Chapter 948: The Prohibition (3)
“It would be best not to trust Slain too much.”
On the way back after the summit. Leaving the ruined satellite city behind, they head towards Vulcan.
The undeveloped area near Etanoc where Evelyn, Slain, and Rage departed.
Other superhumans, too, are gradually returning to the desert area, leaving the city in their own ways.
“In the civil war centered around Lord Bajour, he was one of the most unpredictable beings.”
Krod Azlan, walking through the desert with Lennok, spoke quietly.
“He certainly possessed immense power, but he was obsessed with balancing every matter he was involved in.”
“What do you mean?”
The Guileless turned his gaze towards Lennok.
His eyes were incomparably heavy and sunken.
“It means that Slain frequently switched sides during the war, constantly trying to balance power.”
“……”
Frowning at the increasing heat of the desert as dawn broke, The Guileless mumbled.
“It would be laughable to say he has changed now. He claims to stand against the Cult, but he’s a man who might change his stance at any time.”
“Change his stance, you say…”
Lennok’s eyes gleamed.
“Everyone who participated in the civil war would know that fact.”
“That’s why he was able to lead this summit, I suppose.”
The Guileless nodded.
“Because during the civil war, he was neither ally nor enemy. It would be a lie to say it doesn’t feel awkward that he is leading the opposition against the Cult.”
He had wondered why Krod suddenly brought up Slain. Was Krod bothered that Slain had handed over all the summit’s achievements to Lennok?
“Ahem, at any rate, I am pleased to see that the Tower Lord successfully subjugated Anathema. It seems my efforts were not in vain.”
Krod, who had been glancing at Lennok’s profile lost in thought, cleared his throat and spoke.
“The fall of such a major figure as Anathema is bound to spread as a rumor, so the Tower Lord will now receive the epithet of ‘Apostle-Slayer’.”
“……”
“Wouldn’t Cheonbeon hear about that fact somewhere, too?”
“……What?”
Lennok chuckled at The Guileless’s unexpected remark.
“You’re concerned about strange things. What does Cheonbeon have to do with this?”
“Well, how could I not be concerned?”
The Guileless gave an awkward smile.
“The existence of a wizard with talent comparable to the Tower Lord is not a common occurrence, even if you search the entire continent.”
“……”
“Their momentary contention was one thing, but the fact that he ultimately achieved his goal against the Tower Lord was a remarkable feat.”
Perhaps noticing that Lennok’s reaction was closer to curiosity than anger, The Guileless’s voice became more relaxed.
“I merely thought that if the Tower Lord remembered Cheonbeon’s existence, the epithet ‘Apostle-Slayer’ would be quite satisfying.”
“Apostle-Slayer, huh… I don’t really want to attach much meaning to something like that.”
Lennok shook his head.
“Even among Apostles, there’s too great a disparity in power, and from a macroscopic perspective, they’re closer to bio-weapons moved by the Cult’s needs. I don’t even know why such a title is considered meaningful among superhumans in the first place.”
“It’s understandable, as the Tower Lord was not born during the Holy War.”
Krod smiled.
A natural smile, as if he had only now remembered the age difference between Lennok and himself.
“But long ago, the Cult was like an empire that boasted unimaginable glory and strength. Especially the Apostles they put forth as spearheads in the Holy War were not mere monsters.”
“……”
“Superhumans who surpassed the limits of their species, becoming avatars of apocalypse and reigning as battlefield dominators – a miracle… Now, there are many who know about the fate of the Apostles, but back then, an atmosphere of true despair prevailed.”
Krod spoke slowly, as if reminiscing about distant memories.
“If the Pontiff who led the Cult hadn’t suddenly ceased all activities and gone into seclusion, the continent’s state of power would be fundamentally different now.”
“Are you saying the Cult almost conquered this world once?”
“I don’t know. Back then, I certainly believed there was a greater secret… but I was also killing people in another war.”
The Guileless casually adjusted his spear and replied.
