Ch.23 Apostle of the Goddess of War
Dark clouds loomed over a small village known as Valley Village.
In this place, not even properly named, an ominous wind tore sharply through the trees, howling with a sinister edge.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The metallic sound of a copper shield being struck echoed in every direction, and instantly, the entire village fell into a silence as if it had swallowed its breath.
Sion peered outside, his body pressed against the wall as he followed the village chief.
A group of men were openly causing a ruckus in the center of the village.
Bandits.
There were three of them.
Instinctively narrowing his eyes, Sion focused intently on observing them. A phrase that Garfenn always emphasized came to mind:
Whoever you face, observe and analyze them relentlessly.
Especially those who appear weakâyou must be most cautious.
Why?
True experts always conceal their fangs.
Recognizing that is where a fight truly begins.
Butâ
ââŠThere arenât any among them.â
Feeling a slight sense of relief, Sion strained his ears to listen to their conversation.
The bandits shouted without hesitation:
âWeâve come to collect again today! You know exactly what you need to hand over, donât you?â
âOnce a week! Hand over a young woman. The younger, the better. If youâre hiding someone, itâs best you bring her out right away!â
For a moment, Sion doubted his own ears. Could such words really come out of a human mouth?
Evil always transcended reason.
Their attitude, as if this were a completely natural occurrence, stirred something cold and restless deep within Sion.
ââŠKilling them wonât bring any guilt.â
The village remained deathly silent. No one stepped forward.
Well, which sane person would willingly hand over their daughter or wife?
âYouâre going to act like this again? Youâve got no learning ability at all. You people in this village are hopeless.â
âWeâre counting to three. If you donât hand someone over, weâll just break into any house and drag someone out. And weâll leave her half-crazed.â
The bandit issued his threat.
Every villager was surely praying silently, âPlease, not my house.â
For humans are weak and cunning.
As long as itâs not me, itâs fine.
They seemed to be enduring day by day with the sole hope of surviving just today.
Today, too, was such a day, as the sun set.
Just as the desperate prayers of the utterly helpless were about to beginâ
âOne!
The village chief hastily grabbed Sionâs arm and pulled him.
âSir, quickly hide! Hide! Go into that room over there and conceal yourself behind the shelves! Iâll call you when the time passes. Tier! You too! Hurry!â
âWhat about you, Chief?â
Sion resisted and asked in return.
âIâll be fine. Donât worry. Before these bastards take someone else today, Iâll try to stop themâat least today!â
As if that could possibly happen.
Sion noticed the chiefâs arm, pulling at his own, had absolutely no strength.
Through the gaps in his shirt, he saw bruises covering his chest and thin, bony arms.
âThese must be the marks from stepping in to intervene each time and getting beaten up.â
âTwwwooo!
Sion sharpened the blade in his heart.
Once again, he prayed to the Goddess.
âGoddess, grant me the strength to punish these men.â
May the blessing of the Goddess of War be upon this land.
The next moment, Sion shook off the chiefâs grip and kicked open the door.
Bang!
âThrrreeâ Huh?â
All the bandits turned their gaze toward Sion. They had never seen this face in the village before. Was there really someone here who looked like a nobleman?
Sion approached the bandits, boldly staring them down, one after another.
He could have closed the distance in an instant and severed their throats, but he needed something more dramatic.
Something symbolicâlike a moment showing the villagers they didnât need to be afraid anymore.
âIt seems thieves have broken into the village.â
âWho the hell are you, brat?â
Sion answered, his eyes flashing.
âSion of the War Cult. I am a holy knight.â
ââŠ?â
âPfftâ! What? What cult?â
âHey hey, did this kid just say heâs a holy knight? Now?â
The bandits laughed crudely, mocking and ridiculing Sion with vulgar words.
They didnât care that he was holding a sword. To them, a brat like this wielding a blade was nothing to take seriously.
Sion paused, steadied his breath, and spoke again.
He needed to establish legitimacy before carrying out the execution.
âThe Goddess of War, Achille has sent me here. To protect the people of this village, and to punish those who prey upon the innocent.â
âHah, hahaha. Look at this guy talking!â
âThe Goddess of War, Achille? That war-crazed Goddess? There are still people who believe in that Cult?â
Sion gripped his sword scabbard tightly.
For a split second, he pictured drawing his blade and slicing off their heads.
âHaaah. Calm down. For now.â
Judgment must come before punishment.
Of course, blasphemy could warrant immediate execution, but now there was a greater purpose at stake.
The sun sank behind the mountain. The crimson twilight peeked out only at the very top of the sky, casting its final light across the earth.
Sionâs eyes grew cold and still. Slowly. Bitingly.
âI ask youâdid you indeed torment the villagers and abduct women, holding them captive?â
In response to Sionâs question, one of the bandits stepped forward, thrusting his face toward Sion.
âThatâs right. I did it. I took them and had my way with them. What are you gonna do about it? Huh?â
His foul breath sprayed across Sionâs face. Sion didnât blink an eye as he murmured:
âIs that so? Then youâve committed a crime.â
âAnd what? Is your precious Goddess gonna punish me?â
âHahaha! Damn, Iâd love to see that! Goddess of War! Come on, try to kill me!â
Swish.
Sion drew his sword.
A chilling ring of steel flowed between Sion and the bandit.
The banditâs face, still shoved forward, twisted in surprise.
âYou fearless little brat! Who the hell do you think you are, drawing your sword in front of me?â
âStop fooling around and kill him, Kwan. Itâs over.â
âGot itâŠâ
The last sliver of twilight hanging at the edge of the village vanished.
As if the Goddess who had been observing the world had blinked, a deep darkness suddenly enveloped everything.
Thud. ThudâŠ
And then, a head fell. As if the Goddessâs blink had been a guillotine. Swish.
