Chapter 117

Chapter 117
## Chapter 117: The Star that Pierces the Truth (2)

—

The chamber was saturated with a radiance so intense it felt physically oppressive to the naked eye.

Enrico Turis struggled to keep his eyes from fluttering as he surveyed the environment. Though he fought to project an air of composure, the tremor in his hands was betraying his internal state.

He had mentally prepared for a formal audience after being notified that a high-ranking representative of the alliance had arrived for a visit. However, the reality was beyond his expectations. To be snatched without warning and deposited into this unnatural, luminous void was a violation of every diplomatic protocol.

Across from him, a senior figure sat with an expression of serene benevolence.

His hair was a shock of snow-white, a shade matched by the pristine fabric of his clerical robes and eclipsed only by the blinding ring of light hovering behind his head. The man radiated a terrifyingly pure sanctity that felt designed to force anyone into a state of submission.

The elder spoke, his tone dripping with practiced gentleness.

“May Elga, the sublime beacon of the heavens, illuminate your path like the first light of dawn. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Councilor Enrico. I am Erensko, Archbishop of the Second Seat, representing the Lucaon Archdiocese of the Elga Church.”

“…And may the golden favor of Lord Remillion watch over your every step. It is a profound privilege, Your Grace. That a figure of your immense standing would travel so far to meet with a mere administrator of the world—I find myself quite overwhelmed.”

“It is written by Elga that every flame has its purpose, whether it be the sun commanding the firmament or a lone taper in the dark. You should not diminish your worth simply because your duties are of the earth, Councilor.”

The archbishop’s smile widened, appearing even more affectionate as he spoke.

However, he did not offer a single syllable of regret for the abduction itself.

Enrico tightened his core, feeling the weight of being caught defenseless in the very center of his opponent’s power. He steeled his resolve, locking eyes with the archbishop with renewed clarity.

The initial dialogue was a dance of empty pleasantries. True to the warnings of his brother Pellico, the archbishop began with inquiries regarding the demonic surge along the Golden Highway and proposed various forms of clerical aid. It was a conversation meant for the leaders of Galentana, who dealt with the crisis daily, rather than a representative from the remote Remtana.

The masquerade was brief. Without a hint of transition, the archbishop discarded the small talk for a jarringly specific question.

“Tell me, Councilor Enrico. Does the name ‘Linton Feliferus’ ring a bell?”

“…My apologies, Your Grace. I fear my education is lacking; that name is entirely unfamiliar to me.”

“Ah, that is hardly a surprise. He was a new addition to the knights of Elga, having taken his vows only months ago. Had destiny allowed, he would have surely become a household name. His devotion was a model for us all, and his skill with a blade was nothing short of extraordinary.”

Enrico felt a lump in his throat. The mention was clearly a trap, yet the nature of the snare remained hidden.

“Given your high praise, he must have been a warrior of great promise. Should the opportunity present itself, I would be honored to—”

“That is a physical impossibility. He is deceased. He was struck down while guarding a prisoner transport near the borderlands. We managed to retrieve what was left of his body, so his headstone is available for viewing should you visit the holy city.”

“……”

The archbishop’s face remained a mask of placid indifference.

Yet Enrico saw through the facade. Behind those shimmering eyes lay a furnace of fury and a grief so sharp it was almost palpable. It was obvious the fallen knight held a profound significance to Archbishop Erensko.

Wiping all trace of emotion from his face, the archbishop continued.

“Naturally, the church cannot ignore the slaying of an emissary of Elga. I tasked an Arch Paladin with investigating the crime and hunting the killer. Yet, months ago, reports reached me that this Arch Paladin crossed into foreign territory and perished in a duel with an alliance mage—as if lured by a phantom.”

“……”

“A truly senseless tragedy… I find myself questioning how Elga’s perfect light could lead to such a dark end. That particular skirmish occurred within your borders, did it not, Councilor?”

“…It did, Your Grace.”

“Then why do I sense no indignation from you, Councilor?”

“…I’m not sure I understand.”

“If your hands are clean, should you not be furious? A foreign knight of high rank breached your sovereignty and slaughtered a civilian mage scholar.”

