Chapter 192 - Damn Reincarnation

Spring of Light

When the words “divine punishment” left Eugene’s mouth, the three men barring his way could not hide their expressions. Any righteous, faithful believer in the Light would naturally be enraged by what he had said.

Divine punishment, he called it. Even if Eugene was the Hero acknowledged by the Holy Sword, those were words he must never utter.

In Yuras, the Hero was regarded as an Incarnation of Light. He could not be the Light itself.

Eugene was not a believer in the Light. Unlike Vermouth the Great three hundred years ago, he had not performed countless miracles, saving people and the world. That was precisely why rigorous verification was necessary.

In the end, while these three acknowledged that Eugene held the Holy Sword, they could not sincerely acknowledge him as the Hero. As though intruding upon this holy, sacred ritual were not enough, he had massacred faithful believers who served the Light. Then he had dressed that unforgivable act up as divine punishment.

“... How dare you!”

Giovanni, a holy knight of the Blood Cross Knights, rolled his eyes back in fury. He brought his massive frame forward, raising his divine power. He had risen to the rank of captain among the hundreds of Blood Cross Knights because, since childhood, he had always pursued the Light in faith. Because he had resolved to dedicate his body and his entire life to the Light.

That sublime faith became a brilliant radiance. Enveloping his massive body in Armor of Light, Giovanni stretched a hand to his side.

WHOOSH!

The great hammer resting against the wall flew into his hand.

“... Sir Eugene.”

Sergio, too, looked at Eugene with eyes gone cold. Rolling up the broad sleeves of his clerical robes, he shook his head.

“You have said something you must never say.”

Eugene answered with a twisted smile.

Something he must never say? How could they spout that crap while doing something they must never do? No, from their perspective, that was not quite true. They had no awareness that they were doing something forbidden. These lunatics were certain that the ritual they were conducting was sacred and right.

They could not understand why Eugene, the Hero, would do this. Eugene felt the same. He could not understand them. He would not understand them. Whatever their circumstances, they were none of his concern.

He saw Kristina lying in the spring, bleeding.

The countless girls projected by Word magic flashed through his mind.

He recalled Anise’s face, staring at him with a doll’s expressionless features and eyes devoid of even a speck of light.

Breathing hard, his breath heated by violent emotion, Eugene took a step forward.

The response came as though they had been waiting for it. Giovanni kicked off the ground. The hammer he swung was heavy, befitting its shape and size, but it was not slow. He closed in with speed incredible for such a massive man and swung his hammer at Eugene.

BOOOM!

The blast left ears ringing. Eugene’s body flew backward. The sensation transmitted through both hands convinced Giovanni: he had failed to dodge. Failed even to block. He must have exhausted himself getting here. The deaths of Giovanni’s subordinate holy knights had not been in vain.

“Raaah!”

Giovanni roared and charged forward, pursuing Eugene as he flew away from the blow. Atarax and Sergio launched themselves after Giovanni.

They could not leave the ritual suspended for long. The wounds carved into the candidate for sainthood had already almost healed. They needed to wound her again and let the spring’s water seep into those wounds.

Eugene watched the three with murderous intent creeping through his eyes. Though the hammer had struck him and sent him flying, he had sustained no injuries. He had deflected the impact with a movement too subtle for Giovanni to notice and deliberately allowed his body to fly backward.

Because he was worried about Kristina, submerged in the spring.

TAP!

After flying a considerable distance, Eugene planted his foot on the floor and sprang a little farther back. His three relentless pursuers had already nearly reached him.

That massive holy knight. Eugene did not know who he was. The fighting aura he exuded was no ordinary thing. Probably one of the captains. Atarax’s movements were excellent, too. Concealing his presence like an assassin of Nahama, he was watching for an opening in Eugene’s defenses.

But Sergio stood out above the rest in skill. Having received stigmata and risen to cardinal, his divine power went without saying; his movements alone made it clear that he was not an opponent to dismiss.

WHOOSH.

The hammer tore through the air, closing the distance. Eugene’s eyes did not follow its trajectory. He gauged the distance he had put between himself and the spring. This should be enough. Having made that judgment—

Eugene moved his arm. The Holy Sword, loosely held in his hand, writhed upward like a snake. Compared with Giovanni’s swinging hammer, it looked as thin and fragile as a skewer. That did not matter. Eugene found the ultimate heights that warriors and knights prattled about laughable. The skill he had honed in hundreds, thousands of battles, overcoming brush after brush with death, broke Giovanni’s attack with almost absurd ease.

CLANG!

The hammer bounced upward, and blood spurted from Giovanni’s palms. Had his grip been even slightly weaker, he would have lost the weapon. He could not believe it. How could a sword swung from such an unstable stance be so fast and so heavy?

‘O Light...!’