âWhat?â
âWhy donât you keep talking?â
âShut upââ
Before the remaining bandit could even comprehend the situation, Sionâs figure blurred.
Kwaaak!
ââŠUwaaah.â
Sionâs blade plunged into the banditâs open mouth, wide with shock. Sionâs movements were precise and merciless.
Crack. Sion twisted the blade and pulled it sideways. The cheek tore open, and blood and flesh spilled out.
The execution was carried out in an instant.
Only one sinner remained. Sion swung his sword through the air, flinging off the blood.
The bandit staggered backward.
âW-what? W-what the hell! Hey! Donât come near me!â
âTell me. What did you do to the women after you took them? Did you touch them?â
âFffuck! I donât know! I donât know anything! I just took the women! I only followed orders!â
Sion stepped closer and asked:
âWas it Holtâs orders?â
âH-Holt? Who the hell is that? I only follow my bossâs orders! I donât even know my bossâs name, but itâs definitely not Holt!â
The bandit babbled incoherently. Still, it didnât seem like he was lying. With his life on the line, he didnât seem smart enough to fabricate a story.
âSo Holt isnât the leader of the bandits?â
It seemed the truth could only be uncovered after eliminating all the bandits.
âWhether itâs the bandits or Holt, once I clear them all out, itâll be resolved.â
Whether it was Apurâs request or the villageâs problem, it didnât matter. Acting like the War Cult means solving things with violence. That was all.
Thud. Thud.
Sion continued advancing toward the bandit. The bandit raised his sword in threat, but it was no threat to Sion at all.
His fighting spirit was already broken. In battle, morale is always the most important thing.
And Sionâs sword strikes were overwhelming because of it.
âWhether it was orders or not, you committed a crime. So you must be punished.â
âPlease, spare me! I beg you!â
Terrified, the bandit dropped his sword and stumbled back. He tripped over a rock and fell flat on his back. His head throbbed, but he had no time to care.
He crawled backward on his buttocks.
âPleaseâŠ! Fffuuuck!â
Sion raised his sword. The bandit, in a panic, could only stretch out his hands. Please, donât do this.
Thud.
Sionâs blade pierced through his palm and into his eyeball.
âAaahâ Ugh. Grrr.â
The blade plunged deeper, stabbing into his brain. Soon, the banditâs body collapsed lifelessly. Sion held the blade a moment longer. It was an act of feeding the blade with blood.
âI have punished the criminal, my Goddess.â
Having completed the offering of the three bandits, Sion stood up and turned around.
From the previously silent house, movement began to stir. One by one, people started to emerge.
Yet their expressions werenât triumphant.
On the contrary, they trembled with fear, like someone who had disturbed a hornetâs nest.
They feared the consequences that would follow more than they felt gratitude.
This wouldnât do.
âTo fear mere bandits more than the Goddess? Unthinkable.â
Sion gripped his sword even tighter.
âS-sir holy knight. Th-this⊠thisâŠâ
The village chief approached and tried to speak.
He was breathing heavily.
âEveryone, please listen!â
Sion raised his voice.
âI understand what you fear. But you must overcome it. I will help you.â
Still, there was no response from the villagers.
Sion made the sign of the faith, playing the role of a devout holy knight.
âThe Goddess of War, Achille has sent me here to destroy the evil tormenting you.â
Thereforeâ
âDo not fear. Come out. I will take care of everything.â
The eyes of the people below the hill trembled.
A star of extinguished hope flickered once more, but they were too afraid to grasp it.
Telling people oppressed by tyranny to hope again was, unexpectedly, a cruel thing to do.
âAre you afraid of retaliation?â
The village chief avoided Sionâs gaze and stammered.
âY-yes. If he brings all his subordinatesâŠâ
Sion realized.
It was a matter of numbers.
The villagers believed that no matter how well Sion fought, he couldnât possibly handle more than ten bandits.
To someone unfamiliar, thatâs exactly how it would appear. If he had arrived with an army, the people would have cheered and actively helped.
âPowerless people have no means to protect themselves. If I leave, who will protect them then?â
Without power, you get plundered. This was the instinctive response born from ingrained fear. It was the way of the world.
âŠSion wanted to reject this principle. Was there no way for the powerless to live without worry?
âDoes the Goddess know the answer?â
If he served as her Apostle, would she show him the answer?
Sionâs thoughts grew deeper.
But for now, he set his doubts aside and spoke.
âIâll go and kill the leader too. Once I wipe out all the bandits, you wonât need to fear anymore, will you?â
ââŠPlease donât do this. Itâs too dangerous. You should leave nowââ
At that moment, Tier stepped forward.
âChief! No, everyone in the village! Please, just hear me out!â
He looked terrified to step forward, his fingers fidgeting.
His voice was barely audible, but he was trying to summon courage.
âTch! You brat, what are you doing? Stay put!â
âAlways causing trouble, and now youâre making a big speech?â
The village elders began scolding Tier. The women joined in with their own remarks.
From their sharp attitudes, it seemed the chief was the only one who cared for Tier.
âB-butââ
âLet him speak.â
Tierâs only ally.
The chief stepped forward, calming the villagers.
His expression was still uneasy, but he granted Tier one final chance to speak.
Tier looked at Sion.
Sion nodded at him, and finally, Tier raised his voice.
âIâI saw it all! Sir Sion defeated a Mains who appeared in Foils!â
A Mains?
The villagers began murmuring.
In a backwater village like this, such a tale was like a ghost story.
A being that had consumed the blood of an evil god and become something other than human. It was hard to believe without seeing it.
âIs that⊠really true?â
Ifâ
If a Mains truly existed.
And if Sion was the one who defeated that terrifying Mains.
Then perhapsâŠ
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