Chapter 341

340. The Immortal and the Mortal (9)

“Zephis Shirazad is heading towards the city of Ibalis now.”

“How do you know that?”

Everiz tilted her head at Robert’s words. Even with Iron Side’s full efforts, tracking Zephis was impossible. Zephis was a thoroughly trained Inquisition Officer.

But Robert just shrugged.

“It’s a possibility that remains unchanged in all scenarios.”

Thousands of futures, thousands of apocalypses. And one single hope. That was the conclusion of the ‘scenarios’ Robert and Piel had calculated over the past few months. A single, extremely slim, almost luck-based hope.

And in more than half of those scenarios, Zephis was heading to Ibalis at this time. It was astonishing. Without any clues, even Iron Side, Shaksisi, and the Inquisition Office investigators couldn’t pinpoint Fernandez’s location, yet Zephis had done it alone.

“A prophecy, huh? Alright, Robert. What do you think the next prophecy will be?”

“You’ll rush to Ibalis. Because you want to meet Zephis.”

“…Is that a prophecy too?”

“Nah, I can tell just by looking.”

Everiz’s cheeks flushed red at Robert’s teasing words. She turned her head and muttered.

“From now on, don’t call Sir Shirazad by his name. Call him brother-in-law.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Why? Even the elders of Guir wouldn’t dare oppose it.”

“You’re the head of the Tremule family now, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, didn’t the prophecy mention that you were stripped of that title? I’m the head now. It was decided at your funeral.”

Everiz said brightly. Robert burst into laughter and looked at her face.

“Then why did you come looking for me, Everiz?”

“I… I didn’t come to find you!”

“From the moment I went missing, the command of Iron Side would have been with His Majesty the Emperor. There’s no way His Majesty would support Iron Side in this mess just to cheer on your crush.”

Everiz, speechless, stared at Robert for a moment, then quickly turned her head away and grumbled.

“You’re annoying. You’re so annoying.”

“I missed you, sis.”

“…Yeah. Little brother. I’m glad you look healthy.”

Robert grinned and reached out his hand. Everiz smiled the same smile and took his hand. A brief, light handshake passed between the siblings, and they sat down at the table, facing each other.

“After I go find Sir Shirazad, then what?”

“Keep Sir Sernerd tied up for over half a month. Make sure he doesn’t receive any information from the inland.”

“…Why?”

“Because within half a month, the entire Eastern Kingdom will be set ablaze, and the Inquisition Office will collapse.”

Robert continued with a somber tone.

“To end the apocalypse, you must face the apocalypse.”

To acknowledge that fact, over two thousand three hundred scenarios had been discarded. Robert smiled bitterly.

* * *

The sound of flesh tearing apart along with blood quietly echoed. The person who discovered him was left with only empty air above their chin, trembling before they could even take half a breath.

Until the spear blade spun and disappeared back into the shadows, the man in priestly robes kept trying to grasp at the empty air. To his eyes, it was nothing more than a pitiful struggle to deny his own death.

-Slice!

At the same time, a whistling sound was heard from somewhere. The man swung his spear blade in the darkness without a word. A blackened dagger bounced off the spear shaft. The man adjusted his stance, looking in the direction the dagger had come from.

“Who dares… what heretic dares to attack the Inquisition Office!!”

A voice filled with rage echoed loudly. In the darkness, the man reflexively lowered his body. Diemonica, Diemonica was still in the monastery.

“Looks like I can’t pass by quietly.”

“Heretic!!”

-Boom!

A sound of footsteps thudding from afar, and in an instant, a giant man appeared before his eyes. It was an incredible speed and strength. A silver blade flashed and swept past his neck in an instant.

-Clang! Crash!

But only twice. After two sword strikes, the longsword aimed at his body was split in half and bounced away. Diemonica stepped back with a panicked expression, looking at the broken sword, then glared at him with anger.

“So it’s you. You’re the one who burned down the monasteries!”

“If I did it, now you know why.”

“Did you think you alone could bring down our office? Did you think now, while the brothers are focused outside, would be your chance?”

Diemonica stomped his foot loudly and stepped forward. In the monastery garden, shrouded in deep darkness, Diemonica stared straight at him and shouted.

“Come. You foolish heretic. The demon you worship desires only destruction, and even if it is your own, it will not care. You are nothing but a cultist offering yourself for your own destruction!”

“Too much talk. Waiting for backup?”

He slowly stepped out of the shadows. Under the lamplight illuminating the monastery, he adjusted his stance, limping slightly on one foot, spinning the spear blade behind him.

Diemonica’s eyes widened. Soon, he sharply raised his eyebrows.

“…Sir Daryan Schryke of the Cathedral Knights!!”

“Once upon a time. Until your crusade.”

“Your fall will be recorded as a disgrace to the Temple of the Gods!”

“It will be recorded as the Temple’s terror. If anyone remains to record it.”

Diemonica roared like a bear and charged. Holding a broken sword and a small shield. The pressure felt like a wall rushing forward. Daryan smirked and adjusted his spear stance.

“Pray, priest. Desperately. Beg for your life.”

“Shut—up!!”

-Crash!

With Diemonica’s shout, the spear blade slammed into his shield. Soon—

-Whack! Thud!

From his wrists, arms, shoulders, to both knees. Seven attacks unfolded in an instant. It was a speed too fast for even Diemonica’s vision to follow. Before he could even take a breath, he dropped all his weapons and rolled on the ground.

-Thud!

Diemonica rolled noisily on the ground, unable to withstand the charging speed. He looked at his body, blood gushing from everywhere, with a confused expression.

When, and how…





How did he get hit? Was it magic…? No. If it were magic, he would have been the first to notice.

