Chapter 151

Chapter 151

The only light in the dim room came from the candle on the desk. The various old books scattered on the desk cast shadows on the walls of the narrow, worn office as the flame flickered.

"So, is that it?"

The middle-aged priest sitting at the desk asked in a soft, yet monotonous voice. His face, illuminated by the candlelight, looked as lifeless as the old, shabby office.

Staring at the official in front of him, he added, "The Dragon Slayer of the North is commanding the Red Knight... and when you went to find him under the Count's orders, he had already left Burbrook?"

"...Yes, that's correct. As I mentioned, those who were ordered to bring him discreetly moved quickly, but it seemed they were a step too late. Judging by the fact that he left a day before they arrived, he must have only stayed in Burbrook for one night."

"And that was two days ago."

"Yes. The report came today, but since it was conducted in secrecy, it was only by luck that I found out. The Count intended to share this information only with you, Bishop, and to inform the Grand Church."

"I see... That would be the case. The church has issued strict orders to keep silent about him...."

"I'm taking quite a risk by informing you of this." The official whispered with a smile.

He was an informant who relayed the Count's affairs to the priest in exchange for money. The priest sighed softly, pretending not to notice the subtle look.

"To hear news of the Dragon Slayer, whom even the church did not know about, from such a close distance... It's a pity."

They were in a city located just four days from Burbrook on foot, which could be halved on horseback.

"If I had known a bit earlier, I would have somehow managed to meet him. So, you have no idea where they might be heading?"

"No. It seems even the Count doesn't know. They crossed the border of Bel Ronde and headed to Burbrook, so it's only a guess that they went either west or south. There's no specific clue."

"Hmm... I see." The priest finally nodded.

It was an old habit of his to listen to the same story twice, a basic verification method to check for any discrepancies. He silently placed a small pouch from the drawer on the desk. The sound of coins clinking. A faint smile spread across the official's face in the candlelight. He quickly grabbed the pouch and bowed.

"Thank you, as always, Priest."

"I'm the one who should be grateful. You're aiding the hidden eyes and ears of the church, and the Radiant Goddess will surely be pleased."

His voice felt hollow. The official didn't care, knowing the priest's words were just empty talk. After all, it was just a deal. He had no interest in the middle-aged priest's ambitions.

"I'll come back if there's anything else to report." The official added as he turned to leave.

The door closed, and silence descended upon the room. The priest's already somber eyes grew even colder as if they absorbed the light rather than reflected it. He stood up, and closed the window without hesitation, though it was already dark outside. The faint candlelight barely illuminated the room.

Sitting back at his desk, the priest finally muttered softly, "To think he was so close... If only I had known a bit earlier, I would have found a way to keep him here."

His words were similar to before, but his tone was entirely different. The Dragon Slayer was someone the church had chosen as a new candidate for sainthood. Yet, there was no reverence or respect in his voice, only cold regret. This was only natural. Despite wearing priestly robes, he did not serve Lu Solar. Nor did he serve the ancient God of the Void.

The one who responded to his prayers was a different entity entirely. A real God imprisoned in the body of a dragon, brought down by humans. There was a time he considered the whispers to be the temptations of a demon, but not now.

He was the only one who knew the true history and secrets of this continent. R/ê/Ad lateSt ch/a/pters at nô(v)e(l)bin/.c/o//m Only

Creak.

The priest opened the drawer. Placing wax on a spoon above the candle flame, he picked up a pen and began writing on a small piece of paper. Although he couldn't pinpoint their exact whereabouts, this letter would provide enough clues for the apostle of his God. That person would find the Dragon Slayer's location somehow.

"...And the Lord will not forget the merit of his devotee."

Surely, he would bestow a fitting blessing. Perhaps this time, he would grant not just forbidden knowledge, but power.

"The Power of the Dragon...."

Finishing his writing, the priest bent down. With a click, a hidden drawer opened. Inside was a long wooden box. He opened it to reveal a stiffened, ashen pigeon crumpled inside. The priest took it out and placed it on the desk. He tied the folded paper to the bird's leg.

Its eyes glowed red as soon as he dropped a bit of wax to secure the letter firmly. The bird stood up as if it had never been stiffened. Its red eyes dimmed. The priest, standing, opened the window. With a flutter, the gray pigeon took off as if it had been waiting. Its form quickly turned into a black silhouette, vanishing into the cloudy night sky.

The priest, gazing at the night sky, solemnly intoned, "The death of the Dragon Slayer will signal the return of the true ruler to this world...."

