Ch.212212. The Path of the Necromancer

“I am truly grateful that such an esteemed person has come out to greet me.”

The man with a unique appearance—wearing an iron mask and a white robe—Mule, extends his hand to Lucia, requesting a handshake.

The mere fact that he neither bowed his waist nor lowered his head was already an implicit assertion that he considered himself equal to or above the Saintess.

Someone watching might cry out that he was truly arrogant, but the crowd following behind Mule unanimously admired his behavior and felt pride.

They recognized that the guide they were following was truly equal to the continent’s Saintess.

“I’m sorry, but as my body belongs to God, I cannot have physical contact with men outside the faith.”

Lucia responds with courtesy but firmly rebuffs him.

Strictly speaking, Lucia the Saintess is the closest to God’s will on the continent.

Her response signified that she did not truly accept Mule as a being chosen by God.

The believers murmur among themselves.

Ignoring their reactions, Lucia continued speaking.

“You have quite a large number of people. I would appreciate it if you could refrain from causing disturbances inside Greyford.”

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?”

From behind the iron mask, Mule’s white pupils stare at Lucia. Despite his threatening gaze, she gave a small nod.

“Nothing about you has been confirmed yet. As Dark Spiritmaster Deus Verdi experienced at the great debate, you will begin the discussion under conservative scrutiny, and…”

She briefly takes in the long line of followers behind Mule.

“You will have to stand alone before the public.”

Her meaning was clear: since it’s unknown whether you’re truly chosen by God, don’t act freely within the city.

But Mule, as if he had anticipated this, slowly removes his iron mask and gestures toward his followers.

“Do you see what all these believers are holding?”

Too much luggage for people following a prophet—tents, food, blankets, bedding, and enough supplies to set up camp.

“Except for me and a few attendants, no one will set foot in Greyford. They will simply wait for me outside the walls.”

The believers respond to Mule’s words.

“That’s right!”

“We won’t harm anyone or cause confusion!”

“Please believe us, Saintess! Mule is truly a messenger sent by God to comfort the dead!”

“Let’s set up our tents! We won’t cause any damage to Greyford!”

They say this while busily setting up tents outside the city walls.

Mule watches them, brings his hands together as if in prayer, briefly bows his head, then looks back at Lucia.

“Those who serve God always strive to set an example for others. They abhor causing harm to anyone. Isn’t that right, Saintesses?”

Lucia’s head turns sharply as she had been watching the incredible number of tents being set up.

He just said “Saintesses,” plural.

“Ah, one of you is no longer a Saintess, correct? The gods have relieved you of that burden, saying ‘well done.'”

Mule smiles at the person beside Lucia—Stella.

“However, perhaps because of that, you’ve become quite tainted.”

Despite his words, his kind expression seemed to contain no malice whatsoever.

A harmless, flawless smile was one of the greatest weapons for gaining others’ trust.

“Well then, I’ll be going in now.”

Mule passes by Lucia and heads toward the city gate. Behind him follow Charl, who is known to have been resurrected, and several other attendants.

[If.]

Stella, who had been silent all along, slowly opens her mouth.

Though no one except Lucia and Mule could hear her,

for some reason, Mule stops walking and slowly turns his head to look at Stella.

[What would you do if God suddenly said, ‘Your mission ends here’?]

Hearing this, Mule nearly snorts in disbelief but forcibly restrains himself.

Holding the iron mask in his hand, about to put it back on, he answers without a moment’s hesitation.

“If that is His will, I would humbly accept it. Truly grateful that my role has ended.”

Even as they watch their Spiritmaster suddenly answering to the air, the attendants following him find nothing strange about it.

Their faith borders on madness.

But seeing Mule’s answer and the attendants’ reaction, Stella now displays a small smile.

[You seem very different from me in many ways.]

“…”

[You have an extremely divine perspective.]

After saying this, Stella turns her body to gaze back at the horizon outside the city walls.

Seeing her waiting for someone despite having already arrived herself, Mule feels a strange irritation and,

gritting his teeth at her words that pierced to the core, puts his iron mask back on.

“Presumptuous woman.”