His face was filled with terror. This was a glimpse of martial prowess honed to an unbelievable degree. A sword strike that transcended the difference between Diemonica and an ordinary person.

“Are you afraid, priest?”

Daryan’s foot appeared right in front of his head. The spear blade slid down and pressed against his Adam’s apple. Diemonica looked up with a pale face. He saw Daryan’s expressionless face.

It wasn’t fear of death. This priest’s fear wasn’t born of a survival instinct. Daryan let out a short sigh of admiration.

This priest had realized that unless he was on Diemonica’s level, he couldn’t even attempt to stop him. At this moment, since Diemonica was no longer inside the monastery, he was terrified, expecting his remaining brothers to become wandering spirits.

“The Lord watches over you, Daryan Schryke. Your small victory is but a step toward your despair…”

-Wham!

Daryan’s spear came down, piercing Diemonica’s head before he could finish his hate-filled words. Daryan shook off the spear and walked forward, then suddenly stopped.

“I told you not to follow, Carlomagno.”

“I couldn’t help but worry, Sir Schryke.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Doctor. What about Sayri? Did you come alone?”

“Ah, the young lady has fallen asleep for now. Don’t worry.”

Carl stepped out of the darkness, grinning. Daryan gripped his spear and glared at him. He sensed something suspicious behind him.

“You didn’t come alone. Who is it?”

“Those who have chosen to share your cause. Greet them.”

“You… bastard…”

Daryan’s eyes flared with anger. Behind Carl, men with grotesquely twisted bodies appeared. Their eyes glowed red, their bodies bent in impossible ways, and a sticky stench emanated from them… They were beings corrupted by hellish magic.

“So, the Second Prince of Phaeirn doesn’t trust the MacLaren Church. Carlomagno Pavilos. You used me.”

“Consider it walking the same path for the same goal. Now is not the time for you to debate justice with me, is it?”

Shadows began to climb over the monastery walls. The stench of hellish magic made Daryan’s nose sting. He stared at Carl in silence, then suddenly swung his hand.

-Wham!

The head of the nearest monster exploded. As Carl stopped in his tracks, the figures in the darkness also halted.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t misunderstand. Just because we walk the same path? Does that make a man and a beast the same species just because they both hunt?”

Daryan glared at Carl, spitting out each word with venom.

“You won’t die today. But if you show your face before me again, there will be no mercy like today. Get lost. In your desire to devour the rotting flesh of the undead, you’re no different from these beasts.”

“Haha… That’s fine too.”

Carl chuckled and slowly retreated. Like a predator facing a starving beast, he kept his eyes fixed on Daryan, not turning his back.

The professor of Hunting School disappeared into the darkness with a pale smile. Daryan shook his head and stepped over the fallen priests, entering the monastery.

* * *

“The end of the world…? What kind of beings are left?”

“What kind of beings, you ask? Haha, it seems you’ve read quite a bit of the Gray Circle’s internal documents.”

“I am Count Tremule now, Robert.”

Robert smiled softly at Everiz’s question. His tired eyes caught sight of Piel, who had fallen asleep, muttering in her sleep. He looked at her with concern for a moment, then covered her with a blanket.

“There are three beings left that could be classified as Great Demons. You know that, right?”

“…Yes. But two of them are said to be unable to act anymore.”

“They’ve lost their power, and their followers have been slaughtered. They’ll slowly decline. Even if it’s impossible in our generation, it will happen eventually.”

The undead, beings imbued with divinity, grow by consuming the reverence of mortals. That’s why the demons of hell and the great gods of heaven are so desperate to exert their influence on the material world.

The Church of the Temple of the Gods hides the existence of demons. Simply knowing of their existence, simply fearing them, causes their power to grow.

Conversely, the minions of hell strive to burn down the churches. Beyond revealing their existence, the act of undermining the Temple’s authority itself inspires reverence.

So, at this point, the only future left for those immortals called Great Demons is a slow demise. They’ve lost most of their followers and have been defeated by mortals in front of many witnesses.

The Gray Circle judged that the minions of hell had suffered irreparable fatal wounds. They’re right. But Robert slowly shook his head.

“Do you think they don’t know what we know?”

Each of them has lived for at least a thousand years. Perhaps even longer. Ancient spirits who have spent more time than the history of the material world’s civilizations—do you think they don’t sense their inevitable end?

Robert looked at Everiz with sunken eyes.

“Just as gods send down saints, the Great Demons also send out apostles.”

“That apostle died and fell from grace. Yes, I know that.”

“Then do you think the gods would be unaffected if the saint they sent down died?”

“…What?”

“Fundamentally, the demons of hell and the great gods of heaven are no different. They just have different directions. They’re all immortals imbued with divinity. If the demons lose power and influence when their apostle dies, what happens when a saint dies?”

Everiz stood silently for a moment, digesting his words. Her face grew paler.

“In this situation where both the apostle and the saint are dead, the only fate left for them is a slow demise. They must see this as their only chance.”

Fortunately, our saint is still alive. Robert paused for a moment and took a sip of tea.

“What could they do? Even a cornered rat bites a cat. What do you think they’ll do?”

“What are you trying to say, Robert?”

“Everiz. If all the power of hell were concentrated into the body of the strongest—no, the one who should have been the strongest—person in human history, could even the combined blessings of all the temples of the gods stop it?”

Robert set down his teacup and closed his eyes.

“Four thousand six hundred hypotheses. Three thousand seven hundred and fifty of those scenarios led to the same end.”

Even if it’s not him, the next one. And the one after that. At any moment, it could happen. So, it’s better to have a clear, predictable target.

“When their full force gathers in one place, we must seize that moment.”

That was the only, and perfect, condition for victory among thousands of apocalypses.