Chapter 933: Anathema (7)
BOOM–!!
At the edge of the city, the goat-headed giant raged, and twin spears flashed incessantly.
The Guardian of Turyeonmun and the General of Deadrise.
An intense battle where Level 8 spearmen, who had never once stood on the same side, fought with all their might to stop the Apostle.
But Lennok’s attention wasn’t on the battles raging inside and outside the city; it was fixed on the single figure before his eyes.
“On your way to meet the Pontiff, huh…”
Lennok repeated the Director’s words, a wry smile on his face.
The Director of Pandemonium. The Responder who transcended worlds to reach the next.
On the day he first met him in the Hanghasa Labyrinth, he hadn’t known.
Even when he executed his grand plan at the Well of the Codex, he hadn’t been certain.
How much time and anguish had passed until he read the Ascendant’s memories in the fallen second world and finally confronted his true identity.
Lennok smiled, his magic gun pointed at the Director’s back.
“It’s doubtful if that’s even possible, but I think there was something else I needed to hear first.”
“……”
This was only the second time they had faced each other directly.
Between these encounters, Lennok and the Director had exchanged no information or interaction regarding each other’s existence.
Lennok alone had unilaterally pursued his traces, merely peering into the memories of the old world.
It wouldn’t have been strange if he hadn’t known. It would have been natural not to care.
Yet, he casually extended this offer, as if he had known Lennok for a long time.
As if he thought Lennok already knew everything about their existence.
As if he had known who Lennok was from the very beginning.
“Long time no see, Director.”
Lennok smiled.
“It’s too late for introductions now, but we know each other’s names, don’t we?”
There was no need to elaborate on Lennok’s identity in front of him.
He would have known for a long time, and had merely chosen not to speak of it.
Perhaps he didn’t even feel any particular emotion about that fact.
“……A name, you say.”
The Director slowly raised his gaze at Lennok’s words.
“I no longer attach meaning to such things.”
“……”
He didn’t even seem to notice the magic gun pointed at his back, nor did he turn to face Lennok.
He felt distant, as if he might walk out of the control tower and vanish at any moment.
Lennok, too, knew that such pressure was meaningless, yet he asked.
“Why are you here? Did you show yourself to mourn the person you killed?”
“I don’t have many opportunities left.”
The Director averted his gaze.
“Killing innocent people holds no meaning for me.”
“……”
Did that mean the Director hadn’t killed Oshuto Duris, the Meister of the Duris Workshop?
As Lennok furrowed his brow at the Director’s unexpected answer, the Director slowly murmured.
“Strictly speaking, even this moment is closer to unnecessary consumption. Yet, the reason I am here is…”
The Director turned to Lennok and spoke.
“Because I believed it could be an impetus, if not a reason.”
“Impetus…?”
The Director’s manifestation was closer to an impetus than a reason.
As Lennok pondered his words, the Director slowly opened his clenched hand.
“We are playing an endless game of go, just before causality closes.”
“……”
“Our pieces and boards are different, so we rarely meet… but sometimes, our times overlap like this.”
The dark control room of the command tower where the Director and Lennok stood.
He stared with a static-filled gaze at the dark night sky stretched beyond the broken window.
“Chance is a concept that cannot be replicated by itself, yet precisely because of that, it functions as a powerful causality.”
His face, obscured by complex static, seemed to slowly scan Lennok’s presence.
“That is why he… is struggling so hard to control his own origin.”
“……”
A cryptic explanation about the Pontiff’s origin.
But Lennok vaguely understood what the Director was trying to say.
Chance was the very essence of the Pontiff, an causality that even the Pontiff himself could not easily control.
This very moment was a chance where their times intersected, one of the few moments when the Pontiff’s influence could reach reality.
It must mean the Director, too, had come here intending to meet the Pontiff by seizing this very moment.
“An interesting proposal, but it doesn’t feel realistic.”
But Lennok knew that the proposal alone couldn’t explain the current situation.
