Chapter 285 - Nephram (4)

Chapter 285 - Nephram (4)

Henry had once led a campaign to hunt down all the black magic practitioners, collecting and burning their grimoires as well.

Black magic was considered a crime, so it only made sense to eradicate those who practiced it.

The hunt had been carried out by imperial wizards, knights, and the holy warriors of the Church of Peace. The latter were obviously the most eager to destroy all remnants of black magic.

The rules of the Church and the Pope’s orders had been part of the reason they had frantically hunted down those who used black magic, but it was their own faith that had spurred them the most.

The holy warriors had been especially eager to hunt down Warlocks because they also possessed divine powers.

Unlike the wizards that used black magic and necromancers, who simply relied on magic, the crimes committed by the Warlocks were on a different level; they could bring the power of the Demon God into the mortal world.

Henry hadn’t been aware that some Warlocks had been eliminated long before the campaign of annihilating them had begun. He also hadn’t expected Pope Ross, out of all people, to hide the Warlocks he had been so adamant about killing.

“Coexistence, huh...?”

“That’s right.”

Hoosler was trembling in fear, which was why Henry was certain that he wasn’t lying, but even so, he was in disbelief.

“Sword on.”

Henry’s face contorted with rage.

He unsheathed his Colt Sword and pointed the blade toward the Messiah of the Church of Nephram, who was still on the ground with his eyes closed.

“If you’re lying to me to avoid death, then...”

Drip.

Henry made a small slit on the Messiah’s neck with the tip of his sword, drawing a drop of blood.

“...I will never forgive you.”

“I-I’m not lying! I’m telling the truth! I-I also don’t understand why Pope Ross would send you to us at all!”

As blood trickled down the Messiah’s neck, Hoosler rubbed his hands together, crying and begging as though his own grandson had been wounded. His distress made his words sound authentic, but the more genuine he seemed, the more shocked Henry was.

‘The greatest religious organization on the continent has a symbiotic relationship with Warlocks, who worship the Demon God? What the fuck is this?!’

Boom!

Henry couldn’t contain his anger any longer. He unleashed a sword strike at the temple, which was partly submerged in the ground, causing it to collapse.

Thud! Rumble!

The rumble of the collapsing temple echoed throughout the area, but even after it fell completely, Henry was just as angry.

‘If this is true, that damned Pope is...!’

If Hoosler was telling the truth, what the Pope had done was unforgivable. If that was indeed true, Ross had to be denounced as a heretic, put on trial, and burned at the stake at the very least.

‘But wait a minute...’

His mind was filled with fury and different ways of punishing that bastard, but he suddenly thought of a question with the little bit of reason he still had left in him.

‘What is a Messiah exactly?’

This was the first time Henry heard that word. He had killed countless Warlocks in his life, but he had never met or even heard of one that was called Messiah.

Henry turned his head and looked down at the boy Hoosler called Messiah. He was just a kid, roughly around Howl’s age.

“Hoosler,” said Henry.

“Yes!”

“So you’re the leader of the Church of Nephram, and this boy is the Messiah?”

“That’s right!”

“Alright, I know what a religious leader is, but what is a Messiah?”

“That’s...!”

Hoosler made a face as if he had been dreading the moment Henry asked this question. Panic overtook him as he broke out in a cold sweat.

Henry had unwittingly amplified his voice with magic, causing it to resound throughout the now-empty area, dust and dirt swirling around him.

Hoosler, who was right in front of Henry, covered his ears and begged, “P-please let me live!”

He was trembling in terror, both of his ears bleeding. However, Henry’s rage didn’t seem to abate one bit. It took him a few good minutes to slightly calm down.

He grabbed his hair and shouted, “SHIT!”

No matter how he looked at it, Henry couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why the Pope had allowed the Nephrams to continue existing. He was intentionally letting the Nephrams summon the Demon King so that the Church of Peace would demonstrate its supremacy by defeating him.

But even if that was the Pope’s intention, which Henry suspected it was, why had he sent him here?

Henry couldn’t wrap his head around that.

‘I’m sure he knows how strong I am, so why?’

Henry was widely known as the only 7th-Circle Archmage and the only magic swordsman on the continent. Thus, knowing that, why had the Pope exposed his weakness, the Church of Nephram, to Henry, knowing that he was powerful enough to intervene in his plans?

A calculated individual like Pope Ross surely wouldn’t do something like that.

‘Did he actually think that I would die here?’

Henry had also thought of that possibility, but quickly refuted it. He didn’t think that Pope Ross would be stupid enough to assume that he would be defeated here.

After racking his brains for a while, Henry turned to Hoosler.

“Hoosler.”

“Y-yes?!”

“Other than that well, the barrier that disrupts mana, the skeleton soldiers, the Death Knights, and your suicide attack, are there any other traps or dangers I should know about?”

“Dangers... Actually, the soil where the temple was built on, many animals have been buried there, so that soil is highly contaminated. Even staying there for a short period of time is enough to poison and kill a normal person.”

“Poison? But you’re fine.”

“Well, we Warlocks borrow the power of demons to withstand this kind of poison, so...”

Henry held up his hand and silenced Hoosler; he was already sick of hearing about their practices.

Given what he had learnt from Hoosler, Henry realized that any normal Archmage or Sword Master would’ve certainly died here.

Henry let out a deep sigh, exasperated. He still couldn’t believe what was going on. He then turned his attention to the Messiah, who was still on the floor.

“Wake him up,” Henry demanded.

“H-huh? Bu-but the Messiah has been praying to the Demon God for a very long time now, and I can’t wake him up. It’s beyond my capabilities as the leader of the church. I’m a mere mortal.”

“What does that mean?”

“That’s...” Hoosler hesitated to answer Henry's question again.

Henry frowned. It was clear that Hoosler was one of those idiots who weren’t persuaded by fear alone.

With his last sliver of patience gone, Henry bluntly said, “Nevermind, I was stupid for asking in the first place. However, one thing is clear. If this guy sleeping over here will be responsible for the emergence of a new Demon King, that just means that I have to get rid of him now. That will solve everything.”

“W-wait!”

“Goodbye.”

Henry quickly raised his sword and swung it without hesitation at the Messiah, who was still sleeping soundly, unaware of his executioner.

Slice!

Blood spurted from the boy’s flesh, and within seconds, his breathing stopped.

Seeing this, Hoosler fell into despair.

“N... NOOOO!!”

“This is the end of the Church of Nephram and yours as well!”

After confirming that the Messiah was dead, Henry turned and pointed his sword at Hoosler.

“I’ll spare you since I’m sure you still have a lot of work to do for me. Oh, and don’t try to kill yourself again because I’ll just bring you back to life again and again.”

Normally, this would sound reassuring, but Henry’s promise to keep Hoosler alive no matter what came off as terrifying.