Chapter 61
Chapter 61. Witch × Young Lady (6)
Just as scammers flock to the wealthy, cult leaders gravitate toward the powerful.
Historically, it wasn't uncommon for thriving nobles to become entangled with dark mages and face utter ruin.
That's why noble families with any sense drilled the dangers of the End Order into their children from an early age.
Penelope had heard countless warnings about the dangers of dark mages since childhood, but...
Honestly, it never really resonated.
Summoning a deity's minions by offering ten thousand people as human sacrifices, creating patchwork humans through human experimentation.
Weren't these all stories that lacked any sense of reality?
If anything, the Inquisitors and the Royal Intelligence Bureau—who appeared at the slightest hint of connection to dark mages—were ten times more terrifying.
So when Hamel and his believers first appeared, she thought, 'Is there anything I can help with?'
After all, Penelope was also a 5th Rank Alchemist who had defeated the Undertaker.
But today, she learned viscerally why dark mages became symbols of terror.
"Grow, mushroom, grow."
Isolde scattered spores while chanting.
This magic was her original creation that she'd shown first.
The magic that turned a horde of approaching golems into a mushroom cultivation bed.
Archbishop Hamel was clearly covered in it.
The effect manifested identically.
Colorful mushrooms sprouting through Hamel's skin with pop pop sounds.
A beauty that could rival an angel's transformed grotesquely for just a moment...
"This again? For your notoriety, that's a rather pathetic trick."
As if time reversed, the mushrooms that had grown disappeared.
Instead, mushrooms sprouted from the arm of one of the believers lined up like a folding screen behind Hamel.
"Aaaaagh! Pain is purification! Darkness is rest! The end is glory!!!"
Though she didn't know the method, the believer who had already received magic attacks in Hamel's place several times screamed horribly yet didn't break from formation.
Until the mouth area of the white hood covering their face was dyed bright red, they recited the prayer over and over.
The mad believer's prayer didn't last long.
"Mother of Sinners, devour all creation."
As Hamel devoutly made the sign of the cross.
Crack! Crunch crunch!
The believer's body crumpled.
This wasn't a figurative expression.
Until a human transformed into a peanut-sized sphere, limbs' bones broke and flesh was crushed.
Whoosh.
The moment 'what was once a believer,' compressed without a drop of blood remaining, floated up and was swallowed by a gaping black space...
The space around Isolde twisted.
It was the attack that had taken Isolde's arm during the earlier ambush.
Crackle crackle crackle!
Green sparks scattered across Isolde's defensive barrier.
Above it, vivid marks remained as if bitten by a giant mouth with prison-bar-like teeth.
Watching this series of exchanges, Penelope cleanly abandoned her plan to 'help somehow.'
In this battle beyond common sense, Penelope would only be a hindrance.
"...Cough."
"A-are you alright?"
Isolde's slender frame swayed entirely before she coughed up blood.
Her usually unchanging face clearly showed signs of exhaustion.
"Oh my, I'm starting to see the bottom. It was a rather boring fight, far below my expectations though."
Hamel sensed the tide of battle had turned.
The two were exchanging attacks and defenses of similar level.
Strictly speaking, you could say Isolde had a slight advantage.
While Isolde had broken through Hamel's defenses and landed attacks several times, the space-crushing 'mouth' had been blocked by her barrier except for the initial ambush.
"However, wicked magic cannot overcome true faith."
But Hamel wasn't alone.
He had loyal believers who took on transferred injuries and, when near death, sacrificed themselves to summon the 'mouth.'
In a war of attrition, there was no way Isolde could win.
Especially after losing an arm in the ambush, there was nothing more to say.
The calculation was complete.
If they exchanged attacks and defenses just two more times, Isolde would be neutralized.
"Witch, even now, discard all your catalysts and surrender. He is merciful. If you repent and regret your past sins, the path to salvation will open for you too."
Instead of continuing his offensive, Hamel spread both arms and recommended surrender.
Isolde had been the Order's nemesis since ancient times.
An enemy of the Order beyond conversion.
However, it would be problematic if he failed to control his strength and Isolde's body was damaged too severely.
The final goal of the 'Great Plan' wasn't just to judge the witch.
It was to make Isolde a 'spawning ground' through a ritual.
As a powerful alchemist, Isolde had optimal conditions for conceiving powerful minions.
Shouldn't she guide at least as many unbelievers to heaven as the number of innocent believers who died by her hands?
"..."
Instead of answering, Isolde slowly closed her eyes.
