476 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

Chapter 476: Temple at the Edge of the Torre Kingdom in the Western Continent In the northwestern corner of the Torre Kingdom lies a secluded temple. Here, Archbishop Dallan has been in seclusion, praying fervently to atone for a grave mistake—months ago, he had a sacred relic stolen by the apostate Harmon. This penance involved arduous daily prayers, both at sunrise and sunset, directed at the divine statues—a testament to his unwavering faith. Unlike high priests who are well-versed in political and financial games, Dallan's devotion was pure, void of any shortcuts or cunning befitting his position at the edge of the continent. And then, one fateful day, at the climax of his solitary journey of repentance, Dallan experienced something extraordinary. For the first time in his life, he heard the divine revelation from the gods. — The descent of Zibrick Kassel is imminent. — Accept my power and proclaim the will of the gods on earth. — Those who heed this call shall enjoy eternal life in the garden of the gods. Although the first part of the revelation was cryptic to him, the holy resonance that filled his soul moved Dallan to tears. The unbidden tears rolled down his gaunt cheeks. As he opened his weary eyes, a majestic light flooded his vision while he remained in his prayerful posture. Once his aging eyes adjusted, the source of his repentance was before him—the lost relic of Ageron, the god of gold and commerce, known as the Aurum. "This... this can't be!" Tears streamed down his face, a witness to his overwhelming emotion. Dallan realized that he was given an opportunity—to become an apostle, a legendary status documented only in history books, not bestowed on even the pope or the saints of his time. Striving to contain his emotions, Dallan offered another prayer, from start to finish, with trembling hands reaching out towards the sacred relic before him. "...I accept the will of the gods." And at the moment his frail hand made contact with the relic— — Aaaaaaaaaah! An excruciating pain, akin to being consumed by a giant beast, overwhelmed him. The agony was so shocking and harrowing that a cry involuntarily escaped him, yet it was a silent scream, inaudible to any other. And then, moments later. Crack. Dallan gasped, then coughed, and let out a pitiful moan, slowly regaining composure. "This body is far too weak, tch. Even though circumstances are dire..." Discontent brewed within him as he kneaded his limbs, almost as if dissatisfied with the vessel he occupied. In those brief moments, Dallan's appearance underwent a swift transformation. His sparse white hair flourished into golden locks, and his once deeply lined face regained the handsome allure of his youth. Even the emaciated frame gained aesthetically pleasing muscles. Inspecting his renewed body with a satisfied smile, Dallan savored the change. "Hmm, even after modifications, this flesh can only handle up to an 8th class level. Pathetic—humans..." The displeased smirk on Dallan’s youthful face belied his newfound vitality. And then, a voice resonated within his mind. [The loss of divinity is immense. Gather without delay.] The message from Ion, the god of water and agriculture, echoed in his thoughts. Tch. "Since when did Blue play leader? Historically, Gold, our kind, has always led, Ion." Perhaps feeling mortal desires upon incarnation, Ageron's disdain was stirred by Ion's authoritative tone. Yet, disrupting the celestial hierarchy established since their ascension was unthinkable. Besides, stopping Zibrick's descent was of utmost urgency. Engaging in disputes over past affairs now would be pointless. "After over two millennia, still drowning in this mess..." All because of an unscrupulous entity attempting to seize a domain with rightful ownership. "The dimensional walls are thickening as it is." The divine power accumulated over a thousand years was squandered on this 'forced descent.' Furthermore, the vessel for his descent was abysmal, inciting his irritation. Testing the limits of his muscles and bones, Ageron, dissatisfied, furrowed his brow even deeper. "This time, Zibrick, I will end it once and for all." Not like that lizard brat Amunda—how many partitions has he scattered his soul into? "Destroy one, another appears, and then yet another... What a vile creature." This time, he would locate every remaining soul fragment and eradicate it permanently or seal it dimensionally. [Ageron.] "I'm on my way." The moment he responded to the summoning voice, Dallan’s body vanished without a trace. * * * After several spatial leaps, a human city appeared in the distance. A metropolis far grander than anything even conceivable two millennia ago. Even their sanctified place, Gran, was nowhere near as vast as this city, he recalled. "…Not to my liking at all." Floating in the air, observing the swarm of humans below, Ageron’s mood was foul. In the past, he might have wiped them out altogether, but after discovering the divine sweetness of their souls, he had no choice but to spare them. As he gazed at the city with mixed feelings. "You're late, Ageron." A voice interrupted, as five comrades materialized around him. Among them, Dallan—or rather, Ageron’s avatar—narrowed his eyes at the middle-aged figure enveloped in a bluish aura. "...Had to fix this pitiful form." "Even Atlan and Anima, who had to settle for second best due to a rogue apostate, arrived before you. Anima even handled affairs in the Holy State to resolve the irregulars’ issue." "Blame that idiotic Amunda, unable to properly absorb a single human, and the same goes for that wretched Aria. And it seems like Adgar isn’t here yet?" At the mention of Adgar, Ion's expression temporarily hardened. "…Adgar seems to have fallen to Zibrick’s