What expression he wore behind that mask,

no one knew.

* * *

Several days had passed since Mule entered Greyford. He was already performing various demonstrations within Greyford.

From healing the sick, to going to cemeteries to guide the souls of the dead to God, to giving blessings and prayers.

Though Lucia had told him not to act freely in the city,

with the support and help of the bishops as his backing, Mule was literally the busiest person moving around Greyford.

“They said the Verdi family carriage will arrive tonight, correct?”

The bishops supporting him were meeting in the underground chapel today as well.

With the great debate just one day away,

they had heard that the Verdi family carriage would enter Greyford at exactly the right time.

Although they didn’t know for certain if Deus had returned yet,

“He has definitely returned.”

The elderly man with deep wrinkles, Mekdoren Pirenze, was certain. He was a bishop of the goddess Hertia whom Stella served.

“Otherwise, the royal family wouldn’t have proposed holding the great debate.”

Because a debate about the Spiritmaster wouldn’t make sense without the current Spiritmaster present.

He thought that Deus might be deliberately entering Greyford just one day before the debate for a dramatic entrance.

All the other bishops agreed with him.

So Deus Verdi would be coming in today, but…

“Have you deployed people?”

“Yes, of course. But according to reports, his followers hate Deus so much that we wouldn’t have needed to intervene.”

“My, what a mysterious man. Could he have meticulously planned all of this as well?”

They were talking about Mule’s followers outside the city gate.

If Deus Verdi were to enter Greyford through the main gate, he would have to pass through the tent village created by Mule’s followers.

It was a situation where they might not just stop at verbal abuse but could directly harm Deus.

Not surprisingly, Mule had brainwashed his followers to hate Deus, and

he was gradually winning over public opinion within Greyford through his sermons.

Attractive appearance.

Kind smile.

Actions that didn’t contradict doctrine.

Miracles proving that God had chosen him.

He was a charismatic man with enough charm to bewitch people’s hearts.

“If Deus enters Greyford through a route other than the main gate, that would also make him look bad.”

Unlike Mule, who proudly led his followers through the city gate,

Deus might be criticized for sneaking in through the back door like a thief.

The choice before Deus was between two terrible options. Whichever he chose, he would suffer damage.

“Looking at this, Mule may have intentionally entered Greyford one step ahead.”

“That must be it. I’ve spoken with that man a few times… he’s extraordinary.”

“Because he’s chosen by God.”

When one bishop matter-of-factly declared this with folded hands, the other bishops wore subtle expressions.

Seeing the incredible miracles he performed, it truly seemed like divine power.

And he was always preaching God’s will.

But the gods who had chosen only one Saintess for hundreds of years—why had they suddenly chosen another man?

The bishops still had lingering doubts, but

they couldn’t turn Mule into an enemy because he was an extremely attractive card to play.

Better than Deus Verdi, who practiced Black Magic like necromancy and wandered around claiming to comfort souls while enjoying the king’s favor.

Having Mule, who preached God’s will and cooperated with them, sit in the Spiritmaster’s position would be much more beneficial.

Since the emergence of the Spiritmaster, the bishops’ position had been gradually narrowing.

Their lack of divine power making them unable to respond to spiritual situations made them look incompetent compared to Deus.

“Whatever happens, we just need to support Mule.”

When Mekdoren summarized, the other bishops nodded in agreement.

Many people had already witnessed, experienced, and appreciated Mule’s miracles.

In fact, the bishops only needed to recite what Mule had been doing—a very easy situation.

* * *

Beyond Greyford’s walls, the sun had set.

Smoke from a huge bonfire rose toward the dense stars and moonlight.

Outside the walls, at the center of the tent village set up by Mule’s followers, believers were shouting roughly in front of the massive bonfire.

“Everyone, the Verdi carriage will be arriving soon!”

“As servants of God, can we just stand by and watch a Black Mage approach Mule?”

“This is our chance to fulfill God’s will!”

“We shouldn’t let Mule waste unnecessary time!”

As believers planted by the bishops raised their voices loudly, many others responded.

There was no need to persuade them, spread doctrine, or forge Mule’s words.

