Chapter 103

Ch.103 Apostle of the Goddess of War

The main force of the Holy Sword rushed to the site where the Blood Cultists had passed. Not a single person opened their mouth.

Everyone held their breath and stared wide-eyed.

It was carnage.

The ground soaked in blood was filled with corpses.

A heavy silence settled.

Lagan gave the order.

“Check the bodies and recover them.”

The unit began moving in unison.

Those who drew their weapons and guarded all directions.

Those who inspected the corpses and meticulously examined the traces.

Even those purifying the demonic energy from the ground and air with divine power.

Everyone’s roles were properly divided.

Sion walked with Lagan through the village. Broken fences were visible. One could easily imagine how terrifying last night’s nightmare must have been.

The only thing standing between the people and the blood-crazed fanatics had been wooden fences.

“Horrific. If only we had arrived a day earlier.”

“Are you blaming yourself?”

“A little.”

A shadow fell over Sion’s face.

If they had left Elim just a little earlier, they might have prevented this tragedy.

“It’s a meaningless assumption. What if, even if you had left earlier, those damned Blood Cultists had headed elsewhere?”

Sion nodded.

Sion knew this well.

But regret was still regret.

“I understand your kindness. But to lead people, it’s better to discard personal guilt.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Coldness.

It seemed that was another virtue a leader should possess.

Sion agonized over whether this was truly what he sought.

‘Put that aside for now.’

Finding traces of the Blood Cultists was the priority.

‘If it’s the Blood Cult, I can help.’

Lagan and Sion entered a building where the aura of blood magic lingered particularly thick.

It was the largest warehouse in the village, where harvested crops were stored.

“Crazy bastards. What the hell did they do here?”

On the floor lay a magic circle drawn in blood, grotesque in appearance, and all around were horrifying remains, as if people had been torn apart and scattered.

“What kind of ritual did they perform?”

Sion answered, wrinkling his nose at the nauseating stench.

Lagan, seemingly accustomed to such horrific scenes, strode deep into the building.

He glanced around once and said,

“They gathered people here and did something. Since they’re Blood Cultists, they probably drank blood—”

Standing in the center of the magic circle, he stroked his beard and muttered,

“It’s different from the usual magic circles I’ve seen.”

“Different?”

“Yes. I’ve seen their magic too many times to count. I don’t know their blood magic well, but I roughly remember the patterns.”

Sion had encountered Blood Cultists before, but not as extensively as the Commander of the Order of the Holy Sword.

Naturally, he hadn’t memorized the magic circles they used.

But Sion had a different weapon.

‘The ability to understand the Blood Cult’s sorcery.’

His greatest talent was deciphering and interpreting even the first-time-seen magic of demon races.

Sion’s gaze fixed on the floor.

“Hmm.”

Not long after, Sion spoke.

“This is it. It’s this.”

“What?”

Lagan, startled by a rat as big as a dog he had just discovered in the corner of the warehouse, turned around. What was he talking about?

“The Apostle of Blood.”

“Apostle?”

“This magic was cast by an apostle.”

Lagan quickly approached with long strides.

His expression still carried traces of surprise.

The burst of energy he released struck the warehouse ceiling.

Lagan caught his breath and asked,

“How do you know that?”

Sion traced his memories and sensations.

The terror, presence, unpleasant blood scent, and unique magic he felt when facing the Apostle of Blood.

He could never forget.

It was the first apostle of an evil god Sion had ever encountered.

He wanted to kill that monster with his own hands.

Because of Sion, his complete resurrection had been delayed. He must have fled and fled until he reached here.

“I know his magic.”

“Just by looking at the pattern?”

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible. Blood Cult magic is all the same. Since it’s made of blood, there are no personal characteristics.”

“That’s not true.”

“What are you saying?”

Then it hit him.

“Oh, right. This kid.”

Lagan recalled the report about Sion.

When he first saw it, he remembered thinking, ‘What kind of nonsense report is this?’ and had skimmed over it.

But now, a phrase that had strongly stuck in his memory came back like a picture.

『A case where the user perfectly analyzed and recreated the Apostle of Blood’s magic, successfully counterattacking』

The sentence alone sounded absurd.

At the time, he had dismissed it as false or exaggerated.

But seeing him speak now, could it actually be true?

Lagan decided to observe Sion more closely. It could be considered a test, or perhaps a process of receiving help.

Either way, this was an extraordinary individual.

“So. I heard you broke blood magic. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you distinguish it?”

“Blood magic ultimately comes from that apostle, Jinjo. Since Jinjo created it, his magic has subtle differences.”

Lagan shivered.

He had known the boy was exceptional, but his first impression wasn’t this shocking.

But that was only because Sion hadn’t done anything yet; his impression had been ordinary.

Sion’s true value emerged when he took initiative, fought, and thought.

Interest in the Goddess of War’s knight blossomed like a flower bud. Lagan gestured with his chin, urging him to continue.

“In my opinion, this magic is the Blood Cult’s sorcery for reconstructing the body.”

“Reconstructing the body?”

“Yes. When he fought me, my blood got mixed into him. Even though he vomited it all out, he must have thought impurities remained.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Sion shrugged.

“I wouldn’t lie, especially in front of the Commander of the Order of the Holy Sword.”

“Well, go on.”

“Yes.”

Sion accelerated his thinking and deduced.

“He must have found it too hard to endure in that body. After all, his body was already torn into thousands of pieces by the Apostle of Light and then reassembled?”

“That’s a famous story.”

“With an already imperfect body, adding more impurities made it worth discarding.”

Lagan’s eyes turned cold.

“That means he’s currently very weak, doesn’t it?”

Sion responded seriously.

Both geniuses instinctively sensed a perfect opportunity.

“I think so too.”

“Can we track him?”