“Even knowing that some greater will and concept existed, I think I was absorbed in and enjoyed killing the enemy before my eyes. Would it have been different if I had changed my mind then?”
“……”
“Ah, now that you mention it, I remember a little.”
Krod closed his eyes and mumbled.
“Surely, it felt like a grand path appeared before me…”
“That’s a path that an old man with dementia will never be allowed to walk, even if he dies and comes back to life.”
At that moment, Peshia’s sharp voice echoed from behind the two of them.
As Lennok casually turned his gaze, he saw Peshia with a twisted smile.
“It’s a path only a select few blessed among superhumans who make martial arts their calling can walk. It’s too good for a guardian of Turyeonmun like you.”
“……”
Despite Peshia’s words, openly mocking Krod, neither Lennok nor Krod reacted.
They merely looked down at Peshia with a strangely displeased expression.
Noticing the unpleasant emotion in their gaze, Peshia spat.
“Damn it, what are you looking at?!”
“Nothing…”
Lennok chuckled.
“I was just thinking you could talk quite well, considering the state you’re being dragged in.”
“……”
Peshia’s face turned scarlet as she belatedly realized what state she was in: tightly bound in old chains, contained in a sack, and being dragged across the sand by Krod’s hand.
“You damn bastards…!!!”
“Oh, she didn’t know yet?”
“She passed out immediately after the Priestess left. It must have been a difficult battle for her too.”
“Untie me right now!!!!”
Peshia thrashed frantically, trying to escape the sack while still bound by chains.
But neither Lennok nor Krod paid any attention to Peshia’s fierce threats.
“She’s incredibly noisy. Perhaps I should have just let her die.”
“You say things you don’t mean. Despite your words, didn’t you recognize her usefulness in this battle?”
Krod smiled faintly at Lennok’s indifferent remark.
“Lady Grisbern fought so well against Anathema. Without her struggle, Anathema’s full power couldn’t have been drawn out so quickly.”
“……”
“Her killing intent, separate from her martial skill, is a rare talent. In a fight to the death, she has the aptitude to hold her own in any situation.”
Krod, with his spear held close and the chain binding Peshia draped over his shoulder, spoke leisurely.
“That’s why Deadrise noticed that talent and made Lady Grisbern the vanguard for the Vulcan assault, isn’t that right?”
“Interesting. You, Azlan, dare to evaluate my talent?”
Peshia, still struggling, gave a sneering smile.
“In that case, I’ll add a word. Your talent is but a fraction compared to the generals of the Legion.”
“……”
“You, who participated in the civil war, must know. Lord Bajour only deals with the very best talents and aptitudes. You are merely a whetstone for distinguishing true gems.”
“That’s one way to think about it.”
Krod nodded readily.
“Compared to General Miloze or General Song-ha, anyone would appear insignificant before them.”
“……Well, still, I’ll admit you have some talent since you’ve seen the beginning of the Pilgrimage Path. Without prior knowledge, you wouldn’t even realize such a thing exists in the first place.”
The faint smile on Peshia’s lips seemed to turn self-deprecating for a moment.
Was it because, despite her words, she realized that Krod’s situation and her own weren’t so different?
Lennok, watching Peshia, replied in an indifferent tone.
“Talent isn’t everything in a fight, so what meaning does that hold?”
“……”
“What’s wrong?”
“……Nothing.”
“I’m just thinking, what kind of nonsense is someone who stands in that position by relying on innate talent spouting? Don’t you feel any shame?”
Krod gave an awkward smile, and Peshia cackled.
“Wizard. Aren’t you spouting incredibly privileged words? Don’t you feel guilty?”
“If everything in the world was determined by innate talent and aptitude, Kaiser Bajour would have saved this world long ago.”
“……What?”
Leaving the stern-faced Peshia, Lennok calmly replied.
“There are things one can do, and things one’s hands cannot reach. No matter how hard you try, if you grasp one thing, you inevitably let go of another.”
“……”
“What Kaiser tried to do was an attempt to ensure that even such efforts wouldn’t be left meaningless through his project.”
Lennok closed his eyes.
