Chapter 312

Chapter 312. Spoils of War (4)

Whack, thud thud thud!

A ripple of unfamiliar spatial mana flickered across the ground swarming with beasts as the lightning spear I had thrown struck the earth in succession.

Shortly after, a human form smoothly emerged along the path traversed by that lightning spear.

A little late, the bright halo unique to teleportation magic erupted.

Once the light disappeared, it left behind the body of Moltan Bell, who had been diagonally sliced from his left shoulder to his right hip.

The point where my lightning spear pierced repeatedly was along the path he crossed while traversing compressed space.

In simpler terms, he had unwittingly walked right into my lightning spear.

It was much like presenting a boiled egg to a thin string and watching it slice clean through.

‘Did he really act so arrogantly with just this level of skill?’

Indeed, the problem with young mages was their tendency to overestimate their own capabilities in combat despite lacking actual experience.

‘Now I’ve ended up crossing paths with the Mage Tower Master of the Atar Empire.’

I had already burnt bridges with the Ferrell Mage Tower Master due to the irreparable issues with Eril.

And now, it seemed I had added another to that list today.

‘Being afraid of making enemies will stop us from moving forward.’

For every foe I made, there would be allies behind me to offer support.

I gathered Moltan Bell’s easily detached head and stowed it into my subspace pouch.

Not only had I captured my first spoils on returning to Biharin, but I also procured an unexpected second.

‘Not too bad.’

It was time to move onto the next spoils.

‘My destination is Gemal.’

Though I’d already made my way south, traversing the skies for about three days and nights would get me there.

Yet, there was little need to spend all that time traveling.

‘Surely these guys have left a portal to Gemal open back at their base.’

Why make the arduous journey on foot?

I retraced my steps through the previously blocked path by Moltan Bell.

Finally, reaching the other end from where monsters were pouring out, I spotted a hole resembling a black hole.

I eliminated the surrounding mages and nemesis-rank soldiers with another short battle.

Then, without hesitation, I pushed myself into the unidentifiable black hole.

***

On his way to Haley’s personal prayer room, Shelver Vilkzion halted in his tracks.

“Don’t you know how great a task I’m handling here?! If it weren’t for me, all of you would be dead by now! Instead of being grateful, why do you hover around and interfere! Just get out of my sight already!”

A shrill voice yelled, mingling with the sounds of things crashing and breaking.

Shortly after, low-ranking priests of Temoria came rushing out of Haley’s prayer room as if fleeing for their lives.

In no time, Shelver’s previously serene and kind visage slightly twisted at the sight.

‘So weak, that woman.’

As an apostle of Temoria, she should naturally possess the resilience to face any trial or adversity without faltering.

Yet Haley seemed especially prone to being unable to withstand challenges or impulses that confronted her.

‘That’s probably why she was the only one among the cautious Temorias that gave in to persuasion.’

Haley’s joining had been a remarkable achievement for Shelver.

Dimwitted though she might be, Haley was unequivocally an apostle.

When she took the lead in persuasion, more and more of Temoria’s priests—who once ignored self-sacrifice—were swayed by the moderate faction’s rhetoric.

‘It seemed as if the plan was proceeding smoothly.’

However, things took a turn for the worse, leaving vast territories overrun by monsters.

Gemal too had been quickly besieged by the monster army.

In such dire circumstances, Haley’s role had grown even more significant.

‘Even today, the barrier trembled three times.’

Shelver had come directly to encourage her after witnessing the wavering of the barrier of patience enveloping Gemal.

But upon assessing the situation, it seemed meeting her would bring no significant change.

‘Even if I did go, she’d only complain about her struggles as usual.’

How much she was suffering, how much her sacrifices deserved gratitude.

She would certainly be annoyed with the reality that didn’t offer her worship and noble treatment.

However, sadly for Haley, others were not so foolish.

They, too, were alive and could distinguish between sincerity and pretense.

Who would be moved by a sacrifice expecting recompense?

Moreover, Haley had too many comparative peers.

Most apostles of Temoria had the esteemed experience of maintaining the barrier alone for dozens of days while barely resting.

It was a noble legacy in sharp contrast to Haley, who had rarely appeared on the frontline.

Because there were more people aware of this than not, they often subtly looked down upon Haley.

The current situation was just such a vicious cycle born of this subtle atmosphere.

Forgetting that she was chosen by god and unable to control her unease, Haley irritated and lashed out.

Her psychological discomfort directly reflected on the barrier of patience, causing it to waver dangerously.

Her self-esteem further diminished due to that fact, leading to yet more unease, making the barrier even more unstable—a vicious cycle.

‘It’s better if we prepare for battle.’

Rather than meet Haley, Shelver chose to leave things as they were.

Soon enough, she would fulfill her purpose.

Preparations for deploying a barrier around Gemal were complete.

‘Transport the sacrificial offerings, activate the magic circle—it should take about half a day.’

Once that half a day had passed, at least within Gemal, safety would be assured.

‘Then provoke the royal family to clear the external monsters, reclaim the lost territories afterward.’

