Chapter 256. The Mad Warrior (2)

Bakal, commander of Special Unit One under the Inquisition of the Vatican, had thought they could win. But he'd barely managed to block Caron's sword and was already drenched in sweat. Though his face was hidden behind a mask, it had turned ghostly pale.

We're fighting as if we're ready to be martyred. But how... How is this happening?

Bakal wondered.

All his brothers and sisters were giving everything, even their souls, in this battle. They gathered in glory to the Radiant Light, wielding their weapons with death in mind. Their training had been more than sufficient. They were veterans, battle-hardened elites who could hold their heads high anywhere on the continent.

And yet, one by one, they were falling, cut down helplessly by the blades of these wicked demons.

"Light above!"

"Have You abandoned us?!"

"You seem lost in thought," Caron said.

Boom!

The demon laughed in front of them.

Each time Caron's sword struck, Bakal's insides twisted. The Perverse Mana, bestowed anew for the eradication of evil, should have been fatal to a being like Caron Leston. But it posed no threat to him at all.

Caron's mana had already permeated deep into Bakal's body.

Bakal, who had lived without knowing fear thanks to his unwavering faith, now found himself utterly terrified—of that sword.

His mind reeled, and he wondered if this was what prey felt like before a predator. All he could think about was escaping this place. He muttered, "O dear Light..."

Even so, Bakal tried to steady himself, clinging to the name of the Light.

Even if every member of the special unit perished here, they had to stop the demon standing before them.

Indeed, Caron Leston was a demon. He was the incarnation of evil sent to destroy the Holy Kingdom—a blasphemer of the Light.

"Caron Leston!" Bakal shouted.

Fwoosh!

Gray energy surged wildly from within Bakal's body. The Perverse Mana had been created to destroy evil. Therefore, it should have been deadly, especially to someone like Caron Leston.

But...

Clang!

The sword forged from that power shattered on contact, disintegrating like brittle glass against Caron's dark blue mana.

Slash!

A terrifying blade sliced deep into Bakal's right thigh. Blood gushed from the torn artery like a fountain.

But it lasted only for a moment. The wound began to close instantly, thanks to the baptism he had received upon becoming an inquisitor.

The demon chuckled in admiration, saying, "Body reinforcement... Seems the esteemed priests have reached into forbidden arts. Not even most dark mages can pull this off. Where did you get such a technique?"

Caron sounded amused as he remarked, "I didn't think the Holy Kingdom had gone this far in studying forbidden methods. Is this also some divine revelation from the Light?"

"Don't spout nonsense!" Bakal shouted. "These are abilities granted through our baptism! Our healing is proof that the Light guides us—"

"Do you really believe that?" Caron interrupted.

Slash!

Once more, the dark blue light flashed, and this time, Bakal's right arm was severed. Pain unlike any he'd known overwhelmed him.

As Perverse Mana naturally gathered where the arm had vanished, something grotesque occurred.

Glurk.

Veins burst out of the wound and began, ever so slowly, to regenerate the arm. It was an unnatural sight.

"Regenerative power nearing that of a miracle. Did you splice in traits from trolls or something?" Caron mused. "You freaks are actually interesting. You might be worth dissecting."

"You... You're not a 7-Star Knight... Are you?" Bakal asked.

According to intelligence, Caron Leston had reached the rank of 7-Star Knight. But the moment their blades met, Bakal knew that information had been wrong.

The inquisition had deployed four of its most secretive elite—knights cultivated in secrecy over years to prepare for the Holy War. Even Caron's cousins—rated just a step below him—struggled to gain the upper hand against them.

Yet none of them could even touch Caron himself.

"Leon! If you get hurt, Caron said he'll kill you!" Leo shouted.

"If I don't get hurt, I'll be the one to kill Caron! What the hell is wrong with that guy?! He just charges in without thinking!" Leon replied.

"That's because he's Caron!" Leo said.

The battle had already been lost. Only three enemies had joined the fight, yet nearly thirty inquisitors couldn't stop them.

All of it was because of Caron Leston.

Each time he swung his blade, pillars fell. The power infused in that sword was beyond anything the Inquisition could bear. It defied imagination—fluid, cunning, and overwhelming.