The followers erupted in exclamations and cheers as if they had been waiting for this situation, and they blocked the main road to stop the approaching carriage to Greyford.

In the still chilly night air,

as a human barrier formed, they felt each other’s warmth, and that warmth made them mistakenly believe they were doing the right thing.

[Poor blind souls, despite having eyes.]

Looking at them from atop the city wall, Stella clasped her hands tightly.

It was partly for Deus Verdi, who would soon arrive, but she couldn’t look away from the sight of people being controlled as if brainwashed by a man like Mule.

Yet Stella was quite worried about Deus.

What was about to happen wasn’t simply entering Greyford.

Mule had demonstrated his greatness and popularity by leading a huge crowd to Greyford.

A kind of performance before the great debate began.

If he showed even a slightly unseemly appearance here, bad rumors would spread rapidly among the citizens.

[Deus.]

Just as she savored the dear name she would meet after a month,

Creeeeak!

The city gate, which should not open at such a late hour, shudders.

With a long and naked resonance, armored soldiers and robed mages rush out through the opened gate.

Not just ordinary soldiers, but some knights were visible too, wearing armor emblazoned with the red hawk, the emblem of House Zeronia.

The yellow robes worn by the mages on the opposite side bore the emblem of House Briart, a sword of light.

Though fewer in number, the mages used magic to gently push back Mule’s densely packed followers like the wind.

“Clear the way.”

At the foot of the gate,

Stella was startled yet relieved by the cold, resonant female voice.

During the month Deus Verdi had disappeared,

this woman had been busier than anyone, reaching out everywhere to find him.

The fiancée who had received troops from Houses Briart and Zeronia, who had promised to cooperate with Deus at the meeting, and searched for him.

Erika Bright.

She was commanding the troops with eyes colder than when she taught students at the academy.

“W-wait! What is this?”

“The great debate hasn’t even started yet! The royal forces coming out like this means the outcome of the debate is already decided, doesn’t it?”

“This is unjust!”

The followers shouted at the top of their lungs without regard for the hour.

But golden mana gathered at Erika’s fingertips shot up toward the sky,

forming a giant butterfly shape that scattered light mana in all directions.

-Silence.

Under the wide-ranging silencing spell, they shouted something at the top of their lungs, but only the quiet sound of insects could be heard.

Tap tap tap tap!

In sync, knights and mages pushed aside the followers and cleared the main road.

Soldiers and mages standing with their backs to each end of the road prevented the followers from coming onto the main road, like solid walls.

The cleared path.

Walking steadily down it, Erika murmured in a voice so low it felt chilling.

“Of course there’s a difference. Mule is still just an agitator who hasn’t received any recognition.”

Thanks to the silence spell, Erika’s voice echoed even further.

The followers tried to rush at her for insulting Mule but couldn’t break through the wall of soldiers and mages.

“The Spiritmaster was personally chosen and appointed by His Majesty to handle an important responsibility in this country.”

Step, step.

They had said he would come by carriage.

Deliberately getting out of the carriage,

walking alone toward this place—seeing his silhouette, Erika smiled slightly.

He too understood well how important this entrance performance was.

[Kihihihihi!]

[Ah! He has come! He has come!]

[Someone who will listen to our story has come!]

[I’m tired. Please give me rest now.]

As the screams of evil spirits that Erika’s magic couldn’t block began to burst forth, the followers trembled in fear.

The opposite.

Unlike Mule, who had entered Greyford receiving praise and adoration from numerous followers,

Deus Verdi was entering amid the sorrowful voices and desperate pleas of countless souls ringing in the night.

[That’s right.]

Watching from atop the city wall, Stella smiled gently.

What one who comforts souls needs is not praise or adoration from those around them,

but souls who weep and suffer.

“Clear the way.”

Erika extended her hand once more, firmly protecting the path he would walk.

“The one chosen by the king is coming.”

Thud.

His foot touches down.

A path laden with the resentment and curses of many humans, and twice as many souls’ grief and sorrow.

Though Mule had walked it days ago, it now held an entirely different meaning.

Deus Verdi began to walk that path.