Inheriting the Novel

Determination (1)

The ground had split open, but it seemed the angels had no intention of revealing themselves just yet.

'Are they observing the situation?'

Or perhaps their bodies were too ponderous to move so lightly.

Maybe they just didn't want to intervene in human affairs, or thought it would be beneath their dignity.

'Well, I'm grateful for that.'

For now, all I needed was for them to keep their eyes on me.

That was enough.

"Stop that bastard from reaching the Holy Imperial Palace!"

With the Holy Knight's shout, I could sense the citizens of Ilishad murmuring and crowding toward me.

"Just what is that guy?"

"He sent the Inquisitors and Holy Knights flying so easily..."

As expected for a kingdom's capital, the population was quite considerable.

Watching the people surge in an instant, I couldn't help but click my tongue.

"That one's a heretic!"

"He's trying to reach the Holy Imperial Palace! Stop him by any means necessary!"

Judging by the shouts echoing all around, these people weren't just gathering out of curiosity.

[Be careful. Something feels off about their presence.]

'It does seem that way.'

A faint white light was seeping from people's eyes, almost too subtle to notice.

'Didn't the Pontiff's ability only work on those influenced by Altair's holy power?'

[That's what I thought too...]

I inspected the converging citizens closely using the Eye of Insight.

I did get a strange feeling from them, but unlike with the Inquisitors, it didn't seem as though something was connecting them.

[... It might be that he's using the people's faith.]

'The people's faith?'

[Faith in a god, amplifying its origin and using it to control them.]

'That means...'

I immediately understood what Grancesia was getting at. The citizens charging toward me were proof enough that my guess was correct.

"Kill the heretic!"

"Block the road until more Inquisitors and Holy Knights arrive!"

There was not a trace of fear in the faces of those rushing at me with farm tools and kitchen knives for weapons.

It was reminiscent of the citizens driven by sleepwalking during the Calamity of Dreams, but this was clearly different.

What happened then had been forced control—this was an act chosen by their own will.

'Fanatics.'

Their faith had been whipped up into fanaticism. This was wholly different from the power that had been used on the Inquisitors I'd seen before.

'But how could a human possess such an ability?'

Pontiff Violette was, after all, just a human.

It was hard to believe that someone like him could wield such absurd power.

Kicking aside the charging citizens, I asked, and Grancesia answered calmly.

[Perhaps he inherited some power from Altair, or maybe he is under the influence of the calamity, Setram.]

Certainly, it was a plausible explanation.

I'd need to check the pontiff's profile for more certainty.

"So, for now, I just have to break through here."

With a savage grin, I stomped hard on the ground.

The earth cracked like a spiderweb, hurling the oncoming mob away all at once.

In that gap, I could see Holy Knights and Inquisitors gathering.

'Grancesia.'

[Yes.]

'You remember, don't you?'

[Of course.]

The conversation we'd had before coming here.

Grancesia seemed to recall it, replying lightly.

Her answer, without the slightest hint of doubt, only made me feel tenser.

'Are you sure about this?'

[I do think it's a dangerous gamble.]

'Then...'

[But it's not the first time you've done something so outrageous, is it?]

Grancesia's cheerful words made me smile faintly.

She was absolutely right.

I've always done reckless things.

Of course, there was always the conviction that I could pull them off.

And that was still the case.

If I recalled what Pilla Ganest and Mersaya told me yesterday... this was the only move that could definitively settle the situation.

'Everyone's doing well, I hope?'

I stared at the ever-mounting group of Inquisitors, holy Knights, and Ilishad's citizens.

I couldn't help but worry a bit.

Not that I doubted their skills, but with their strong personalities, I wasn't sure they could coordinate well.

[Michelle will mediate things well.]

'Let's hope so.'

I didn't have much leeway either.

'Pontiff Violette.'

Defeating him—that was my role.

* * *

"They're really making a mess upstairs, huh?"

"Then we'd better hurry."

At Kisea's words, Pilla cautiously scanned the surroundings as he led the way down the dark corridor.

They were currently in the underground corridor leading to Gray Paradise.

"Wouldn't it have been better if we switched roles with Clay?"

At Mersaya's suggestion, Kisea nodded.

"Honestly, I thought so too. With that sword—what was it, the Sword of Boundary?—wouldn't sneaking in be a lot easier?"

"That would be difficult. The angels have distorted the spatial coordinates around here. If anyone tried to interfere with the space, it would immediately give them away."

To Kisea's words, Pilla replied, and Michelle nodded in agreement.

"They set up barriers to prevent magical intrusion. Clay's sword is indeed powerful, but it's not all-powerful."

"Pity..."

Kisea replied, but her face was slightly flushed. The others seemed puzzled by her reaction, but Mersaya immediately understood why.

'Tsk tsk, she just wants to fight an angel. What a strange person.'

From what she knew of Kisea, she was obsessed with getting stronger. Wanting to take down an angel after fighting a dragon? Truly outrageous.

