345 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

### Chapter 345: "Monster..." Victor still clutched his trembling hands, glaring at Harmorn. While the physical shock had already subsided, the mental trauma was not so easily dispelled. The mere swing of a sword that could overhaul a 100-meter radius was overwhelming enough, but he had intervened only because he feared the aftermath would disrupt the barriers. In truth, he had merely blocked the oncoming shockwave, yet it felt as if the entire space compressed, retaliating with a force that struck him down. "Did I really fail to withstand just the aftermath, let alone a direct strike?" How could any human wield such power? He had never dared to imagine it. Thus, he could be certain. "If this man intends to harm the Saint, there is nothing I can do to stop him." - If the Holy Sword targets the Saint, do not resist. Let her go. He could now understand the true meaning behind his lord's instructions. The Holy Sword. The name resonated with newfound significance and immense presence in his heart. Amidst that shock, Victor found himself unable to stop Ilia as she approached Harmorn. "Ilia!" He belatedly realized it and shouted. "It's alright. Stand back." The one he was meant to protect instead wore a faint smile, reassuring him. Feeling powerless at this, Victor gritted his teeth and followed immediately behind her. "…Commander of the Holy Knights, Harmorn, greets the Saint." It was at least a relief that the Holy Sword's demeanor was courteous when meeting her. Victor could only look upon the human-shaped monster with a complex gaze. "I'm aware I've been declared a renegade by the order. Yet you show me such excessive courtesy." "If anyone had met the Saint even once, they would have sensed something amiss." Ilia felt a sense of relief at the words of the notoriously rigid Holy Sword. It seemed the worst-case scenario she had feared might not come to pass. "So, did you come to find me?" "Yes." "How did you know I was here…?" "There are those who have assisted me." Ilia turned her gaze backward as she spoke, but Harmorn found it difficult to trust the masked figure. "…Their skills are considerable, but can you tell me where they are from?" "I'm afraid I cannot reveal that at this moment." Her refusal caused Harmorn's eyebrows to twitch. "I'm sorry, but if this isn't just internal politics within the order and involves foreign intervention by the Saint, I must adhere to the order's directives." His hand moved back to the hilt of his sword. That single gesture enveloped the surroundings in a tense atmosphere. It was no mere feeling; in an instant, the dust within a dozen meters rushed away, placing the masked Victor squarely within Harmorn's domain. Victor, ready to dart forward, was halted by a slender arm blocking his path. "Absolutely not! I swear it by the divine." Harmorn looked into the Saint’s eyes. There, he saw an endlessly sincere gaze, and a radiance visible only to the eyes of the faithful shown in her eyes. The sacred light that had once unmasked lies on the day of the former pope's impeachment still overflowed as it had before. Even by that alone, Harmorn could ascertain that the order's declaration was false. "…I will believe you." "Thank you." One word was enough for Harmorn to relax his guard and for Ilia to smile in gratitude. Victor struggled to comprehend their rapidly closing distance, but the two continued their conversation regardless of his bewilderment. "What exactly happened?" "You might find it hard to believe…" Ilia wasted no time in diving into the heart of the matter, explaining the situation. She recounted in detail all she had experienced, using the unjust measures currently being enacted by the order as evidence. By the time her long explanation concluded, night had long passed and dawn was beginning to break. "Really… it's difficult to believe." Perhaps the story was just too incredible. The solemn expression on Harmorn’s face was as rigid as stone. "The Pope's arbiter, Sententia of the Nine Holy Relics. It's hard to believe that even with it, His Holiness failed to protect his mind." "…Had I not seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it either. But there is no doubt that Tracy possesses a means to circumvent holy power and manipulate the mind!" "To manipulate divine power… do you understand that such words are considered blasphemy?" At Harmorn's cold voice, Ilia's face momentarily froze. Harmorn, observing her with a heavy expression, sighed before speaking further. "Had it not been you speaking, Saint, I would have personally dispensed justice." The undertone in his sigh-laden voice was clearly benevolent. Still, this didn’t mean that Harmorn was entirely convinced. "I will return to the order, see it myself, and then make my judgment. Please excuse me for not immediately acquiescing to your request." "…It could be dangerous." "There will be no danger. If the Saint's words are true, there would be no means to brainwash myself or you." "But what if they attempt to detain you by force…" "Who would dare attempt that?" "Even you, Commander, are limited in what you can do within Noviens…" "I can accomplish quite a lot. If I declare an emergency using my authority, the Holy Knights, the strongest martial group in the divine realm, will follow my command over even His Holiness. And even if that weren’t the case…" His unsaid thought resounded clearly in both Ilia's and Victor's minds: Who would dare to confine me? Unfortunately, this confidence also applied to the two of them. "You must accompany me. Though my heart and mind urge me to trust the Saint, my rank and duty compel me otherwise. I hope you