“The birth of the 6th Apostle must be the result of the Pontiff’s intervention. If he, who doesn’t exist in reality, hadn’t contacted Anathema, this situation couldn’t be explained.”
“……”
“But if that’s the case, then the Pontiff’s goal would have been to acquire Anathema from the start. Would he intervene in reality again now?”
Lennok said, staring intently at the quietly standing Director.
“Your very origin must be the most contrasting concept to him.”
The Director of Pandemonium never moved unless it was part of his own plan.
Regardless of his innate disposition or talent, his existence in this world required an enormous price.
Carefully and cautiously, after long preparations, he drew out miracles unimaginable to others as results in moments as fleeting as a blink.
Wasn’t that the very essence that most accurately revealed him, who awakened in the second world as a Magic Gunner?
Lennok lowered the magic gun he had pointed at the Director and murmured.
“Unless it’s a way to summon the Pontiff into reality, there’s no reason to follow your proposal. More than anything, he is…”
He is broken.
A Transcendent who failed once to save the world, passed through two ascensions, and reached a third opportunity.
Perhaps, at one time, he was a being who thought and wished for the same things as Lennok.
But he had chosen only possibilities that Lennok would never have, pushed past his limits, and now existed in a way no one in this world had attempted, awaiting his conclusion.
Unlike the Director, for Lennok, directly entering the Pontiff’s mental domain was extremely dangerous.
Putting aside the meaning of meeting the Pontiff, it would be meaningless unless it was a way to directly summon him into reality.
“With the destruction of Ars Nova, the name Anathema gained a new meaning.”
The Director replied.
“It contained the causality of contradiction within a deviated failure, and the name itself exists as a key.”
“……”
“I can guess why he tried to acquire Anathema. If that’s the case, then conversely…”
Click!
Lennok instinctively caught something thrown at high speed with his Magic Scribe.
It was old and rusted, and it took even Lennok, accustomed to handling guns, a moment to recognize it as a spent bullet casing.
The Director slowly began to walk away, his back still turned, and said.
“If you kill the Apostle currently under the Pontiff’s protection here, that should be enough to summon him.”
“……What?”
“I’ll help you.”
“Wait…!!”
Whoosh!
Lennok immediately channeled his magic, pressing down on space, but the Director’s presence had already vanished.
Staring at the spot where the Director had disappeared, Lennok let out a silent sigh.
“Damn it…”
He knew.
He was a Transcendent who had already attained a level comparable to the world itself, unbound by the rules of space and time.
Such physical means or pressure wouldn’t affect him in the slightest from the start.
Yet, the reason Lennok deliberately chose a gun to provoke the Director was because he knew the Director’s origin was close to him.
Even if he was a great Transcendent who had already succeeded in ascension once.
Lennok would never abandon his own origin, no matter what.
“……”
In the end, it was just another guess.
What would Lennok have done? How would he have thought and acted if it were him?
His thoughts spun in a futile loop, as if looking into a mirror and trying to read what came next.
The authority of the Magic Gunner that the Director spoke of. The meaning of his offer to help.
Was the meaning of all those messages contained within the old bullet casing he left behind?
Lennok’s expression, as he stared at the casing in his hand, slowly took on a strange cast.
“Help, huh…”
ROOOOAAAR!!!!
As dozens of colossal magic circles rotated across the night sky, hundreds of magical bombardments rained down like a downpour.
A torrent of fire, radiating iridescent magical light, burning with different attributes and will-thoughts, instantly turning the ground into a hellish landscape.
Amidst the rain of magic that seemed to melt one’s very body, three figures danced frantically.
“ANATHEMAAAAAAA!!!”
“I can hear your voice clearly, even without such shouting.”
Sharp rock formations, tens of meters tall, erupted from beneath his feet.
Columns of spiky rock covered the ground, and as Peshia’s lightning-clad body twisted and shook bizarrely.
CRASHHHH!!
