Chapter 474

“Na, this Na who detests… Please, Ian… Stop it! The verdict is final! It’s the d*ath sentence, there’s no other way! I, I… please don’t make me suffer more… I’m begging you!”

The atmosphere of the gathering grew solemn and silent.

There was a woman in this place who was pleading to be killed. It was a struggle to prevent another futile sacrifice.

How could anyone not feel pity?

The man had trouble calming his own tumultuous heart and let out a long breath. And after closing his eyes for a while to compose himself,

when his golden eyes reopened, they were resolute with unwavering will.

“Judge!”

It wasn’t the Lady Virgin Saint speaking.

Sixteen pairs of eyes from the precipice focused on the young knight, who had thrown his arms wide in appeal.

“What says the court?”

Well, there was no need to ask, was there?

Anyone could see that Ian was pushing for something that made no sense—logically or legally, the Lady Virgin Saint’s judgment had been correct.

And to begin with, how could one accept the plea of someone whose representation was refused by the principal party involved?

Precedent didn’t even allow for such an appeal. Just as the pope was about to shake his head in finality,

“The criminal’s claim is correct. Your petition for an honor trial cannot be…”

“Are you afraid of me, perhaps?”

The elder priest paused, his eyes narrowing.

It was a transparent provocation.

Yet, it was effective, with tens of thousands of faithful watching.

“Over a thousand years of discipline and authority, perched high on cliffs looking down on us as if better than all! Aren’t you supposed to be the representative of the Heavenly Deity? Are you afraid of someone as mere as me?”

“…You insolent brat.”

The low rebuke was tinged with sighs.

This argument was nonsensical from the beginning.

The criminal wanted d*ath. So did the court.

Yet here was a man who rejected salvation, asking fervently to be killed.

Truly aggravating.

Why was he being so obstinate?

Just then, as the pope groaned,

“Initiate an honor trial!”

A fervent voice cut through the crowd.

From the midst of them. Surprised, judges including the pope turned to investigate the source, but before long, the cry spread explosively.

“Honor trial! Initiate an honor trial!”

“The authority of the Mountain Court must be upheld!”

“Respect the knight’s honor! Can the Holy Kingdom not even accept a young knight’s challenge?”

For a moment, the pope was stunned.

The seasoned politician soon clenched his lips, as he quickly understood the situation.

There were instigators among the crowd. Even after careful screening, they numbered in the tens of thousands. If there were hidden agitators, the Holy Kingdom would be powerless to stop it all.

The jurors too were becoming agitated. Among them, there must have been someone briefed beforehand.

Exactly which power?

The Imperial Court wouldn’t be foolish enough to encourage such recklessness. Mysteries multiplied but it was too late already.

The clamor of the crowd swelled into an unprecedented wave, covering the precipice.

“…Kuh!”

The roar of voices made some jurors groan, nearly faltering.

It was the exact opposite of previous situations.

The court’s authority couldn’t suppress the people. The collective hysteria was unstoppable by any means.

Their very essence was that of ‘spectators.’ In other words, they were ready for any spectacle.

A rising star of the Empire challenges an ‘honor trial’?

There was no chance of missing such a spectacle. There was simply no retreat for the Papacy.

Finally, they would have to accept, wouldn’t they?

Caught between perplexity and fear, the pope looked around when,

“…Shouldn’t it be alright?”

A simple yet plain word that silenced the roar of the tens of thousands.

A prickling sensation made the pope instinctively look behind, above his head.

The distant peak.

There, a boy with silvery hair was standing.

Sky-blue eyes gazed down at the ground.

Already, tens of thousands of the crowd were frozen, staring up at the peak like herbivores encountering a predator.

Overwhelmed by the disparity in strength, even their gaze was dominated.

“If it’s requested so strongly, it must be heeded. Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you shall find…”

The languid tone turned towards the old priest briefly.

Shaken by the gaze, the pope exclaimed,

“Holy Saint!”

“Can you call yourselves followers of the Lord if you refuse the one who knocks at the door?”

