Chapter 188

Chapter 188

People gathered around the chapel, and since we were mere bystanders without any role to play in maintaining the safety measures, we kept our distance, observing the scene from the far end of the chapel.

The priests began chanting protective spells, and a sacred atmosphere enveloped the interior of the chapel. It was a warm, soothing energy, and it felt as though everything would conclude without incident.

Dettomorian, who was sitting cross-legged in front of the cursed sword, started to murmur something. I couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but some kind of ritual was definitely beginning. I wondered what kind of object the cursed sword was, and if the curse could be lifted that night.

Everyone was tense, and Dettomorian’s mutterings didn’t reach us because we were far from the center of the chapel. While I could enhance my hearing to listen, I didn’t really want to.

For a very long time, nothing significant happened.

“...”

“...”

Ellen and I made eye contact, but we couldn’t break the solemn atmosphere by chatting. Yet, we were likely thinking the same thing: ‘When is this going to end?’

An hour had passed since the ritual began, but Dettomorian continued his mumblings, and the priests and mages maintained their protective barriers without anything noteworthy occurring.

It reminded me of the time I’d stepped into Dettomorian’s Occult Research Club with Charlotte. At that time, Charlotte had complained about the darkness and asked if we could turn on a light. Dettomorian had told us that doing so would end the ritual and had added that turning on the light would mean restarting the ritual, which would cost another week.

I started to worry that this ritual might not end in just a few hours, but could take several days or even weeks. If that were the case, the people stationed here would surely grow exhausted and leave. Could Dettomorian even take breaks for meals during such a prolonged ritual?

We’d come here without knowing how long it would take. Asking Dettomorian about this at this point wasn’t an option, and although the priests and mages might know something, they were all deeply focused on their own tasks, so interrupting them was not feasible.

The chapel doors were firmly closed, preventing any chance of leaving. I considered that we might just open the door and walk out, but...

“...”

“...”

What if opening the doors disrupted the ritual, broke someone’s concentration, or caused Dettomorian or someone else to make a mistake? The chapel was so quiet that everyone would hear us sneaking out.

Ellen and I found ourselves trapped in this self-imposed prison until the ritual ended. We sat side by side on a bench in the chapel, endlessly staring at the ongoing ritual.

***

Midnight had passed, and we still hadn’t returned to the dormitory.

Ellen grew tired, and she began dozing off. Normally, in such situations, she would just lean on me and fall asleep.

Watching her sway back and forth made me a bit worried, so I pulled her towards me and laid her head on my lap. By this point, such actions were no longer out of the ordinary for either of us.

“...”

Ellen, awakened slightly, looked up at me quietly and tried to get up. I gently pressed her head back down to let her know that it was alright for her to sleep if she felt tired.

“...”

She seemed to resist a bit but then closed her eyes, resigning herself to the situation. Somehow, this kind of casual physical contact had become easy for both of us.

While there was nothing wrong with this, it made me feel strange, as if we had skipped past dating and had gone straight to being a couple that had been married for ten years.

The ritual continued, and the priests and mages gradually showed signs of fatigue. Despite the initial tension, the cursed sword emitted no ominous energy and remained in the same state as before.

The only indication that the ritual was ongoing was Dettomorian’s continuous muttering.

I once thought of him as weak, but I was clearly mistaken.

Although I was looking at him from a distance, Dettomorian showed no signs of exhaustion or struggle. Despite the significant amount of time that had passed since the ritual began, his posture remained the same as he continued his chanting.

In many ways, Dettomorian was quite impressive. Eventually, I too succumbed to sleep and dozed off while sitting.

***

We were awakened by someone’s shout.

“Stop! Stop it now!”

Both Ellen and I were jolted awake by the sudden yell.

The high priest, who appeared to be overseeing the scene, was shouting.

“It’s too dangerous! You have to stop!”

Multicolored light streamed in through the stained glass dome. The morning had arrived without us noticing. However, Ellen and I couldn’t help but stare at what lay under that cascade of colored light.

A bizarre and ominous energy was emerging from the cursed sword, twisting menacingly under the light.

The sinister plume of energy was enormous, comparable in size to the statue of the goddess Ouen. Everyone was tense as we watched the eerie—almost sentient—energy moving.

“It takes time for it to stop...” Dettomorian said weakly.

