Ch.343343. Blasphemy (3)

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Tristan Grand Duke, Gideon Gaelstard La Tristan, believed that all principles in the world could be divided into two categories.

Things he must protect, and things he could ignore.

For him, the former was family.

Always.

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Time is on his side.

The Pope thought this as he leisurely rested his chin on his hand.

This was why he never really paid attention to what others said around him. He possessed an invincible combination that could withstand anyone.

‘I wonder if he heeded the advice well.’

If the Luminary hadn’t spoken to him, he probably would have chosen orthodox methods instead of such extreme measures.

The Pope himself is counted among the continent’s greatest handlers of holy power. If he had personally entered combat, he likely would have repelled most threats.

That approach might have been more satisfying—decisively defeating the troublemaker Darwood Campbell.

But by redirecting all his holy power toward “regeneration” and simply enduring…

No variables could emerge.

The options surrounding that man were limited to the Holy Empire’s internal forces and…

It was somewhat regrettable that the Chimera Legion had been reduced to ashes, but that was actually a secondary concern.

Once the Sacred Body awakened, such things were merely byproducts that could be recreated anytime.

Thanks to this, he had been able to firmly hold the attention of the others, and as a result, the only attacks remaining here were ones he could withstand by mobilizing his holy power.

If they had brought the Grey Demon and the Hero too, the outcome might have been different, but even then, he had his own countermeasures prepared.

In that sense, the Pope had the leisure to laugh at whatever his opponent did from where he sat.

That’s why he remained still even as he watched Yuria flying toward him like an arrow after being thrown by Darwood.

The Curse of Severance. The powerful curse residing in that sword slashed through the Pope’s body. Because it reached him so quickly, it cut deeper, stronger, and multiple times.

But what followed was merely a repetition of a process that had occurred dozens of times already.

“Is this your ultimate killing blow that you prepared so much for? Throwing stones?”

As the Pope spoke, Lucien’s holy power flew from the side.

It was powerful and dense holy energy worthy of being called a Holy Maiden, but the Pope didn’t even attempt to deflect it and just sat still.

As expected, that energy simply dissipated as soon as it approached his body.

After all, it was the Pope himself who raised those homunculus sisters. He knows best how they handle their abilities.

“Useless act—”

He tried to say with mockery.

The fact that he tried means there was a reason he couldn’t.

“…”

He looked at his chest with displeasure.

Normally, wounds should regenerate immediately after being cut, but now the wound remained open, refusing to close.

Around the wound, flesh continued to rot and deteriorate, with an energy that hindered regeneration. Decay. The Brown Demon’s power. Likely an ability Darwood extracted from the Otherworld Seal.

“As I thought, you can’t deflect two at once?”

Those words followed.

“I thought it was strange. There’s no way anyone could regenerate all wounds without paying some price.”

“…”

“You can only properly deflect one type of energy at a time with the technique you’re using. Wounds from that energy recover almost infinitely, but when they ‘combine,’ you become vulnerable to the other. Isn’t that right?”

“So what.”

The Pope responded with a sinister smile.

“What difference does knowing that make?”

“It gives us a solution. Isn’t that significant progress?”

“—Even if you know that, do you have the means to immediately use it?”

The Pope continued with a look of contempt.

Indeed, even as they exchanged these words, his wound had long since healed.

Even if they mixed attacks of different attributes, his defensive ability now approached invincibility. With the Sacred Body’s awakening not far off, they had no means to deal with him instantly.

“…”

But why did that man look as if he had “already won”?

This situation belonged to the Pope. All variables were entirely under his control, and nothing could truly threaten him—

“You don’t seem to think you’ve let your guard down.”

Darwood spoke mockingly to the Pope whose expression had slightly hardened.

“You lost that right the moment you started feeling comfortable.”

Something.

Something was wrong.

That feeling crystallized.

The Pope’s eyes quickly scanned his surroundings.

Those around him now were like his limbs, people who had never once deviated from his intentions even when he operated on a continental scale.

There couldn’t be anyone suspicious among them. Most of their actions weren’t known to the public anyway, and they always returned immediately after completing their tasks.

“It’s darkest under the lamp, as they say.”

What the Pope overlooked was that this man, Darwood, had found gaps between the Pope’s actions that even he hadn’t noticed.

And had planted a dagger to pierce his heart long ago.

Only to deliver this “single strike” when this moment arrived.

“—You should have suspected everything, fool.”

With those words, one of the attendants who had been standing beside the Pope guarding him changed his posture.

“…!”

Of course, the Pope’s reaction speed was not slow either. Massive holy power suddenly surged and poured toward the man.

But such an act only succeeded in removing the “disguise” the man had been wearing.

As the hood was pulled back, it revealed his face.

Gideon Gaelstard La Tristan.

The Tristan Grand Duke, whose whereabouts had been reported as mysterious all this time.

This man had been infiltrating as one of his attendants.

‘When…!’

When on earth, since when, had he been infiltrating by his side like this?

“Did you really think you could plant people in the Empire without paying any price?”

The Pope’s eyes widened at those words.

Certainly.

Around the time when civil war seemed imminent in the Empire, he had infiltrated personnel into the imperial palace to monitor the situation.

That time?

Had this man been planted during that fleeting moment when he merely dispatched some of his personnel for reconnaissance?

“I told you.”

And through that gap of astonishment…

“When you don’t know what your opponent is hiding, you shouldn’t act so complacent.”

The strike fell.

Long ago.

It is said that the First Sword Saint, the Tristan Grand Duke, could split the morning and pull in the evening.

Previously, Authority Kasa Garda shattered the sky with a single fist, changing the landscape.

Those who reach a certain level can distort such “concepts” themselves, accomplishing mythical feats with just a single attack.

And now, in this place.

For just a moment. Just a fleeting instant.

There stands one who has honed his power to the point where “a single strike could bring down the sun.”

And such a person…

“…”

Though Grand Duke Tristan’s face wore an expressionless mask.

What glimmered beneath those eyes was a black flame ready to burn even his own life for “retribution.”

Hadn’t the Pope himself admitted that he was the one who made him kill his own wife?

There are people in the world who can sacrifice even their own lives for a single purpose, and such people can achieve impossible miracles with even the most meager strength.

Such power.

In this place now.

Held by one who could bring down even the sun.

The sword drawn at a speed that even top-tier martial artists who live in split-second moments couldn’t react to moved in a straight line.

The trajectory was incredibly simple, but the energy contained within was terrifying.

Like the superhuman strength displayed when finally meeting a lifelong enemy face to face.

For an ordinary swordsman, losing composure and being consumed by anger would be absurd.

But what if such a person…

Was beyond a mere swordsman, capable of reflecting his mental state onto his sword path?

What would happen if one could imbue a technique capable of bringing down the sun with anger that could burn even one’s life, delivering it fully on the path of the sword?

“Now!”

At Darwood’s command, Yuria and Lucien’s strikes combined again.

As they had “experimented” earlier, the Pope’s defense becomes vulnerable when attacked with various attributes combined.

Yuria’s Severance, Lucien’s holy power, and the demonic energy Darwood additionally extracted hit the Pope together.

And the Pope’s defense splits as it reacts to each attack.

The later attacks cause progressively slower regeneration. They allow damage. The response slows.

And when this weakening of defense reaches its extreme…

The trajectory drawn by the slash pouring down on top of it is…

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-….

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-Indeed.

It was enough to cut the world in half.

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