“Now, I think I understand a little of what he tried to achieve through his Black Consumer Project…”
“You speak as if you have personally met Lord Bajour.”
Krod said with a strange expression.
“Did the Tower Lord perhaps have a personal connection before coming to Vulcan?”
“Perhaps.”
Lennok replied, turning his gaze towards Peshia.
“I think that’s enough idle chatter. It seems you’ve run out of energy to thrash around.”
“Ah, damn it!! That’s right!! Untie this right now, you son of a bitch!!”
Peshia finally shrieked, struggling violently and thrashing her body.
“I don’t intend to keep you bound for long, so bear with it. I’m only taking you because there’s somewhere I need to stop by.”
Lennok, watching her desperate thrashing while still tightly bound in chains, chuckled.
“After I’m done, I’ll take you back to Olivera.”
“Screw you, bastard!! Do you think I’ll be docile if you bind me like this?!”
Peshia shrieked shrilly.
“No matter where you take me, I’ll scream and act crazy, so just try—!!!”
[Silence]
The moment Lennok snapped his fingers, her loud screams vanished as if they were a lie.
Even though she was yelling at the top of her lungs, her screams were contained in a silent, invisible barrier.
As The Guileless watched Lennok’s fingertip with a curious expression, Lennok spoke.
“Krod was right. I also don’t quite see why I should kill you now.”
Lennok, having turned completely towards Peshia, smiled faintly as he looked down at her disheveled form.
“Considering how stubborn your life is, aren’t you curious to see how long it will last?”
“……”
A question so incomprehensible coming from someone who had just trampled and defeated her.
Under that peculiar pressure, Peshia shut her mouth with a twisted expression, and Krod let out a low sigh.
“We’ve arrived near the outer district of Vulcan. It seems to be the outskirts of District 58.”
An old factory district where acrid fumes spread like fog.
Workers transporting materials between factories spotted Lennok and his companions and averted their gaze, feigning ignorance.
Anyone would react that way upon seeing people who had walked barefoot through the middle of the desert to reach Vulcan.
Feeling the growing number of gazes, Krod adjusted his clothes.
“Then, I shall take my leave here first.”
Krod, holding his spear and bowing respectfully with hands clasped, said.
“It would be difficult for good things to come from the three of us gathered in one place. I will visit the magic tower again to see the Tower Lord soon.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to stop by Turyeonmun?”
Lennok, who had taken the chain binding Peshia, asked.
“Your granddaughter must be waiting.”
“……”
Was Lennok’s question unexpected?
The Guileless hesitated for a moment, then gave a bitter smile.
“The Tower Lord is more considerate than he appears.”
“You must be blind. What kind of—this insane murderer—”
As Lennok silenced Peshia, who had started blabbering the moment the magic wore off, Krod wore a relieved expression.
“It’s fine. I’m sure the child knows now that I made a grave mistake.”
“……”
“As I don’t know when my condition might worsen again, I wish to keep my distance from the main branch. It would be better for both of us.”
“You’ve already made your decision.”
“Because I know my place well.”
Krod smiled.
“I received a brief reprieve through an undeserved miracle. It would be excessive greed to wait for a second miracle here, so I must do what I can where I belong.”
“So you’ll come to my magic tower?”
“Well then, were you planning not to accept this poor old man now?”
Lennok and Krod chuckled, looking at each other.
It must have been because they had both been thinking the same thing since meeting at the summit and fighting Anathema.
Krod Azlan, though mentally unstable, is an 8-level spearman with a relatively sound character.
Even if he suffers from symptoms of madness and memory loss, he would be a great asset to the tower when he is lucid.
Krod exchanged a brief farewell and departed first, and Lennok made a light gesture towards Peshia.
Rustle!
The base of the chain was severed, creating enough slack for Peshia to stand on her own two feet.
“Dragging a sack through the middle of the city will only add to your unnecessary notoriety. Walk yourself.”
“So considerate. Why don’t you untie the chains on my arms while you’re at it?”
Peshia scoffed, getting to her feet.
