Chapter 59

Ch.59 Apostle of the Goddess of War

Sion had charged forward only seconds ago.

Kwa―kang!

The cluster beyond the boulder instantly transformed into a chaotic battlefield.

Ku-gu-gu-gu!

One watchtower collapsed with a thunderous roar, and flames rising from the wreckage dyed the night sky crimson.

Amid the chaos, a single shadow streaked forward, wrapped in black mist.

Sion was devastation incarnate.

Kiiieek!

Wherever his blade passed, goblins’ heads were severed, and piercing screams tore through the air.

The Order of the War Knight Brigade, hiding behind rocks, could only gape in stunned silence at the scene before them.

One person. Just one man was ravaging an entire massive horde.

This wasn’t combat. It was one-sided slaughter.

The overwhelming enemy force that had just moments ago crushed them with despair now crumbled like autumn leaves before Sion.

Goblins fleeing in terror.

Goblins attempting to fight back, only to be horrifically butchered.

Goblins shooting poison darts, only to be struck themselves and poisoned.

All of it unfolded like an unreal, surreal painting.

“Is… is that a human?”

“…Impossible.”

“W-What I’ve been training for all this time… was just child’s play.”

The members mumbled in dazed voices. Their words carried not only awe, but deep, crushing feelings of helplessness.

“That… that’s Sir Sion’s true strength. He’s become even stronger than when I first saw him.”

Tier clenched his fists tightly, his body frozen stiff. He didn’t even feel the pain of his fingernails digging into his palms.

—Go back. That’s an order.

Sion’s final words echoed in Tier’s ears. That voice was cold. It felt like his heart was being slashed apart.

Yet he couldn’t resent Sion or feel sorrow.

Tier understood the meaning behind those words better than anyone.

It wasn’t criticism. It was Sion’s own way of showing consideration.

A warm sentiment telling them not to risk their lives in a battle they couldn’t handle.

But that very kindness gouged into Tier’s heart like sharp shards.

“I’m ashamed.”

When Set disappeared, he, as their leader, had failed to make the right decision.

He had vacillated between rescue and retreat, wasting precious time.

Hiding behind the seemingly reasonable excuse of ‘rational judgment’, he had turned a blind eye to his own fear.

If Sion hadn’t appeared, he would have ultimately chosen to retreat.

And then—

“Set would have died in despair.”

Set, whom he had trained with and regarded like a younger brother. The memory of himself begging Sion to save his own younger sister flashed before his eyes.

“What… have I… done?”

This wasn’t a time for rational judgment.

Even launching a suicidal charge would have been insufficient. At the very least, he should have tried to devise a rescue plan.

Sion had seen through his weakness and cowardice completely.

Yet he didn’t scold him. He only said he had done well, even blaming himself for the failure.

That made it even more miserable.

He had trained hard to become like Sion, and had become a War Knight, even if only temporarily. He had taken on leadership, his pride soaring to the heavens.

But Tier’s true self was arrogant, foolish, cowardly, and fearful.

“…Stupid fool.”

Turning his head, he saw the faces of his comrades.

They all wore the same expression as him.

Awe at Sion’s overwhelming power, relief at having survived, helplessness, and…

“Guilt.”

The Order of the War Knight.

People who served the Goddess of War, who had gathered under the oath to never flee from any battle.

They had recited and sworn the doctrine that one who only chooses battles they can win is not a true War Cult believer.

So what shameful act had they just committed?

Didn’t they inwardly feel relieved at Tier’s decision to retreat, hiding behind the excuse of ‘rational judgment’?

They had carried the title of War Knights, yet failed to achieve anything, reduced to mere spectators receiving an order to retreat.

It was pitiful.

He wanted to die.

Returning unscathed, he wouldn’t have the face to look his family in the eyes.

He’d never have the courage to wield a sword again. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t driven out of Elim.

“…Ghh…”

A suppressed groan burst from Tier’s lips. He tightly gripped the dirt beneath him. Mud pressed under his fingernails.

Was he going to run away like this?

Follow the order, turn his back on Set who was dying, and return safely to Elim?

Would such a preserved life hold any pride?

Could he ever proudly claim the titles of War Knight or War Cult believer again? Wouldn’t he be ashamed?

“No.”

No. If he did that, the rest of his life would be days of disgrace.

It would be humiliation worse than a knight’s death—a dishonorable, shameful existence.

A black flame reignited in Tier’s eyes. It wasn’t born from overwhelming power like Sion’s, but from a small spark of courage ignited by one who had realized his own limits.

[My warrior. It’s okay to do shameful things. It’s okay to fall. It’s okay to feel miserable.]

Quietly, the Goddess of War comforted her young knights.

[It’s okay to flee from the battlefield. Victory and defeat are common in war. You can win again later. But—]

[You must never flee from yourself.]

[Die standing. That is my warrior.]

The Goddess’s will quietly reached them.

[Go and fight bravely. I will protect you.]

Like pouring wine into an empty glass, courage began to fill them.

He grabbed Alt’s shoulder beside him. Alt turned in surprise.

“C-Commander?”

Tier’s voice still trembled, but it now carried a weight different from before.

“We won’t run away.”

“…Huh?”

“Are you asking if I intend to disobey Sir Sion’s order? Yes. I will disobey. He told us not to be a burden, but returning like this would only bring shame.”

Tier rose to his feet. Every member’s gaze turned to him.

“I’m sorry, everyone. Because of my decision, you all became cowardly and shameful too.”

Tier deeply bowed his head.

