Chapter 115

Ch.115 Apostle of the Goddess of War

The belief that the Goddess of Light was omniscient, omnipotent, and eternally immortal was a misconception.

Even the Commander of the Holy Sword, who served Goddess Eru closest of all, had not realized this truth until now.

The footsteps of those who learned the world’s truth were more powerless than ever before.

For the first time since deciding to become a monk serving the Light, his heart was broken.

He craved alcohol.

But nowhere in the Holy Kingdom could Lagan find the strong liquor he desired.

Thus, he staggered aimlessly across the Holy Kingdom’s plaza—

“Oh, Commander.”

He encountered Sion, who wore a face equally burdened with stories, wandering about.

“Hey—”

Lagan weakly raised his hand to greet him. Though they had met only recently, Sion felt unusually comforting today.

They walked naturally together and entered a quiet prayer room out of public sight.

A wide, open church.

On the front wall hung a statue of the Goddess of Light, showcasing masterful craftsmanship.

Sion and Lagan gazed at the statue and naturally sat side by side on chairs placed in the prayer room.

Lagan briefly clasped his hands and prayed.

Whether he was praying with eyes closed, or had simply fallen asleep—

Sion, watching him, was confused.

Yet, he felt a peculiar impression.

‘Master is like this, and Lagan is like this too.’

Men who seemed most likely to be negative toward the Goddess were, in fact, the most devout.

Though their outward appearances and behaviors suggested otherwise, the faith sustaining them, the faith embodied in their flesh, was thick and sturdy.

Had they become strong because of their faith?

Or had they barely endured this harsh world, clinging precariously to faith alone?

‘Perhaps……’

The two people Sion had encountered were still barely holding on—surviving thus far, wounded and battered, clinging to a thread-thin strand of faith.

Having become a holy knight and endured hardship himself, Sion now understood.

Those called the strongest were, more than anyone, fragile humans.

“Did your conversation go well?”

Lagan asked abruptly.

When he had opened his eyes, he gazed at the statue with a melancholic expression.

It was a rare sight.

Though they hadn’t known each other long, Sion sensed Lagan’s mood was different from usual.

Sion also looked up at the statue and replied.

“We didn’t have enough time. There was so much I wanted to say.”

“Haha, you two have a good master-disciple relationship.”

“Does Lagan have any disciples?”

Lagan snorted.

“I have one brat I suppose, but, well—I haven’t paid him enough attention to really call him my disciple.”

Sion recalled the person who always looked after Lagan closely. The two seemed very close—not like master and servant, but more like uncle and nephew, or father and son.

“He tries hard, but his talent is lacking.”

“He’ll shine someday.”

“Hmm.”

Lagan made a strange sound and fell silent.

Silence flowed again.

This time, Sion initiated conversation.

“Did Lagan have a good talk too?”

“You mean with our adorable Apostle?”

“Haha. Yes.”

Sion nodded readily.

Unconsciously, he found the Apostle of Light Naru cute—like a pretty next-door aunt who didn’t act her age.

In any case, her behavior was as harmless as any elf could be.

Lagan chuckled softly and muttered.

“I crave alcohol.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

Sion asked proactively. His eyes widened slightly. He had never seen the Commander looking so troubled.

“Hmm.”

Lagan groaned softly, then sighed deeply inwardly.

He still wasn’t certain whether it was right to share the truth the Apostle had revealed with Sion.

Naru had said it was fine to tell him—or not to tell him.

‘Usually, when someone says that, it means don’t tell.’

The Commander couldn’t decide whether it was right to obsess alone over such an important matter while excluding the very person most involved.

“It’ll be a tiresome story.”

Yet Sion deserved to hear it. At minimum, he needed to know what situation the world currently faced.

After all, he too was a monk, a knight, and an apostle wielding a sword to save the world.

“We had a discussion together before.”

Sion understood immediately. He turned his body toward the Commander.

“Why traitors appeared in the Holy Kingdom’s gateway cities. Right?”

“Yes. And there was that madwoman’s remark about the Goddess of Light weakening.”

“……Did the Apostle provide an answer?”

“She did.”

Lagan’s voice turned profoundly serious. Not a trace of playfulness remained.

“It’s true—the Goddess of Light is losing her power.”

“……!”

Sometimes, such moments occur.

When the most absurd, worst-case scenario alone turns out to be true.

Why did that dreadful timing have to be now?

Sion and Lagan sighed simultaneously.

“What’s the problem?”

“Problem, problem.”

Lagan paused briefly to choose his words, then looked up once at the statue and stood frozen like a stone sculpture for a long time.

“It’s a problem that began with the birth of this world.”

Lagan continued in a low voice.

“Where there is light, there is darkness. One cannot exist without the other. That is the principle of the world.”

Why, despite the existence of the Creator God and the Chief God, did Evil Gods and their followers persist?

Sion had long pondered this question himself. But he had never reached any conclusion.

It was a topic beyond human perspective, common sense, and understanding.

Sion set aside his previous thoughts and spoke.

“So, as long as the Goddess of Light exists, the Evil God of darkness must also exist?”

“You catch on quickly.”

It was a hypothesis he had somewhat anticipated.

Goddesses symbolizing and presiding over certain concepts.

The powers and laws born from them.

The proposition that darkness exists because light exists was an unchanging truth and law.

Even the Goddess of Light could not alter the myriad phenomena of the universe.

