Chapter 295 : Eye of the Typhoon (3)
Chapter 295: Eye of the Typhoon (3)
I had known for quite some time that several people were hiding nearby.
In truth, it wasn’t even something that required careful notice.
They were so clumsy at hiding their presence that they were hardly any different from people who had never received training at all.
At first, I had even wondered whether this might be a trap laid in reverse, but thinking that deeply about it now felt ridiculous.
‘…What is this?’
They were absurdly weak.
There were roughly fifteen of them hiding.
Nearly half of them collapsed instantly.
Judging by the way they just stood there blankly, it seemed they hadn’t even properly recognized that I had rushed in and swung my sword.
“Hiieek!”
“P-please, spare me!”
Only after their numbers had been reduced by nearly half did they finally turn their backs and begin fleeing.
“……”
Seeing that, instead of chasing them, I began sheathing the sword in my hand.
Something shot past my side.
Thud.
The people who had been fleeing collapsed onto the ground without even making a sound.
They had been killed instantly by the magic fired by Berenistella.
“…Their level is extremely low.”
“Was that not to be expected?”
Berenistella muttered with an expression as though she had merely swatted a few flies.
“They must already struggle just to gather believers. How many among them could even be called soldiers?”
At her words, I looked at the men I had just struck down with my sword.
“…Then they were practically civilians.”
“Why? Do you think we took lives for no reason?”
“As if.”
I replied flatly.
“Didn’t you say so yourself, Master? That the more faith gathers, the more that Evil Dragon’s power recovers.”
“Yes, that is indeed what I said.”
“And now nearly ten of that thing’s believers have disappeared.”
“…….”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it is nothing.”
Berenistella shook her head.
Then she began slowly walking toward the corpse of the man who had died first.
“ㅁㅁㅁㅁㅁ.”
She stood before the corpse whose head had been severed and muttered words I could not understand.
Soon after, something pale drifted out from the corpse. Berenistella stared at it quietly, then nodded slightly.
“…These were merely messengers.”
“So they weren’t even ashamed to call themselves gods under that Evil Dragon?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“They served your father.”
“……”
I paused for a moment before asking her.
“…Then does the Count also possess the power of prophecy?”
“Hmm?”
“Didn’t they prepare these messengers knowing we were coming? I was starting to think the idea of a surprise attack might have been meaningless.”
“That does not appear to be the case.”
Berenistella answered.
“They did not know who we were.”
Her reply made me frown.
“They didn’t know who we were?”
“Correct.”
“But earlier they clearly—”
Hadn’t they interrupted our conversation asking whether we were curious, claiming they had been waiting, even mentioning the Evil Dragon?
Above all, they had been hiding along the road at this late hour waiting for someone to approach.
As if answering my doubts, Berenistella shrugged.
“They were simply using clichés. After reading their memories… it seems they would capture travelers passing along the road, preach their faith to them, or if necessary detain them and drag them back to their base.”
“…So they thought we were just travelers and approached us?”
“Yes. And there are likely others like them hiding along other roads as well.”
At my incredulous question, Berenistella nodded with a somewhat bitter expression.
“According to the memories I read, that is the case. I wondered whether some form of Suggestion or prohibition had been placed upon them… but there was nothing of the sort. In fact, I even discovered where their base is hidden.”
Berenistella muttered.
“After a brief look, it is almost embarrassing to even call it a faith. Only a few villages worship it, centered around your house, the Gwendil Count family… And even then, the villages that mostly believe in it are the one we just passed through and the village where the Gwendil family resides.”
While speaking, she suddenly muttered in a tone that was hard to tell whether it was disbelief or lament.
“…How pitiful, Jadaka. Were you not once called a god? Were you not one who stood on the same level as myself? Yet you have fallen so far that you now struggle merely to prolong your life.”
Berenistella soon shook her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts.
Now was not the time to sink into old memories.
“Let us hurry. It is not far from here. …We nearly would have gone the long way around.”
“Before that, Master, there is something I wish to ask.”
“Ask.”
“What will you do once we raid their base?”
Berenistella looked at me as if asking for clarification.
“I understand well that the Evil Dragon must be uprooted completely. I am not questioning or opposing that.”
“Then?”
“I am simply curious about the method. I heard that both its body and mind were shattered and sealed by the Wolpen Knights in the past.”
“I see.”
She nodded as though she finally understood.
“First of all, as you said, the creature’s body and mind will likely not be found even if we search their base… the temple.”
“……”
“But there will be an altar and a sanctuary.”
“Are those important?”
“They are important. Very much so.”
Berenistella continued her explanation.
“…My disciple, it may be difficult for you to understand, but for those who seek to become gods, the most important things are faith, the altar, and the sanctuary. If I were to explain it in simpler terms, you could call them a nest. If that nest is destroyed, what do you think happens to those who lived there?”
“……”
“To put it in extreme terms: as long as the altar and sanctuary remain and faith continues to gather, that creature will one day revive. But if we smash the altar and sanctuary, not even a trace of it will remain in this world… it will disappear without even leaving behind its name.”
