413 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

### Chapter 413 - Wowwwww! The sight of the imperial army flooding the horizon in a dark swarm didn’t strike any real fear into Harmon. He knew there was nothing he felt he needed to stake his life on protecting. If the going got tough, escaping back to Nobien was always an option. Thus, he found himself, as he had been these past few days, constantly revisiting his encounter with the 'target.' The rumors about the young genius who had defeated the Sword Demon seemed anything but exaggerated. Judging by the results sensed through intuition, it was a close match. But with the added power of Licentia, one of the sacred relics of the Nine Gods, Harmon was confident in his victory. Yet, what truly bothered him was the attitude of his opponent. ‘It wasn’t as welcoming as I anticipated.’ Even he considered his deployment to this war by the church to be somewhat irrational. Had it not been a divine decree, he would have refused without hesitation. However, MacLaine should have welcomed him with open arms, so why the indifferent expression? ‘Actually, it seemed more like he was somewhat wary...’ Something felt off, as it didn't quite align with the competitive spirit between two knights who both defeated the Sword Demon. Moreover... – Jibrik Kassel. Known in ancient times as a magical saint, he declared himself a servant of the gods and attempted to rule mankind. Eventually, he was a great demon vanquished for rebelling against the divine. – Logan MacLaine is prophesied to be his descendant and the bearer of his soul. Thus, he must be killed. According to the divine decree from His Holiness the Pope, Logan MacLaine was an enemy akin to those unscrupulous wizards who brainwashed the previous pope. The divine decree was an earthly command and truth handed down by the gods. ‘Surely, there should be some sign of it.’ Yet, when he actually met Logan MacLaine, Logan embodied the essence of the sun, as befitting his nickname "Sun of MacLaine." A brilliance shining radiantly, burning intensely, allowing not a hint of imperfection in its essence. No matter how he looked at it, he didn’t seem like a descendant of a great demon or a devil in waiting to be consumed by malice. ‘Unless... does that mean the great demon is formidable enough to turn even someone with such an aura into a demon?’ A thought born out of frustration. But then... – That thought is correct. A resonant affirmation echoed from deep within his soul. In that moment, Harmon fell to his knees impulsively. He sensed the knights and soldiers around him casting curious glances his way, but he paid them no mind. It was the voice of the god, heard after so long. “Oh, my Lord.” The artifact Licentia, relic of Aria, the god of the sky and freedom. Harmon’s hand, clutching the relic around his neck, trembled slightly. Since being bestowed the relic, he had only heard the god’s voice nine times, but never so clearly. Having directly experienced the holy resonance that shook his soul as a servant of god, how could he not be moved? Before the voice faded away again, Harmon offered a sincere prayer. “Your servant earnestly beseeches you. Bestow upon me the truth.” Knelt on both knees, left hand raised straight, right hand tracing the sign of the cross. An aura of subtle divinity began to glow around him, invisible to ordinary eyes. Amazingly, the god’s voice rang out once more. – Jibrik can stain even the soul of a divine being with his color. – So, my servant, my sword. Slay his incarnation before that day comes. The voice spread from the depths of his soul, leaving its mark on his spirit. Only then did Harmon realize that the god had chosen him as a conduit to the earthly realm. The sensation of his soul, which is the essence of his self, being dyed in the color of the divine. For priests who claim to be servants of god, it was an ecstasy akin to divine joy. ……Or so it should have been. "Hmm." For some reason, Harmon let out an involuntary groan of displeasure. Having reached the halfway point to the realm of an Aura Master, mastering his soul, he instinctively rejected his soul being stained without his consent. And his feelings were directly transmitted to the god. – How dare you!!! The god's angry voice reverberated powerfully at the base of his soul. The faith that had been indoctrinated into Harmon over many years repressed his resentment once more, causing him to lower his head in submission. ‘I apologize, my god. I dared to harbor insolence.’ With his eyes tightly shut, he began reciting scripture once more, feeling the anger in the god’s voice gradually subside. – Humans are foolish and prone to mistakes. I forgive you through divine mercy. ‘Thank you, my god.’ – Remember your mission! Whoom. With that stern reprimand, a holy resonance exploded, coloring his soul. Simultaneously, as the voice from beyond his soul faded, the divine presence rapidly waned. It felt as though a powerful mage or knight was desisting after exerting great strength. ‘What blasphemous thoughts did I entertain again?’ Even as he pondered this, Harmon unconsciously severed the ripple of divine energy affecting him. It was a defensive mechanism that activated instinctively when over half of his soul was about to be consumed, a capability he had due to his partial mastery of his soul. And at that moment, he realized. "What...?" He had managed to preserve 'himself.' Just barely maintaining his identity before the god could devour his soul. He instinctively knew that if more than half was 'consumed,' he would be helplessly drawn into absorption, no matter how fiercely he resisted thereafter. “How could the god...? What is happening...?” The core belief system of Harmon Killerbrew, a man who dedicated his life to an ideal, an organization, and a world, was shaken to its foundation. An overwhelming confusion descended upon him. One so profound that he couldn't hear the roars of the advancing imperial army or the deafening blasts from the battlefield striking toward the army. Harmon stood there, dumbfounded, for quite some time. Long enough for the red eyes that had kept watching him to crinkle slightly in thought. --- – If I cannot remember my past, I will no longer be myself. When that time comes, consider me an enemy. The words Illya had conveyed to Victor were difficult to comprehend through a logical lens. The idea that one might not remain themselves was deeply abstract. Had it not been a saint who spoke them, one might have dismissed it as mere jest. However, after hearing from Philip that the saint indeed could not remember her past, it became something that couldn't be entirely ignored. – I fear the blade of the divine sword might one day aim for Your Majesty’s back. The mention of becoming an enemy. If it were true, Philip's worry was justified. Yet, as things stood, unless it materialized, the divine sword remained only an ally of MacLaine, albeit an ally with the potential to spark the second tumult between the Holy Nation and the Empire. Presently, the situation was nothing more or less than "the Pope and Saint of MacLaine secretly supporting the strongest sword of the Holy Nation.” ‘For now, it is nothing but favorable for us.’ Given its gravity, the testimony that the saint couldn't recall her past seemed like a story that could be conveniently disregarded. However... – And if it comes to pass, the saint... Alas, forgive me, Your Majesty. I cannot say more. But please trust me. Victor’s sorrowful expression, as he concluded without revealing the saint’s 'final' request, lingered in his mind. Considering the matter seriously would force them to regard the divine sword, now participating in the battle, as an enemy. And under such assumptions, a forced alignment emerged, linking another piece of the puzzle. – Eradicate the black snake opposing divine will, and exterminate the descendants of the magical saint! With a divine decree, the saint commanded an extermination campaign against the Kassel Mage Tower, citing divine mandate. Reportedly, the temple, using that decree as justification, was mobilizing full force to establish an organization targeting the black snake. Truthfully, this had nothing to do with MacLaine at present. Yet considering the shenanigans of the Kassel Mage Tower in the west, it might warrant divine intervention. This interference could exponentially escalate the war’s scope. ‘If in such a circumstance, the saint knew that MacLaine’s lineage is that of Jibrik Kassel? No, if the gods informed her according to the divine decree’s promise of conveying their will?’ Adding one assumption upon another formed an arduous conjecture. MacLaine was a family aware of Jibrik's lineage, yet ignorant of the very existence of the Kassel Mage Tower. Logan himself would have remained unaware if not through the fake saint sword, Vanitas, connecting him to the magical saint’s soul. ‘Could it be that even the nine gods don’t know?’ Even after realizing through Jibrik’s soul that the nine gods might not be the absolute entities as claimed in scriptures, Logan considered them as gods nonetheless. However, altering that thought slightly led to the conclusion: ‘The gods are intent on extinguishing any trace of Jibrik Kassel’s lineage—completely.’ After thousands of years, suddenly. Logan knew it was an unreasonable deduction, devoid of requisite justification, but that provided an explanation for Illya viewing MacLaine as an adversary. ‘Her inability to remember the past might signify Illya’s intention to sever those ties. Perhaps her final signal to me.’ Advertisements The thought of the ‘Apostle,’ seen in the Records of the Sword God, briefly crossed his mind, but was soon dismissed. Even in the myths of the Holy Nation, apostles were depicted only as saints dedicated to performing miracles and upholding divine will. Even when they descended during the times the Empire oppressed, they did not initiate wars. And even that was a story over four hundred years old. – Both the force of will and fate’s power dwindle over time, thus the gods’ influence likewise will wane. The decisive statement from the Records of the Sword God halted his outlandish speculation. Logan chuckled softly. ‘I really do have quite the imagination.’ Logan thought it exceedingly unlikely that his imaginative scenario was true. After all, the current situation adhered strictly to “the Pope and Saint from MacLaine secretly supporting the Holy Nation’s mightiest sword.” Yet, with a lingering “what if,” Logan tasked Harmon with an audacious and risky operation. Entrusted him with the initiation of the most crucial ‘operation’ of this battle. If Harmon were indeed an adversary, it would be apparent from the start. Fortunately, Harmon accepted readily. Relieved somewhat, but still plagued by a persistent unease, Logan kept an eye on him... Right before the battle commenced, Logan noticed an enormous energy surge from one corner of the fortress wall. The intense, unfamiliar white aura was unmistakably divine power. Up until that moment, everything seemed in order. Harmon interpreted the explosion of divine power as the signal to begin the ‘operation.’ However, Harmon remained motionless in his spot afterward. ‘What is he doing?’ As another volley of quarrels descended like a dark rain and the Liberatio unleashed thunderous blasts. Most attacks began to miss, deflected by the barrier of wind driving them astray at an eight-to-two ratio. Even when imperial knights started setting foot upon the fortress wall once more, Harmon merely stood there, blankly. By then, Logan could afford no more attention in that direction. With a swift motion.