Chapter 941: Answering Heaven (1)
“As I said, there are a few things that can’t be explained by the mere existence of a Sanctuary.”
Whoosh—!!
Through the ruined streets, the Priestess and Lennok walked.
The remnants of civilization, shattered by Anathema and the two spear-wielders, incinerated by Lennok, and then utterly crushed by the Apostle again.
Lennok, walking behind the Priestess who held a stone staff taller than herself, asked.
“Even for a high-ranking Apostle or a Priestess, I understand that preparation is required to establish a Sanctuary.”
“So?”
“How did you complete the preparations without even entering the city?”
A Sanctuary, as defined by the Guido Cult, is the arbitrary construction of a spacetime overlapping with the Outer Sea, to directly receive the will of the apocalypse.
However, even a high-ranking Apostle requires extensive preparation to arbitrarily declare a Sanctuary, disregarding the world’s boundaries.
Even Amrita Fraubel, the 10th Apostle Lennok previously faced, would have found it difficult to establish a Sanctuary on her own without borrowing the power of revelation.
It was hard to believe that Ureka Naydree, who had only just arrived in the satellite city, had completed such preparations.
But Ureka scoffed the moment she heard Lennok’s words.
“You claimed to know the former Priestess so well. Don’t you even know what the Main Branch prepares?”
“I have had contact with the Priestess, but I have never discussed human sacrifice.”
Lennok replied in a calm voice.
“It was an element I couldn’t comprehend. However… I only understood that she applied the same standards to herself.”
“…”
“The former Priestess did not refuse to converse with outsiders. But you seem different.”
“Rather, I’d like to ask you. Why should we treat you as people like us?”
Ureka retorted nonchalantly.
“There’s no need to treat those idiots who will suffer eternally for not following the doctrine, is there?”
“…”
“Why should we respect lazy people who give up on even trying, when the answer is right beside them, just a hand’s reach away?”
Compared to the former Priestess Seina Naydree, or even the one before her, Isel Naydree, her temperament was remarkably radical.
Rather than being twisted by bloodlust like Peshia Grisbern, her inherent nature was that of a villain, extremely biased towards the doctrine.
It was surprising that such a woman had risen to the position of Priestess, but paradoxically, it made the power she awakened understandable.
A powerful individual capable of commanding even mad Apostles as servants, and of establishing defensive lines using her own outstanding martial prowess.
If she hadn’t been so confident in her own power, she wouldn’t have come to the site herself.
Lennok asked with an impassive face.
“May I interpret your very existence as the Pontiff’s attitude toward the Cult?”
“Hey, Wizard.”
The Priestess laughed with a raspy voice.
“You seem to know quite a bit about the Main Branch, but there’s no point in deliberately provoking me.”
“…”
“My head already aches from His words, so wouldn’t it be better if we just finished our business and parted ways?”
“Perhaps.”
Lennok tilted his head towards Ureka and said.
“Don’t you think it would be quite meaningful to capture and kill a Priestess who commands Apostles?”
Crackle…!!
The moment he lightly clenched and unclenched his hand, thick currents surged along his fingertips.
A considerable amount of mana, even though not much time had passed since the battle with Anathema.
This was possible because, proportionate to the greatly increased mana reserves since Lapis’s awakening, his mana recovery speed had also accelerated.
Lightning, coloring the surroundings blue with just a flick of his hand.
But Ureka didn’t even bat an eyelid, even with Lennok’s magic right before her.
“During the war with the Alliance, we caught a filthy bug called the ‘Substitute Sorcerer.’ He was researching a forbidden art to create substitutes that would divide damage.”
Instead, she just abruptly began a seemingly irrelevant story.
“We peeled back his skull, prodded his brain, and subjected him to all sorts of torture, but he wouldn’t confess the components of his spellcraft. How do you think we extracted that spellcraft?”
The Priestess smiled softly.
“When we brought his sick wife and started the same torture, he confessed everything as if by magic. The very existence of the Substitute Spellcraft was research for his wife.”
“…”
“If he hadn’t died the moment we started the torture, he was about to spill all the information about the Order Alliance’s leader. Quite a pity, in many ways.”