“Yes. Traces of the magic remain.”

“Now that’s an amazing talent.”

“Luck was on my side.”

It was something that couldn’t be explained by luck—but Lagan swallowed those words.

Lagan immediately went out and summoned the Holy Sword forces.

A tracking team was quickly assembled.

“Originally, our mission was to escort this kid to the Holy Kingdom, but I’m changing our objective with my authority.”

Lagan spoke with a seriousness he hadn’t shown throughout the journey.

“From now on, we hunt Jinjo.”

***

“……Guh.”

In the depths beneath a collapsed altar, within a mist of blood that rippled like red smoke, Jinjo slowly lifted his head.

The newly attached skin itched.

His legs, which had been burned up to the knees, were now covered with imperfect skin. Muscular tissue wrapped around the shattered bones, gradually regaining form.

It wasn’t complete yet.

The reconstructed body writhed imperfectly.

The pain was constant, making sleep impossible.

But he was alive.

For now, that fact alone mattered.

The Apostle of Blood quietly gazed at his own face reflected on the pool of blood.

Not a demon’s, but a distorted, unnatural expression.

The body reconstructed from blood was filled with blood vessels entangled like threads.

The slower the reconstruction, the more distorted the form, and his voice carried imperfect noise.

“Ha, haha…… ugh…….”

He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself.

The red wall of the collapsed underground hall, stained with blood, supported Jinjo’s body.

“Damn it, damn it!”

He groaned in rage.

Just recently, his body had been on the verge of resurrection.

But because of one human, everything was ruined.

A boy.

That damned knight, whose name he hated to hear.

“The War Cult’s Sion…….”

The moment he uttered that name of the one he wanted to tear apart, the pain he had forgotten returned.

“If only I hadn’t drunk that blood… if only I hadn’t drunk his blood, I would have……!”

He would have resurrected with a complete body by now.

Then!

If that had happened!

He could have stood at the forefront of the blood festival that was so close!

Puh— ack!

Jinjo slammed his fist into the blood-splattered wall.

His shattered hand bones cracked, and flesh sprouted from the wound again.

But the pain and anger didn’t last long. He felt the presence of something approaching from within.

“Lord Jinjo.”

It was a vampire lord who protected and cared for the weakened Jinjo.

“What is it?”

“I’ve come to deliver your intention to attend the apostle meeting.”

Jinjo slowly nodded.

“Ah, yes. Good work.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? Wouldn’t it be better for me to go in your place—”

Jinjo chuckled darkly.

“You succeeded in making me laugh. If you went in my place, you wouldn’t even maintain consciousness at that gathering. I’m fine.”

At Jinjo’s words, the vampire lord’s face turned red. Then he brought up another matter.

“And one more thing. There’s something you should know.”

“What?”

“The Holy Sword forces are tracking us.”

“The Holy Sword?”

Jinjo’s pupils flashed.

A human army was approaching. Suddenly, he felt hungry.

“Good. Hunt them and bring me their blood.”

“But—”

The vampire lord hesitated slightly.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s a unit led by the Commander of the Order of the Holy Sword.”

“The main force of the Holy Sword has come?”

“Yes.”

Jinjo rose to his feet.

His half-exposed ribs were sealed with blood again, and the dark red blood flowing down his legs disappeared as if obeying his command.

“Why would he come here?”

“I don’t know. The Commander of the Order of the Holy Sword’s banner was seen in the village we attacked. And their direction of movement is toward here.”

Creak, creak.

Jinjo began grinding his sharp teeth.

He didn’t like it.

This was an unwelcome piece of news at a crucial time.

“There’s no choice. My body isn’t ready to fight him yet. Leave him be.”

“Shouldn’t we retreat?”

The vampire lord recommended retreating. But Jinjo’s pride wouldn’t allow it.

His body wasn’t in good enough condition to move elsewhere again.

“We haven’t been discovered yet. This place is hidden by our Goddess. You know that?”

The vampire lord bowed deeply.

“That’s right.”

“It’s different from leaving the entrance open to lure someone in.”

Jinjo was confident.

“Even the Commander of the Order of the Holy Sword won’t find this place. If we stay hidden, they’ll wander around for a few days and leave. Just wait until then.”

“Understood.”

As he said this, Jinjo thought to himself.

‘But if it’s that damned brat, who knows?’

Only someone who understood blood magic could find the true path and locate him.

But the opponent was the Commander of the Order of the Holy Sword.

No matter how strong he is, he doesn’t know blood magic. Jinjo has his own confidence.

‘I don’t have the energy to worry about a mere Commander of the Order of the Holy Sword right now.’

He needs to focus on fully recovering his body. Even full concentration wouldn’t be enough.

Then it happened.

Squirm!

The Apostle of Blood’s face suddenly swelled and burst with pus.

Jinjo trembled his fist, then wildly swung his arm through the air.

Pah— ack!

A red crack appeared on the wall and tore open.

“Argh! Damn it! Bring me blood immediately! Right now!”

“U-understood! Lord Jinjo!”

The vampire lord jumped up and vanished as a red mist.

Jinjo’s pain intensified again.

If he stays in this place too long, he might need blood again at any moment.

Three vampire lords had already died sacrificing their lives to stabilize Jinjo’s new body.

At this rate, the vampire clan Jinjo had built over long centuries by sharing blood would go extinct.

The Apostle of Blood slammed his fist into the wall.

Bones broke, flesh smeared on the wall, and the punching didn’t stop.

Bang!

Bang!

Kwa— ang!

“Haah…… haah…….”

The Apostle of Blood trembled his fist.

“O Goddess, my mother. Let me meet that creature again! If I meet him again, I will surely pierce his neck, drain every drop of his blood, and offer it to you……!”

His eyes, filled with rage, turned bright red.

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