As planned, the Demi-human Alliance, dubbed a small empire, would seek sanctuary to survive.

Shelver believed his hope would undoubtedly come to fruition.

The fact that hope was a fragile entity, often crushed underfoot, was completely forgotten.

Ultimately, even when disaster struck, accompanied by a profound rumble of the earth, nothing could be done.

Boom, crash!

“Ah!”

Surprised by the sudden blare and flames, Shelver fell backward onto his backside.

“Run! Run away!”

“A mage! It’s a mage!”

“The traitors have infiltrated!”

“What are the holy knights doing?!”

“Kill! Kill them!”

Desperate yells filled the gaps between booms.

It wasn’t long before an ear-splitting roar erupted.

As Shelver fumbled, searching with urgency, attempting to regain his footing, a cry broke through.

“The chief high priest is here!”

“Escort him quickly!”

“Take him to safety!”

Holy knights clad in singed armor appeared at the other end of the corridor.

They lifted Shelver with firm hands and began to run.

“What, what is the meaning of this?!”

It was hard to comprehend.

He distinctly heard a command to kill.

There was mention of traitors infiltrating the temple.

Yet why were holy knights, who should deal with the intruders and protect the temple, running in the opposite direction?

The answer was simple.

“Our duty is to escort the chief high priest!”

The holy knights were merely fleeing.

Under the pretext of protecting a significant individual, they prioritized their escape.

Before the holy knights could fully exit the temple, it started crumbling.

Boom!

The white edifice began to collapse.

The choice of the holy knights, who nearly dragged Shelver along, was straightforward.

“Damn it!”

“I won’t Die here!”

They abandoned Shelver, each seeking their own means of survival.

While holy knights jumped over and rolled away from debris, there was nothing Shelver, left behind with an old man’s body, could do.

He was buried beneath collapsing ruins.

Not long afterward, thick dust rose, and screams echoed from every direction.

Who knew how much time had passed?

“Ugh…”

Coming around after fainting upon being pinned by the debris, Shelver strained his eyes to focus.

“Ugh…!”

Once he regained consciousness, he found his arms and legs, crushed under a massive stone, were broken, and a sharp rebar had pierced through his abdomen.

Experiencing excruciating pain like never before, he could only tremble and shed tears, unable to decide what to do.

Then, a sound arose—clink, clank.

Footsteps, mixing with the sound of stones tumbling, rang above him.

Feeling a presence, Shelver desperately opened his mouth, mustering all his strength.

“W-who’s there… s-save me…”

Perhaps his sincere plea reached the heavens.

Amidst the debris, a familiar yet unfamiliar face appeared.

It was a man he had never seen before in life.

Yet, somehow the black hair, golden eyes, and sharp gaze seemed eerily familiar.

Understandably so, as the man standing beyond the debris was none other than the outsider whom Shelver had seen in portraits countless times.

Merely seeing that face pieced together so much and explained so much.

Right at the heart of this sudden assault was undoubtedly that damned outsider!

“You insolent scoundrel!”

At that moment, the hideous pain that had seeped into his bones halted abruptly.

Facing that outsider ignited a rage so profound that it became uncontrollable.

The man, who had made significant contributions by cutting the limbs of the radical faction and weakening their power long ago, stood there.

Yet he was untouchable, shielded as he was firmly supported by moderates like Temoria’s Jose Wolfrian.

Thus, impotent rage brewed within toward him.

It was not enough for him to spirit away those outside the barrier; he came back to attack the central temple itself, further intensifying Shelver’s wrath.

“Vile scum! It’s all too clear you’ve sold your soul to a devil! You will never die peacefully!”

Even the heightened, agonized curses failed to perturb the outsider.

He just snorted softly and questioned back.

“Aren’t you also guilty of selling your soul to the devil?”

How else to explain the attempt to ensure your own safety with the lives of others as sacrifices?

“We both stand alike, different only by negligible measure. Why bother weighing our sins?”

There was no particular emotion in the outsider’s voice, who seemed fully aware of everything.

Immediately after having said his piece, he appeared ready to take his leave.

That urgency prompted Shelver to cry out.

“Do you not pity the people who once hailed you as a Hero?!”

Too prideful to beg for life, yet too fearful of dying buried here, he cunningly chose to accuse and incite emotions of guilt.

“The Demi-human Alliance and temple always welcomed outsiders warmly, tirelessly striving to protect you!”

But unfortunately,

“Is this vile reciprocity your answer? Could you still call yourself human?”

“Utter nonsense.”

The individual confronting Shelver was not one swayed by such tricks.

He possessed pride forged through patience and effort in himself.

He accomplished achievements befitting that pride, as well.

More importantly, he exhibited a cold, ruthless side willing to employ any means to ensure a victory in war.

Hence, hearing words of irrational resentment, he turned indifferently, uninterested, eventually choosing to end the life of Shelver buried under the rubble himself.

To leave no future threats behind,

Thwack-!

A thread-thin wisp of mana twisted around Shelver’s neck, constricting it, leading his head to roll off, releasing a torrent of red spreading across the debris.

Damned System