can understand." ### Chapter 345: "Monster..." The face, which seemed ordinary at first glance with its common brown eyes, exerted a terrifying pressure upon them. It wasn’t aggressive as if intending harm, yet an invisible force engulfed the area, binding their entire bodies in a way they couldn’t move. The message it conveyed was clear. "Don’t be ridiculous! How can we trust what you'll do next?" The masked Victor stepped in front of the Saint, drawing his sword with urgency. As Victor, breaking through that formidable presence, leapt forward, Harmorn's eyes flickered, momentarily startled. With a slightly surprised expression, Harmorn regarded Victor and Ilia heavily before taking a step backward instead of applying more pressure. But this retreat changed nothing except that single step. "If you reject me, I can no longer place my trust in the Saint's words. Show me your faith." "Saint! There must be another way. There's no need to comply!" As Harmorn's words and Victor's shouts intermingled chaotically in the air, Ilia made an unexpected declaration. "If detaining me is sufficient justification for you to return to the Holy City, then so be it." "Saint!" Startled by Ilia's unexpected words, Victor quickly turned to look at her. However, she only shook her head calmly. Don’t resist. This is the best course of action. Reading the subtle message in her demeanor, Victor clenched his teeth in frustration. At that moment, Harmorn ignited a fire in Victor’s chest. "Do you hate the thought of being led away helplessly? Your youthful spirit truly is remarkable. Would you like a chance to challenge me?" "Don’t be absurd! You have no idea the monumental mistake you’re making…." Victor, provoked by Harmorn’s taunt, intensified his fighting spirit, but a voice from behind held him back. "Remain calm. Commander Harmorn is merely trying to discern your identity." "The journey back to the Holy Kingdom is long, Saint. The truth will out eventually…." Harmorn did not counter Ilia’s statement. Although the features beneath Victor's mask contorted further, Ilia maintained her composure. "No, he will return to where he belongs." "…I cannot accept that." "You must. Otherwise, Commander, you will witness the Saint take her own life." Despite her calm tone, Ilia had already produced a small dagger, poised threateningly at her throat. A thin line of blood trickled down from her tender skin that touched the sharp blade. "Saint!" Victor’s shout resonated in alarm as Harmorn inquired with a stony face. "You’re serious. Why are you going this far?" "I am in no position to impose further, having already received such aid." "…They might be trying to exploit you. I've never heard of a group with a transcendent as young as him…." "If that ever becomes true, I’ll inform you in full detail myself." Ilia decisively interrupted Harmorn’s speculation, her face firm with determination. As Harmorn closed his mouth with a more rigid expression, an unexpected dissent came from elsewhere. "Saint! I have my duty too! I can't simply leave with the Saint endangered…." "Ensuring that I met with Commander Harmorn was your task. So now, return to ‘him.’ That is the proper course." "But…" "Even if things go awry, please convey that I shall never forget the favor, and I thank you sincerely… I won’t forget." Bowing respectfully, Ilia’s demeanor resembled that of someone leaving their final will, ready for the end. Victor found himself unable to simply walk away, feeling as though he was glimpsing a parting testament. Clenching his teeth, he swung his sword, silently bridging the gap. A thunderous crash erupted between Victor and Harmorn. Though Ilia couldn’t follow their movements, she knew, incontrovertibly, that what was unfolding could not be allowed. Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth opened, letting a scream rend the silence spontaneously. "No!!" But thankfully, the clash concluded with that single exclamation. Two intersecting swords formed the shape of a cross. A grey aura entwined fiercely with a silvery aura tinged with divine radiance, while from beneath the black mask, blood dripped. Even from that single clash, it was apparent where the advantage lay. Still, the momentum exhibited by the masked Victor rivaled that of the Holy Sword. Harmorn looked at Victor, surprise evident in his brown eyes, only to meet a fierce gaze through the narrow gap of the torn mask: red and blue heterochromatic eyes stared back with intensity. "If the Saint suffers any harm…." Words that seemed almost audacious escaped the blood-stained lips. "…I'll make sure to kill you." Though exceptional, it was a state still far from mastery. Something Harmorn might regard lightly, yet he nodded somberly. "…I’ll keep that in mind." The unique hue of the aura, the distinctive heterochromatic eyes, the glimpse of blue hair showing through the split mask. Not identifiable immediately, but it wouldn’t take much investigation to uncover his identity. Yet Harmorn found nothing trivial about this young transcendent's reckless reveal—the identity the Saint labored to conceal. Instead, the sincerity felt in that single exchange weighed on his heart. 'Could that blasphemous story be true?' The church had already endured significant turmoil, and this heralded another monumental upheaval. However, any hopes he had for it to be false were rapidly fading. It wasn’t merely concern for the order. ‘Could it be possible for there to exist a magic capable of infringing upon divine power? How could such a thing be?’ It was an issue shaking the very foundation of his beliefs. Harmorn already felt the road leading back to the order stretch infinitely into the distance.