Trying to retort, the pope’s voice trailed off, closing his mouth tightly.

It wasn’t wrong.

They were cornered. Tens of thousands of witnesses observed the scene.

To retreat would be to become a laughingstock.

The church that had tried to restore authority by sacrificing the Lady Virgin Saint had no avenue of escape.

The pope eventually groaned.

A compassionate final glance was thrown. The young knight was still unaware.

The master who had sustained the Holy Kingdom for centuries.

He likely wouldn’t even see what true power was before giving up.

After all, there was a chance the game could end before reaching the Holy Ones.

At a glance, the man’s body was battered, feigning composure but unable to deceive an experienced priest.

A sigh escaped naturally. Hoping it ended without too much injury, the pope turned away and proclaimed,

“The honorable trial begins! Faithful warriors following the will of the Heavenly Deity, raise your swords!”

A metallic clang echoed as one of the Holy Knights unsheathed their sword.

How much can he achieve with that battered body? Curiosity arose but the pope deliberately didn’t glance, afraid it would only stir his emotions further.

Then, just after the sound of two men pushing off the ground was heard,

“Kuh!”

A scream broke out almost instantly.

The puzzled gaze of the pope turned behind. Below, a sword soared into the air.

In a single exchange,

A chill ran down the old priest’s spine. The scene was beyond belief.

Not just the pope.

Tens of thousands of eyes and ears, fifteen pairs of eyes on the precipice, and the fallen woman’s pale pink pupils all

Fixated on the epicenter in disbelief.

In a single clash, the Holy Knight had fallen to his knees.

Leaving deep gashes on silver armor.

Facing him, the young knight breathed heavily and said,

“…Next.”

Ian Fercurus was strong.

Stronger than rumors.

Each time light and flames erupted, a scream of despair followed.

“Ugh!”

Already the twelfth… no, the thirteenth one.

Memory itself blurred. Sweaty vision only showed unclear boundaries.

My exhausted body moved purely on instinct.

I had reached my limit, so I had to change my strategy.

Relying on the power of aura.

Until recently, my aura wasn’t very powerful. Though it strengthened with time, it was still hollow.

It didn’t help much against someone at my level.

My strength lay in vision techniques and adaptability, never in relying on aura to defeat opponents.

But today, I had no choice.

My tattered body had almost nothing left except the meridians.

And the results were surprising.

Another Holy Knight was flung off. The more I defeated, the stronger the opponents I faced.

Just now, my sword traced a silver trajectory, the exact blow that defeated the first Holy Knight so easily.

But this opponent was different.

A clang like hammer against stone resonated, vibrating my arm. Everything seemed to slow down as a swift and sharp attack came in.

Yet he managed to block my sword somehow, even adjusting his stance to deflect the impact.

Then, with a bounce from his bent joints, a powerful horizontal slash came at me.

Blue aura flickered on the blade, clearly something he had prepared carefully.

That was his mistake.

The clashing sound that followed was even stronger. His sword flew through the air, failing to withstand my counterattack.

Wide-open eyes stared at me.

It was understandable.

When experienced aura from a skilled swordsman clashes, one step forward and one step back repeated—this scene was unprecedented without a glaring gap.

Thanks to the ‘Release’ principle.

When aura touched the silver river, it shattered into countless fragments, scattering like broken crystals.

Slicing, piercing, and throwing down.

How many times did I swing my sword?

My gasps tore through the silence. My lungs screamed for oxygen.

Gradually, the Holy Knights surrounding me disappeared.

They all stared at me with eyes full of disgust.

Who would want to fight a madman who wouldn’t fall?

Thus, I forced a smile.

“Haa… haa… next.”

For the first time, hesitation crept into the Knights’ ranks.

Someone had to step forward, but dozens lay defeated around me. Each bore deep wounds or fractures, groaning painfully.

Even the valiant Holy Knights couldn’t help but hesitate.

Perhaps I should initiate it then.

I tensed my grip on my sword.

“…Enough!”

The awaited voice resounded.