〈 Chapter 274 〉 The Holy Knight Doesn’t Believe in God (4）

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Destel stared at the map spread out before him.

Not long ago, the once blood-red Berta Canyon was now painted in blue. It meant they had succeeded in recapturing it.

‘It took a long time.’

Berta Canyon is a strategic point.

At least for the Demon Lord’s Army, not humanity. Even after the Black Dragon, once the master of Berta Canyon, died, it left behind a heavy magical residue.

And magic is the material for necromancy.

The Berta Canyon, soaked in the magic left behind by calamity, has become the perfect place for necromancers to set up shop. And that’s exactly what happened. Necromancers built dozens of towers in Berta Canyon.

Every day, undead soldiers are produced in those towers.

Undead soldiers, already dead and feeling neither fear nor pain, are being churned out. The eastern front had no choice but to engage in a war of attrition against the onslaught of soldiers.

‘Finally, I can take a breather.’

But not anymore.

The towers of Berta Canyon have been collapsed, and priests chant purification spells day and night, ensuring that the place will never be used for such purposes again.

Thanks to their successful extermination.

After a long-planned operation that yielded nearly flawless success, Destel felt a slight sense of achievement.

“But you know…”

Lost in his moment of achievement, Destel turned to look at the girl sitting in a corner of the barracks.

“Why are you still here?”

“Professor Rania told me to come and ask for wisdom from you, Destel-nim.”

The next candidate for hero, Chloe.

With her shining eyes, she looked at Destel. He felt an overwhelming pressure from her gaze. It wasn’t just because she resembled a heretic.

“What are you going to learn from me?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything worth learning? Didn’t you learn enough from Galahal? You’d learn more from him than from me.”

Destel himself thought there wasn’t much she could learn from him. If anything, it would just be some crafty tricks at best.

“Are you trying to be my advisor?”

“No?”

“Then why?”

Chloe blinked, confused.

“Because Destel-nim is the most realistic hero.”

He stiffened slightly.

‘The realistic hero.’

While he had once been called that, no one referred to him that way anymore. To the world, Destel was simply known as a coward.

And it couldn’t be helped.

A realistic ‘hero’ must pursue ideals while making compromises. It was no longer an appropriate title for someone like him, who had stopped pursuing ideals. Destel sighed briefly and opened his mouth.

“Since when did that nickname feel…”

“Your stories from the watchtower helped me quite a bit. It gave me something to think about.”

“…And that helped?”

Chloe nodded.

“It’s not always like a fairytale to be a hero. To realize ideals, one must naturally consider realistic aspects too.”

The still immature girl smiled brightly.

“I’ve learned a bit from watching Galahal-nim and Destel-nim. So, I want to study harder.”

Chloe nodded earnestly.

“To become the person I wish to be, I need to do just that.”

There was no wavering in her gaze.

It was the gaze of one who had made up their mind and chosen their path. For that unwavering gaze, Destel fell silent for a moment.

The silence that lingered in the barracks was broken as Destel quietly pushed away his chair and stood up.

“…”

Without a word, Destel walked over to a corner of the barracks. There stood a clothing rack. Hanging there was a set of garments, long untouched by human hands. Destel reached for it.

Flap.

He shook the clothing lightly in the air and draped the coat-like garment over his shoulders.

“Well, whatever…”

The cloak given to heroes.

Since being called a coward, Destel hadn’t laid a hand on the cloak. However, now wearing it, he pointed towards the outside of the barracks.

“I may not have much to teach you.”

With a gentle tap, he ruffled Chloe’s hair.

“But I’ll share some advice.”

2.

“But is that girl strong too?”

While walking towards a duel with Galahal, Karioth posed the question to me.

“She can fight well enough.”

“Really? Oh, she’s the sister of that Ashen Mage, right?”

I nodded.

Karioth laughed aloud.

“Well, that makes sense. So, how’s her brother doing? I’ve only heard rumors of his retirement, but I don’t know what he’s up to now.”

Is he doing well, you ask?

I answered the question with a bitter smile.

“He said he was looking for a new job, that’s all I heard.”

“A new job. He can do anything, I’d say.”

“He’s quite capable.”

Clears throat, Galahal coughed lightly.

Ignoring Galahal’s half-open gaze, I continued walking.

“The young fella tried hard, I’ll give him that.”

Karioth nodded in agreement.

“Is he having a bit of fun these days, then?”

“What do you mean by fun?”

“He used to live a pretty boring life. I heard rumors he couldn’t even enjoy himself down there.”

I flinched at that.

Karioth clicked his tongue.

