Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Antara's Rest
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“Does it suit your taste?”
Barus spoke to Sein with a kindly smile.
Sein had rejected Barus’s suggestion to talk inside.
But now.
Slurp.
Sein was being served tea in Tarian’s office.
“Since you seem to dislike beating around the bush, I’ll get straight to the point.”
The expression on Barus’s face had changed upon hearing the words bishop-level and rest, and he had pleaded for another conversation since getting what he wanted would be difficult.
‘Bishop-level is too tough right now, it seems.’
In Sanctuary, where level 30 was the max, a bishop-level priest was level 20 or higher.
Even though Sein had regained his strength quickly with Arin’s help, taking on a bishop-level right now was impossible.
Moreover, this was the enemy’s home turf.
“It’s true that I possess bishop-level holy power, but I’m not a bishop.”
There was value in hearing him out.
“…….”
Sein stared straight into Barus’s eyes, waiting for his words.
“And also….”
Barus spoke to Sein while maintaining the world’s warmest smile.
“Rest, you say? Are you asking me to grant you death?”
Rest.
It was the word Sein had uttered.
“Didn’t you say we were getting to the point? Testing me is annoying.”
“You truly know about rest?”
Silence was affirmation.
Having obtained his answer from Sein’s silence, Barus finally dropped his smile.
“Rest. It’s been ages since I’ve met someone who truly knows about Antara’s rest.”
Antara’s rest.
“But even so, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
“Ha.”
As Sein’s brow furrowed.
“As I said, I’m not a bishop.”
A priest with bishop-level holy power, yet not a bishop.
A contradiction.
A priest who warmly embraces people and preaches love, yet runs a slave market.
Another contradiction.
However.
“I didn’t bother coming all the way in here for you.”
There was no need to dwell on such complicated contradictions.
“Dealing with you or the priests here would be quite a hassle, but….”
Thud.
Sein propped both legs up on the table, crossed them, and spoke.
“If I have to, I can manage.”
Alone, maybe not.
“But the witch is here.”
“……!”
It was the first crack in Barus’s face at the word witch.
Bewilderment, fluster.
And rage.
Whoooosh—!
The surging holy power filled the room as if to devour Sein’s madness.
“Enough.”
A voice rang out.
Whoosh!
The holy power that had raged like a storm vanished in an instant.
Because an even greater, warmer energy was embracing everything.
The open door.
Standing there was Tairan’s aged gatekeeper.
“His words are true.”
“Yes?”
“The witch has arrived in Antara, they say. The legion’s witch.”
“……!”
It was old man Gali.
Cloudy white eyes, hunched back.
Yet the intense aura emanating from the old man’s body seemed like it could withstand all of Tairan charging at him.
What overflows must spill over.
But old man Gali, over those long years as Tairan’s gatekeeper, had never even leaked a fragment of his holy power.
It meant he was a vessel capable of containing his overflowing holy power.
“You’re the one.”
The owner of bestowed holy power, not manufactured.
“Antara’s archbishop.”
Sein, who had turned around, looked straight at old man Gali and said.
This, too, might be a ghost from the past.
*
*
*
Underground passage.
As is common for those with many secrets, Tarian also had a secret passage.
Sein was walking through it with old man Gali and Barus.
“It’s astonishing.”
The one who spoke first was Sein.
“To think you’d cultivate holy power in such a manner.”
The priests who were said to have vanished.
They existed right here in Tarian.
Beings that were secrets yet not secrets.
‘Demorus’s protection must have been at play.’
They were erased from the world but still existed.
By the logic of the underworld.
Holy power was an exceptional force.
At its peak, it could even resurrect the dead.
In this era where priests had vanished, even with alchemists and mages, holy power was something they couldn’t easily relinquish.
‘Keep their lineage alive and under surveillance.’
That must have been the secret pact the underworld had made.
What was impressive was.
‘The method of raising priests.’
With temples gone, unable to receive holy power from Anhel, they forcibly planted and nurtured seeds of holy power.
“Heal the most pained.”
According to Anhel’s teachings.
“Tend to the lowliest.”
Even if the result was tragic.
Barus was the outcome of that.
A monster with bishop-level holy power, though not acknowledged as a bishop.
How many thousands of slaves had he healed to grow his holy power?
And this method was from the past….
“The Saint said.”
Old man Gali opened his mouth.
“Even without Anhel’s blessing, holy power grows by devouring pain.”
