Chapter 123

Ch.123 Apostle of the Goddess of War

“Yes. Well said, Arwen.”

Lagan broke the awkward silence by tapping the Round Table.

“It’s only right to reward someone who beheads an enemy commander.”

The Apostle of Purity raised an objection, clearly displeased.

“Hasn’t the Goddess already rewarded him sufficiently? He’s not even part of the Round Table—must this really be brought up here?”

Ravienne turned to Arwen, who flinched at her words.

Indeed, Arwen’s action clearly violated the Round Table’s original regulations.

After all, eliminating an Apostle never warranted special rewards from the Round Table.

Seeing Arwen hesitate, Lagan gripped the table firmly and declared,

“It absolutely must be brought up—precisely because it was the Apostle of Blood. He annihilated someone even the Apostle of Light couldn’t kill. Wouldn’t it be strange not to mention it?”

“…Did you summon us just for this?”

Lagan twisted the corner of his mouth.

“No. Just addressing it while we’re at it.”

As he spoke, Lagan raised his hand and pointed directly at Garfenn—a figure everyone had deliberately avoided looking at until now.

“The Apostle of the Goddess of War has been reinstated.”

“…!”

“Reinstated? Completely?”

“Does that mean they’re officially part of the Round Table now?”

The reaction was immense.

No one reacted more vehemently.

They hated the War Cult—though they didn’t even know why.

‘Fools.’

Sion sneered inwardly. With cold eyes, he enjoyed watching their foolish reactions, amused by their obvious disdain.

“The War Cult isn’t officially part of the Round Table. However, temporary authority has been granted.”

“By whom?”

Lagan declared firmly,

“By Lady Naru.”

“The Apostle herself…!”

Lady Naru’s words were the will of Eru herself.

Since she had acknowledged it, no further objections could be made.

Anyone who opposed this would only get themselves expelled from the Round Table.

And with a seat about to open up, this would only benefit the War Cult.

Lagan casually picked his ear as he spoke nonchalantly,

“In any case, from this moment onward, discrimination and hostility toward the War Cult are forbidden. Understood?”

“…”

“I don’t expect much from you lot, but the War Cult has suffered many injustices. I ask that you all watch over them with open minds. War Cultists truly belong at the Round Table.”

“Haha.”

Mattis couldn’t restrain himself—he pulled out a blade of grass and chewed on it. It was a substance banned during Round Table meetings, but the shock must have been overwhelming.

Lagan didn’t scold him—it was understandable, after all.

‘Centuries of misunderstanding and prejudice can’t be undone overnight.’

Lagan, who met Sion without any bias, was truly exceptional.

Lagan quietly locked eyes with both Sion and Garfenn.

The two silently conveyed their gratitude—not just to Lagan, but also to Arwen.

The War Cult’s normalization had been achieved.

From now on, changing perceptions would be Sion’s and the War Cult’s responsibility.

‘This is more than enough for now. It’s an overflowing fortune.’

Lady Achille agreed wholeheartedly.

Wiping away tears with her sleeve, she let the winds carry off all the oppression and injustice she’d endured.

Holding onto past grievances would yield nothing.

The path forward lay in changing minds, fighting step by step. When that time came, even those who once hated Achille would bow their heads willingly.

Clap, clap.

Lagan clapped his hands to regain attention.

“That’s enough for announcements. Shall we get to the main topic?”

“What’s the main topic?”

A large man who had remained silent until now finally spoke.

He was even taller and broader than Garfenn. His hair was long like a woman’s, and his lazy, drooping eyes seemed utterly mismatched with his evident strength.

The man, who had been diligently recording something in a golden ledger, was none other than the Apostle of Abundance.

“Roger. How is the Abundance Cult faring these days?”

“Not well. Offerings to the Goddess have sharply declined.”

Lagan chuckled, shaking his head.

“That’s exactly the point. Why do you think your income has dropped?”

“Hmm.”

Roger closed his ledger and sighed.

“Must be those followers of the Evil Gods running rampant—raiding cities and villages, blocking trade routes.”

“Correct!”

Lagan slammed the Round Table dramatically. Bang!

“…An outbreak of the Evil Gods unlike anything our generation has ever seen.”

“It did feel different. So trouble has finally come, huh?”

Mattis, who had been chewing herbs, chimed in. His withdrawal symptoms seemed less severe than before.

Glancing briefly at Mattis, Lagan continued,

“The Apostles of the Evil Gods will soon attack the Holy Capital.”

“…?”

“What do you mean ‘Apostles’—plural?”

Lagan explained everything that had transpired—how he and Sion had pursued the Apostle of Blood and encountered the Apostle of Madness.

Of course, anything concerning the Goddess of Light remained taboo. He ended his account carefully, avoiding unnecessary confusion.

“Madness.”

Mattis shot to his feet after hearing everything.

“You should’ve told us this earlier!”

“Why? Would you have refused to come if you’d known?”

Lagan’s tone turned sharp. Mattis boldly admitted it.

“Of course! I’m busy protecting my own cult! Damn it!”

“Mattis, this is the Holy Capital. Stop making a scene and sit down.”

“Damn you, Lagan! Damn you, Ravienne! Acting so damn righteous.”

Lagan, accustomed to Mattis’s outbursts, ignored him completely and continued.

“We know they’re planning a gathering, but the location is hard to pinpoint. The best guess is somewhere within the Holy Capital.”

“Do they intend to attack the Holy Capital to reach the heavenly realm where the Goddess resides?”

Lagan nodded. Roger, Apostle of Abundance, sighed incredulously.

“That’s insane. Do they really think it’s possible?”

