Chapter 152: Romani
Whether it’s the Mad God or the Fire Seed, let’s just toss all that aside for now. Since the Old Man wants a fight, I’m ready to give him a proper match. I can finally unleash everything I’ve got that isn’t chaos. The battle won’t last long—it’ll be over before I know it.
From the fierce two sword strikes that the Old Man unleashed, I understood everything clearly. He truly was the strongest of the strong, but he’s old. There’s a lingering chaotic energy about him, and that kind of sword intent he can hardly muster anymore.
Of course, I won’t actually k*ll him. I just want to defeat him, let Carlos take him away, and make him watch. If the Mother God wants to turn me into a Fire Seed—someone like Gidales has already done it, so what’s next?
I want him to understand that before I beat him down.
With those thoughts in mind, I underestimated one little detail: what kind of horrifying destruction would result when my all-out effort collided with that of the strongest Pope Knight in history—two dominant forces clashing like titans.
It had been ages since I’d fought at full power; I even felt a bit unsure of where my limits lay—especially considering the elderly man across from me was likely in a similar boat.
Hence, he probably underestimated it as well.
When the thunderous roar erupted, within half a second, the immense pressure on my hands seemed to slice through the Frost Order’s defenses, injuries blooming on my fists. Except for that brief sensation, all other perceptions were abruptly muted.
I had no clue what was happening; the intense light blinded me, and my ears were filled with “buzzing” sounds. I felt completely numb.
In the haze, I seemed to be falling. The once solid granite floor beneath my feet was probably shattered to bits. The whole church might not be spared either—
Guess I can forget about destroying all the records here…
Those experimental records might count as important items, at least they’d serve as ironclad evidence against the Council of the Temple. But if those things got out, there would definitely be folks repeating the mistakes—especially since the Council of the Temple no longer existed.
So, destroying them seems best.
But the problem is—
This single strike likely obliterated everything, including the altar and the entrance leading deep into the underground prison.
I didn’t know.
I felt like I was still falling…
………..
Meanwhile, after Sword Saint Ryan delivered that strike, he immediately sensed something was off, but it was too late.
The colossal impact instantly turned the entire church to rubble. The rooftop exploded in shards, flying everywhere, while the ground beneath him collapsed. The Old Man was thrown back, bl**d spurting from his mouth, and his arms were a mix of burns and frostbite, having lost the grip on the moon blade he had wielded for years.
“Sunset City” slipped from his grasp and shattered in mid-air, fragmented into pieces.
He was about to fall alongside the young woman, but in that critical moment, lightning, shaped by surging energy, appeared—it was Carlos.
He first grabbed the girl by the leg, then reached for the Teacher’s hand. But as he finally grabbed on to pull them both away, below them was a massive black hole where the ground had quaked, a flicker of golden light shimmering for a brief moment before vanishing, releasing a torrent of twisted smoke serpents.
In that split second, Carlos thought he was as good as dead.
But those smoke serpents completely ignored him, coiling around the girl and dragging her down with immense force. Carlos could hardly hold on, nearly following her into the abyss himself.
Had it just been Carlos, he probably would have courageously jumped into the chaos.
But with the Teacher still in his grip, he had no choice but to pull the Teacher away from the chaos, navigating through thick mists, back toward the entry of the church’s outer wall. Even this place had been affected by their earlier clash—the walls and bell tower all crumbled, and the entrance was blown away to who-knows-where.
He set the Teacher down, and the Old Man’s eyes misted up from the bright light. He could hardly hear what was being said. As Carlos ripped open his clothes, checking for injuries, he noticed the Old Man’s chest was being corroded by Dead Smoke, a grotesque mark rapidly expanding.
After a few grueling minutes, the Old Man regained some awareness.
“Fire Seed… where’s the Fire Seed?”
Staggering to his feet, the aged Sword Saint first asked where the girl was. When Carlos pointed toward the church, saying she fell underground, the Old Man’s lips trembled, and after a long pause, he muttered, “Fate…”
After a moment, he sighed again, “I’m getting old…”
From his vantage point, black smoke was slowly rising from where the church once stood.