The goat-headed giant, having shattered the rock mass, slammed into Peshia’s flank with full force.
Peshia barely brought his spear to his side, and the Apostle’s fist collided with it.
Just before impact, the Apostle’s fist transformed into the shape of a dragon, emitting immense magical power.
Simultaneously with the horrifying illusion of space cracking, Gui-hee’s form was thrown back tens of meters and slammed into the ground.
Thud thud thud!!!
Dust billowed, clouding the surroundings, and Peshia coughed up a thick stream of blood.
“Shit, ugh…!!”
Peshia shakily propped himself up with trembling arms, his bloodshot eyes glaring at the 6th Apostle approaching from afar.
“You goddamn monster…!!!”
Two Level 8 physical ability users and a Grand Wizard’s rear fire support.
Even in a situation akin to a three-on-one, it was Anathema’s power that dominated this battlefield.
While Peshia and The Guileless engaged in a direct power struggle, Anathema continuously adapted to the magical bombardment raining down from the sky.
He gradually reduced the number of hits he took, and now, almost unhindered by the bombardment, he was pressuring the two of them.
“Five rotations are thunder. Six reversals are atmosphere. Thirteen resonances are gravity.”
Anathema slowly cracked his neck and spoke.
“Each spell doesn’t just exist in the form of a magic circle; the incantations change with every moment the rotating magic circles in the sky overlap and diversify.”
THUD!!
Anathema stomped hard on Peshia’s body with a backward-bending foot, then said.
“Once you memorize the rotation and angular velocity of the magic circles, and the fluctuating patterns of mana flow in real-time, you can predict the attribute and location of the magical bombardment up to two seconds in advance and move accordingly.”
“Guh…!!”
Even amidst the fierce battle, his dynamic vision observed the patterns and flow of the magic circles changing in the sky.
His abundant prior knowledge of magic allowed him to predict and counter the spell incantations linked to the changes in the magic circles.
Using that information, he determined the priority targets in battle and instantly shifted the dynamic, crushing his opponents.
His calmness and intellect, along with the seasoned reactions and judgments born from countless combat experiences.
Even without the Apostle’s body, Armas von Anathema was a complete and powerful being, flawless in every aspect.
“Pah!! Are you spewing that as a boast?”
Peshia, wiping blood from her face, struggled to stand and sneered.
“It’s truly… disgusting to hear a monster bastard brag as if he did it all with his own power.”
“……”
Anathema was able to counter the magical bombardment because he not only held his ground against The Guileless and Peshia but utterly overwhelmed them in battle.
And what made that possible wasn’t just Anathema’s own awakened power as an Apostle.
Even at this moment, an unknown pale will-thought was continuously pouring into Anathema from outside the city.
It was engulfing Anathema’s entire body, explosively augmenting his power.
ROOOOAAAR!!!!
A transcendent will-thought, whose true nature even Peshia couldn’t fathom, ceaselessly flowed through Anathema’s body, constantly elevating his existence and tier.
It was a blessing from the cult that rivaled the amplification magic Lennok had cast on her and The Guileless, even surpassing it in terms of amplification rate.
Though she was seeing it directly for the first time, Peshia had no difficulty guessing whose power it was.
“Regardless of what it is, that must be your Pontiff’s protection.”
Peshia’s eyes gleamed as she glared at Anathema.
“To crawl out onto the battlefield wearing your master’s diaper even after being reborn as an Apostle, aren’t you ashamed?”
“You yourselves seem unaware of who has allowed this battle to continue thus far.”
Anathema did not react to Peshia’s provocation.
“You couldn’t possibly be unaware that I have discerned the patterns of the magical bombardment, yet a considerable time has passed since your reactions changed. This means something has happened to the wizard, or…”
The goat-headed giant’s cold gaze fixed on the back of Peshia’s head.
“It means they intend to remain faithful to their rear-guard role, even at the cost of the vanguard’s life. You possess the makings of an excellent commander.”