avatar." "What!? That's absurd!" "Complete connection with the main body is severed, so details are unclear. But in the worst case, Zibrick’s avatar may have achieved the strength to defeat even one of our apostles." "Could it be they've reached the realm of demigods…" "Didn't we conclude that was impossible? Only magic can touch divinity." "…Even if that's the case, it's dire. Or perhaps Adgar was simply careless," Ageron scoffed, provoking a surge of energy from a stocky man enveloped in a brown aura. It wasn't his unfamiliar mortal expression that revealed his displeasure, but his energy. "Adgar isn't foolish enough for such mistakes! Ion is right, Ageron. Just because you descend in a human body, don't forget your dignity as a god." Ageron's own aura flared in response. How pathetic it is to descend in a human form only to become a diminutive being just like your original body. Only that fool has become more inferior after becoming an apostle. And since when have these dwarfish leaders dared to challenge a dragon? Perhaps because of his mortal descent, Ageron felt a long-forgotten stirring of emotion and let his thoughts spill out unfiltered. "Dignity? A god? Ha. Don't delude yourself, Atlan. Being called a god of earth and mining doesn't make you truly divine. We're still shackled by the constraints of demi-gods." At this declaration, the others' energy intensified. His words touched the nerve of the Nine Gods. True gods should exist completely and independently. They shouldn't rely on consuming the souls of lesser beings to elevate their stature, like this world's genuine creators—entities of such elevated dimensions that they remain uninterested in the lower realms. "We're here, after all, to eliminate variables that might ruin everything, aren't we? Even agreeing to take on personal losses," interjected a figure with a red aura, trying to calm the agitated group. Anima, known as the god of fire and nourishment, was surprisingly composed for one who had once been an Orc warlord, which is why temple affairs were his purview. But seeing his current body modified to be brutish, it seemed he too couldn't escape his species’ instincts, evoking only a smirk from Ageron. Still, further provocation was unnecessary. Divine power lost during forced descent continues to dwindle while remaining on earth—a trickle compared to the initial descent, but wasteful nonetheless. Ageron had no intention of wasting power needlessly. Once Ageron settled down, Ion, surrounded by blue energy, swiftly returned to the matter at hand. "First, we clear the 'altar'. Then we assist the Holy Legion in purging the East. Killing the avatar is a bonus." Though these plans were discussed pre-descent, mentioning them again was necessary to harmonize their changed abilities and senses post-descent. However, Ageron, who had opposed from the start, challenged the prearranged plan once more. "There's a new variable. Is it necessary to stick to the original plan?" "Ageron!" Ion interjected. "We know the avatar is more powerful than anticipated. With higher risks than initially expected, more apostle bodies might be damaged." "If that's the case, it's all the more reason to kill it. If Zibrick claims such a body…" "But if the avatar is extinguished in this forced descent, who compensates for the losses?" A word slipped into the chaotic discussion. Loss. That word silenced other voices. Fundamentally, they were rivals. Loss to someone else would be welcome, but they had no intention of taking that loss themselves. "…So, what do you propose, Ageron?" "Hmm, I think pitting Zibrick's high priest against the avatar first would be a good move." Eyes turned to Ageron at this suggestion. Ion, however, shook his head. "Too high a risk." "…Right. It's disastrous for us if Zibrick descends into that body." "Why did we force a descent, anyway? With the power amassed at the altar, even without the avatar—wasn't it enough for Zibrick’s revival? Yet, you're proposing we gift him the avatar?" "The current high priest seems unaware of that fact. Fortunately, our efforts weren't in vain, considering much of Zibrick’s lineage has been severed." "But considering worst-case scenarios…" "We'll follow through afterward. Are we so weakened that we can't disrupt that ritual from close proximity?" "…No, we're not." "Then it's settled. We provoke a clash between the avatar and the high priest, then assault them afterward. We'll combine our strength to disrupt the ritual. This way, no 'losses' for us." With Ageron smiling brightly as he concluded, it became clear. Ideally, consolidating their forces to dismantle the altar and eliminate Logan MacLine would be the best strategy. Though some apostle bodies might suffer damage in the process, it was a necessary sacrifice given the circumstances. However, it was precisely because of this that they settled on a second-best plan, aiming to minimize loss for themselves. Their followers would have been appalled at such pragmatism, yet to them, it was perfectly rational. Incredibly, even the conclusion of their plan involved a contingency. "If the plan goes awry, sacrificing your apostle, Ageron, will be assumed," Ion stated, shifting the burden onto Ageron. Yet despite the unfavorable condition, Ageron smiled contentedly. "Fine. But if this results in no losses for everyone, I'm taking a larger cut of the rewards. Agreed?" His ambition was clear: to surpass Ion, knowing the first to shed the demi-god shackles would reign supreme among them. Though an obvious admission of base greed, the other Nine Gods nodded, fully aware. Ion, often the first among them, merely dispersed a gentle blue light, smiling serenely. ‘Will everything truly unfold so simply?’ Friend or foe, colleague or competitor—all held that duality in their minds. Ion was no exception.