The existence of the Substitute Spellcraft obtained from the Order Alliance’s spellcaster.
Was she trying to assert that even if Lennok threatened her with force here, she herself would be safe?
Ureka glanced back at Lennok and spoke leisurely.
“He researched forbidden arts, using other humans as test subjects to protect his family, only to die at the hands of an Apostle who devoured humans. The value of life in this world is truly that trivial.”
“…”
“In the end, humans struggle to survive, even using other humans as expendable resources. The only difference is where their aim lies.”
The Priestess, who had stopped in front of Lennok, smiled.
“And the end that this old man, like a bug, met was nothing more than a struggle not so different from that.”
Thud!!
The outskirts of the satellite city ruins. A hangar behind the airport facilities, destroyed by the fierce battle with the Apostle.
Lennok faced the corpse of Oshuto Duris, sprawled beneath the cockpit of the mechanical spider, and fell silent.
“Roughly thirty years ago, he made a contract with the Cult, hoping to save his son, the workshop’s successor.”
Thwack!!
Ureka stabbed Oshuto’s chest with her stone staff, then unhesitatingly began dragging the corpse across the ground.
“He collected the hair of patients suffering from the same illness and cast a curse. To distribute the illness among other patients, so that only his son could recover.”
Drip…!
The Priestess spoke, smearing the blood flowing from the corpse onto the ground like paint.
“He must have thought that once the contract was over, he could forget about it forever. He got what he wanted, so he probably thought he’d never be entangled with us again. But…”
Screech!!
The Priestess, drawing a Blood Magic Circle by dragging Oshuto’s corpse, emitted an eerie glow from her eyes.
“The original sin carved into the soul never disappears. Even if one lives a lifetime forgetting it, the moment the Cult needs it, the price must inevitably be paid.”
“…”
The Director mourned Oshuto Duris’s death, not because he was truly an innocent being.
But because he knew that his death had been orchestrated to be used in this manner.
He met a meaningless death due to the karma of his past, and now, even his corpse is being desecrated, paying the price without finding rest.
The moment Lennok frowned at that fact and silently raised his gaze.
The Priestess, who had drawn a Blood Magic Circle with Oshuto’s blood, laid the corpse in the center of the circle and plunged her stone staff down.
Crunch!!
The stone staff, fitting like a key, entered the coin-sized hole in his forehead.
The Priestess, having thrust the staff into the corpse’s head, took a step back and simultaneously began forming hand seals.
“Heavenly Blossom.”
As she chanted the divine language, intense holy light whirled around the Priestess.
The powerful thoughts of the Outer Sea unfolded with astonishing speed, enough to surprise even Lennok for a moment.
The moment the Priestess, who had completed the ritual in an instant with incredible talent and aptitude, pointed her staff, as if it were unbelievable that she didn’t possess the authority of a high priest.
“Sanctuary Declaration.”
CRASHHHHH!!!
A pillar of pale light burst forth from the staff, instantly dyeing the surroundings stark white.
An 8th-level Transcendent. The Cult’s Sanctuary, unfolded by sacrificing her entire body and soul.
The ground beneath their feet turned into pure white marble, and grand pillars of a pantheon surged around them.
A miracle that instantly warped spacetime before Lennok’s eyes.
But Ureka, with the Sanctuary she had created before her, instead took a step back.
Folding her arms, she shrugged her shoulders at Lennok.
“To have to open a Sanctuary for an unbeliever who doesn’t even believe in the doctrine, what an unpleasant experience I never want to repeat.”
“…”
“Go in. What are you doing?”
The Priestess gave a fierce smile.
“That Person personally wishes to see you. They’re more concerned about you than even me, the Priestess; are you going to refuse that grace?”
Having finished her assigned task, she unreservedly revealed her hidden jealousy and disdain.
Her expression was as if she couldn’t wait to kill Lennok on the spot.
“You’d do well to remember this. A miracle like today, where the Cult’s Priestess acts for an unbeliever, will never happen again.”
The Priestess stared at Lennok’s back, standing silently before the Sanctuary, with glittering eyes.