Even while dueling Bakal, Caron had the leisure to send sword slashes flying at other inquisitors, snatching their lives away with casual precision. Before they realized it, the dead outnumbered the living inside the chapel.

Bakal wondered how someone so ruthless could be called a Warrior. This carnage—this hellish nightmare—was proof that Caron Leston was a demon.

"Saint Seria! You will bring ruin to the Holy Kingdom!" Bakal screamed, his voice twisted with hatred.

In the end, all of this tragedy had unfolded because of Seria. She was the root of it all. She had betrayed the Holy Kingdom and sided with heretics—a heretic among heretics, the worst in history. She had returned to the Holy Kingdom wearing the mask of piety, hiding her vile intentions.

"The Light will judge you!" Bakal shouted, pouring every ounce of his hatred into his voice.

Seria looked at Bakal and clasped her hands together, then quietly said, "...I am not the one leading the Holy Kingdom to ruin."

She didn't hate Bakal, even as he hurled curses at her. In truth, she pitied the inquisitors—she felt nothing but sorrow for those who had once walked in the light. These were people of devout faith. She couldn't help but mourn to see them straying so far from the path.

"In every moment, the Light is with me," Seria said.

"Lies! The Light would never stand beside a traitor like you!" Bakal shouted.

"See for yourself," Seria said.

Flash!

A radiant white light burst from Seria. It was nothing like the dim, grayish hue of the inquisitors' false faith. It was blinding, pure, divine. Wings unfolded behind her shoulders. With their appearance, the once blood-soaked chapel was bathed in a glow more brilliant than ever before.

Bakal stared wide-eyed into the light.

It was real. It was clear. It was pure and reverent. Someone who had turned away from the Light could never produce such radiance.

That was why Bakal screamed even more furiously, clinging to denial. "Even if a demon takes the form of the divine, nothing changes!"

Bakal forced himself to believe that what he was seeing was some wicked illusion.

He could not be wrong. The path the Holy Kingdom now followed was the true path of the Light. Anyone who dared to obstruct it was no more than evil.

Sizzle.

Only one arm remained, but that was enough. Bakal gripped his sword tightly in his left hand and charged at Seria, shouting, "For the Radiant Light!"

His Perverse Mana pierced through the holy power Seria had released.

Perverse Mana had been created to punish sacred power. As it coated Bakal's sword, it ripped through the thick divine shield. In the blink of an eye, his blade reached Seria's neck.

But that was as far as it got. Just as Bakal was about to strike the fatal blow, he saw a vision.

...The sea?

he thought.

A vast sea suddenly spread out before him. Dark blue waves churned violently beneath a single, colossal moon that floated above the waters.

Bakal, entranced, stared up at that moon. Its light felt as if it were burning everything away.

"A technique this beautiful is wasted on a fanatic like you," a quiet voice said by his ear. "But I've been meaning to try it out in live combat."

Then, the voice added with a whispering chuckle, "After all, the flashier the show, the more eyes it catches."

Boom!

Dozens of whirlpools shot up from the sea. In an instant, they swallowed the moon whole.

The sea devoured the moon, and its brilliant light disappeared beneath the roiling dark waters.

At that moment, darkness spread across the world—and began pulling in everything around it.

"...Ah." Bakal stood frozen, powerless to move. He could only watch as the overwhelming mana rushed toward him.

Clash!

At last, the moon was completely consumed by the sea.

Then came the explosion.

Boom!

A thunderous roar followed as the moon burst apart.

Time seemed to slow. Bakal stared blankly at the shards of the moon flying toward him. No one could withstand something like this. All he could do was stand still and witness the spectacle unfold before his eyes.

Shlunk!

Dozens of shards slammed into Bakal's body. They pierced through his flesh without mercy, composed of raw, destructive mana.

And through that storm of pain, the demon's voice echoed one final time. "Eclipse."

Eclipse.

Bakal found himself thinking the name fit surprisingly well. The moon had been devoured by the sea, after all.

That thought became his final one.

Shlunk!

The tidal wave followed, swallowing Bakal whole. Then, the fragments buried in his body exploded. The world collapsed.

Bakal could do nothing before that overwhelming power. Not even resist.

The fanatic was not to be saved. Not now, not ever.

***

"Phew," Caron exhaled softly as he gazed at the ruins.

