Chapter 26

Ch.26 Apostle of the Goddess of War

The thought of dying?

He hadn’t even considered that.

Sion had simply swung his sword.

After all, the Goddess’s blade has no will of its own.

The brief moment of battle, which felt strangely long, came to an end.

Sion had once again overcome a life-threatening crisis and grown stronger.

‘I should be more careful when facing enemies faster than me. I need to build more strength too. Hmm… Just as my master said, experiences like this are indeed helpful. If I fight again, I’ll win more easily.’

In this sense, the bandit chief had served as excellent fertilizer. After all, it was rare to encounter someone stronger than Sion.

Experience steadily piling up was shaping Sion into a flawless swordsman.

Meanwhile, Tier, who had been watching from a distance, stood speechless in shock.

‘What exactly just happened? Did he really swing his sword with full acceptance of death?’

It was hard to believe, even after witnessing it.

Could it truly have been the Goddess’s blessing?

If that were true, then Sion must be a warrior sent by the Goddess herself.

Sion snatched the bandit chief’s sword and flung it far away. Then he locked eyes and asked,

“Now, are you ready to talk?”

“About what?”

“Anything. Why did you kidnap the women? What you did with them after taking them away.”

“What difference does it make if I answer now?”

The bandit chief sneered. Even in defeat, pride remained. Sion didn’t know what use such pride was, but calmly tried to persuade him.

“I’m giving you one final chance to repent. That way, I’ll send you off with slightly less suffering.”

“Haha. A greenhorn like you talks quite grimly, doesn’t he?”

Sion shrugged. He had only spoken like anyone else would, yet he always received such comments, which he never quite understood.

“Heh, heh.”

The bandit lowered his head, then began chuckling softly, like a mad vagrant.

With his unkempt beard, the image suited him perfectly.

“You asked me if I was Holt?”

“I did. But, I don’t think you are.”

Sion answered. That was the conclusion he had reached during the fight—this man wasn’t Holt.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re weaker than what I’ve heard.”

“You nearly died by my hand, brat, yet you still wag your tongue so boldly?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“Kekeke.” The bandit laughed loudly and nodded, as if agreeing with Sion’s words.

“That’s right. I’m not Holt.”

“Then, who are you?”

“I’m just a mercenary hired by someone named Holt.”

“A mercenary?”

“Yes.”

The bandit chief let his head droop lifelessly. Slowly, his lips began to move.

“More accurately, I was captured and exploited.”

“Hmm.”

Sion listened calmly to his words, his posture remarkably serene—so much so that it was hard to believe they had just been trying to kill each other moments ago.

He even sat down on the ground to listen.

“He suddenly appeared, put a knife to my neck, and told me to obey his orders.”

“So you followed?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He offered money. All I had to do was seize a mine, block travelers, and kidnap women. It seemed like a good deal, so I settled here and became a bandit. Not too bad, really.”

By now, blood flowing from the chief’s arm had pooled into a large puddle. His time was up.

“That’s all. I don’t know what that man Holt did with the women after taking them. I wasn’t curious. He wouldn’t even let me go near the place.”

“I see.”

Sion nodded and stood up.

“Ah, what a worthless life I’ve lived.”

The chief chuckled bitterly. His face had turned pale from blood loss.

“A life full of sin.”

“Damn unlucky bastard.”

The evil he had committed could never be forgiven by any remorse or repentance.

Because people who suffered because of him, and souls wounded by his deeds, were still weeping.

Sion raised his sword.

Even if left alone, the man would die from severe blood loss, but Sion believed it right to deliver justice with his own hands.

“Do you have any last words?”

“…I’d like to see that inn maid I slept with a few months ago.”

Sion’s arm fell.

Slish!

***

Sion and Tier advanced toward the dark cave. Tier held a torch tightly beside Sion.

Thud-thud, plunk.

Pieces of rock fell from the ceiling with every step. It wouldn’t be surprising if the entire tunnel collapsed at any moment.

‘People.’

Sion pierced through the darkness, relying on faint light. As he focused, the outlines of figures gradually became clearer.

People wearing only white cloth sat hunched on the ground. Their emaciated, filthy appearances suggested they weren’t in good condition.

“P-please help us.”

A weak voice slipped out.

A girl?

Tier reacted before Sion did.

“Silvia? Is that you, Silvia!”

“O-oh, big brother…? Is it really you?”

Thump—thump—!

Tier rushed toward the prison.

As he drew closer into the darkness, the interior of the prison came into view.

No, it wasn’t really a prison… It was more like an animal pen.

Foul stench, moldy straw, mysterious stagnant water flowing across the floor. The deep cave had no ventilation—its air was rotten.

Within this wretched environment, women were imprisoned. It was difficult even to imagine what terrible things they had endured.

“Silvia…!”

Separated by iron bars, Tier and Silvia embraced.

Silvia’s frail hands tightly clung to Tier’s back.

“Big brother…! Hic, hic…”

“It’s okay, Silvia. I’m here. I came to save you!”

Tier wiped his younger sister’s tears and examined her face. But then—huh?

His eyes widened in shock.

“…What happened to your forehead!?”

Silvia lowered her head.

Her crying grew louder.