As if she intended to etch that image firmly into her memory from now on.
“Make sure you survive, and we meet again, Wizard.”
“…I hope so.”
Lennok, quietly replying to Ureka’s insincere well-wishes, stepped into the Sanctuary.
At the same time, Lennok’s consciousness sank as if being pulled into someone’s memory.
Roar…!!
Thousands upon thousands of shouts and applause faintly echoed in his ears.
Beyond the temple, the voices of believers could be heard, eagerly calling out to someone, praising, and pleading.
‘Gasp, gasp…!!’
Amidst the throng of such believers, an old man trembled, sweating profusely.
He passed by believers, their faces grim, chanting doctrines, while he himself wore a hooded robe that obscured his face.
The old man’s memory: offering a small artifact to a cult member, then following an usher down a dark corridor.
Lennok was observing the old man’s figure, right beside him.
“…”
Oshuto Duris’s memory, of him coming alone to the Cult to cure his son’s illness.
Did he need an heir to pass on the workshop? Or did he simply love his son that much?
At the end of the dark corridor, where only pale lanterns glowed, stood a massive door.
As the usher stepped back slightly, the old man slowly opened the door and walked inside.
A vast room, filled with brilliant white light, completely opposite to the darkness of the corridor.
Whoosh!
Transparent veils, emitting a soft glow, filled the room, fluttering and obscuring the view.
Correction Knights, clad in pure white armor, stood on either side of the room, gazing impassively at the old man.
The wind blowing past his ears felt not just cool, but chilling.
The moment Oshuto, trembling slightly, knelt and slowly kissed the cold marble floor.
Whoosh!
The veils parted, and an elderly woman in ceremonial robes emerged.
The former Priestess, Isel Naydree. A face quite familiar to Lennok.
She, who had died in the Far Eastern branch after her body was seized by Amrita, was greeting Oshuto in this memory.
In one hand, she held a circular stone staff, seemingly mimicking a Halo, and in the other, a pendant engraved with a hexagram.
Simultaneously with her appearance, the Correction Knights all knelt on one knee and bowed their heads.
Even the fluttering veils seemed to quiet down, giving the illusion that the room became still so her words could be heard clearly.
This scene attested to how formidable her authority was when she served as the high priestess during the Cult’s most active period of expansion.
Isel Naydree, gazing at Oshuto who had kissed the floor with an impassive face, spoke.
[For a Meister of the Arcane Workshop to come personally with such a request, it is indeed exceedingly worldly.]
‘…’
[In the sea of fate, human life is but a grain of sand. Your son’s illness is a decree of heaven that must be accepted, so why do you strive against it?]
Isel’s voice, though she appeared quite old at the time, contained an incredibly potent spiritual energy.
Her power, authority, and pride as the Priestess who led the Cult during its golden age felt so palpable they could almost be grasped.
Isel, watching Oshuto who remained silent, shook her head.
[Considering our connection with Travesh, I will overlook this matter for now, so take the artifact you offered to the Sanctuary and leave. This is the only mercy I can show an unbeliever.]
‘…My son is.’
At that moment, Oshuto spoke in a heavy voice.
‘My son possesses far greater talent than I do. He is the child who will lead the workshop in place of this old man who became a craftsman because he feared wielding a sword.’
[You try my patience.]
Isel let out a soft sigh.
[Though he may have some talent, he is ultimately nothing but an unblessed artisan. Do you think the Main Branch would care about his rise or fall?]
‘…’
[If you claim to be a weapons merchant, you must have witnessed the demise of many humans, yet you cannot accept that your turn has come.]
‘If it were my turn, I would bear it without hesitation. But my son…!!’
Oshuto, pressing his head to the floor, cried out as if spitting blood.
‘A child not even ten years old, what sin has he committed to have his life taken away?’
[….]
‘I know there is still time until the end. My son still has time to live in this world, doesn’t he?’
Oshuto said, pounding his forehead on the stone floor.
‘That much would be enough. So please…’
“…”
The memory of that day, when the Cult and Oshuto bargained for his son’s life.
However, Isel Naydree’s attitude, as if trying to dissuade Oshuto’s request, was quite intriguing.