“A guy who’s never had a hot night calling himself a Wise One? Doesn’t that seem a bit absurd? Tell him to enjoy life more; there are plenty of joyful things in the world.”

“…He’s just a busy person.”

“Not busy, just hasn’t been able to do it.”

Rattle.

My clenched fists tightened.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t, it was that he didn’t want to act crudely like Kyle.

“Then he should start enjoying life from now on.”

“That’s not it…!”

As I raised my voice, I glanced at Karioth and immediately fell silent. He was staring at something far away, a sarcastic smile on his face.

A bitter and poignant smile.

“It’s not good to walk around with a face of someone who’s seen the world, at a young age like yours, with so much left undone and experienced…”

3.

Boom!

The moment Karioth placed the coffin he had been carrying on his back down, the ground trembled lightly. With a kick, he sent the cross-shaped coffin rocking.

“I have a lot of weapons I use.”

He tossed one of them into the air. The weapon that flew was set to fall blade first.

Thud.

The blades embedded themselves softly into the ground.

While their depths were varied, they seemed messy at a glance…but there was a certain pattern among the blades driven into the ground, a pattern only Karioth could recognize.

“Now, Hero of the Holy Lance.”

Karioth drew his claymore.

Bloodstains wafted from the steel he lifted. But for a moment, when he raised the sword to cover his face, the blade gleamed with a platinum light.

Holy Light (??).

The blade, imbued with holiness, no longer reeked of blood. The sight of Karioth, holding the gleaming sword against his face, resembled a noble Holy Knight. The scars covering his upper body did little to tarnish his dignity.

“Let’s have a round.”

In response, Galahal adjusted his grip on the Holy Lance with both hands. The spear pointed towards Karioth.

A single exchange of glances.

A single blink.

Neither waited for the other, both charged at the ground. Swoosh, the sounds of the Holy Lance colliding with the blade echoed.

Physically, Galahal held the advantage.

The speed of the spear and the power imbued in the weapon were both greater on his side. However, the moment the spear and the blade clashed, Galahal’s instincts kicked in.

He needed to retreat.

It was an instinct honed on the battlefield over many years. And his instinct proved to be correct ultimately. Karioth’s blade sliced through the air in a strange trajectory, aiming over the spear towards Galahal.

Clang!

With a spin, Galahal deflected the blade away from him while stepping back a pace.

“Wow.”

Karioth rubbed his wrist and admired the moment.

“As expected of the hero. You’re remarkable. This should work a few times in a normal spar.”

Ksssh, licking his lips, Karioth hurled the claymore at Galahal. The platinum blade arced through the air towards him.

Clang, it was naturally intercepted.

The moment Galahal lightly swung his spear to knock the blade away, Karioth, already low to the ground, charged in with weapons in each hand.

Clash!

Sparks flew.

As Galahal blocked Karioth’s weapon with his spear, Karioth crossed his other blade to defend against it.

Clash.

However, it was impossible to avoid damaging his weapon. The Holy Lance that Galahal wielded was famous for being heavy among the treasures of the Stars. It required nearly a year of training for Galahal to wield it properly.

The fruits of that training would not betray him.

Snap!

The spear, pressed down by force, shattered the weapon in Karioth’s hands. Just as it was about to strike Karioth’s shoulder, he abandoned the broken weapon.

Then, spin.

He spun in place to evade the spear. Swoosh, as the spear struck the ground, Karioth stepped on it.

However, Karioth was in the same situation of having lost a weapon.

At that moment Galahal expected no counterattack, but Karioth reached behind him and extended his hand, as if grasping for something far away.

Whoosh.

Weapons buried in the ground rose into the air. The airborne weapons simultaneously flew toward Karioth.

Holy Magic: Gravitational Pull.

Originally a spell meant to lift light objects…but if one with holiness comparable to the Pope used it, the outcome was drastically different.

Many weapons soared into the air.

As nearly a dozen weapons flew toward Karioth, he quickly grasped the first one that arrived in his hands. It was a massive greatsword.

Swinging the greatsword from close range.

As the greatsword struck, Galahal chose not to evade. He planted the spear under his arm and slammed down on it with his palm.

Boom!

The spear that had been embedded in the ground shot upwards.

With Karioth’s balance disturbed as he stood on the shaft of the spear, Galahal reacted instantly and counterattacked.

Karioth abandoned the greatsword and caught the weapons flying toward him one by one, countering the incoming assault. Clash! Clang! The sounds of blades meeting echoed repeatedly.

As sparks flew, Galahal felt.

‘This is tricky.’

Even though he wasn’t using starlight, his opponent was troublesome.