On the young girl’s forehead was a brand mark. Traces of violence were visible across her face.

Where on such a tiny child could one possibly strike?

Tier’s fists trembled.

Sion too was so furious his teeth ground together.

‘Why? Why would a knight of the Wisdom Cult… commit such atrocities?’

Before dying, the bandit chief had said Holt had suffered injustice.

But he never revealed what it was before passing away.

Silvia’s weeping filled the dark prison.

At that moment, a woman tied to chains on the opposite side spoke up.

“Some madman branded us.”

“…What?”

Sion left Tier and approached her. She seemed relatively coherent.

“Please tell me in detail.”

“The bandits kidnapped us. And then…”

She clenched her teeth.

“They tortured us. All of us had strange brands burned onto our foreheads. Every day, we were tortured in rotation and forced to recite strange prayers. If we failed, they beat us and stabbed our thighs with knives. Damn demon.”

Sion narrowed his eyes and scanned the prison.

He narrowed his eyes and looked over the women. Every single one had a brand on her forehead. Many had wounds oozing pus, never properly disinfected.

They had been tortured without proper food or rest.

That was why, even though Sion had arrived, few showed joy or cried for help—they simply slumped, exhausted and having given up everything after enduring such brutal torture.

“Why? What was this for?”

The woman shook her head.

She bit her lip, then finally spoke.

“I don’t know. They only said… we had to become priestesses.”

“What?”

“To pray… to awaken… to devote ourselves to the Goddess of Wisdom.”

Sion sighed, his expression dazed.

‘…They kidnapped women to make priestesses? By force?’

It wasn’t even a matter of possibility or impossibility.

Holt.

That man was truly insane.

How—how could a man who once served the Goddess commit such horrific acts?

Sion suppressed his rage, burning like fire, and said,

“Let’s get out first. I’ll get you out.”

Sion grabbed the iron cage and pulled hard.

Kreeeak…! Squeeeeak—!

The metal bars twisted.

But that wasn’t enough to break them.

The cage would have to be cut.

Just as Sion was about to draw his sword—

“Behind! Behind you!”

A chilling cry.

Sion reflexively turned around.

A dark figure stood silently in the shadows. This man stared wordlessly at Sion’s actions, resembling a reclusive hermit.

‘When did he get here?’

A chill ran down his spine.

Hiding his surprise, Sion spoke calmly.

“You must be Sir Holt.”

“…You came here after you heard of me.”

Holt opened his mouth, confirming it himself.

Long, unkempt hair, a beard covering his jaw.

It was clear how long he had lived here like a madman.

The cave fell deathly silent.

Two knights stood facing each other. One was a demon, the other a savior. Could the savior truly save them all?

The women wondered.

Everyone except Tier felt crushed under Holt’s oppressive aura, unable to see any hope.

We’re going to die like this.

How strong is that madman?

I saw him crush a skull bare-handed.

Pretending not to know is our best chance.

Holt, now a mere object of terror, glared at Sion.

“The stench of the Goddess clings to you. Were you sent by the Wisdom Cult?”

“No, I come from a different Cult.”

“Hmm? Really? Whatever your business, it’s surprising you made it this far.”

He seemed perfectly normal at first glance. His cognition and conversation ability appeared intact.

“But why did you seek me out?”

“…Sir Holt. Please explain these atrocities.”

Holt raised his barely visible eyebrows and asked,

“Hmm? Atrocities? What atrocities?”

“You kidnapped women and tortured them. What kind of act is that?”

“You speak strangely.”

Holt slightly extended his hand, pointing at something.

“This is the creation of a priestess. For the upcoming Priestess Revelation. What about that is an atrocity?”

Holt answered with eyes deeply sunk in madness, devoid of even a trace of doubt or guilt.

He was trapped in his own world. Anyone could see it.

‘He’s completely insane.’

He spoke convincingly, but there was no doubt—his mind was broken.

Given his state, even his loyal subordinate, the bandit chief, wouldn’t have been able to stop him. He would have had to pretend to listen just to maintain any dialogue.

“Kidnapping innocent people and torturing them to make a priestess? You’re mad.”

“How would an outsider Cult understand? This is none of your business. Leave now. Levert will guide you out.”

Levert? Sion instinctively realized that must be the bandit chief’s name.

Holt clearly had no idea Sion had killed him. His thought process was clearly malfunctioning.

Insane. Utterly.

“Sir Holt. What did you intend to do with these so-called priestesses?”

Sion wanted to know clearly. He wanted to understand why this noble knight had gone mad.

“This damn—fuck!”

Suddenly, Holt roared.

“Damn it, fucking hell! If it weren’t for that bitch! Me! Me! It should’ve been me by now!”

“Sir Holt?”

Calling him was useless.

Holt was already somewhere else—existing in a different time and place.

Sion could only hold his breath, stunned by the madman’s actions.

The insane knight began weeping, pouring out his rage.

“Arwen, Arwen! That whore stole my position! She stole it!”

…!

Sion gasped.

He recognized that name.

Arwen.

Yes…

The genius whom Garfenn had chosen as his successor before Sion, the girl who suddenly became an Apostle of the Wisdom Cult one day.

A bitter fate had come full circle, arriving here.

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