Though her tone was arrogant, the content itself was closer to advice not to cling to meaningless endeavors.
Unlike her later years, when she was consumed by the desire for eternal life and tried to seize an Apostle’s body, perhaps she had a more flexible temperament in the past?
[Even a merchant of death crumbles so easily before the bonds of blood. What a pathetic sight.]
Isel, clicking her tongue, walked forward and raised her stone staff.
[Very well. But you must remember that the moment you borrow my power, it will inevitably demand an even greater price someday.]
‘…’
[This is because, deep in your heart, you are an unbeliever who does not ultimately uphold the doctrine of the Myriad Gods, and because you crave power for personal reasons, not for a greater cause.]
Crunch!!
Isel’s eyes gleamed coldly as she plunged the tip of her stone staff into the back of Oshuto’s head.
[Even in death, you will regret this choice you made today.]
‘If it is a price to be paid with my life and death, I will accept it without hesitation.’
If she were to apply a little more force to the staff piercing the back of his head, it seemed it would penetrate his skull and emerge between his eyebrows.
But Oshuto, even as he watched blood trickle down his head, crawled forward and kissed the Priestess’s feet.
Even under the scornful gaze of the Correction Knights watching from within the Sanctuary, Oshuto stammered.
‘So, oh God. Please save my son.’
It was ironic.
To witness a bargain made between someone already ruined, and two people who had been ruined.
And how the fates of Isel Naydree and Oshuto Duris had been twisted in ways completely different from this moment.
Isel, who had chastised human life as meaningless, dreamed of eternal life by seizing an Apostle’s body, and died in agony.
Oshuto Duris, who had bargained with the Cult to save his son, departed without even realizing he was dying.
All of it was because both their fates had been arbitrarily changed and warped as needed.
Everything promised and fated in this world was altered by those who did not belong to this world.
The reason for bringing forth this memory now, surely, was to impress upon Lennok that absurdity once again.
“Isn’t that right, Pontiff?”
Lennok asked, turning his gaze beyond the fluttering veils behind Isel Naydree.
Her figure, frozen as if petrified in place, with the stone staff still plunged into the back of Oshuto’s head.
An alien scene: Oshuto and the other Correction Knights, heads bowed in the dazzling room, also unmoving.
But Lennok had been aware from the beginning that this memory itself was a landscape unfolded by someone’s will.
Otherwise, Oshuto’s memory, long deceased and sacrificed to the Sanctuary, would not have been re-enacted here.
Lennok watched it without refusing or urging it on,
because he knew that this moment itself was the result of a deliberate arrangement, not chance.
At that moment, a whisper of transmitted thought echoed, piercing Lennok’s mind.
[It is impossible to know which of the pebbles cast into the lake will reach the other side….]
“…”
[That is why I arrange a promise without a fixed time, transcending past and future, to meet again in reality….]
A faint whisper, seemingly seeping in backward from the back of his head, not his eardrums.
An illusion as if another’s will and transmitted thought were deeply welling up from within his heart.
But Lennok already knew that this wasn’t echoing from his inner self, but from beyond the veils.
The landscape beyond the veils, which did not exist in Oshuto Duris’s memory.
The secret place within the Pantheon that even Isel Naydree herself would never have revealed to him.
But the moment a decades-spanning contract was established between the Priestess and the unbeliever, he was present there as a witness,
and once again, transcending time and space, he was observing this moment.
[The meeting of our respective times amidst crossroads that even I cannot foresee. That is how I have waited, every moment….]
Noise mixed with the tone seeping from beyond the veils, forming into language, and reaching Lennok once again like this.
Yes, it was always like this.
Someone’s memory, no longer existing.
A sanctuary for someone, existing there, carved beyond life and death.
At a fortuitous chance that might not have even begun. At the end of a connection that would never have been encountered if not for this moment.
He always existed there, solitary and whole.
A Transcendent, reliant on the memories and beliefs of others, and thus freer from the world’s rules than anyone else.
The Pontiff smiled, looking down at Lennok.
[It has been a long time… though it might not feel that way to you.]