Chapter 109
Translator: uly
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Mir Deployment, Cheret
"Mir, come."
The words Bulki whispered like a breath summoned light into this tale. These scorching words, hot enough to sear the tongue, existed not as a voice riding the air but as a sentence woven into the myth that birthed this story.
In that instant, Bulki's eyes, barely lifted, gleamed golden like the eyes of Cheret, the Glory Mir symbolizing purification. Their gazes intertwined, and soon Cheret was drawn into that stare.
A wind pregnant with light, a gale fierce and chilling, blew through. Cheret vanished from beneath the archangel's feet, pulled to the end of that gaze that had absorbed her.
This bizarre yet beautiful gale lifted Bulki to his feet.
A mystical vapor, like steam rising from burning ice, began to overflow around him. His form filled with black light.
"At last..."
Archangel Tehilla raised a hand to shield her eyes from the brilliance outshining her own. It was blinding. That must have been why she couldn't see clearly before, out of regret at missing even a single moment of the Hero deploying the Mir. The sacred instant when a true Hero of glory was born.
Bulki thrust his glowing sword upward, high into the sky.
Mir deployment, Cheret.
In the sword's place, something even brighter than light took form and settled into Bulki's grasp.
Without a sound, the holy descended upon this land. One might say Bulki's appearance hadn't changed at all, but the halo behind his head-larger than that of the archangel-and his eyes proclaimed his stature utterly transformed. And that which shone brighter than light now took definite shape. With a thunderous roar that could shatter the entire temple, a torrent of light erupted.
Bam-!
"This is..."
His sword had become a massive hammer, too enormous for one hand to wield comfortably. Was this the form of the weapon the future Hero was said to have wielded? Bulki examined the astonishingly light blade of light, swinging it this way and that. Each time, light scattered like stardust from a holy star, falling downward or bursting into the air.
"Cheret."
Bulki instinctively knew that the sword he now held was Cheret's new form, deployed and unfurled. He gripped it tightly and stared at the archangel, his foe.
"To think you've even earned the Mir's recognition."
Originally, it was Archangel Tehilla of faith who first devised the method to deploy the Mir. Thanks to her, the first Hero wielded Cheret-Or's dearest friend and mightiest sword-to fell the first Demon King.
The trial was meant to end here. No matter that she was an archangel now; she could not defeat the one wielding Or's sword. Yet she couldn't stop the trial. She wanted to test him more. She yearned to confirm if this era's Hero matched the first Hero she had witnessed in strength.
She wanted to believe it was the reward from the gods-or will, or the tale itself-for enduring these long ages of sacrifice.
"Why... are you crying, Archangel?"
"Because I have achieved all I sought to do."
Her role had ended back in the mythic age they now called legend.
She was meant to exit the tale and claim eternal rest. Yet she endured. As the flesh of the gods rotted away, she clung to her will in this cramped pocket world, waiting stubbornly. Waiting for another like the first Hero to appear. Now that Promnain, his brother, had vanished from the world, she hoped to carry on his will this time. That was all Archangel Tehilla had ever wanted-and it had come to pass.
"Hero."
But she wanted to test him more. To receive more reward. To fight and die like this.
"Praise it!"
She wanted to praise this beautiful world, this tale. Tears streaming from eyes filled with ecstasy, the archangel charged at Bulki once more. Still unfamiliar with the deployment, Bulki could only raise his sword to block.
Bam!
That alone nearly swallowed Archangel Tehilla in light, erasing her existence.
"Urk."
The archangel bled, hurled to the ceiling in a crash before plummeting to the ground.
"What in the world..."
Bulki still didn't grasp his own power. Come to think of it, Eden Sonain had tried to deploy the Mir too, hadn't he? No-with this surging power, had he succeeded, this tale never would have begun. Why hadn't he used it that day... or rather, why not until that day?
And what exactly had this angel accomplished? How could she wear such a pure smile while vomiting azure blood?
Yet amid the flood of questions, he instinctively knew to handle this immense power with care. If the Hero rampaged in this state, even Or's corpse might vanish.
"Not enough! Show me greater glory-greater!"
The archangel regripped her strongest sword and charged again. This time, she twisted her wings to maintain balance, pouring everything into the assault. But Bulki now knew.
Simply "parrying" that attack, rather than just "blocking" it, would surely kill Archangel Tehilla.
