370 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

Episode 370 Have you ever felt a profound sense of fulfillment in utter exhaustion? Have you ever experienced your body nearing collapse while your soul exults in delight? Harman, known as the Divine Sword, could recall such a thing from a distant memory. 'The first time I held a sword.' Those were the days when each progress brought joy and happiness. In those moments, it was the joy of personal growth rather than divine intent that prevailed. Such occasions were frequent. However, after reaching a certain level, those experiences ceased. No one around was capable of challenging him any longer, and his training had hit its peak years ago. He felt no regret about finishing the experience of pushing his physical limits and surpassing them. An extraordinary being, whose spirit elevated and power surged as a result; improving his state was always the aim. Meaningless physical torment held little merit for training. Or so he thought. Until just a moment ago. 'It wasn't like that!' Shudder. The lingering aftermath of the clash was exhilarating. Though uninjured, the residual force left an impact on their bodies. Both he and his opponent would struggle to recover their aura for some time, but it was more than worth it. For the first time in a decade, Harman's aura was squeezed dry, exhausting his body, yet lifting his spirit to unprecedented heights. A new path beyond the previously unyielding wall seemed almost within reach, blaming himself for neglecting physical training. His adversary, visible amid settling dust, seemed to feel the same way. The vibrations and energy radiating from him carried a similar sentiment. And the fact that their battlefield was inside the holy city of Noviens was a stroke of luck for him. 'I suffered a slight, just a slight disadvantage.' The margin was minimal. A single mistake or mishap might have reversed the tide. But in battles among superhuman individuals at their pinnacle, mistakes are rare. In a continued exchange of exhausted blows, he would have inevitably lost. Yet this was the heart of the Holy Kingdom. Unlike the Sword Soul accompanied by merely six knights of the Empire, sacred knights were swarming in this place. Reflecting this, most of the approaching energy was indeed from the sacred knights. "…Regrettable. We'll have to look forward to next time." The Empire's foremost swordsman glared at him. Although certain he had glimpsed beyond his wall, the gaze was more of regret than expectation. An old fighter whose physical body was aging, yet wielded terrifying power. A phenomenal monster producing a more resilient aura than Harman, whose divine aura's recovery and endurance were unmatched. But surely the time remaining for him to reach beyond the wall they experienced together wasn’t generous. Harman interpreted the look of regret on the Sword Soul’s face in this light. “This matter is...” Even before Trias, with his stern face, could finish speaking, Harman lowered his head first. “We were both hasty. I share the blame, so let us dismiss it.” As he let go of his strength, his mind, fired by competitive spirit, calmed. 'It was a foolish deed.' Though he gained much, it was merely a personal victory. As the representative of the Holy Kingdom, it was nothing more than an impulsive sword fight. And it was the same for the Sword Soul. However, their outward expressions naturally differed. "May I take Jerome with me?" "…Please do." "Heh." Both implicitly understood that Harman gained more from this reckless and meaningless duel as national envoys. Moreover, Harman wasn't intent on Jerome's fate beyond face value. The first meeting of the continent's mightiest concluded with such a tumult. * * * "…What did you think?" Caught off guard by his master's unexpected question as they silently exited the city gates, Jerome answered promptly. He had been replaying the match in his head continuously. "It was a tremendous duel. It felt as if a blind man opened his eyes." "…I see. Then, do you believe you could have interfered in that fight?" "…I think it's still too much for me." At that honest answer, his master sighed. As Jerome’s expression hardened, wondering if he'd erred yet again, his master’s cryptic lament continued. "Hah. If only we had met ten years earlier…" "…Master?" Only when they were almost back to the Empire's camp did Trias, who had been silent with a serious face, speak again. "Remember one thing. If war breaks out with the Holy Kingdom, the Divine Sword must be the first one to die." A reasonable, though perhaps harsh, directive. "By any means necessary." The gravity of that additional instruction sent Jerome's expression into further gloom. "What do you mean by that, Master?" "It is as I said. If war breaks out, the Divine Sword must be killed by any means necessary. Should we conquer the Holy Kingdom, but fail to kill him, the Empire would, in a few years, face catastrophic calamity." "…" "Such peril as an Aura Master with saint-like divine power." The solemn expression of Trias, mentioning a monster the likes of which had never existed in human history, was grave beyond measure. * * * – The Holy Kingdom denies involvement in the death of the Imperial Legion Commander and the prince's disappearance. This official stance from the Holy Kingdom remained unchanged. However, the Empire's position had subtly shifted. – It alleges the involvement of Cardinal Tracy of the Holy Kingdom and the Empire's adversaries, the Black Serpents, in the prince’s kidnapping. – The demise of Legion Commander Max Ilya is also linked to them. The Empire declares its intent to hold the Black Serpents and the Holy Kingdom accountable. "What are the Black Serpents?" "They're supposedly foes of the Empire?" The public was now aware of the Casel Magic Tower, and the story of mages using the Black Serpent insignia had emerged. Furthermore, the Empire announced them as the culprits behind horrific attacks in Aseriand, labeling them a malevolent group manipulating minds and commanding monstrous creatures. – The prince's abduction was intended to sow chaos within the Imperial family. Regrettably, as of now, he will be expelled from the royal lineage. – We demand an explanation from the Holy Kingdom, which colluded with the Empire's enemy to bring misfortune upon the royal