……………
My hearing began to return.
My eyes could finally open, but everything around me was dark—I couldn’t see a thing.
Where am I?
It seemed I had fallen through the ground into some kind of pit; it was pitch black, and I couldn’t see a thing. Just as I was lost in thought, a white light burst forth from my chest, illuminating the entire space in an instant.
…a dungeon?
A deep, narrow, moist corridor, the ceiling was completely blocked by rubble, making it impossible to see how deep it went. At the other end, I could distinctly see a stone door—this had to be deep within the underground prison, right?
In the air, wisps of Dead Smoke floated around. Unlike the gray mist outside, the chaotic power permeating here was palpable, and besides me, no one could survive in this environment.
Suddenly, a surge of light escaped from the rubble behind me, stones shifting with a loud rumble. An object emitting golden light burst free from the debris, hovering directly in front of me.
It was a long, deer-like nose bone—though it was clearly too large for a deer.
I quickly realized what it was; I stood up. This was the nose bone that Tasinar said should have been placed in the underground chamber to release and maintain the Chain of Divine Lock.
How did it end up here?
Who—
With a shift of thought, it started to make sense.
It was the Sword Saint Old Man…
Magipanny mentioned that he “retreated into his turtle shell,” which probably meant that at the burst of chaotic energy, the Sword Saint—perhaps alongside St. George—extracted the nose bone from underground to place it here.
They worked together, harnessing the strength of the Chain of Divine Lock to create a barrier similar to the beam of light outside, temporarily blocking the eruption of Dead Smoke so the entire Holy City wouldn’t be drowned—however, the cost was that both of them were tainted by chaos.
Otherwise, with the sheer density of Dead Smoke here and the previously open entrance to the dungeon, why hadn’t any leaked out when I was outside?—aside from the bits from the Old Man; but he was guarding here, and there’s no way a mere mortal body could hold back that abyssal power.
“…”
Once I grasped that concept, my emotions took a wilder turn. The nose bone had cracked, with a noticeable fracture, and with the earlier tremors, the power maintaining this place seemed to have vanished.
So, the Dead Smoke must have started surging again, seeping into the Holy City?
Buzz…
Before I could think of more, the white light on my chest suddenly intensified. The white branch darted out, swirling with a low, draconic roar, causing the nose bone to vibrate violently. Before I could react, the immense skeleton suddenly transformed into a stream of gold, merging into the branch.
Then, the branch flew back into my chest, and everything fell silent.
“…Hey.”
I stood there in shock, smacking my chest, “What the heck? Hey, hey! You just gobbled up that bone? What kind of crappy branch—wait a sec, doesn’t that mean the barrier blocking the Dead Smoke outside is gone too? Huh? Wait, wait, I still don’t get what’s going on. Spit it out, will ya?”
Of course, the white branch paid no mind to my outburst.
Only the dragon let out a “hurr” sound, but it was innocent in all this.
I stood still, contemplating for a moment. “Carlos and the Sword Saint, they should not be in here, right? If they were… no matter how deep the abyss sidewalkers….”
Not grasping the situation, I wasn’t keen on venturing out just yet. I didn’t know how deep I was buried or anything, so I decided to take a look around.
That said, the corridor here descended straight down. The staircase extended to the end, where that stone door awaited—only this one path remained.
“Hii…ga…”
After taking a couple of steps, suddenly, eerie whispers flooded my ears.
It sounded like a Demon’s Whisper, or a man’s pained m*an, and the voice had a bizarre familiarity. My entire being froze, wanting to listen closely, but the next moment, the voice vanished completely.
After a few steps, it sounded again.
“Hilvigia Rabithermos…”
This time, I clearly heard it—it was calling my name.
“Who?”
I paused at the stone entrance, glancing around warily and asked, “Mother God of Abundance?”
I waited, but of course, there was no response.
Buzz——
The light on my chest continued to shine, the buzzing grew more intense, as if something were beckoning it. I couldn’t help but step forward, crossing through the stone door into a strange room.
A stench.
A pungent, rotten smell.
The room was still dark, but the white light from my chest illuminated everything around. The first thing I noticed was a peculiar bed.