The warmth of the light suddenly felt like the cold touch of ice.

The archbishop’s features became as rigid as a marble monument.

Enrico paused, choosing his words carefully, his eyes reflecting a stubborn refusal to be intimidated. The archbishop let out a dry, mocking snort.

“We shall likely dispatch a church inquiry team shortly. A secondary audit is required to peel the truth away from the fabrications.”

“With respect, Your Grace, such an arrangement is far beyond my capacity to approve.”

“And what of the holy relic, ‘Flame of Gehenna’, Councilor? If the Arch Paladin fell, the blade should have remained.”

“The weapon was absent when our scouts reached the coordinates. We presume it was lost or taken during the chaos.”

“Fascinating. A relic consecrated by Elga, capable of enduring the heart of a volcano and bound only to its rightful wielder—’vanished’… Perhaps the Lord of Eternal Light reached down to claim it personally?”

“We are currently tracing its path. Furthermore, I must clarify that even if it is recovered, we will not relinquish it without ‘fitting restitution’. As you pointed out, this involved a high-ranking knight committing an illegal border crossing and the murder of a blameless official.”

Enrico deflected the interrogative strikes with practiced bureaucratic skill. The archbishop gave a small, derisive laugh, leaning back into his chair before veering into a new topic.

“I have heard tales of a certain sellsword causing quite a stir on the Golden Highway. They call him… the ‘Demon Slayer’, I believe?”

“……”

“And not merely on the highway. I hear his name is whispered in Galentana and Agon as well. Though in those places, his blade tasted the blood of… men, rather than monsters.”

At that moment, the realization hit Enrico.

The archbishop wasn’t fishing; he already possessed the entire map of events. This abduction wasn’t an interrogation—it was a confirmation of his own dominance.

The pretense was over. The archbishop laid his cards on the table.

“Rumors suggest that in Galentana he colluded with the ‘Followers of the Forgotten God’, and in Agon he tapped into ‘demonic power’. To allow such a profane wretch to walk the earth is an insult to the heavens… I suspect this Demon Slayer’s presence in the alliance has been a source of great anxiety for you.”

“……”

“Fortunately, our order is home to many zealous knights of Elga eager to purge such filth. I shall send one of my own to assist in the execution of this monster. That should serve as your ‘fitting restitution’, would it not?”

It was a thinly veiled threat. He was announcing the deployment of a religious assassin into alliance lands to hunt the Demon Slayer. Enrico’s expression turned grim.

“…A generous gesture, but I am merely a provincial official. Such matters are handled at a higher level. Considering our tense borders, the entry of foreign knights must be handled with extreme delicacy—”

“Councilor Enrico.”

The archbishop’s voice dropped to a low, heavy vibration.

“If you offer one more excuse, Remtana will be erased from the world by sunrise.”

“…!”

The delivery was calm, but the implication was savage.

Enrico’s mask of professionalism finally shattered. Shock flickered in his eyes. Seemingly satisfied by the reaction, the archbishop steepled his fingers and drove the point home.

“I am not making a request. You may enjoy your local governance, but never forget that the Free City Alliance is a vassal to the Lucaonia Empire.”

“……”

“I have already commanded one of the ‘Decagram’ to mobilize.”

Surrounded by the dying glow of the chamber’s brilliance.

Enrico, the alliance representative, squinted with cold defiance.

But Erensko, the imperial archbishop, only smiled with a warmth that didn’t reach his eyes.

—

The forest air was crisp as Kadim moved in silence, his boots crunching over the matted grass of a well-traveled path. Behind him, Duncan was preoccupied with a parchment map, constantly pivoting to check their orientation.

“This is the way… Yes, straight ahead, my lord! Just another day and a half, and the gates of Vesta will be in sight!”

Their grueling trek from the heart of the continent to the eastern coast was nearly over. It might have been a trick of the mind, but Duncan thought he could smell the salt of the sea on the breeze.

However, the final stretch required a decision. Duncan checked his pace and spoke up.

“Before we proceed… there is a choice to be made.”

“What choice?”

