Chapter 65

Ch.65 Apostle of the Goddess of War

Several days had passed.

The young swordsman spent each day sparring with his master, something they hadn’t done regularly in a long time. The swordsmanship training, far more intense than actual combat, continued to push Sion forward every single day.

And for good reason—his master was the strongest holy knight in the world.

His master himself claimed that, aside from the Apostle of Light—someone considered a transcendent being even among the most powerful in the world—he had no equal.

And Sion agreed. Throughout all their sparring sessions, Sion had never once defeated Garfenn. Even when he attacked with his full seriousness, the outcome never changed.

Sword Expert, Sword Master, and beyond—Grand Sword Master.

The stages of holy knight mastery, distinguished for convenience, each held truly immense walls of difference between them.

‘If I’m still just knocking at the threshold of the Expert stage…’

Sion, who considered himself naturally talented with the sword, had never felt so humble in recent times.

‘Just how strong is my master?’

Sion still didn’t know Garfenn’s true power. He couldn’t even begin to guess.

Even the extremely powerful Apostle of Blood had fled the moment Garfenn appeared. Granted, the Apostle of Blood had weakened, but still—it was astonishing.

The master’s level was simply beyond measurement by Sion’s insight.

Tak—!

With a sharp cracking sound that seemed impossible from mere wood, Sion’s wooden sword was knocked flying.

The impact shot straight up his wrist, leaving a sharp, stinging pain. But Sion didn’t even have time to groan—he quickly reset his stance and charged in again.

“Where did your mind wander during practice?!”

Garfenn’s quiet reprimand struck like lightning. His wooden sword lunged forward like a living wyvern, aiming to swallow Sion whole.

Snapping back to focus, Sion cried out as he attempted a counterattack.

“I deliberately created that opening!”

Whoosh!

Garfenn’s wooden sword grazed past Sion’s shoulder. It was an opportunity created through swift movement, and Sion didn’t miss that fleeting gap.

Hwah!

He channeled the momentum of his body’s rotation directly into his blade—a counterattack mimicking his master’s own sword techniques.

That was when it happened.

Garfenn’s eyebrow, which had until now remained relaxed, twitched ever so slightly. A flicker of surprise and cold light passed through his eyes.

The next moment, Sion didn’t even comprehend what he had seen.

The instant he thought Garfenn’s sword had vanished from his vision, a light ‘thud’ struck his wrist with unbearable force.

His wooden sword flew helplessly from his grip, spinning through the air before burying itself in the dirt.

“Ugh.”

At the same time, a chilling sensation pricked his neck.

Garfenn’s wooden sword tip was now pressed against Sion’s throat.

Silence fell over the training ground. Sion panted heavily, alternating his gaze between the wooden sword at his neck and his master’s utterly still face.

He had lost again.

Thud.

Garfenn lowered his sword, having already thoroughly beaten Sion.

“That’s enough for today.”

“…Thank you for the lesson, Master.”

“You’ve worked hard.”

Suddenly, Sion asked, a mix of frustration and indignation in his voice.

“Why am I so weak?”

Garfenn replied calmly, calling him an overly ambitious fellow.

“You’re developing frighteningly fast. Just now, you used the attack I used yesterday. I felt it myself. Don’t be so impatient.”

“Every time I spar with you, my confidence dies.”

“You feel that way because I adjust my strength to match your growth.”

Though Sion felt a wall separating them, in truth, Garfenn inwardly marveled at Sion’s progress every single day.

The Goddess Achille, watching the sparring from the side, felt the same.

Achille brushed back her black hair and smiled.

[It’s delightful to see him grow every day. How could he be so wonderfully impressive? Don’t you agree, Garfenn?]

‘He’s starting to become a bit overwhelming even for me, lately.’

[Goodness, really?]

‘Yes… His attacks are beginning to feel threatening. Every day, he grasps something new from my swordsmanship. It’s almost frightening.’

[Then you must keep striving. My grand knight.]

‘I suppose I’ll have to eventually retire and hand over the role of apostle.’

The Goddess covered her mouth and laughed. All their conversations were mere entertainment to her.

[Still, you’re far from it. You have mountains of things left to teach him. Just a little longer, my Garfenn.]

‘How could there be any question of propriety…’

[Hm? Garfenn? What did you just say—]

Garfenn closed his ears again and called out to Sion.

“Sion.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Impatience is your greatest enemy. I’ve told you this countless times.”

“I know, I do.”

Garfenn encouraged him in a voice that sounded like he was swallowing bitterness.

“Since you seem to have misunderstood, let me clarify. This master is still perfectly capable.”

“…Huh?”

Sion repeated, dazed.

“Great troubles will come soon. It wouldn’t be strange if they’ve already begun. You can assume the devil worshippers have started their war.”

“…Yes, that’s right.”

“And because of that, you’re feeling impatient, aren’t you? Wanting to grow stronger quickly to protect Elim.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

Sion’s shoulders slumped. He now understood what his master was trying to say.

“You’re still not an apostle. It’s true I’d like to retire soon, but that must not become a burden on you.”

“I understand. I know what you mean.”

“Trust me. Until you’ve grown enough, it’s me who will protect Elim.”

Such a simple, obvious statement brought Sion inner relief. Without realizing it, he had been chasing something unseen.

But what Sion must never forget is that Garfenn remains the guardian holding Elim upright like an ancient tree.

Even as Sion grows rapidly, that fact doesn’t change. He had merely grown impatient on his own, unknowingly piling pressure upon himself to live up to expectations.

‘Right. When you think about it, I’m still at a level that can barely survive against a Vampire Lord.’

The Vampire Lord, the core of the Blood Cult, was at minimum a Sword Expert. The fact that Sion had fought one and survived was already impressive.

‘Next time we meet, I’ll definitely win.’

