Chapter 329: Why Are You So Skilled at This?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 329: Why Are You So Skilled at This?
"My Lord... my Lord... my most noble, most supreme Lord..."
The shrill wail, like the whimpering of a ghost, echoed through the now-silent forest.
The priest’s eyes were vacant. He knelt on the ground, slumped and defeated, as if his very soul had been hollowed out.
"My Lord... why have You forsaken me? Why have You withdrawn Your love? Did I do something wrong? Was I not devout enough? Was I..."
"It’s simple."
A cold, indifferent voice rang out, striking the priest’s heart like the tolling of a funeral bell.
"Your Lord never loved you."
"..."
The priest’s trembling body suddenly froze. He cast a hollow look at Muen, then lowered his head to stare at the Holy Scripture in his hands.
Originally, the scripture had been filled with the divine decrees he had heard from the gods over the years—proof that the great, supreme, and noble gods loved him and the world.
But now, the yellowed pages were nothing but a blank void.
Had the words vanished along with the Divine Grace?
"I... I see."
The priest ran his fingers over the blank pages.
The Holy Scripture was no longer a holy text; it was just a useless, tattered book.
He had nothing left.
God did not love him.
God did not love the world.
"So, I was deceived all along... by the Lord I served so devoutly."
Pfft...
In that moment, it wasn't just the priest’s faith that shattered, but his heart as well.
A massive spray of hot blood erupted from his throat, staining the scripture in his hands and dousing the last flicker of light in his eyes.
For a truly devout believer, what could be more agonizing than being abandoned by the deity they worshipped?
Such pain and despair were a hundred times more terrifying than death.
The priest’s body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground.
He moved no more.
*
"Did he... literally fume himself to death?"
Muen watched cautiously for a while. Once he was certain the priest was truly dead and not playing some trick, he approached warily. He looked down at the priest’s dilated pupils, which still held the remnants of despair.
"I hadn't even started my 'talk-no-jutsu' yet, and he just coughs up blood and dies?"
"This is what happens when you stan the wrong idol."
Muen shook his head with a sigh.
"Young man, those Evil Gods are each more despicable and cunning than the last. You couldn't handle it."
To be safe, Muen reached out and gave the priest’s body a quick pat-down. He found nothing. Aside from the threadbare robe that had been washed nearly white, the man didn't even possess a single spatial magic device.
Hmm?
Noticing something, Muen pinched a clean corner of the scripture the priest had cherished so dearly and flipped through it.
Faint sparks of fire flickered at his fingertips as he inspected it. After a thorough check, Muen quickly confirmed the truth.
This really was just an ordinary, worthless book.
It wasn't some remnant left behind after the Love God devoured the Divine Grace. From the very beginning, this was a blank notebook one could buy for less than ten Emiels at any market—the kind clergy used to transcribe dogmas.
There had never been any divine decrees.
There had never been a Holy Scripture.
It had all been a pathetic delusion.
And that delusion had ultimately invited a very real catastrophe.
"I see."
Muen closed the book, tucked the "Holy Scripture" back into the priest’s embrace, and said with a hint of pity, "He was just a mental patient."
*
"So... is it finally over?"
After unceremoniously digging a hole and burying the priest, Muen felt the long-awaited peace return. He plopped down on the ground and let out a long, heavy sigh.
When the priest had started praying out of nowhere, Muen thought he was about to have another heart-pounding "encounter" with a newly summoned Evil God.
He’d nearly pissed himself.
But it was the Love God.
Thank goodness it was the Love God.
As expected of the Love God.
That level of caution—never acting without an eighty percent chance of success; that decisiveness—bolting at the first sign of trouble; that effortless lack of responsibility—taking everything and ghosting... which other Evil God could pull that off?
They’d all hang their heads in shame and admit they weren't on His level.
"The drain was just too much, though."
Muen performed a self-check. He confirmed that the Crimson Flame had repaired most of his injuries, but he couldn't help but groan at the hollow, drained sensation inside him.
When he thought about it, he had been fighting continuously for a long time.
And every single time, it was an over-leveled battle that required his absolute maximum effort.
It was ridiculous.
When the protagonist encounters enemies to show off, they usually come one by one in a logical, stepped progression of difficulty. Why was it so brutal for him?
