Ch.937Worries and the Deceased

======[ Feirus ]======

Rumors about the three serpent dragons had reached the ears of Feirus, who was busy with his clandestine activities.

Thanks to the report from Bellnesia Valenstein, who realized that the watchful eyes had disappeared in Hestella’s capital where an emergency had been declared due to the dragon outbreak.

“The master of Caliburn has appeared? And under that woman’s command?”

“…Yes. Though I don’t know what being the master of Caliburn means.”

Bellnesia muttered as if making a complaint in a half-enlightened voice.

Despite enduring all sorts of humiliation and steadily accumulating hatred toward Haschal, Bellnesia no longer harbored such old grudges.

After all, holding grudges depends on the target—who in the world would harbor resentment toward disasters like volcanoes or tsunamis? Only a madman would.

From the moment she witnessed the sight of someone slicing through the sky and slaughtering a dragon in a single strike, Bellnesia decided to consider Haschal as something akin to a natural disaster.

The difference in their abilities was simply beyond comprehension.

Thanks to Feirus’s mysterious half-soul technique, she had reached the level she had longed for even with an artificial body by accumulating Karma… but meanwhile, her opponent had flown to heights she could never reach.

Bellnesia was certain. Even with the “Ghost Sword” that had evolved as she overcame barriers, it was impossible to confront the current Haschal.

The only things she—no, he—could do were to endure until their Karma ran out or simply flee, but either way, there was no avoiding defeat in the end.

Moreover, now it seemed there was no way to defeat not just Haschal, but even Demian under her command.

In the past, she could have blamed the Heaven’s Wall or her age, but now that she had been revived in a young body, she couldn’t even make such excuses anymore.

Bellnesia had to acknowledge, despite her frustration, the overwhelming difference in talent between them and herself.

They say it’s easier when you give up, don’t they? True to those words, Bellnesia finally let go of her hatred toward Haschal and abandoned her revenge.

Of course, if she were determined enough, she could still attempt revenge.

She could slaughter the pink-haired girl whom Haschal cherished dearly, or kill others besides Haschal and Demian.

That would at least inflict tremendous mental anguish, wouldn’t it?

However.

‘Such actions would be meaningless.’

If a swordsman decides on revenge, they should seek out their enemy and cut them down.

To abandon direct revenge due to lack of prospects, only to massacre defenseless bystanders before fleeing—how despicable would that be?

Bellnesia considered such revenge meaningless, an utterly disgraceful act.

She had already committed various disgraceful acts, but this would be on an entirely different level of depravity.

That was her last stubbornness and final pride.

For such reasons, Bellnesia, having abandoned her revenge, was now in a contradictory state of mind—utterly depressed yet strangely unburdened.

“I see. Good work. Continue to report whenever opportunities arise.”

“…Right.”

For Feirus, Bellnesia’s feelings were completely irrelevant matters, so he didn’t pay any attention to them.

—-

‘Master of Caliburn…’

After ending his communication with Bellnesia, Feirus sat on a rock fragment and pondered the significance of her report.

‘The holy sword forged by Elpinel. It’s been eight hundred years since it was last seen, so I thought it had been destroyed or recovered long ago. Could it be that now…’

A report that the master of Caliburn had appeared.

‘Is Elpinel up to something? Or is it Astraea’s doing…? Either way, it’s not welcome news.’

While Bellnesia didn’t understand the meaning of those words, Feirus knew exactly what they signified.

‘That sword was forged to slay the true god.’

Hundreds of years ago, when he was still active as a saint and representative of the Church of Elpinel, he had personally erased all records related to this.

Long before the era of Carlos the Great.

An era when humans coexisted with other races. The chronicles of the distant past that Feirus had named the Second Age.

These texts were considered forbidden even within the Church of Elpinel at the time because they recorded the origins of the ascenders who claimed to be gods of humanity, but Feirus, as a saint then, had read all those records.

And after reading them, he destroyed them all.

At that time, Feirus was still a devout saint of the Church of Elpinel, and he believed it wasn’t right to leave forbidden books that could become the catalyst for religious conflicts.

Anyway, those chronicles also contained legends about the sword called Caliburn.

The world’s strongest demigod who, along with comrades who had evolved into demigods by obtaining divinity, marked the end of the Second Age.

The destroyer of Fafnir. The one who repelled Baltyr.

The warrior Sigurd.

According to the chronicles, Caliburn was a divine sword bestowed upon the warrior Sigurd by the celestial god Elpinel to defeat “Baltyr,” a god of monsters who sought the world’s destruction.

In the end, he failed to kill Baltyr and could only manage to banish him from the earth at the cost of his own life.

‘…Baltyr. Baltyr, is it? What a convenient name to use.’

Feirus let out a hollow laugh.

Now he knew the true identity of the god of monsters called Baltyr in the chronicles.