Roger dismissed the strategy as absurd. He firmly believed the city was safe as long as protected by the Apostle of Light.

Since Lagan couldn’t reveal that the Goddess of Light had chosen self-annihilation, he vaguely deflected.

“They’re as obsessed with preserving their own lives as you are, Mattis. If they’re attacking so suddenly, they must have a plan.”

“That makes sense.”

Ravienne, Apostle of Purity, furrowed her delicate brows. The Apostles of Water and Penitence nodded in agreement.

“Thus, I’ve summoned you all. As members of the Round Table, I ask you to defend the Holy Capital for now.”

“Hmm…”

Lagan distributed the battle orders, assigning each Apostle a sector to guard within the Holy Capital.

Nine Apostles would be stationed around the Heavenly Gate.

“When battle breaks out, immediately coordinate to repel the enemy.”

The Goddesses themselves would share situational updates to assist their Apostles. Coordination wouldn’t be an issue.

“We’re already in a state of emergency. It would help if your knightly orders also cooperated.”

The Apostles read through the battle directives.

Never before had they faced such a situation. Slowly, the gravity of the crisis sank in.

“This really is war.”

Roger murmured quietly. His inflated chestplate sank deeply—he let out a long sigh.

Then—

“Sir Garfenn.”

Roger spoke up, naming an unexpected figure.

Or rather…

Perhaps not so unexpected.

The moment war was mentioned, one cult immediately came to everyone’s mind.

“Hmm.”

Garfenn responded. Roger clearly held him in high regard—and for good reason. Roger was an Apostle who knew how to show proper respect to his seniors.

“Having Sir Garfenn here during these difficult times puts my mind at ease.”

Though unspoken, everyone silently agreed.

Apostle of the Goddess of War.

The power and trust his title commanded were immense.

Even when Lady Achille lacked her full strength, he had stood unrivaled among all Apostles.

Now, with war breaking out and Lady Achille’s influence and fame set to grow, just how powerful the War Apostle would become was beyond imagination.

“I’m old and frail now. I’ll merely hold my position. As for expectations…”

Garfenn once again elevated his disciple in front of everyone.

“I place them on my disciple.”

The Apostles murmured in surprise. Garfenn declared firmly,

“He’ll be the most renowned knight once this war ends.”

It was a statement that weighed heavily even on Sion’s soul. Standing before the continent’s strongest knights, such words weren’t meant for a mere novice.

Yet Sion remained resolute.

He realized anew—the pride of being the Apostle of the Goddess of War was no ordinary thing.

Though burdened, he knew he must never falter.

For so long, he’d wondered how his master, Garfenn, endured those difficult times…

‘Now I think I understand.’

The strongest Apostle.

The ultimate, supreme blade.

It was precisely that pride—born from his name’s worth—that made it possible.

Lagan concluded the meeting.

“In any case, until we locate them, please maintain your assigned sectors. Judging by my gut—and my gut’s never wrong—it won’t take long. It’ll happen soon.”

The Apostles’ council ended.

Sion realized anew—Apostles were merely ordinary humans after all.

They, too, were beings who relied entirely on their Goddesses.

‘A world without Goddesses…’

Sion couldn’t clearly envision that future.

* * *

Southwestern border of the Holy Capital.

The third-farthest point from the Heavenly Gate, and where priests resided most densely.

Since Sion wasn’t an official Apostle, he patrolled this area.

The sun had already set since the Apostles’ meeting ended. With the Apostles now maintaining strict vigilance, his worries had greatly diminished.

Wherever they went, these knights would fulfill their duties. There was no need to worry about them.

The real issue was Sion himself.

Even the Apostles were facing this situation for the first time. For Sion, who lacked proper experience, it was even harsher.

War with the Evil God’s forces loomed, and he needed to grow quickly into his role as an Apostle.

Likely, once this conflict concluded, Sion would be formally appointed as the Goddess of War’s Apostle.

What kind of world awaited him then…? Truly, it was a future impossible to foresee.

In this unstable reality—where nothing was certain—finding answers was inevitably difficult.

Thud.

Lost in thought, Sion halted his steps.

His reaction and actions preceded conscious recognition.

His five senses and sixth sense ignited like wildfire.

His pupils pierced through the darkness, while his ears and nose tracked the faintest sounds and scents.

The wind blowing ahead of winter was chilly.

Directly ahead, in the path of the freezing wind, stood a presence shrouded in every imaginable omen of dread.

Shhhhhhh.

Sion shut out all distractions. His honed battle instincts jolted his entire body awake, sending sharp, intense stimuli crackling through his brain.

…Silence surrounded him.

Goosebumps raced across his skin.

‘Strong.’

Battle had arrived.

An ambush.

Since Sion had sensed it, the other Apostles must have realized it too.

Not only the Round Table Apostles, but every Goddess capable of lending strength had already arrived in the Holy Capital.

The Goddess of Wind must have already spread intelligence everywhere.

“Who are you?”

Sion asked, his hand moving toward his scabbard.

The familiar, unsettling ripple of energy felt oddly recognizable.

‘Have I met this person before?’

No, that couldn’t be. Of all those Sion had encountered, none who survived remained. Every servant of the Evil God who had crossed paths with Sion—by any means—had already met their end.

“I’ve come to avenge my elder on this day of celebration, when the world shall drown in blood.”

“My elder?”

At her words—as if the laws of the world themselves had inverted—the moon behind the stranger began swelling grotesquely, growing unnaturally huge.

Kraaang!

Simultaneously, an explosion erupted from the direction of the Holy Capital.

War had begun.

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