As if she knew what fate awaited her.
"...Count to three, then run."
"...What?"
A small whisper only Penelope could hear.
Isolde drew up her magic power.
"You'll remain a sinner to the end? Well, if conversion were possible with a few words, this bitter relationship with the Order wouldn't have continued this far."
Ignoring Hamel's words, Isolde kept drawing up magic power.
Whirrrrr.
Extraordinary energy concentrated on Isolde.
Magic power of a density clearly scraped from the bottom.
She also clutched catalysts, gripping a handful.
"Wh-what on earth are you doing...!"
The composed Hamel let out confusion.
No matter how you looked at it, she wasn't trying to use proper magic.
In a situation with no remaining strength anyway.
Disregarding control and raising only power insanely to induce magical runaway—in simple terms, attempting self-destruction.
————!!!!!
Like brilliant fireworks, vivid green sparks filled the entire cavity several times.
Pure white shockwaves echoed repeatedly creating explosive sounds, and thick dust obscured vision.
"...Cough, cough...!"
Isolde collapsed and kept coughing up blood.
A blood pool the size of a cushion instantly soaked her knees.
Though she barely managed to control the explosion range, the price for using chaotic magic was a chaotic body.
Now she couldn't move even a finger, let alone escape.
If it was this powerful, she should at least be able to hold his ankle.
Thinking this, Isolde soon realized her judgment was wrong.
"Did you think I'd stand before you without any preparation?"
The smoke that had hung thickly like a screen cleared.
Hamel at the explosion's epicenter was composed without a scratch.
Five skulls floating around Hamel's shoulders—the Magic Eaters, arguably the most famous altar—had absorbed the magic's damage.
"Still, it made my hair stand on end."
To instantly overload five Magic Eaters with an improvised self-destruction technique.
She wasn't classified as the Order's nemesis for nothing.
However, the result was obvious.
Isolde's last resort failed.
Moreover, she was neutralized in a state perfect for performing the ritual.
Hamel walked leisurely toward Isolde, who could barely lift her gaze.
A large centipede crawled out from his sleeve, wrapping around his hand.
Preparation for the ritual to create the 'spawning ground.'
"Now then, shall we tie up this long bitter relationship?"
At that moment, Penelope jumped forward as if to shield Isolde.
"Wait, hold on."
"Ah, right, I'd forgotten. You were here too, Miss?"
"I want to talk."
"Ho, unexpected. I thought you'd run away."
For the record...
She wanted to run away if she could.
Clearly the two who looked on bad terms, but wasn't Penelope a purely innocent victim caught up in this?
Staying here would obviously be pointless, and the best action Penelope could take in this situation was requesting help from other subjugation teams.
Isolde probably told her to run with that in mind too.
The problem was that Isolde, who said she'd buy time, was easily subdued.
The flee-then-request-rescue plan had fallen through.
But she wouldn't just sit and die.
Light had finally entered her life after so long—she couldn't let it end like this.
Since it came to this, all or nothing.
Frontal breakthrough.
After taking a breath, Penelope recited seriously.
"Long live the end."
Plan A.
If you can't win, befriend them.
The Order's target probably wasn't Penelope with high probability.
Look at the scale of the fight.
Penelope was just unlucky shrimp A caught in a whale fight.
If she showed favor toward the End Order and promised to cooperate obediently...
Wasn't there a possibility?
A cold silence flowed.
Hamel had a blank expression, and even Isolde, who looked extremely struggling, had a 'what are you doing?' expression.
An atmosphere where any ordinary person would be unable to say a word from embarrassment and awkwardness.
But Penelope wasn't an ordinary person.
A poker face forged through years in social circles.
Showing up regularly at places where whispered gossip about you could be heard everywhere wasn't something a normal person could do.
Penelope had the mental strength to endure until retirement age even if a corrupt company removed her desk claiming to fire her.
She brazenly tried again despite the other party's non-reaction.
"Long live, long live the end."
Like a nun offering prayers, Penelope's second favor-seeking attempt was quite devout.
Hamel's expression changed.
"Long live the end... A good ring to it. Long live the end."
From a blank face to a benevolent smile as if meeting a comrade.
Something seemed to have connected.
She couldn't miss this flow.
Using the antiquated noble young lady speech that made her tongue break out in hives, she introduced herself.
"Though late, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Penelope Rosemore."
"Rosemore?"
Maybe it was her imagination, but the Archbishop hesitated upon hearing 'Rosemore.'