“I want to correct my mistake. Let’s go save Set. Please help me.”

“…”

“It’s shameful, but! I can’t do it alone! But if we combine our strength, we can achieve something! Let’s not leave Sir Sion to fight alone!”

Alt responded to his sincere confession and plea.

“You’re not the only one thinking this, Commander. Right? Everyone… everyone wanted to run away…”

Alt lowered his head bitterly. The others felt the same.

No one could bring themselves to blame Tier.

They had wanted to flee. The idea of going to save Set wasn’t genuine. They didn’t want to die.

But they realized that choice would plunge them into a hell worse than survival.

Having become ‘War Knights’, they now personally understood that honor and justice must be valued more than life itself.

“L-Let’s go!”

Someone shouted.

“Damn it! Let’s go!”

“How scared must that young kid Set be right now?”

“…Ghh. A cowardly bastard like me deserves to die fighting. Yeah.”

“Let’s go, Commander! What’s the plan?”

Courage spread like wildfire.

Tier sniffled, holding back tears.

“G-Good… thank you, everyone!”

“Enough, stop crying. Let’s focus on the fight now.”

“L-Let’s pay for our sins later, after everything’s over.”

They had tried to abandon their comrade. They had committed an unforgivable sin.

Better late than never, they would atone. The Order of the War Knight smiled as one, a bitter smile.

“…Sir Sion, please don’t forgive me.”

Tier stopped crying and raised his head. He pointed to a spot.

There stood a watchtower, boldly obstructing Sion, annoyingly showering arrows down.

“Let’s capture that watchtower first. Blocking that arrow storm will make things easier.”

Kiiing!

Tier drew his sword. The other knights followed, drawing their blades and raising them high.

“The Goddess of War is with us!”

“The Goddess of War is with us―!”

“The Goddess of War is with us―!”

The mighty cry swept across the swamp.

At last, the true war of the rookie knight unit had begun.

***

Kiiieek―!

The goblin shaman collapsed, shrieking a single scream.

The cursed flames burning in his hands vanished into nothingness, ownerless and futile. Without hesitation, Sion launched himself toward his next target.

His movements were as agile as a black panther, his blade as merciless as a predator’s claws.

He enveloped his entire body in divine power, forming a fine barrier to defend against ambushes, and heightened his hearing to extreme sensitivity to detect the enemies’ positions and numbers.

His priority was the most threatening targets—the commanders or shamans.

His path was the shortest distance.

His effort was minimized.

The black blade danced gracefully, scattering death.

[My warrior, channel your rage into the tip of your blade.]

Achille’s voice echoed from her throne, continuously blessing Sion and amplifying his strength.

Kwa-aaang!

Sion’s sword beam flew forth, ruthlessly slaughtering the goblin nest.

The goblins fell into chaos.

A black demon, appearing from nowhere, was sweeping through their horde.

The rough shouts of hobgoblins, the arrows raining from watchtowers—none could hinder his advance.

Instead of dodging arrows, Sion used charging goblins as shields, plowing straight through.

Whoosh!

Kang!

He kicked a goblin writhing in pain from embedded arrows, sending it flying into others. It was cruel, but the fastest way.

“There’s no time.”

The evil aura emanating from the altar was growing stronger. The Death priestess was clearly rushing the ritual.

That was when it happened.

Waaaaa―!

“The Goddess of War is with us―!”

From the western entrance of the horde, a familiar yet utterly inappropriate shout rang out.

Sion’s feet momentarily froze. His gaze turned toward the source of the sound.

“…Those fools.”

They had disobeyed his order to retreat.

It was reckless and foolish.

But a faint smile appeared on Sion’s lips. A small warmth bloomed in a cold corner of his heart.

They hadn’t run away. They had chosen their own battlefield. It was undoubtedly a brave decision, one that deserved respect.

In that brief moment, Sion precisely understood the knights’ intention.

“A diversion tactic? They’re buying me time.”

It was an amateurish plan, but decent enough.

His progress toward the altar had been slow, constantly hindered by endless waves of goblins and interference.

But with the War Knights’ arrival, some of the goblins heading toward the central altar began hesitating and turning westward.

The pressure on Sion noticeably lessened.

“Thank you.”

Sion murmured softly, then accelerated again. He treasured the precious time his comrades had bought him like gold.

Swish!

Kehek!

Cutting through goblins as he advanced.

The closer he got to the altar, the colder and more oppressive the air became. A chilling aura of death, suppressing the breath of the living, seeped into his skin.

Finally, he arrived at the ominous altar, built from animal bones and black stones.

And when he looked up at it, Sion’s heart ached.

“Set!”

His younger brother lay collapsed on the altar, unconscious, wearing only tattered rags.

Pale face, tightly closed eyes.

His motionless form resembled a lifeless wax doll. Around him, eerie patterns drawn in a red liquid like blood were incomprehensible and chilling.

Beside Set, a woman was chanting incantations.

Long, black robes, pathologically pale skin, and blank, colorless white eyes glowing emptily.

“…Death Priestess.”

As if uttering the final verse of the spell, she brought her hand to Set’s lips.

Then Set’s chest swelled, and a cold breath, like the sigh of a corpse, rose from his open mouth.

“That’s far enough.”

At Sion’s voice, cold as ice, the Death priestess slowly turned her head.

Her white eyes fixed on Sion. There was no emotion in them.

Her gaze was indifferent, as if looking at a pebble on the roadside.

She looked at Sion and said,

“Interloper.”

The voice of the death-worshipping woman was unpleasant, like metal scraping against metal.

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