moves Upon the Waters."
The recitation of sacred, majestic words ignited ultimate power in itself. Space creaked as power converged; words formed sentences, sentences paragraphs, summoning ever greater might.
The moment he realized the nature of that language, chills raced across his skin.
He'd heard it before. No, he remembered it vividly. How could he forget Fride's primary scripture, the Illuminating Psalms.
"Holy, Light, Says, Shall, Be, Light, Is, Be, Light."
The most sacred, noble, and holy verses from the Dragon Scripture's vast tales, captured verbatim in seven scrolls.
In other words, the Genesis Heptad.
Shrine maidens were their guardians and proxies, reciting the characters to wield miracle-like power. And that was the holy verse from Fride's favored Illuminating Psalms.
"Holy Light Regards Light as Good, Thus Divides Light from Dark."
Along with the Manifest Psalms and Verse of Omens, it was said to have been lost with Fride's disappearance—how...? But there was no time to panic.
Dazzling chains of light were already unfolding dozens of layers around him, laying the foundation for sealing. The recitation's end would bind him.
His wrist was shattered, preventing seals, but he had to use it. Getting caught meant the end...
'Brain Chamber Anti-Blood won't work.'
Threads of light rose above his palm, swiftly forming five layers of triangular magic circles, red lightning crackling wildly around them.
'Going with Fire Chamber Anti-Blood.'
Even ten great shrine maidens beneath a head shrine maiden wouldn't dare use these psalms—how could a mere black mage...? But...
Psalm power was divine power; anything bound by it had its body, matter, and soul restrained.
Yet using that psalm was the opponent's fatal mistake. He knew its traits better than any mage.
The brilliant light from the psalm scrolls during casting pierced even this fog.
'Thanks to that, coordinates locked.'
Yorhen-type rapid calculations, limited by the fog's mana cap, yielded only two of the original seven lightning generation formulas—but root rune 5th-star magic meant two strikes sufficed.
The instant the magic circle shattered above his palm, ultimate fire magic borrowing root power soared into the night sky, trailing a long tail of flame.
The night sky was rent long by that blaze, then spat a comet like fresh blood. A heaven-scorching vortex plummeted toward the calculated coordinates.
Blinding flash that burned the eyes.
Deafening explosion that tore eardrums.
A half-beat later, shockwave sweeping the ground low, blasting away all moisture.
It was victory by a hair's breadth.
That instant, as the surrounding fog incinerated and vision opened wide, if he'd blinked dazedly instead of dropping the second lightning...
The psalm scrolls seemed to have swirled light to shield the caster, mitigating damage—but transcendent flames pierced even divine scrolls, inflicting serious harm.
The problem wasn't the spell's power or outcome, but the opponent's form revealed by it.
'No...'
Déjà vu surged. No, not déjà vu—something more disorienting, chaotic, gooseflesh-inducing wrongness.
Worn sedge hat tinged blue, pipe at her waist engraved with a dragon.
Copper skin shimmering with translucent light, features chiseled like sculpture. Gloomy aura from expressionless eyes beneath raven hair.
'Outfit and tools can be mimicked somehow. But that appearance, that face...'
Identical to book illustrations, the portraits in the memorial hall earlier, and the statue right behind him.
- Shabu, shabu!
As if the second hand had broken, in stopped time where even his heartbeat went unheard, echoes of the past rang in his mind like vertigo.
The possibility of reunion he'd crushed while dreaming post-long slumber, the suspicions painfully rising against black mages, Yeriserika's cryptic prophecy—all crystallized in this instant?
What snapped the frozen silence, where even breath failed, was another old friend.
"Tureina, Tureina, Tureina."
Our Pipi.
Delighted beyond measure, it circled her head with laborious wingbeats, body bloodied from fighting spearmen and witches.
'No, no. Pipi, that one...'
As the Lin in his heart denied this situation, this encounter, the shadow of the past did the unbelievable.
Narrowing her eyes as if seeing Pipi for the first time, she swung her right hand to swat it away. Then clutched her forehead, groaning in pain.
'She doesn't know Pipi...?'
The confirmation should have made him recognize the fake and unleash the second lightning—as she began reciting psalm verses again.
Just one command.
One command would end it.
Reason screamed to do so, but heart and soul... refused. He could only witness numbly the heat of tears down his cheeks and the trembling blur of vision.
That was his downfall.
As the holy incantation ended, the elegant script filling the psalm scrolls rose hugely and brilliantly into the air... wove into a single rope, and bound his body and soul in an instant.
'No way that's real...'
Since his own Jeoseo Chain Lotus Flame mimicked this Illuminating Psalm, resistance became meaningless once bound.
It nullified all power of the target. The power moving the body, infinite mana, all matter, phenomena, soul...
An eerie chill spread slowly from the bound areas across his body.
'No way it's real...'
His body stiffened, consciousness frayed into murk, head lolled uncontrollably. Through warped, shaking senses came muffled voices.
"...I'll take the spirit first."
"...Aba, aba, aba—ot!"
"...What about those?"
"...No need for the woman. The man... he's the dragon's guardian, so just in case. Drag them to the altar once the psalm stabilizes."
The overwhelming presence gradually receded and vanished; suffocating silence followed, then women's screams echoed not far away.
"...What are you doing now? Betraying her? You were her faithful servant—why?"
Flashes of mana and shamanism pierced even his closed eyelids, painfully bright.
How much his head had been shaken? Silence fell again, then a new woman's voice rang out.
"...This one's hit by Illuminating Psalms."
"...Please."
A prayer easing his taut consciousness echoed in his ears.
How long had he listened? The linguistic bonds immobilizing him entirely suddenly released.
Instantly, an intoxicating liberation slammed his thoughts to the depths of awareness.