Look at the people he’d faced—every single one was a powerhouse at least a full tier above him. For a profligate noble whose greatest ambition was to live a good life and cling to a beautiful girl’s thigh, was this really necessary?
What was his actual level? He was just a measly Third-Tier Martial Artist who couldn't even use magic. How was he supposed to win? A few months ago, he was still a delicate, pretty boy who wasn't even as strong as a maid!
"Still... compared to the crises I’ve faced before, you guys are still far behind."
Muen’s lips curled into a smirk, though whether he was mocking them or himself was unclear.
The violent Divine Grace from earlier had cleared out a large patch of giant trees and the thick layer of humus beneath them. Muen lay back comfortably on the soft soil, watching the blue sky and the clouds that were gradually turning soft and white.
As they had traveled south, the temperature had become exceptionally pleasant.
"Next... should I keep heading in the direction Liya disappeared, or wait here?"
"The enemy was so desperate; logically, we should be near the edge of the forest. If Liya successfully escaped, it’s only a matter of time before she brings help back."
"As for Barton... a fool like him won't give up easily, but he won't be back that quickly either."
"Anyway, I should rest for a bit... need to recover my strength as fast as possible."
As his eyelids grew heavy, Muen slowly closed his eyes.
Drowsiness washed over him, and his consciousness began to blur.
But just a moment before total darkness claimed him, Muen’s peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a faint, ethereal mist.
Wait.
Something’s wrong!
A sharp instinct suddenly flared deep in his mind, sending a jolt through him that snapped him awake instantly.
He bolted upright, eyes wide, scanning his surroundings.
Everything was still quiet.
Very quiet.
The bit of mist he’d seen could easily be explained as the aftereffects of the Divine Grace dissipating. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
But...
He felt like he was forgetting something.
Muen clutched his head, sinking into deep thought.
The sense of unease grew stronger. With a grim expression, Muen pulled out Elizabeth again, crossing the blades with a soft clink.
The alchemical domain of electric arcs expanded, enveloping him.
An alchemy domain could isolate one's presence, but that wasn't its only function.
It could also block negative effects.
If there were any.
"...Wait."
As the domain formed, a flash of inspiration struck Muen’s mind.
His pupils shrank as he counted on his fingers.
"The priest and the Hyena are dead. Barton went after Liya. But there should be one more person. There were four of them. Yes, four... The last one was a mage... The mage Fullar!"
Muen snapped his head up.
The moment he remembered the name, the faint mists in the forest suddenly surged and piled up as if driven by a gale.
But there wasn't a breath of wind in the forest.
What was driving that mist... was mana!
A massive amount of mana, gradually constructing a powerful spell that Muen had failed to notice until now!
Simultaneously, a voice rang out from within the churning mist.
"Oh my, so you finally noticed?"
"But it’s meaningless now. It’s too late."
"Have you prepared your last words, Muen Campbell?"
The voice was laced with hatred and the thrill of impending revenge. Muen’s eyes darted around, trying to track the source, but the voice was ethereal and drifting, making it impossible to pin down a location.
"Was that... magic too?" Muen’s face darkened.
He had indeed been too focused on his fight with the priest, but it was impossible for him to be so negligent as to completely forget a living person!
It had to be some kind of magic, and the moment he’d fallen for it must have been when he confirmed the priest’s death and let his guard down!
"That’s right, it’s magic," Fullar said, seemingly in no rush to strike.
"Presence Erasure. A very niche spell, isn't it? It’s completely useless in a direct confrontation, but as long as your attention is fully occupied by someone else—like just now—this spell becomes a divine tool!"
"...I really was careless."
Muen’s expression was grim as he gripped his blades.
Because he had temporarily neutralized Fullar right at the start, and because her performance throughout had been the least prominent of the four, combined with the intense battle against the priest... the effect of that spell had been incredibly potent.
It had caused Fullar’s existence to vanish from his subconscious. She had been constructing a spell right under his nose, and he hadn't sensed a thing!
As expected, in a team fight, the first priority should always be to kill the mage.
What a pity.
He’d been so close back then...
"But do you really think this is enough to deal with me?"
Muen’s gaze sharpened. He turned toward the direction of the new voice and sneered, "You should have seen my fight with the priest clearly. Do you think you’re a match for me just because you have the initiative?"
A crimson glow ignited in his eyes, giving him an air of overwhelming authority.