family. Of course, the Holy Kingdom did not remain silent. – Cardinal Tracy is a fraud who deceived the world. She is merely a wizard of the Black Serpents, not a priestess. – From the beginning, she conspired to manipulate the Pope into surrendering the Holy Kingdom to the Empire. The prince's abduction was a mere consequence of a failed transaction between them and the Empire, and thus we demand an explanation of those backdoor dealings. The Holy Kingdom cited its early friendly gestures towards the Empire during Pope Austin’s reign as proof. Nonetheless, the Empire stood its ground. – The legion commander is dead, and the prince is missing. There could be no clearer evidence. Amid the back-and-forth of declarations and rebuttals, the previously silent Emperor finally spoke. – As a representative of humanity, recognized by the Holy Kingdom, I will punish and cleanse the corrupt shrine. This was essentially a declaration of war. Consequently, the Empire's western legions began advancing towards the holy city of Noviens, drawing public attention inevitably to the sacred capital. “So the Emperor has finally revealed his ambitions.” “It was what we anticipated.” At Ilya’s worried glance out the window, a middle-aged knight standing beside her responded calmly. "They may not realize it, but we needed time just as much as they did." His confident demeanor seemed to slightly ease her anxiety, and Ilya quickly regained her composure as she turned to look at the knight, Harmon. “…Are we prepared?” “Indeed. Temple knights have already discreetly infiltrated, gathering steadily. There’s also an abundance of volunteers for the Holy Legion. The preparations begun since that day have proven effective.” Exactly. Ever since the second prince vanished with Tracy, they had been gearing up for war. “The Emperor was bound to wage war eventually… Thankfully, we adhered to His Majesty Logan’s advice.” “…May the gods bless him.” As Harmon traced a circular sign of devotion and clasped his hands in prayer at Ilya’s words, she too bowed her head lightly to the east. In that moment, both sensed a faint vibration of divine energy within them. Meeting one another’s gaze, they smiled, realizing it was no illusion. Certain that the great deities were watching over them, the devout believers felt no fear. It was then that a voice called from outside the door. – The Holy Father, the Pope, is entering. “His Holiness?” “But just yesterday, he…” As they exchanged surprised glances, the door opened, revealing the pale, emaciated face of an old man. Already frail, he seemed even more withered. Upon entering the room, the elderly man began to cough violently, causing those watching to rush forward in astonishment. “Your Holiness!” “You should not overexert yourself!” “Haha. It’s alright, cough, cough! …It’s fine. A sinner who brought calamity upon the order cannot rest indefinitely.” The expression of Pope Austin was filled with deep remorse. “You must rest until you are fully recovered. It’s a miracle you’ve come to your senses again.” Ilya’s words were not an exaggeration. For over three months, he had been akin to a puppet, with the faintest expressions of emotion strictly controlled. The priests specializing in treating mental ailments had consistently expected that even if the unidentified magic dissipated, the Pope would remain incapable of full recovery. Nevertheless, the Pope’s tenacity, preserving his self and regaining his memories, commanded respect. “Yes, Your Holiness. Please rest now. You must lead the Holy Kingdom in good health.” Despite Harmon’s urging, Austin shook his head resolutely. “No. From the start, it was not I, an elderly man, who should have led the order. The Saintess should have. Had that been so, none of this misfortune would have occurred…” “Your Holiness, please do not say such things…” “Please retract your words.” Their astonishment at such a monumental statement led both Ilya and Harmon to kneel simultaneously. Austin, however, merely smiled wryly, lowering himself to his knees in front of them. “Your Holiness!” “No, this mustn’t be!” Shocked, those accompanying the Pope, including the sacred knights, expressed their collective alarm as Austin sighed with a forlorn expression. “…This is as it should be. You, the two heroes who saved the Holy Kingdom from its mire, must not kneel before this sinner.” With that, he removed the pure white mitre from his head, setting it before Ilya. The mitre of the Pope, one of the nine sacred relics, Sententia. Yet faced with its brilliant and holy light, Ilya’s expression hardened. “Surely not…!” “I, Austin Pluit, the 45th Pope, hereby resign from my position. I pass the mantle to the Saintess of Amun-Da, Ilya Gabon.” “Your Holiness!” All present were stunned by the radical declaration, doubting their ears. Yet the Pope, the source of these words, appeared at ease. “In light of the circumstances, we will forego ceremony, but this is the final command of Pope Austin Pluit. Accept Sententia, Sister Ilya.” “How… How could I…” The realization was overwhelming, shaking her voice. “Please, just call me Austin now. Everything is finally finding its rightful place. This was how it should have been. It was my ambition to leave my name in history that invited disaster. I will spend the rest of my days repenting for that mistake.” A bittersweet yet liberating expression. Everyone understood, observing his face. His mind would not change. Thus, with trembling hands, Ilya accepted the mitre. “Can I—can I truly do this?” "This sacred relic has upheld my lacking spirit. If you, Saintess, accept it, you will be able to hear the divine words more clearly. Conveying the will of the gods to mankind—this is the true role of the Pope. I should have passed it on when I realized this..." With a lament of regret and self-reproach, the brief transfer ceremony concluded. Though the expression of the one receiving the mitre was not particularly reassuring, observers attributed it to the weighty responsibility she now bore. Indeed, Ilya did feel the weight of responsibility. Yet, beyond that, she was seized by an unsettling sensation. 'Why does it feel so disquieting?' It was unthinkable for a saintess to find a holy relic unsettling. But somehow, the radiant light emanating from the sacred mitre felt overwhelmingly burdensome to Ilya.