“I don’t know where you’re planning to go that you’ve been making such a fuss since earlier.”
“As I said, I plan to stop by the tower briefly before going to Olivera.”
Lennok said, turning his back.
“I have something to pick up, and your help would make things easier.”
“What am I supposed to carry with my hands bound in chains? If you’re going to ask that, at least restore my magic first.”
The reason Peshia couldn’t break the chains binding her was that she had no magic left in her body.
After her fight with Lennok and being captured as a prisoner by Olivera, she hadn’t even received proper nourishment.
It was remarkable that she had performed her part in the battle against Anathema in her weakened state and was still alive.
“I’m tired. I’m sleepy. I’m so hungry I could die.”
Peshia grumbled incessantly, even as she walked behind Lennok.
“If you want my cooperation, bring me a cream puff from that downtown area right now.”
“You’re unbelievably picky for someone who should meekly eat sand if it were thrown at you. Bear with it.”
“Bear with what? What am I supposed to bear with? Are you planning to bring me dog food or something—?”
“We’re here.”
Peshia’s endless grumbling abruptly stopped the moment she saw the towering magic tower in the distance.
The colossal form of a tower, dozens of meters high.
A newly reorganized downtown area around the magic tower, and countless people moving about.
“You son of a… bitch…”
Peshia’s expression twisted significantly as she looked at Lennok’s face.
She, too, knew that Lennok had built the tower with the spoils he had taken from her.
From Peshia’s perspective, Lennok showing her the magic tower was nothing short of a display, reminding her of her defeat.
But Lennok ignored Peshia’s reaction and headed straight for the magic tower.
“As I said, the situation is different now. I don’t see a need to kill you, especially since you seem to have more use now.”
Lennok looked back at Peshia as he walked up the ramp.
“Now that I know you’re not an uncommunicative beast, there might be more information I can extract about Deadrise.”
“You’re dreaming a ridiculous dream. There’s no information I can give you, even if you rummage through my head.”
Peshia sneered as if she had been waiting for that.
“I resisted Olivera’s Mystic Eye, do you think I’d fall for your mere interrogation? I was deceived by Lord Bajour’s name back then…!!”
“Deceived by Bajour’s name, you say.”
Lennok looked up.
“That’s exactly why I’m taking you to the tower now.”
“……What?”
As soon as they entered the tower’s jurisdiction, Lennok activated spatial transfer.
He gripped Peshia’s body and instantly moved to the executive office on the upper floor of the tower.
Whoosh!
Peshia, who stumbled from the spatial transfer but quickly regained her balance, and Lennok, who stumbled in the opposite direction and sat on a sofa.
Just as Peshia was about to say something with a sarcastic look at the reversed roles.
“Van, what in the world is going on?!”
The door to the office burst open, and a bewildered woman’s voice rang out.
“The Cult attacked the summit, and you killed an Apostle. Did I hear that right?”
She had dozens of payment documents tucked under her arm, and both hands were rapidly typing on her phone’s keyboard.
Even her gestures, brushing away her flowing curly hair in annoyance, were restless.
“Right now, because of that, the City Council and Elder Council lines are overlapping, so the tower can’t respond. You need to clearly set a directive so we can properly handle this—”
“……”
However, instead of answering Jenny, Lennok leaned back on the sofa and stared at Peshia.
Peshia, with her arms still bound, had been staring intently at Jenny’s face the moment she appeared.
Gone was the fierce demeanor that had constantly scattered killing intent and repeatedly cursed and threatened Lennok.
She stood motionlessly, as if recalling someone from her memories, silently gazing at Jenny’s face.
Black curly hair cascading over her shoulders. A familiar sharp jawline. A pale, tired complexion.
Even after decades, familiar features and memories do not fade.
As if seeing someone long forgotten in Jenny’s face.
Jenny, belatedly noticing Peshia frozen in the middle of the office, wore a strange expression.
“……Peshia Grisbern?”
“Jenicia……”
Peshia hesitated, then answered naturally at those words.
“……Lord Bajour.”