“Bullshit, who said anything about dying here.”
She raised a gigantic boar-shaped Ancestral Spirit, re-gripped her spear, and channeled her magic.
Distorted magic flowed into her unnourished body, bringing intense pain, but she didn’t stop.
“I survived fighting that wizard… Do you think I’ll die here?”
“I heard that after the civil war, you transcended your tier by wielding murderous intent as a weapon.”
Anathema nodded, observing her.
“I respect the fact that Deadrise’s naive bodyguard has become a proper warrior. However… you actually look much weaker than you did during the civil war.”
“…How…?”
Peshia’s mumbling eyes were already half-rolled back.
Proof that her condition was so poor she could barely hold on without half losing her mind.
Just as Anathema extended a hand towards Peshia and began to channel his magic.
The Guileless, who had landed before Peshia, thrust a pure white spear shaft at Anathema’s feet.
Screeeeeech…!!
The spear shaft bent slowly with an eerie sound, as if it would break at any moment.
Even after parrying the kick by holding the spearhead upwards, Anathema’s body remained unblemished.
“Krod Azlan. What a regrettable turn of events.”
Anathema’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at The Guileless’s face.
The will-thought and physical weariness emanating from this spearman were starkly visible to the Apostle’s eyes.
“None of my comrades from the civil war are intact. Have you all been living such pathetic lives, broken and shattered like this?”
“The same goes for you, Lord Anathema.”
The Guileless gripped his spear, forcing a strained smile.
“While you suffered, banished from reality, those who remained in this world did not live an easy life either.”
“The same? Do you truly believe the sense of loss I feel is the same as yours?”
WHAM!!
The ground beneath Anathema’s foot surged, turning into a dragon’s head that slammed into The Guileless.
Unable to even resist, The Guileless was flung back, scattering blood and sliding with a loud boom.
Seeing that he had managed to get Peshia to safety and create distance, Anathema spoke.
“We committed no sin. Yet, we were not even given a chance for atonement.”
“……”
“We endured, upholding the laws of Ars Nova, bearing the finger-pointing of ‘traitors,’ and believing that salvation would come…”
“Even including that part, is it not still the same?”
SPLAT!
The pure white robes were stained crimson with blood.
Nevertheless, Krod stood with difficulty before the Apostle and asked.
“You Ars Novan nobles were never flawless beings yourselves, were you?”
“……”
“I don’t know why you try to justify yourself with such meaningless excuses. This time, I can’t help but agree with Lord Grisbern.”
The Guileless let out a pure white laugh.
“If you’ve become a monster, act like a monster. Don’t pretend to be human.”
“Like a monster, you say.”
The goat-headed giant’s massive fist slammed close to The Guileless’s face.
CRASHHHH!!
“I, too, once feared and failed to understand the Apostles who offered their souls to the Outer Gods.”
The bloodied figure shot upwards diagonally, and Anathema, kicking off the ground with both feet, caught up and slammed down with both hands.
BOOM!! THUD THUD THUD!!
“I used to imagine what a huge price they had paid to become so powerful. How cruelly their minds, disproportionate to their physical strength, must have been destroyed.”
He kicked The Guileless’s form, embedded in the ground, sending him sliding, then, surpassing even that speed, grabbed him by the waist again, spun him, and slammed him down.
GRRRRAAAAGH!!
“Die, Anathema!!!”
FLASH!!
Peshia’s body was enveloped in dazzling lightning, and at the same time, she surged forward, breaking the sound barrier.
With just a light stomp, she created footholds in empty air, accelerating as if bouncing, and the lightning and spirits flowing through her spear combined to unleash unprecedented power with every breath.
CRACKLEEE!!!
From all sides of the goat-headed giant, azure lightning erupted, tearing apart its flesh and turning into a storm of blood.
But Anathema, unconcerned by Peshia’s fierce assault, slowly raised his hand.
“But now that I’ve become an Apostle, I understand. The power given to us is merely the plaything of gods steeped in desire.”