While he had encountered many Holy Knights on the battlefield, he had never seen one handle a variety of weapons like this with such finesse.

It was unpredictable. There were no patterns to foresee.

At first glance, it looked like grappling techniques, yet the transitions between weapons were smooth. His grip on each weapon was firm. Every strike was tricky.

It wasn’t a refined technique, but one honed through experience in battle. More akin to a blade for survival than a blade to face something.

Clang!

The clash of attacks resumed.

Watching from a distance, Raniael couldn’t help but smile.

“This will be troublesome, indeed.”

She too had experienced facing Karioth.

She had witnessed the clash between Kyle and Karioth.

‘He was a tough opponent, especially with that cross-shaped sword… it was truly irritating.’

The integrity of the Holy Knights was absent in Karioth.

Karioth’s sword was free-spirited. Rather than mastering a single weapon to the extreme, he could handle a variety of weapons adeptly, making it all the more bothersome.

There were no decisive strikes.

Yet, there were plenty of tricks.

“More than anything, it’s not just swords he uses.”

The moment Raniael muttered that,

Karioth grabbed the cross hanging around his neck tightly. The moment he did, a divine energy enveloped the breaking sword.

Thus, Karioth’s blade endured one more strike.

After bracing through that blow and abandoning the shattered sword, Karioth reached for yet another weapon. The variety of weapons flying toward him were diverse.

Weapons from the Deloheim Church, weapons of knights, and even some taken from the Demon Lord’s Army.

Karioth didn’t discriminate between weapons.

As long as he could grasp and wield it, he was satisfied, and Karioth continued to switch weapons countless times during the fight.

Clang! Clang!

The battle continued for some time, and the ground was littered with broken weapons. Now, what remained with Karioth was a greatsword shaped like a cross.

“Hoo, this is ridiculous. After so many strikes, not a single sign of weakening…”

Karioth let out a bitter smile and wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead. Galahal felt much the same way. While Karioth had lost all his weapons, Galahal had yet to secure a decisive victory.

In that realization, Galahal felt astonished.

He certainly didn’t underestimate his opponent. However, he had never expected it to be to this extent. As Galahal felt surprised, Karioth spoke.

“Actually, there’s one more thing left.”

He pointed at the sword in his hand.

A sword in the shape of a cross. The blood-soaked blade had a menacing, dark red hue.

“This is my original weapon. A gift blessed by my wife.”

“…You have a wife?”

“She was a high priestess of the Church. A wonderful woman. Sadly, she’s passed away now.”

As Galahal’s mouth hung open in shock, Karioth tightened his grip on the sword.

“It’s made of rare metal, so it won’t break… but it feels a bit wrong to use in this duel. It seems the outcome has already been decided.”

Karioth shrugged his shoulders.

“Doesn’t it look like I’ve lost?”

He could have continued, but stopping here seemed right.

Karioth thought so, and Raniael, watching the duel, had a similar thought.

Though Karioth referred to the power in that cross as ‘blessing’… Raniael perceived it as quite the opposite.

Rather, it felt much more like a curse.

“Hoo. I did think about switching swords, but this is a bit much. This will cost quite a bit.”

As Karioth casually kicked the scattered weapons aside, he approached Galahal.

“It was a good duel.”

“I learned a few techniques as well.”

After a light handshake, Karioth opened his mouth.

“So, what do you want to ask me?”

After a brief moment of contemplation, Galahal asked.

About Karioth’s desire to become a superhuman, and why he lingered on the battlefield.

“It’s the same question I got from Heinkel.”

Karioth chuckled, plopping down on the coffin’s lid.

“The reason for fighting is simple. To carry out the will of the God I believe in, I must fight at the forefront myself.”

“The will of God, you say?”

“Haha. You look like you don’t understand. But I’m sure you’ll find me strange in the eyes of you, the so-called hero’s apostles. But I am also a Holy Knight.”

Believing in God and seeking strength from Him, they are the Holy Knights.

As he muttered that, Karioth lifted the cross hanging from his neck. Although stained, it still shone brightly.

“My inner God abhors the thought of children fighting. He detests seeing them stained with blood, and finds the death of young ones most abhorrent.”

Karioth exhaled a short breath, pointing a finger at Galahal.

“When young heroes like you risk their lives and fight, I feel a sense of shame. Always. That’s why I stand on the battlefield. So I won’t feel shame toward myself.”

“…Excuse me? I’m not that young…”

“How old are you, Hero?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“You’re still a kid.”

“…Pardon?”

Karioth laughed heartily.

“If you’re younger than me, you’re just a kid.”

That was a violent logic.

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