No doubt hearing about Clay defeating an angel had stirred her competitive side.

'Did I really make the right choice?'

Several times a day, Mersaya asked herself this question.

Rebelling against the Dragon Lord, and now even defying a god.

It was nothing short of foolish.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to side with them.

"So how long do we have to keep sneaking around like this?"

"Once only a minimum number of guards are left down here and the rest go up to the surface, we'll be able to move more quickly."

A minimum number.

But everyone here knew that even that number was far from small.

Just then.

BOOM!

A thunderous roar echoed as an immense surge of holy power shot toward the surface.

None present failed to realize this meant numerous angels had just moved from the underground to the surface.

The holy power felt below instantly thinned.

"S-sir Clay, just what did he do?"

"Will that guy really be all right this time...?"

Michelle and Kisea reacted belatedly, and Mersaya strongly sympathized with their concerns. Only Pilla remained stone-faced, nodding gravely.

"We don't need to worry about that. We have our own task."

"Honestly, that part's a bit hard for me to accept too."

Frowning gently, Kisea recalled the conversation from yesterday.

"We're supposed to start the 'Rite' before them? What does that even mean?"

* * *

Capital city of Setram, the Holy Kingdom—Ilishad.

A city that, for thousands of years since its foundation, had never once suffered an invasion by foreign forces.

Setram was one of the continent's leading powers, with knights and priests so formidable that even Asktalin Empire could not take them lightly.

"This is impossible."

That was why the people simply couldn't fathom what was happening now—a single person turning Ilishad into utter chaos.

"S-stop him!"

Clay stomped hard and charged forward.

Countless Holy Knights blocked his way, but colliding with him sent them flying.

Any who took his punch found their mithril plate armor crushed and rolling across the ground.

Even those formidable Inquisitors couldn't withstand two of his blows.

'Stop.'

Then, from the sky, a white radiance fell—a man with snowy wings appeared.

"A-an angel!"

"Angel! Punish this heretic, please!"

The instant the angel appeared, the citizens who had been charging at Clay as heretics all dropped to their knees in worship.

Of course, Clay's stride did not falter.

He pressed on, aim set firmly on the vast, pure-white castle housing the pontiff.

'How insolent, human.'

The angel frowned and stretched both arms wide. Instantly, twin sharp swords appeared in his hands.

Fwooooosh!

People gasped and prayed as the sacred light glistened from the pure white blades.

Now they were certain—the arrogant heretic would fall.

Until a crimson glow enveloped his body and white flames erupted before their eyes.

BOOM!

The angel, wielding twin swords like a meteor, and the man transformed in scarlet and white flames collided in a deafening crash.

The ground split, windows in surrounding buildings shattered, and thick smoke billowed skyward.

"W-what on earth..."

To think a human clashing with an angel could cause this.

Citizens simply gaped, waiting for the smoky haze to clear.

"..."

When the smoke lifted, the horror stood revealed, leaving everyone speechless—even the Inquisitors and Holy Knights who'd charged at the heretic fell silent.

The two swords were snapped, and the giant angel's white wings were dirtied with dust and broken.

Collapsed, like a crushed ant, the angel lay defeated.

Clay slowly raised his fist, bloodied from smashing the angel's head.

"..."

He turned his gaze away from the trembling angel to the humans blocking his path.

So shocking was the sight that the power of 'fanaticism' momentarily faded, and the people could not bring themselves to attack him.

Their minds and hearts screamed for the heretic's death, but their bodies would not move.

'You wretch!'

New angels appeared—three of them charged in, their eyes full of tension after witnessing their comrade defeated in a single blow.

'That should do.'

Clay calmly assessed the holy energy in the area.

'Good. Now...'

Having roughly gauged their numbers, Clay dodged the pure-white spear swung at his head and kicked another angel flying from behind.

"Grk?! Wh-what is this?!"

Cracks splintered the angel's arm where Clay's kick landed, the power of the Heaven-Slaying Arms biting deep.

For the first time, the angel experienced excruciating pain—one angel was down, and Clay raised his right hand above his head and brought it crashing down to the earth.

BOOM!

"Gah?!"

A shockwave engulfed the area, sending the angels tumbling.

It was a force that might have crushed them outright.

'This really is Heaven's Holy Ultimate Art.'

He'd heard it from the pontiff—the man was truly using the Heaven's Holy Ultimate Art, a technique of the Saintess Grancesia.

'He's the successor of Heaven's Holy Ultimate Art. He must be killed!'

With that cry, new angels burst up from beneath the broken earth.

There were eleven in all.

Even a Great Swordmaster could hardly escape from this many.

And yet—

"Huh?"

As the dust settled from the impact, Clay's figure had vanished.

"Where did he go?!"

Not just vanished—his presence was completely erased.

Did Heaven's Holy Ultimate Art include such a technique?

"Chase him! Don't let him escape!"

The angels began to search every inch of the surroundings, convinced he couldn't have gotten far.

But they didn't know—

Clay was watching their frantic efforts with ease from within a gap in space.