“Die, Dieeeeee!!!!”
“It is a great blessing that doesn’t harm my essence in the slightest.”
The moment Anathema clenched the hand he had raised.
The ground beneath the goat-headed giant’s feet split open and rose.
CRASHHHHHH!!!!
The entire ground violently transformed, becoming a colossal dragon’s head that swallowed the earth.
And then, an immense heat burst forth from within the dragon’s mouth, engulfing both figures simultaneously.
ROOOOAAARRRR!!!!
A darkly distorted pillar of light shot up through the ruins, piercing the night sky of the satellite city.
The aftermath tore apart the clouds, revealing a sky twinkling with stars, and shattered dozens of magic circles spread across it like glass.
CRASHHHH, SHATTERRRR!!!!
Anathema’s secret art, creating an Earth Dragon by combining Apostle spellcraft, which manipulated the earth, with dragon techniques, which transformed parts of his body into a dragon, and then spewing Chromatic Breath.
Even after becoming an Apostle, Anathema’s innate spellcraft had not lost any of its power.
Instead, it had harmonized with the Apostle’s body and spellcraft, blossoming into a completely different concept and power.
What determined the strength of a high-ranking Apostle was not which god’s blessing they received, but their own inherent power.
Perhaps other high-ranking Apostles, even before becoming Apostles, were extraordinary superhumans comparable to Anathema.
Realizing this, Anathema, lightly swayed by the cult’s power and true worth, twitched his finger.
CRACKLEEE…!!!
The hair and scales all over his body stood on end, trembling as if in excitement, and his blood-veined wings unfolded on both sides, beginning to regenerate.
The continuous human sacrifices from the flesh monsters throughout the battle with Peshia and The Guileless.
The blood of superhumans he had continuously ingested during the fight had begun to regenerate Anathema’s wings.
FLAP!!
Anathema, his wings fully regenerated in an instant, gazed at the clear night sky where the clouds had parted.
Beyond the cleared clouds, his gaze would encompass not only the satellite city but also the desert of the undeveloped zone.
Just as Anathema was about to launch himself into the sky from his spot, to unleash his Apostle spellcraft at its absolute maximum output upon the entire land once more.
FLASH!!
An azure lightning bolt fell from the cloudless night sky.
Was it finally resuming the magical bombardment, albeit belatedly?
“No matter how you struggle with analyzed magic, it’s-”
CRACKK!!
Anathema’s expression twisted hideously as he tried to swat away the falling lightning bolt with one hand.
“……!!!”
A weight entirely different from any magical bombardment he had received until now.
He couldn’t even bat away the lightning, which flickered with an eerie glow; simply taking the hit was difficult.
The lightning that rent the dry sky tore into the Apostle’s body, destroying it down to the cellular level.
CRACKLE, SIZZLE, SIZZLE!!!
An alien sensation, as if his biological functions were malfunctioning.
A chilling feeling, as if the annoying attribute magic he had felt while fighting Peshia was being poured into him, multiplied.
It was a wizard’s spell, entirely different from previous magical bombardments, imbued with actual will and intent.
Feeling this, Anathema let out an explosive roar and channeled his magic.
“WIZARDDDDDD!!!!!!!”
BOOOMMMMM!!!!!
The azure lightning finally struck the Apostle’s body, unable to be shrugged off, and a blue storm erupted in the middle of the ruins.
The wings attached to the Apostle’s back, caught in the storm, were torn to shreds, leaving no trace this time.
Earth fragments, manipulated by Apostle spellcraft, lost their power and fell, swept away into the lightning storm.
At the boundary where the storm’s power precariously ended.
A black-haired young man stood on the rooftop of a half-collapsed building.
“I’m late introducing myself, after even seizing your innate ability.”
Lennok took a deep drag from his cigarette and smiled.
Beyond the acrid smoke, only an azure light gleamed in his eyes.
“Call me Van.”