"Yes, I am the second daughter of the Rosemore Count family. I've heard much about the End Order. A true religion that nobly pursues truth in a chaotic world full of false claims and deception."
Use whatever can be used to the maximum.
These guys who knew no fear or restraint wouldn't suddenly cower at the Rosemore name.
Still, if she spread the nuance that she could become a collaborator, wouldn't some path open?
"Indeed, befitting a child of a distinguished family, you seem to possess proper insight. My introduction is late. I am Hamel, appointed to the position of Archbishop in the End Order."
"Oh my, an Archbishop...! I roughly guessed from the inauspicious atmosphere."
"Haha, the high or low position isn't important. What's important is upright faith."
"Oh my, such good words I'd like to adopt as a family motto."
Is this working?
Surprisingly, the atmosphere became somewhat congenial.
Hamel even neglected Isolde while lamenting that today's young generation doesn't know the value of religion, that prejudice and persecution toward the Order were frames for the establishment, and so on.
Penelope cleverly chimed in with a few words to gauge the situation.
"If only there were more enlightened nobles like you, Young Lady. An unbeliever who awakens alone without proper teaching. Truth cannot be covered with a palm."
Right at this timing!
"Could I not convert to the End Order to receive greater teachings?"
"Pardon?"
"I believe meeting Archbishop Hamel today itself was guidance from 'Him.' If I could learn His words more closely, I'd have no other wish... My family's power would be of great help as well."
Actually, her family's influence was worth nothing, but let's gild whatever bars could be gilded first.
Dark mages might be evil, but they're still human—wouldn't they weigh options when receiving new believers?
That moment.
"...!"
Penelope's heart nearly dropped.
Because Hamel suddenly twisted his neck 90 degrees sideways, and with a slender eye-smile, brought his face close to Penelope's.
Though merely making eye contact, she felt the strange sensation of sharp awls deeply gouging her body.
"Wh-why do you look at me so?"
"You lied. The regret and despair filling your heart are good conditions for becoming a believer. But... light still remains."
What?
The atmosphere was clearly good, so why was she caught?
Or was it a ploy to toy with her from the start?
"Disbelief is sin. However, falsely claiming belief is a sin worse than disbelief."
Hamel's voice, which had held mercy, turned ice cold.
Catastrophe.
She had to ambush him.
Penelope hurriedly moved her hand to the Palette at her waist.
But her body wouldn't move even 1mm.
As if tightly bound by invisible chains.
"I will proceed with the ritual."
"What about this woman?"
"An alchemist's skull is good material. Nothing below the neck is needed."
"Yes, Archbishop."
Hamel approached Isolde, while one of the believers approached Penelope with a ritual knife drawn.
She saw the blood-stained blade glint in the light.
Is this the end?
Is there really no way?
This is truly ridiculous.
After enduring such long humiliation and finally seeing light in her life.
She was about to put a period on her life caught up in such an absurd accident.
At that moment, what Penelope recalled was an utterly out-of-place, perhaps tension-less, lingering regret.
'...I shouldn't have fought with Jurgen.'
If this was the last moment, it ended with fighting with him.
The fact that she hadn't properly thanked him yet felt regrettable.
Jurgen would be very sad.
Serena would probably cry buckets too.
What about her sister? Would she make them pay the price for touching Rosemore blood again this time?
Idle delusions.
After death, there's nothing anyway.
Penelope squeezed her eyes shut, trying to at least accept death with dignity.
Then.
BANG!
"Aaagh!"
A roar and scream rang out simultaneously.
A fierce wind like a train passing right in front shook Penelope's bangs.
When she opened her eyes again.
She saw a man's large back filling her vision.
She couldn't see properly because of the tear-soaked view, but the build and frame were familiar.
"Jurgen...?"
Had Jurgen come here?
To save Penelope?
That was too unrealistic.
As the wind subsided and the tears obscuring her vision disappeared, she could finally clearly see the owner of that broad back.
"You are..."
The man's profile visible at an angle was different from Jurgen.
Penelope recognized who he was without difficulty.
Though she'd never met him directly, she'd seen his photo countless times.
Black hair carelessly swept back, sharp and keen eyes beneath.
A jawline and casually closed lips that suited the clichéd description of being like a sculpture perfectly.
From eyes gazing quietly at the enemy, she felt concentrated power of unknowable depth.
As if a god had shaped a sharp blade into human form.
No doubt.
No mistake possible.
Because the person before her eyes was Britannia's greatest alchemist and.
"Hanbin... sir?"
The person Penelope most respected.