Just moments ago, this had been a chapel. But now, it had crumbled so completely that there was hardly a trace left of what it once was.

"Saintess, is there any way to restore that?" Caron asked, tilting his head slightly.

Seria shook her head with a grim expression. She said quietly with a pale face, "Right now... I don't think it's possible."

She'd tried until the very last moment to bring the inquisitors back from the edge. She had pleaded with them, tried to dispel the madness clouding their eyes, and worked desperately to cleanse their bodies of the corrupt magic that had consumed them.

But all of it had been in vain. The inquisitors had died cursing her to the end. There was no honor in their deaths, only blind hatred and tragic delusion.

"Well, too bad," Caron muttered, clicking his tongue as he slid Guillotine back into its sheath, then turned slowly.

Leo and Leon were gasping for air. Unlike Caron, who remained spotless and unscathed, the two bore wounds across their bodies—large and small, signs of a hard-fought battle.

"You didn't die. That's impressive," Caron said.

"If it weren't for the Saintess, we'd be long dead," Leo groaned.

"As the grandchildren of Duke Halo, I'd expect you to win even when outnumbered. Isn't that right?" Caron said with a smirk.

"You took care of two of the four yourself," Leon said.

"Oh, did I?" Caron feigned surprise. "I must've accidentally killed one with a stray blade wave. If they died from an attack I didn't even aim properly, the folks around here really are pathetic. Don't you agree?"

Caron shrugged casually as he spoke, and Leon gave him a look of disbelief. She asked, "You—what was that sword technique you used at the end?"

That technique had brought down the entire chapel. It was on an entirely different level than anything Caron had shown before. Mesmerizingly beautiful and chillingly destructive, it suited Caron perfectly.

𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Caron gave a faint smile, then answered, "It's my signature technique. The name is Eclipse. I still can't fully control its power, though. I tried to hold back, but... You saw how that went."

"That the same technique that smashed up Oceanwolf Island?" Leon asked.

"You could say that," Caron replied. "I'd meant to show it to you earlier, but never found the right moment."

It was a style completely unlike the Oceanwolf Sword Arts, which valued brute strength above all. This technique was fluid, yet firm—gentle at times, explosive at others.

Leon wondered what kind of lunatic could come up with such a technique.

One thing was certain, though. No one but Caron could wield it.

"Let's save the sword talk for later," Caron said. "For now, this is more than enough to send a message to the other side."

He turned toward Seria and approached her. A shadow had fallen over her face. Perhaps she was burdened with guilt over the inquisitors who had just perished here.

So Caron spoke, his tone firm. "Saintess, listen to me carefully."

"Yes... Go on," Seria answered, though her voice trembled.

But Caron didn't hesitate.

"If we hadn't killed them here and now, we'd be the dead ones," he said. "This place... It's not the Holy Kingdom you remember."

The Holy Kingdom was slipping into the madness of war. Its leaders were driving the people into conflict under the guise of a holy crusade, and the clueless citizens could do nothing but follow.

"Just remember one thing," Caron said.

The other side had already committed to war. The deeper Caron and Seria dug, the more ferociously the resistance would rise.

"If we don't kill them, they'll kill us. Those consumed by ideology don't change," Caron continued.

If one could reason with a fanatic, they wouldn't be a fanatic in the first place. That meant situations like this would repeat again and again. Seria would have to overcome the emotions that came with it.

"You saw it too, didn't you? The inquisitors were using a corrupted form of dark magic," Caron continued.

There was much to be gained from this battle—including plenty of proof.

Caron placed both hands gently on Seria's shoulders, suppressing the anger within him as he said, "This is only the beginning. So instead of pitying them, keep your eyes forward."

"...Caron," Seria whispered.

"When all this is over, I plan to send the Holy Kingdom one hell of a bill. So brace yourself, alright?" Caron added.

They had taken a bold step forward. Now it was time to see how the other side would respond.

Caron stood silent, gazing at the wreckage of the chapel.

***

Before long, rumors swept across the entire Holy Kingdom. Word had it that someone had attempted to assassinate the Grand Saintess and the Warrior.

It was a wave of blatant propaganda and fabrication.

And with it, a deep crack began to spread through the foundation of the Holy Kingdom.