Now that he had recognized his current level and clearly adjusted his goal, Sion’s eyes softened somewhat.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The corner of Garfenn’s lips rose slightly. He patted Sion’s shoulder as he passed by.

“Off to the forest now? Perfect timing.”

“Yes, I need to meditate. To reorganize what I’ve learned today.”

Garfenn nodded. As expected, quick to understand. No further explanation was needed.

“The mental realm barrier depends not only on martial skill level but also on imagination. Meditate and imagine deeply. It’s a process of instilling belief into your sword. The results will follow on their own.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Though it’s difficult.”

He had heard this explanation several times. Garfenn repeated it whenever he had the chance.

Since he couldn’t clearly explain it, he resorted to rote teaching—a method that actually suited Sion quite well.

“Don’t overthink it. Just focus on what you, as the Goddess of War’s apostle, want to achieve. Think only of the belief you pursue.”

The mental realm barrier was precisely the result of melting and projecting one’s most comforting, beautiful, and cherished beliefs into a forge.

“What did you pursue, Master?”

Garfenn hesitated briefly before answering.

“…I suppose it was atonement.”

“Atonement. That’s heavy. What kind of world did that project?”

“Hmm. An endless desert hill, with countless swords buried in the sand.”

“Desolate.”

“Yes, something like that.”

Sion slowly nodded. It made sense. His master’s mental realm and the path he had walked were similar.

A lonely, desolate journey had shaped Garfenn’s inner world.

‘I got a hint. Good.’

Seeing his disciple gaining real-time insight, Garfenn smiled slightly.

Even his warm smile somehow felt fierce. But Sion knew the kind, warm heart hidden beneath his master’s surface.

It was hard to imagine how much suffering Garfenn had endured with his badly burned face.

But Sion clearly understood the expectations his master had placed upon him—don’t grow impatient, but strive endlessly until you reach your goal.

‘The Goddess of War’s apostle.’

It was both the path ahead and the position where one would one day bear the weight of that heavy crown. The very existence of an apostle suddenly felt overwhelmingly distant.

Yet he wouldn’t give up. If anything, he leaned more toward impatience.

For the sake of preparing for the great war to come, Sion sharpened both his sword and his heart. Today, as always, diligently.

Before leaving, Sion asked one final question.

“Is the mission still far off?”

“Hmm, still gathering information. We’ll get word soon. It won’t be long.”

His body was already itching for action. Training was good, but Sion was closer to a practical fighter.

Hiding his regret, Sion bowed his head.

“Then I’ll head to the forest.”

“Very well. I’ll go get some rest. Don’t wake me unless it’s urgent.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

“You’ve come, Sir Sion.”

“Sir Marquisin. Hello. Have you been well?”

“We saw each other two days ago. How could anything have happened?”

“Haha, true.”

“Would you like some tea?”

“No, I’m just here to meditate for a while.”

Marquisin smacked his lips.

“What a shame. I was thinking of making tea from some newly bloomed flowers.”

Lately, this elf had become fond of serving tea to visitors from the War Cult.

Unlike the Wildflower Cult members, who happily accepted anything, the War Cult believers honestly expressed their “Hoo!” of appreciation.

There was joy in finding teas they liked.

“Let’s go.”

Sion walked through Elim’s forest, now far more lush and verdant than before.

Among the thick trees, one towering giant stood out. The tree grown from Emily’s heart had by now become a shelter healing the wounds of the Wildflower Cult believers and offering them a new roof.

“It’s grown so much. It grows bigger every day.”

“Could it be just from Sir Sion’s prayers? Honestly, I was shocked. When did you grow this much again?”

“How big is it now?”

Sion asked out of curiosity.

Marquisin, looking amused, pondered for a moment. He closed his eyes, breathing in the forest’s life and Sion’s aura through his skin.

“About as much as Emily’s tree has grown.”

Sion looked up at the tree protecting the elves. It was enormous. Just a bit more growth, and it would surpass the height of Elim Hill.

Suddenly, Sion voiced his inner thoughts.

“I want to become a tree like that too.”

A guardian apostle who protects Elim from harsh storms and scorching sun.

“In my view, you’re not far from it, Sir Sion.”

Marquisin wore a smile as soft as a blade of grass. Sion responded with a small smile of his own.

Their steps stopped by a pond.

Sion was slightly surprised. When had this pond appeared?

But before he could even react, someone waved and called out to him.

“Big brother!”

It was his little sister, Kaili.

Beside her were Set and Tier, recovering in the forest, benefiting from the forest’s energy. They had woken up two days ago and had been staying here since.

The elves’ herbal medicine and Emily’s life force had greatly aided their recovery.

“How’s Kaili doing lately?”

Sion waved and asked. Marquisin, gently touching a frog that had jumped out of the pond, replied.

“She’s in good condition. The amount and quality of divine power she can channel are steadily increasing.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“If we’re talking about a candidate for priestess, then yes. It’s quite a high level. Even among elves, few have such exceptional sensitivity to divine power as Miss Kaili.”

Marquisin explained in simple terms—essentially saying she was an outstanding talent as a priestess.

“There’s no danger, right? Even if she keeps growing like this…”

“Of course not. As long as the Goddess of War and the Goddess of Wildflower watch over her.”

But the implication was clear—if she left this place, she might be in danger. Marquisin had said it indirectly.

Elim and this forest must be well protected.

“We’re always indebted to you.”

“The debt is on the Wildflower Cult’s side. Don’t worry about it. Spending time with Miss Kaili is quite enjoyable.”

“Then I’ll continue to rely on you. For my siblings.”

“Haha, of course.”

Marquisin gently returned the frog to the pond and stood up.

“I’ll continue tending to the forest. Please rest well, Sir Sion.”

“Thank you.”

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