No matter how he looked at it, Fullar’s threat level should be far below the priest’s...
But Muen only heard laughter—mocking laughter.
"Oh, I saw it. I saw it very clearly."
"I never imagined that the supposedly worthless son of a Duke would actually be a Divine Blessed. Our employer really screwed us over."
"Then—" Muen narrowed his eyes.
"Hehe, but so what? Being Divine Blessed doesn't make you invincible. On the contrary, because your abilities are fixed, a little observation makes it easy to find a counter-strategy."
Fullar sneered and continued, "For instance, based on your performance just now, you have no long-range attacks. That terrifying fire of yours requires contact, or at least close proximity, to work. Even if you can burn anything, if you can't reach your target, you can't do a damn thing!"
"...Are you so sure I don't have other tricks up my sleeve?" Muen fell silent for a moment, then threatened coldly.
"Of course I’m afraid."
Fullar’s voice remained ethereal, preventing Muen from locating her.
"That’s why I’ve prepared both offensive and escape spells."
"I’ll test you first. If you really do have some other terrifying move like you say, I’ll flee without hesitation."
"But if you’re just a lion that’s almost bled dry and reached the end of its rope..."
Fullar’s tone shifted, filled with bone-chilling coldness and excitement.
"Then that one billion is all mine!"
"Don't worry, I’ll make sure to pay you back for earlier. You’re not the only one who knows how to use despicable sneak attacks!"
Whoosh—
As soon as Fullar finished speaking, the mist in the forest surged even more violently. Amidst this suffocating change, bright points of light began to ignite one by one, bringing the threat of imminent death.
Dammit, she’s serious!
Muen’s heart tightened. Ignoring the risk of overexposure, he summoned a massive amount of Crimson Flame.
He had to block this.
If he couldn't, then given his physical toughness and the flame’s regenerative abilities, maybe...
Squeltch—
In that split second, before Muen’s thoughts could even fully form, the distinct sound of flesh being torn rang out in the silence preceding the spell’s release.
It was incredibly clear.
The Crimson Flame instantly surged back into his body. Muen looked down, bewildered, his hands frantically checking his own torso.
Huh?
I don't seem to be hurt...
And the spell didn't even trigger...
Then that sound...
"Eh?"
Suddenly, a strange, low gasp came from the mist.
Then, the mist and the points of mana light before Muen’s eyes began to waver and collapse.
Fullar’s figure was revealed.
She stood bolt upright, wand in hand.
The massive mana she had gathered was still rippling around her.
But now, she was looking down at her own abdomen with an expression of utter disbelief.
Because a blade was protruding from her stomach.
A blade forged of Holy Light.
"Pfft-ha..."
Another massive spray of blood erupted from her mouth. Her eyes were still filled with confusion.
"Wh... why..."
"Be... because..."
Another voice rang out from behind her.
"Hi... hiding one's presence and then using a despicable sneak attack... I... I can do that too."
The voice sounded incredibly delicate, even trembling, but Fullar felt the hands gripping the blade were exceptionally firm.
She turned her head with great difficulty, looking at that adorable, soft face—a face she had never once considered a threat.
"You... where’s Barton? Why... isn't he..."
"He’s dead," Liya said seriously. "I killed him."
With that, under Fullar’s horrified gaze, Liya yanked the Holy Light blade out and kicked Fullar to the ground.
Before she could even process the agonizing pain from her reopened wound, Fullar felt a figure pin her down.
The figure wasn't heavy, but as a mere mage, Fullar couldn't break free from the grip of a clearly physically-enhanced Liya. She could only lie there as Liya sat directly on top of her and...
Raised the blade.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid..."
Blood stained half of the girl’s face. Her eyes were filled with fear and internal struggle, yet she gripped the blade tightly, whispering to herself:
"The books say... when facing a bad person, you must always deliver a finishing blow."
"That’s right. A finishing blow."
"Double-tap."
As she spoke, the girl suddenly leaned down and expertly plunged the blade into Fullar’s heart.
Then.
She twisted it hard.
She twisted it with everything she had.
*
Not far away.
Muen, who had been watching this scene with his jaw dropped, suddenly shuddered. He winced, feeling a strange, phantom pain in his own skin.
"That’s weird... Liya’s stabbing technique... why does it look so practiced?"