***

Three days had passed since they left Burbrook. The wagon had left the main road, entering a flat forest path. There had been no sign of people on the main road for a while. To move discreetly to Glumir, was an unavoidable choice. Philip, who had been conserving the horses' strength by moving slowly, had started to pick up the pace since this morning.

Even Ian could see that they had already entered Lu Sard. However, the atmosphere was not tense.

"...And so, he ascended to the position of the new Marquis of Burchard. The lord of Orendel, whom we heard about recently, is that very Declan Burchard."

In fact, the group's mood was no different from usual. Philip, sitting in the coachman's seat, leaned an arm on his newly purchased shield as he continued speaking.

"If he eventually ascends to the throne..."

"Then you and Ian will have helped lay his foundation," Charlotte said nonchalantly.

Philip nodded and extended his right hand. A faint light glowed from his hand, illuminating the essence bead resting on his thigh.

"When we were fighting those disgusting goblins? So it was thanks to you, Sir Ian. Now that clears up my confusion," Philip said, nodding as Mev paused for a moment.

Mev cleared her throat and spoke, "Seeing someone precious to me get hurt is reason enough for vengeance."

"So that's why you said you hoped there wouldn't be any need to use divine power," Ian mused, glancing at Mev, who nodded.

"Yes. It means someone has been hurt."

"But when I got hurt, you didn't use divine power to that extent, did you?" Philip asked suddenly.

Mev quickly responded. "That was just a scratch, wasn't it? You got that wound by going ahead recklessly."

"Oh... Sir Ian's injury must have been much more serious then."

"Of course. He was bleeding profusely from his head."

I don't think it was that bad.

Ian scratched his cheek, watching Mev speak seriously. He felt he understood the conditions under which she could use the Power of the Apostle.

As Mev cleared her throat again, Ian casually added, "Then, if it comes to it, I can just get hurt again."

"What...?" Mev's eyes widened as she turned to look at Ian, who shrugged.

"As long as it ignites your sense of vengeance, that should be enough, right?"

"That's true, but... what kind of... Don't do that. Injuries always lead to dangerous situations." Mev's tone turned stern again.

Ian laughed lightly and replied leisurely, "Don't worry. Haven't you heard? I survived with all my bones shattered. Of course, with the help of the Platinum Dragon, but as long as it's not a severe injury like that, I can recover quickly."

"...." Mev frowned, at a loss for words.

Ian was serious; he was confident he wouldn't die unless his neck was severed, his head crushed, or his heart pierced. His various resistances and recovery abilities had long surpassed those of ordinary people. Perhaps even a finger could be cut off and regrow. Though he had no intention of testing if it was truly possible.

"Then, can you carry out my vengeance as well?" Charlotte suddenly interjected.

Mev quickly turned her gaze to her.

Charlotte added, "I want revenge on those bat bastards more than anyone else."

"Yes... if it's about losing someone precious, the Goddess will acknowledge it. But you would have to stay out of this fight. Are you okay with that?"

"...Stay out of the fight?"

"If I carry out your revenge for you, it means you lose your right to it. If you take your own revenge, then I lose my qualification."

"That won't do. Never mind," Charlotte replied immediately, turning her gaze away. The sound of the whetstone against the blade continued.

Mev, who had been faintly smiling as if she expected that, sensed the gaze and turned her head. When their eyes met, Ian gave a slight nod.

"Indeed, it seems there is no other way."

"...."

"Don't worry. If there's a situation where your divine power is needed, I'll be bleeding whether I want to or not."

"...Alright." Mev finally replied. She had long given up trying to change Ian's stubbornness.

Charlotte turned to Ian right after. "I've finished sharpening it, Ian."

"Oh, this was mine."

No wonder you were putting in a lot of effort.

Ian took the silver sword, half-drawing it from its scabbard. The blade was sharp enough to be chilling. Though it would dull quickly, it could cut through people a few times at least.

As Ian attached the scabbard to his right waist, Philip, who had been watching, cautiously spoke up, "So, can we hear the next story now?"

"...."

"I'm really curious. I understand why the God of Battle is interested in Lord Ian, but I can't imagine him serving that God. It's Lord Ian we're talking about...."

"Ian doesn't serve Karha," Charlotte said, almost kindly.

Both Philip and Mev's eyes showed a spark of curiosity.

Swallowing hard, Philip asked, "Then, the God of Battle chose someone who doesn't serve him as his champion? By Lu Solar... How did that happen?"

Here we go again.

Shaking his head, Ian extended his hand to Mev. "Pass me the bottle again, will you?"