“…….”
“Acting upon God’s teachings without relying on God is also a manifestation of divinity.”
Old man Gali had stopped at some point and was gazing at Sein.
“Thanks to his teachings, we have not lost our faith.”
Eyes conveying firm belief and goodwill.
Even Barus found it puzzling.
“What do you intend to seek in the rest?”
“…….”
Sein’s madness subsided.
“Is what you seek to be found in the rest?”
“It will be.”
Sein walked onward.
Barus and old man Gali had stopped before they knew it.
“What I seek in the rest is….”
Sein’s voice echoed.
“…the minimal power to right what is wrong.”
Ssssh.
In that moment, Sein was swallowed by the darkness and vanished.
Left behind were Barus and old man Gali.
No.
“Galio.”
Archbishop Galio.
He was the warrior who had lived over 120 years, guarding the dwindling faith in Anhel.
“What in the world is rest?”
Barus, who called himself his vice, asked.
“Who in the world is that man?”
He asked again.
Just three times.
The number of times Tarian had been founded and Galio had moved.
And today, the third became the fourth.
“I met him long ago.”
Cloudy gray-white eyes, light flickered beyond them.
“The last saint.”
“……!”
The last saint.
And the name by which he was called.
“The fallen saint, the Destroyer?”
It couldn’t be.
“How could a dead man appear here?”
Barus could not ignore Galio.
*
*
*
‘Galio.’
He had seen him once.
A novice priest at Antara’s grand temple.
-Glorious sun of the empire, I see you!
A priest to whom the word rookie suited perfectly.
Bowing to him, yet standing tall in faith toward God.
For an AI, his sparkle was too bright to dismiss.
“Creepy. Didn’t expect him to still be alive.”
An aged body, eyes that had lost their light, but he could tell.
The light beyond.
And the warm aura of holy power.
“Perhaps it’s for the best.”
Walking through the darkness, Sein muttered to himself.
As if bouncing sound to avoid losing his way.
“I was wondering how to enter the rest.”
Antara’s rest.
A secret space accessible only to the qualified.
And.
Fwoosh!
A blue ghost flame ignited somewhere, illuminating the passage.
“It was a place brimming with holy power.”
Rest was a kind of trial.
Where the candidate for Antara’s archbishop receives recognition from the archbishops slumbering in rest.
Fwoosh!
Ultimately meeting Anhel and gaining the qualifications of an archbishop.
Though Antara’s rest had fallen into ruin and the temple lost its light, Galio still guarded the path to it.
It was then.
Shing.
Sein’s sword was drawn, gleaming.
A place that should hold rest and silence.
Grrrrowl!
A eerie growl echoed from somewhere.
“End times. End times.”
Sein clicked his tongue.
“Priests who lost their god.”
What he had seen upon entering Antara.
“Inflicting wounds and healing them.”
Smirk.
But Sein’s lips were smiling.
This was most comfortable.
“Undead in the holiest of holy sites.”
Grrowl!
What revealed itself was a mass of mangled corpses, unrecognizable in form.
A clump of vengeful spirits fused together.
Once, they must have been priests holier than any.
But now.
“I’ll give it back.”
Monsters to hunt.
Crackle.
The Dragon Heart activated, and Sein vanished like mist.
Flash!
He reappeared atop the corpse mass.
The blade surging with blue mana.
Craaaack!
Sliced the vengeful spirit clump to pieces.
*
*
*
Slave district.
Ssssh.
Men who had been scattered now gathered in one place, moving stealthily.
“What a foul stench.”
“It’s nauseating.”
Hiding their displeasure poorly, as if visiting the slave district for the first time.
Without their hoods, their contorted faces might have drawn all eyes.
“But it ends today.”
One became two.
Two became three.
Three became twelve.
“We will purify this cursed city.”
Eyes flickered beneath the robes.
“Is Archbishop Galio really here?”
“Don’t call that demon an archbishop.”
“…My apologies.”
They walked straight, belying it being their first time in the slave district.
The street grew darker and more secluded.
“Our goals are three.”
The one in front spoke.
“Slay the demon Galio.”
Slay the great demon of the city turned demon’s den.
“…Reclaim.”
Voices growing quieter.
Shing.
They drew their swords one by one.
“Finally.”
They slowly removed their robes.
A vivid scar marked each forehead.
“Secure the saintess.”
Long ago, the infamous knight order.
The Iron Cross Knights had arrived.