No, it wasn’t a bed—more like an operation table, though it didn’t quite fit that category. Polished black stone, with no carvings or decorations.
I remembered having a nightmare once.
In that nightmare, I was placed on a long, strange table surrounded by many cloaked figures, including Angel, who spoke of anticipating the day we would meet again…
The table in my nightmare looked identical to this stone slab.
But now, that slab and the surrounding area were covered in indescribable, grotesque pieces of flesh and bones.
It looked like countless people had been piled on that relatively small stone platform, trapped in some horrific manner, desperately trying to escape while their skin seemed glued together, their insides dissolving. No matter how they tried to pull away, they couldn’t separate from one another, as if some force desired them to merge into one…
These poor souls couldn’t escape, even if they were eviscerated, they couldn’t be physically disconnected from each other, ultimately dissolving into a heap of corpses and rotten flesh, with abominable, twisted bones exuding a nauseating stench.
And upon that grotesque heap was a figure.
The figure sat with its back to me, perched atop the pile of corpses, emaciated and draped in a black robe, unmoving, like a mummified corpse—it seemed to have long since died.
Yet the wide-brimmed hat on the corpse’s head was unmistakable.
“Romani…”
I called out her name as I approached. The body had become desiccated, bl**d completely drained, its head tilted back in apparent agony, but with a calm expression, as if in a deep sleep.
This was Romani Doctor.
It was her, no doubt about it—even with her face in that condition, I could still recognize her.
How could I not recognize her!
“You’re dead…”
I whispered to the corpse, “You didn’t even wait for me to find you before you just… died…”
“Why did you…”
“Why did you just d*e like this…”
I didn’t understand why at that moment, but my heart felt emptier than ever.
I took a few steps back, looking at the grotesque, hideous dead forms, staring at Romani sitting up high; they seemed to have died in some sort of cult ritual—yet why it had come to this felt far less important than the fact that Romani was dead. All I could think about was that she was gone… that single heart-wrenching fact.
Bang.
I bumped into something behind me, dazed, turning around—it was a stone table.
On the table were two items.
A letter and a key.
I recognized the shape of the key immediately; amidst the white light, a music box appeared in my hands. I promptly took the key and successfully unlocked the bottom of the box.
A small golden orb rolled out, and, at the same time, a piece of paper.
I set the orb on the table and picked up the paper, unfolding it to read. It wasn’t long, but I pored over it many times.
[Miss Peilo, by the time you open this letter, I am most likely already dead somewhere. If not, I will be waiting for you in the underground prison of the Holy City. But I suspect that moment may coincide with the countdown of humanity’s survival.]
[If I unfortunate enough have not made it to see you, I will have surely died during some mad experiment. My d*ath may appear gruesome, but you must understand, it was our last effort to thwart the oncoming disaster, even though this method may seem utterly inhumane to you.]
[At that time, you hated us, saying all our talk of righteousness and redemption is merely a sacrifice and torment for ordinary lives. I once told you, if the day comes that we need to be the “patients” ourselves, it’ll be a time when the entire Western Continent will likely perish.]
[I have tried to make you understand this point before, but you never did. Has that changed at all?]
[Or perhaps you still cannot accept it.]
[Regardless of how you think or where you are now, you have at least some knowledge of the enemy we are soon to face.]
[Therefore, I have one last request. I wrote down my request here. Since you were able to open this, it means you cared at least a bit about everything we did. If not, just throw this letter and the music box away. Don’t stay in the Western Continent—head east, to a place even further than the Eastern Continent. Perhaps you can still escape this calamity.]
[I understand you still resent us, with growing hatred.]
[But if you still harbor some goodness toward this world, or if there are still people you care about, and you try to oppose the impending disaster for them, then I ask you to temporarily set aside that hatred and come to the Holy City.]
[Find a way to reach the top of the Tower of Divine Grace. Cross the sky bridge, and behind it lies the prison church. I’ll be waiting there for you. If you wish, I request you meet me in the Holy City or find my body.]
[I will tell you what only you can do.]
And that was the end of the message on the paper.