I hadn’t depicted or even conceptually established the relics of the remaining three gods since there was no particular reason to feature all five relics.

Now, though, in this reality that had become my own, even the relics that had originally been left undefined had to have their own place and history.

Ellen and I had stumbled upon an artifact presumed to be a relic of the demon god, Kier, within the Dark Land.

There may be no demon gods, and certainly no Demon God Relics, but this sword was indeed a Holy Relic that possessed powers that stood in diametric opposition to those of Ouen, the god of purity.

Ultimately, strongly suggested that this cursed sword was likely the Holy Relic of Ouen. For some reason, though, perhaps due to the influence of the Demon God Cult, its powers had been twisted into their opposite.

Initially, I had only defined Alsbringer and Lament. However, after entering this world and taking theology courses during the first semester, I’d learned about the other three relics.

The god of corruption, Kier, was actually Ouen, the god of purity. Thus, the mysterious sword had to be Ouen’s Holy Relic.

That confirmed it: the sword was the Holy Relic, the Holy Sword Tiamata.

***

[Event Triggered - Holy Sword Tiamata]

[Description: So, you’ve discovered that the object you insisted on bringing back from the Dark Land is actually the Holy Sword Tiamata, mistakenly believed to be the relic of a demon god? What a convenient coincidence! It’s almost like your own novel!]

[Reward: Already given.]

Already given?

What does that even mean?

Could the confirmation that this was the Holy Sword Tiamata itself be the reward?

This event message basically served as explicit confirmation that the sword is indeed the Holy Sword Tiamata. Essentially, this validated my hypothesis.

‘I suppose that’s the reward ... So, the system essentially verified that it’s the Holy Sword Tiamata and seems to be challenging me to figure out a way to claim it...?’

I had suspected that the cursed sword was no ordinary object. Anything that could spread malevolent energy over such a vast area and resurrect the dead as zombies could not be trivial.

That was precisely why, despite knowing it was dangerous, I hadn’t given up on it that easily. However, I never anticipated that it would turn out to be a Holy Relic.

Among the three relics that I had not explicitly described in my original story, this one had somehow found its place, and Ellen and I had ended up discovering it during our sojourn into the Dark Land.

Had it not been for us, the sword would likely have been discarded or sealed away as a malevolent relic, without even reaching the mistaken belief that it was a Demon God Relic.

The Holy Sword Tiamata, which was never meant to make an appearance, had emerged, and it was currently mistaken for a Demon God Relic. Naturally, the Temple would not allow anyone to possess such an item and would either seal it away or destroy it.

Whether anyone could actually destroy a Holy Relic was uncertain, but undoubtedly, the Temple authorities would not let anyone keep it. Even though I’d found it, it wasn’t going to be mine.

If I continued to insist on hanging onto this sword, I could be mistaken as a Demon God cultist. People might start growing suspicious of me because of how obsessed I was with the artifact.

The Temple could very well accuse me of being a demon god worshiper.

The reward, Tiamata, had already been offered, the system seems to imply.

Take it if you can.

That was the situation the system seemed to be proposing...

***

“A relic of a demon god...” Ellen muttered blankly as we walked back to the dormitory.

I was the only one who truly understood the situation.

The true concept of the god of corruption, Kier, as the antithesis of Ouen, the god of purity, was known to very few, and I was one of those.

However, there was a puzzling aspect to all this: if there were no demon gods, why was the Holy Sword Tiamata exhibiting powers that were the complete opposite of its divine nature?

Demon Gods typically shared similar or opposing attributes with their counterparts. In the case of Ouen, the god of purity, the opposite would be the god of corruption.

Could it be that recognizing Ouen as a god of corruption allowed the holy sword to manifest the powers of corruption? Had the Demon God Cult members corrupt the Holy Sword Tiamata somehow? Was that even possible?

Regardless, the current belief was that the cursed sword was the weapon of Kier, the god of corruption. The malevolent energy it emanated supported that belief.

If I tried to argue that it was actually the Holy Sword Tiamata, people wouldn’t accuse me of blasphemy; they’d think I had lost my mind. That was how utterly unreasonable the situation was.

If I left things as they were, I’d have to watch on helplessly as my opportunity slipped away.

I had to find a way to acquire it somehow.

I needed to try every possible angle; losing this holy sword that I’d unexpectedly found wasn’t an option.

Ellen and I walked back to the Royal Class dormitory in silence.