“The road splits soon. One fork takes us through the village of Quirn, while the other circles around the perimeter. The distance to Vesta is roughly the same either way… Which do you prefer, my lord?”

“……”

“Quirn likely offers decent food and a warm room. It’s slightly removed from the main Golden Highway, but it’s a known stop for travelers heading to the capital…”

Duncan was clearly leaning toward the village. After months of luxury followed by weeks of sleeping on the hard ground, the prospect of a real mattress was an irresistible siren song.

Kadim, however, was focused on security. Large groups of people meant complications. In their current situation, even a minor oversight could be fatal. A loud arrival might ruin their chances of a quiet entry into the Magic Tower…

“We take the bypass. When the finish line is this close, the fewer variables, the better.”

“…As you wish, my lord. I will lead the way.”

Duncan’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, but he didn’t protest.

Yet, when they reached the actual crossroads, Kadim came to a sudden halt.

“The path on the left—that leads to the town?”

“H-huh? Yes, that’s the one…”

“I’ve reconsidered. We’re going to the village.”

Without another word, Kadim turned left and began walking with purpose.

Duncan stood frozen for a second before scrambling to catch up. When he finally drew level with Kadim, he saw the look on the barbarian’s face and immediately understood.

Kadim’s eyes were burning with a predator’s focus, his lips pulled back in a grin that was more snarl than smile. He looked like a beast that had caught the scent of fresh blood.

Duncan didn’t need to ask. He simply let out a long, weary sigh.

*Why is there a demon here of all places? We are on the doorstep of Vesta—don’t those mages ever do any cleaning?*

Complaining wouldn’t change their course. Hoping the encounter would be short and one-sided, Duncan followed the battle-hungry warrior toward the town.

After about half an hour of walking, the silhouette of a settlement rose on the horizon.

Quirn was no mere collection of huts. It featured elegant stone arches, defensive walls, and tall brick structures—the architecture of a prosperous town serving a major city.

But the beauty of the town was overshadowed by a horrifying sight at the gates.

A translucent, obsidian-colored barrier had been cast around the village outskirts, and huddled just behind the dark film were dozens of gaunt, wasted figures.

When the starving inhabitants caught sight of the barbarian and the merchant, they lunged forward.

They threw themselves against the dark curtain, pounding on the invisible wall with frantic desperation.

*Thud, thud-thud! Bang! Thud!*

“…………! ………..!”

“…………! …………..!!”

The barrier acted like soundproof glass; the vibrations were visible, but no sound escaped. They looked like drowning men gasping for air in a tank of black ink. Their faces were contorted with mania, and some held rusted tools—hammers and hatchets—making the scene more menacing than pitiful.

“M-My lord… what is this? They… they have to be possessed, right?”

Duncan recoiled in horror. Kadim, conversely, stepped closer. He gave a sharp nod toward the people inside, gesturing for them to clear the area directly in front of him.

The frenzy died instantly. To Duncan’s surprise, the crowd parted in silence. Once a clear lane was established, Kadim summoned a bolt of lightning, shaping it into the form of a heavy war-axe.

――――――――― *Crack-hiss!*

*Flash!*

The blinding energy surged; upon impact, a massive shockwave rippled through the entire obsidian dome. Fractures spread like a spiderweb, followed by a roar of artificial thunder.

――――――――― *Rumble, craaaack… BOOM!*

A second strike was unnecessary. The point of impact dissolved into shards. Kadim summoned his axe back to his hand and stepped through the smoking gap into the village.

The townspeople stood as still as statues. The madness that had gripped them moments ago had vanished, replaced by hollow-eyed shock and sudden reverence.

“Impossible… we hit that thing a thousand times and didn’t leave a scratch…”

“How… how did he break it with one blow?”

“Praise be to Lord Remillion… Even the mages couldn’t force a way through…”

Whispers broke out among the survivors. A man with a thick, tangled beard pushed through the group, dropping his hammer as he looked up at Kadim with awe.

“Are you a mage, traveler? A high mage from the Magic Tower?”

“……”

Kadim began to scowl at being mistaken for a wizard despite his savage appearance—until a specific word in the man’s question caught his interest.

*He asked if I am a “high mage” **too**?*