“Simply put, no matter how hard we strive, even if the Goddess herself personally exterminates them, the Evil God of darkness can never be completely annihilated.”

“……Then, what exactly. Ah.”

Sion suddenly felt an overwhelming, inescapable terror.

As he traced back Lagan’s words to grasp their true meaning, that terror emerged.

“Do you understand?”

“That the Goddess of Light’s power is weakening—”

Lagan nodded painfully, with great difficulty.

“She has chosen self-annihilation.”

Sion’s words were abruptly cut off.

He didn’t even attempt to control his expression.

“Simultaneously with her annihilation, the heavenly gate, the celestial portal to the Round Table, will close. Humans will no longer be able to meet the Goddess.”

He opened his mouth, then covered it with his hand.

Not knowing what to do, he rolled his eyes.

He ran his hand through his hair, clenched and unclenched his fists.

He could only sigh deeply, repeatedly.

Lagan was no different.

The truth he had heard, even as blood seemed ready to burst from his eyes, nose, and mouth, was truly shocking.

Eru was in the process of self-annihilation.

She was suppressing her own power, erasing her existence.

For where there is no light, there can be no darkness.

The world.

Humanity.

Unbeknownst to them.

Was bidding farewell to the Goddess.

“I spent my life serving the Goddess. I navigated vast oceans using her will as my lighthouse.”

But now.

“I feel lost. I wonder if this is how a child feels—left utterly alone after parents depart.”

Sion now understood why the seemingly strong Lagan had collapsed.

Because in this world.

In our world.

It was utterly impossible to imagine a world without Goddesses.

Could any human truly accept such a possibility?

“Then. What about what comes after?”

Sion quickly regained composure and asked.

“Will the remaining Evil Gods naturally vanish too?”

“No, not that.”

Lagan added.

“That is humanity’s responsibility.”

“…….”

And they would leave behind someone strong enough to exterminate the remaining Evil God forces.

That was precisely the strongest sword the Goddess of War desired.

Achille’s lifelong aspiration had, from the beginning, been arranged by Goddess Eru.

The reason Goddess of Wisdom, Menesia, after long contemplation, chose to nurture Sion was also the Chief God’s arrangement.

Through innate wisdom, she had vaguely reached that conclusion and acted upon it unilaterally.

It was the purpose of existence bestowed upon the Goddesses by Eru, mother of all Goddesses.

Sion’s fate had been determined long ago.

Lagan did not speak the latter part.

He considered it too cruel.

If he voiced those words now, burdening Sion, he might break.

‘I can only help him as far as my strength allows.’

Sion wore an almost deathly expression.

Even to him, it was too horrifying a story.

That light must vanish to completely eradicate evil.

The sanctity of the statue descended.

It encouraged those suffocating under the overwhelming sense of defeat filling the prayer room.

Sion and Lagan’s eyes met in midair.

Lagan gazed at Sion with eyes full of regret.

Sion, too, pitied the Commander.

All were in the same situation.

They must prepare to bid farewell to the Goddess they had relied upon their entire lives. And prepare for the holy war to save humanity.

The world of the coming infants.

A tiny flame of survival ignites here, in a world where only humans remain.

Lagan stood up with a faint smile.

“See you tomorrow, comrade of the future.”

“……Is this information still a secret?”

“Yes. The world isn’t ready to accept it yet. Soon, the Priestesses and Apostles will know.”

With the instruction to remain silent for now, Lagan left the prayer room.

The empty prayer room.

Sion stared blankly at the statue of the Goddess of Light.

He had never found an expressionless statue so detestable.

Ultimately, what he sought was not the Chief God, but his own Goddess.

‘Goddess Achille. Please show me the way.’

* * *

The next morning.

Waiting for Sion as he left his quarters were holy knights clad in platinum armor.

Without a word, they scrutinized Sion with eyes mixed with contempt and suspicion, then led him somewhere.

The place they finally arrived at was a massive circular stone chamber.

The inscription above the door—’Hall of Repentance’—caught the eye.

This was the place where, throughout the Holy Kingdom’s history, heretics and apostates were interrogated and their sins proclaimed to all under heaven.

The reason for bringing Sion specifically here was glaringly obvious.

“Hah.”

Sion couldn’t suppress a bitter laugh.

Led by the knights, he stepped inside the stone chamber.

The ceiling was impossibly high, exerting a crushing, oppressive pressure.

At the center of the floor stood a single platform for the accused, surrounded by high, tiered seats arranged like a circular amphitheater.

Already seated in those seats were over ten figures.

Cardinals dressed in pure white ceremonial robes embroidered with lavish golden patterns.

Each wore an aged, gaunt, and authority-filled face.

One stroked his chin beard with greasy fingers, another sneered while whispering to his neighbor, another didn’t even glance at Sion, instead trimming his fingernails.

To them, Sion was invisible.

Only a contemptible novice from the arrogant and barbaric War Cult existed.

In one corner sat familiar faces.

Roben and Lagan, attending as witnesses.

Only they offered Sion a gentle nod.

As Sion was led by the knights to stand on the central platform, the eldest cardinal seated in the highest position struck the floor sharply with his cane.

The entire stone chamber resonated with a low hum at the sound.

The distracted elderly cardinals finally cleared their throats, shifting the atmosphere.

At last, the cardinal presiding over the judgment opened his mouth.

“Sion of the War Cult. Before the trial, profess your loyalty and faith to the Goddess of Light.”

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