The demon god whom humans of the Second Age cursed as the “God of Slaughterers.”

However, until thousands of years ago, that god was known by a completely different name.

The Father of All Things. The True God. The Master of the World.

By the name of Alfodhr.

Indeed.

Caliburn, once called Juwayiz, was essentially a divine weapon forged by Elpinel, who claimed the position of the main god, to kill the true main god.

That’s what Feirus believed.

Because his god, Alfodhr, had taught him so.

In other words, the appearance of Caliburn’s master meant that Elpinel had created a new warrior.

The third warrior following Sigurd and Carlos the Great. Elpinel’s agent to harm Alfodhr.

And this, right beside Haschal, the variable that Elpinel and Astraea were doing their utmost to draw to their side.

‘A soul from another world is a variable that can be either helpful or harmful depending on how it’s used… but a “warrior” is different. That existence is only harmful to Him.’

In Carlos’s era, Caliburn was merely used as a powerful sacred artifact because Alfodhr couldn’t exert influence on earth.

But the birth of Caliburn’s master in the current era, when Alfodhr was preparing to descend, was a threat that Feirus, as Alfodhr’s apostle, could not ignore.

‘…Perhaps I should cut off the sprout before it grows any further.’

He might need to eliminate it. That’s what Feirus thought.

If, by some remote possibility, the master of Caliburn grew to become a powerful figure comparable to the warriors of old…

That blade might reach his god.

‘The problem is… that woman has taken Caliburn’s master under her command…’

If he attempted to kill the master of Caliburn—Demian—Haschal would not stand by idly, which would inevitably lead to a battle with her.

This was a very troublesome situation for Feirus.

Whether it was due to the talent inherent in her otherworldly soul, or the support of divine beings like Astraea or Vanirgand, the woman had developed enough martial prowess to slaughter a dragon in a single strike while he had left her alone for a while.

A battle with her was something Feirus desperately wanted to avoid.

Not only would it be difficult to win, but even if he did win, he must not accidentally end her life.

【 Keep the otherworldly soul alive if possible. 】

It was a direct order from his god, Alfodhr.

‘He didn’t explain the reason… but it’s probably some kind of contingency plan in case the complete descent fails.’

That was Feirus’s speculation.

The reason Alfodhr ordered him to keep the “variable” alive was to seize her body and descend through it if he failed to descend in his own flesh.

Whether that speculation was true or not, only Alfodhr would know.

Anyway, for that reason, Feirus could not harm Haschal.

If Haschal were killed by a third party, that would be beyond his control, but for Feirus himself to harm her directly would be to directly defy the will of his god.

‘This is troublesome…’

As Feirus was deliberating, unable to make a hasty decision…

“…You seem troubled. What’s the matter, my master?”

A knight in full black armor walked up to him and asked, addressing Feirus as his master.

“Well… how to deal with someone who must be killed but is protected by someone who must not be killed. I can’t find an answer.”

Feirus looked up at the man and replied. It wasn’t an answer expecting advice. He was merely responding because the other had asked.

“Someone who must not be killed?”

Another man jumped over and tilted his head questioningly.

An exceptionally handsome man holding a large lance. A massive heart was impaled on the tip of his spear.

“Then just kill them halfway! That works, right?”

Instead of replying that he might end up split into four pieces and die that way, Feirus just shook his head and let out a faint sigh.

The man before him was a madman who would probably just spout nonsense about how it could be sewn back together.

Knowing this well, Feirus deftly changed the subject to something more immediately important rather than elaborating on his concerns.

“Judging by that heart, I see you’ve completed your task. Where is Maugis?”

“Oh, right! He got chewed up by a dragon and split in half! Can I borrow some thread? I need to sew him back together!”

“…He’s not a rag doll. Sewing him with thread won’t make him whole again.”

Feirus sighed again. Dealing with a madman was exhausting, he lamented.

“No thread? Then maybe glue… Wait, I just had a brilliant idea! If we split another person in half and sew the parts together differently, would Maugis become two people? Mau-human and Human-gis! It would be fun to make them fight! The winner becomes the real Maugis!”

The handsome man spouting madness with a face that suggested he was saying something completely reasonable.

Feirus turned his head to look at the other man in full armor and spoke with a voice tinged with a sigh.

“…Renault. Was he always like this? Or did he go mad, unlike before, in the process of coming back to life?”

“……The former. He was such a person from the beginning.”

The knight called Renault remained silent for a while, then nodded and answered in a heavy voice.

“Astolfo was.”

The handsome, lance-wielding madman. Astolfo wasn’t driven mad by the half-soul technique that revived him; he had been half-insane from the beginning.

Astolfo. Renault. And Maugis.

Names that would astonish anyone who heard them.

These were names that no human… no, even non-human races would recognize. Names as widely known as those of gods.

Because they were the names of the Great’s Twelve Knights.