452 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

### Chapter 452: The Reluctant Solo Pursuit Logan knew only one person capable of operating without deploying an elite force, even when risking conflict with the temple: himself. ‘I have no choice.’ Though war loomed ever closer, ignoring a sinister premonition linked to the gods was not an option. Fortunately, it was during a period when he had finalized all war preparations and was focused solely on training. Going alone was best for Marquis Harmon and Maclain too. Logan reminded himself of this as he moved swiftly. In mere seconds, he covered dozens of meters, landing on another slender branch without a sound, as if gravity barely affected him. Although traversing the sky was not difficult for him at this point, he chose the forest path to remain unseen. – "From near Aserian, the temple forces are battling as they head directly towards Kyle. Straight like an arrow." – "They aren't taking the main roads or mountain paths. They scale mountains and cross rivers without hesitation, moving in a straight line while smashing through anything that blocks their way." Damian had initially provided this information with exasperated sighs. – "This isn’t a typical approach." Paths exist because they are quicker and more convenient. Even with the powers of the Divine Sword, such aggressive movements were excessive. Ignoring nearby bridges to destroy boats while crossing rivers or cutting through forests in a straight line was uncharacteristic of his usual temperament. ‘It’s as if he’s lost his mind.’ – "Something has certainly happened to Sir Harmon." Anyone familiar with the Divine Sword would find the situation abnormal. Luckily, since his movements were so straightforward, tracking him wasn’t too challenging, even for Logan on his own. Signposts began appearing here and there. "Prepare yourselves! The heretic is headed this way!" "Yes, sir!" Knights adorned in pristine white armor engraved with concentric circles. Hundreds of temple forces were entrenched at the dark forest entrance, openly lighting torches and constructing barricades as if prepared for a prolonged occupation. Seeing temple knights forming a battle camp in a forest, far from any major roads or cities, was an eerie sight. Yet, for Logan, it was a clear sign. ‘Indeed, this is the right direction.’ A point where drawing a straight line northeast from Lusfelheim and northwest from Kyle would intersect. Additionally, the paladins’ focus towards the northwest clearly indicated their adversary was approaching from that direction. "Remember, all we need to do is delay!" "Yes, sir!" "Others are pursuing the heretic as we speak. We are the anvil; they are the hammer!" "Yes, sir!" "Never retreat! Martyrdom is a virtue!" "Yes, sir!" The commands from the top-tier knight echoed fiercely, with the paladins, most of whom appeared to be of intermediate rank or higher, responding flawlessly. And yet, to Logan, who had long surpassed the superhuman realm, their skills were insignificant compared to their blind zealotry. ‘Telling them to fight to the death...’ With growing disdain for the Nine Gods, the paladins' fanaticism was chilling. Of course, it was no time to merely observe them. ‘If they’ve set up barricades, they intend to stay at least a day or two.’ Engaging the paladins here would only create unnecessary complications. The moment he decided, his body moved instantly. Swiftly, he crossed to the treetops, leaping towards the northwest. It was a flawless navigation through the torchlight’s reach. Having surpassed even the originator of such movement techniques, his ghost-like maneuvers left no trace in the thick darkness. ‘Let’s take it slow.’ Despite knowing the direction, he sought a superhuman opponent. Worried about missing his target, Logan heightened his senses and dashed for nearly half a day. Soon, he realized he needn’t have been so cautious. – BOOM! From afar came an explosive sound, interspersed with a rising silvery aura. A familiar presence, a familiar power. There was no mistaking it—Harmon. The instant Logan recognized it, he reassessed his own status. Appearance was not a concern. Even during busy times, Victoria’s artifact was far more efficient than his teacher’s creation. The next focus... ‘Red would be a good choice for the aura’s color.’ Though he’d done it several times, the force output was notably lesser. Changing the aura's color meant suppressing his true nature, so ending up with a capacity decrease was remarkable in itself. Even if his status decreased, he remained a top-tier aura user. Few across the continent could challenge him, but encountering the worst-case scenario posed some risk. ‘What if Sir Harmon, not in his right mind, attacks me?’ In such a case, things could become tricky. If he couldn’t inflict damage while his opponent attacked freely, it could be problematic. No matter how hard he thought about it, a feasible plan just wouldn't materialize. ‘I’ll have to assess the situation as it unfolds.’ If Viktor's information was correct and Harmon's condition had ties to those apostles, Logan needed to assert his presence, even if it meant eliminating all witnesses. It was a risk he was prepared to take. However, if that wasn't the case… ‘Sorry, Harmon, but I’ll need to wait and see.’ Given his ability to perceive souls, the likelihood of making a wrong judgment was slim. Ideally, Harmon would recognize him, and they would join forces, but that was the best-case scenario Logan hoped for as he launched himself towards the source of the explosion. A voice—or rather, a spiritual force—intercepted him mid-flight. [...King Logan!] Huh? * * * “Stop him!” With his white hair, white eyebrows, and pristine appearance, the figure of Stefan Royer, one of the three deputy commanders of the Sacred Knights, was unmistakable even from a distance. Following his command, a small but sturdy knight hoisted a radiant silver kite shield. This was Astro Hyzen, another deputy commander. “Haah!” With a short battle cry, a lanky figure emerged beside him, thrusting forward a spear taller than himself. This was the third deputy commander, the Saint Spear, Anthony Everett. Their target was none other than their former commander, the Divine Sword. “Get a hold of yourself, Commander!” BOOOM! Astro, usually renowned for his silence, managed only that one remark before being forced back, sliding across the ground. Despite the impact, his eyes were filled with an earnest sorrow. “Show no mercy! He’s a heretic!” Yet Stefan Royer, who once generated endless tales of heroism alongside the Divine Sword as both senior and subordinate, had nothing but coldness in his blue eyes. “Die, heretic!” At Stefan's order, the Saint Spear, once touted as the successor to the Divine Sword, aimed for Harmon's vital points. BOOOM! The loud collision yielded no results. Anthony’s thin frame, having been repelled with ease, wavered like reeds in the wind, his internal damage apparent even at a glance. A disgraceful contrast to his brave war cry. On the other hand, Harmon, having repelled Anthony and now confronting Astro’s shield, showed little sign of fatigue. It was only natural. After all, they faced Harmon Killabrew—the man they once believed to be the continent's greatest Divine Sword. Their ability to even confront him now was thanks to several fortunate factors. Behind them were dozens of chanting paladins and hundreds of priests. The holy power they emanated was lending strength to the deputy commanders and restricting Harmon’s movements. Moreover, Harmon had been on the run for a long time, lacking proper food, water, or rest, leaving him drained. The current divine aura of the Divine Sword barely matched half of his known full power. Most critically... “Get out of the way!” BOOM! “I must go!” PUNCH. CRASH! Harmon was not in his right mind as he repelled the deputy commanders attacking from both sides. Wild, bulging eyes and disheveled hair accompanied his monotonous utterances. “Get out of the way!” “I must go!” His true interest lay not in the battle itself. Even as he defended himself, he continuously moved southeast. CRASH! SKID. “No more, Sir Stefan!” Astro coughed up blood and spoke, leaving Stefan clenching his teeth. Anthony, who had charged several times with his spear, was already retreating for healing by another priest, and Stefan himself was becoming sluggish, managing severe internal injuries from the initial clashes. It was already a repeat of scenes played out multiple times. ‘Must we let him go again?’ Despite once harboring immense respect for Harmon, Stefan couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal. It seemed unimaginable that someone with Harmon’s power had truly fallen under the Black Serpent’s control. Yet, the church’s elite forces were now all focused on pursuing Harmon rather than the true enemy, the Black Serpent. Even as he hoped to resolve the situation quickly, it remained incredibly difficult. How could someone who hadn’t eaten, drunk, or slept be so vigorous? If they paused to recover, it would only result in more sacrifices from their brothers who had to contain him. Yet, once more, they had no choice. Next time, he could only hope Harmon was even more exhausted. “Why do the gods...?” Grant such power to a heretic. Swallowing words he dared not give voice to, Stefan sent a signal. At once, the temple knights began their well-practiced routine. “Clear the path!” “Follow the pursuit team!” “Contact the reserves!” Not long after... “I must go!” With obstacles faded, Harmon charged straight to the southeast. DRUM-DRUM-DRUM. BOOOM. The sight of trees being obliterated by his divine aura had become all too familiar. “Pursuit team, move out!” “Yes, sir!” Even the sight of the paladins chasing after him was nothing new. As Stefan turned away from the familiar, bitter scene, he found himself whipping his head back around with wide eyes. – "Aaargh!" – "We’re under attack!" – "Oh, the aura!" Cries of agony mingled with a vivid crimson light from where the pursuit team had ventured.