"Praise it!"
"Wait!"
Bam!
"Argh!"
But how to handle an archangel who charged endlessly, like a moth hurling itself into flames, her body oxidizing away? Who had called life mere madness?
"Not enough... Compared to Sonain, you fall far short, Hero."
Thus, a life stretching back to the primordial dawn-this madness would not end until she died. Bulki realized the archangel was twisted in some way too. They had clashed over the progeny of sin, debated right and wrong by their own measures, but letting her die like this wasn't good.
To walk the path he sought as Hero, he had to save her too. First, to satisfy her inscrutable desires, he needed a way to subdue the archangel lost in madness.
"Cheret! I have to end the deployment!"
"Praise it!"
Archangel Tehilla unleashed every attack she could muster at Bulki. But even without Bulki swinging the massive Cheret-infused hammer, the mere clash against its haft was consuming Tehilla in light, driving her toward death.
Bam!
Yet the Mir deployment did not release.
"Damn... No choice, then!"
Bulki's wounds had already fully healed. So, for Archangel Tehilla alone, he decided to buy time by knocking her down. Gripping his sword with both hands, he raised it toward this temple.
[Judgment of Glory].
And in that moment, glory cleaved the world like light splitting the heavens, crashing toward the temple.
"Yes... This satisfies me."
Bam-!
Blocking it was Jeker, the mightiest among archangels of judgment-terror-stricken yet risen again on the prayers of others.
"Haa."
But no matter how mighty the archangel of judgment, it wasn't enough to block the [Judgment of Glory] from this Hero. Shainelius barely managed to haul him back from the fall. But since it all happened in the heavens, neither Bulki nor Tehilla in the temple knew.
"Damn, then once more! Huh?"
And just then, the deployment ended right on cue. Bulki's golden giant sword oxidized into light, and Cheret collapsed beside it.
"No! Don't extinguish the light!"
Tehilla screamed at the sight, attacking Bulki like one who had lost the very reason for her birth.
This time, the archangel's light devoured Bulki wildly, like a demon's assault. He couldn't even block it. In an instant, flesh tore, bones shattered, his skull cracked against her wing, teeth vanished with his jawbone under her fist. His arm twisted, his knee buckled, and the hand that held the sword was already severed.
Only then did Tehilla come to her senses.
"Wh-what is this..."
Madness masquerading as ecstasy faded, and Tehilla slowly embraced the Hero, tears flowing once more.
"This isn't what I wanted... Oh, El Or."
Her great hands trembled. She couldn't comprehend the tragedy she had wrought. What had she done? After all those ages, had she snuffed out that radiant light with her own hands? Why hadn't the Hero killed her in her madness?
"Why... why didn't you stop?"
Her tears reached the Hero's eyes, barely open amid the haze. Bulki forced strength into his shattered jaw to answer.
"Orin... iriniha."
Because it was the right thing to do. The good had ultimately triumphed in the trial, reaching the archangel.
"The trial is over, Hero. You are truly strong-the guiding star of this tale."
Having received the archangel's final acknowledgment, Bulki turned his eyes to close them in death. There, his comrades rushed toward him, having found him. Thankfully, safe, escaped.
"Dapba... ganel."
Was Dapbaganel safe? That was Bulki's final thought. Thus, radiating the most brilliant light, the Hero closed his eyes atop Or's corpse.
Tehilla bowed her head to his noble sacrifice and spoke. The good slumbered in the archangel's embrace.
"I lose, Hero."
And someone began to pray for the Hero.
"Praise the fallen saint of goodness, Jemira."
Not Or's greatest power, nor his most faithful belief, but Or's most saintly prayer descended upon the Hero. His body rose into the air, slowly mended, and descended to the ground once more.
"Haa..."
Tehilla bowed again to the resurrected Hero, overwhelmed by awe. Then all the other archangels-all angels in this world-bowed toward Bulki. His comrades approached the still-dazed Bulki.
"Hero, you okay? What just... Oh, El Or. I'mean..."
"Hero Gong! Sa- you're alive? What is this? The heavenly host, looking at us and..."
"Bulki."
Liliet took Bulki's hand and turned toward Jemira. The trial was over now; the Hero's tale could advance to the next chapter.
"Good thing we're not too late. I am Jemira, archangel of prayer. I am the one who will tell you the truth of this world."
Toward the truth.