“So destroying the sanctuary and altar is the top priority.”
“Yes. And…”
“And?”
“……”
Berenistella glanced at me.
“I said earlier that faith itself is also important.”
“Yes.”
“Who do you think gathers that faith? From the perspective of your Holy Sun Church, who does such a thing?”
“…Priests.”
“Correct. Priests. Even if your Cathedrals are destroyed, as long as your priests remain, the Holy Sun Church will not disappear. Is that not so?”
I answered.
“That is correct. There have been times when our holy lands were destroyed and we were persecuted.”
“Exactly.”
Berenistella nodded.
Only then did I fully understand what she meant.
“…A lot of people will die.”
“Fewer than you think. There are not many who possess the strength to sustain a faith. In other words… yes, killing the leader will suffice.”
Berenistella added:
“Your father.”
“……”
I did not answer.
I simply tightened my grip on my sword.
There was no hesitation left in my eyes.
The Evil Dragon’s temple was smaller and more pitiful than I had expected.
However, the heat and aura flowing inside it carried a strange intensity that even I could sense.
“A-are you followers of the Holy Sun Church?!”
“R-run! If they catch you, they’ll burn you at the stake!”
“Damn it! There are only two of them! Everyone attack! Capture them, rip open their stomachs, and offer them as sacrifices!”
The moment Berenistella and I entered, the people inside—who had been praying without knowing anything—fell into sudden chaos.
Some pointed at us in shock.
Some immediately covered their faces and tried to flee.
Some, realizing there were only two intruders, grabbed nearby tools as weapons.
After a short while, the disturbance settled.
Most of them chose to silence the intruders.
Looking around at the people surrounding us, Berenistella asked,
“Do you recognize anyone?”
“I doubt it.”
I answered immediately.
“I barely ever left the family estate.”
“Hm.”
“And even if I did recognize someone, it wouldn’t change anything.”
As I said that, I placed my hand on the hilt of my sword.
“I shall—”
“No.”
I interrupted.
“I will do it.”
Immediately afterward, I reinforced my body and began resonating with the power of the Brand.
Once the now-familiar process was complete, my arm swung with all its strength.
Slice.
“…Huh?”
“What…?”
With that single swing, most of the people gathered there met their deaths.
“A-aaagh!!! It’s a monster!!!”
“S-spare me! I don’t know anything!”
Those who survived my strike immediately lost their will to fight and began fleeing in all directions.
But they soon followed the same path as those who had already fallen.
“That will not do.”
Berenistella murmured as she aimed her hand.
“…That will not do at all.”
She did not even need time.
In an instant, among the many people gathered there, only two remained unharmed.
Berenistella and me.
“……”
Sheathing my sword, I looked toward an altar placed in a corner of the temple.
There, someone lay bound hand and foot.
They had been killed by someone other than us.
It seemed they had been offered as a ritual sacrifice not long ago.
If we had arrived just a little sooner, could we have saved them?
I was thinking that when—
“Returning to your own home, and instead of offering greetings…”
A familiar voice.
…A voice I had once wondered if it would ever soften when speaking to me.
“What kind of disgraceful behavior is this?”
When I turned my head, the Count of the Gwendil Count family stood there.
He was a pale man who resembled neither me nor anyone else—his appearance looked like a mixture of Quirian and Artiac.
“……”
“You will not even answer.”
The Count muttered quietly.
He stared at me for a moment before shaking his head.
“Was trusting that man Quirian my mistake?”
“If we are speaking of mistakes, everything was wrong from the beginning.”
I slowly looked around the interior of the temple as I spoke.
“What is this, Count?”
“Why should you know?”
“If you do not wish to answer, that is fine.”
I raised my sword and pointed it at him.
The Count’s eye twitched.
“…You unfilial wretch. How dare you point a blade at your own father.”
“You seem to have forgotten that you caused my mother’s death.”
I replied coldly.
“How is that my fault? That woman chose death herself.”
“If you insist on saying that, then I will give you a choice.”
It was obvious at a glance that he had several weapons hidden in his clothes.
That was why I had not rushed in immediately.
No matter what had become of them now, the Gwendil Count family had once been a warrior house.
“Fall to my sword… or end it yourself.”
“……”
The Count did not answer.
He simply stared at me.
More precisely, he was staring at the bloodstains on my clothes.
“You fool.”
He muttered.
“Do you know the story of Black Water?”
“……”
It was a famous story.
The tale that the blood flowing from Jadaka’s heart turned the river black, and that anyone who sank into it would never rise again—and that a Saintess split it in half through prayer.
“Blood that flows from the heart becomes Black Water.”
Muttering that, the Count pulled out a dagger from his chest.
“You are stained with the blood of believers, and my blood flows in your body as well.”
And curses flow down through generations.
With those words, the Count drove the dagger toward his own heart.
…Or at least he should have.
“You fool.”
Berenistella muttered quietly.
“Did you truly think I would not have known about such a thing?”
Clutching her arm that had been twisted like crumpled paper, she let out a pained groan—then looked at the Count, who was screaming in agony.
A small scoff escaped her lips.