The Armor of Light surrounding Giovanni changed in response to the prayer recited in his mind. Divine magic bolstered his courage. His torn wounds healed instantly. The grace bestowed upon him made his body stronger still.

The hammer that had bounced upward fell again. Giovanni moved to bring it down.

Eugene did not play along with his assault. Pulling his backward-leaning body forward, he took a long step.

CRACKLE.

Lightning flashed. To Eugene, it was merely a single step, but Giovanni did not experience it that way.

He could not see it. Before the hammer even touched the ground, Eugene was already passing him. Unable to see even that movement, he had no hope of following the sword moving faster still.

The pure-white flames looked like a wavering line. That line touched Giovanni’s Armor of Light.

SCREECH!

The light was scraped away. Armor of Light, made as strong as its wearer’s faith, shattered all too easily.

Watching him, Atarax raised both arms high.

SPLURT!

The skin of both his wrists burst open, spilling crimson blood.

Blood magic. Ancient magic that had been branded black magic and consigned to oblivion during the Holy Empire’s witch hunts long ago. The Holy Empire had analyzed the magic seized in those hunts and passed the spells judged not to be black magic down to its inquisitors.

Blood magic specialized in combat. Its very system differed from spells that drew mana through circles or cores and manifested magic through formulas. Blood magic dissolved the formulas into the blood itself, using blood as the medium to invoke magic.

The spilled blood multiplied. A volume of blood impossible for one person to shed rose at Atarax’s feet. A surging wave of blood swept over Eugene.

Eugene did not panic. A wave of blood. That red only inflamed him further. The flames he raised swirled around the Holy Sword.

CRAAASH!

The wave shattered. Scattered blood poured down like rain. Every bit of it was an attack threatening Eugene. Each droplet sought to pierce him like a bullet.

Amid it all, Giovanni hastily recovered his stance. He no longer held a hammer. Eugene’s sword—the Holy Sword—had smashed it to pieces. Filled with fierce anger at that fact, Giovanni clasped both hands before his chest.

His divine power traced a massive cross on the ground. Recognizing the divine spell, Atarax immediately raised his own divine power and scattered light into the air.

The Holy Cross Barrier.

WHOOOSH!

The crosses drawn in the sky and on the ground connected with beams of light. At their center, Eugene tilted his head askew.

“Oh... Ooh...!”

Giovanni’s body trembled. The light illuminating the space flooded into him.

Eugene knew this spell. They did not know it, but he was far from ignorant of divine magic. In fact, he knew more about it than most high-ranking clergy.

Three hundred years ago, he had fought alongside Anise the Faithful for more than a decade. All manner of knightly orders had participated in the major battles of that era, including the holy knightly orders of Yuras.

The Holy Cross Barrier strictly controlled the flow of mana and temporarily amplified divine power, the power of the clergy. But miracles that transcended reason inevitably came with a backlash.

Holy knights fighting within the Holy Cross Barrier paid for their amplified power with their lifespans. As far as Eugene knew, Anise alone had performed such miracles without a great burden. The only price she bore was the deepening of the stigmata on her back and bleeding alone.

“... Ha.”

Eugene’s lips parted in a laugh. The ring on his left ring finger throbbed. Agaroth’s godly power sensed the Holy Cross Barrier and resisted it. Even inside the barrier that controlled the flow of mana, Eugene’s flames did not waver.

That sight hardened Giovanni and Atarax’s resolve. Those flames would not die even within the Holy Cross Barrier. That unsettling power whose nature they could not identify. Something different from the God of Light...

“... The power of a pagan faith...!”

As an inquisitor, Atarax naturally discerned that this power belonged to a pagan. How? How could this be? Blood tears spilled from his wide-open eyes as he leaped into the Holy Cross Barrier.

“Sir Giovanni! Eugene Lionheart is a pagan! He worships a pagan god!”

“Raaaah!”

Giovanni, too, shed tears of blood. The master of the Holy Sword, a pagan! His fury and lamentation became power through the Holy Cross Barrier.

All of it looked like a rotten farce to Eugene.

“Condemnation!” Giovanni shouted, and Eugene tightened the fingers gripping his sword’s hilt.

“Punishment!” Atarax shouted, and Eugene held the Holy Sword out to his side.

The two attacked together. They belonged to different organizations, but shared the same faith, sincerely serving the Light. They had to execute this dreadful pagan who had donned the Hero’s skin and deceived the Light. Even if they were martyred in the process, they were prepared to give their lives gladly for the glory of the Light.

Atarax lunged, blood spraying from both arms. Giovanni wrapped his massive frame in light and charged straight ahead.

Between them, Eugene’s body shimmered like a heat haze.

Sergio did not enter the Holy Cross Barrier. From a few steps outside, he watched what happened within it.

The instant Eugene’s body shimmered, the Holy Sword split into dozens. The White Flame Formula, the symbol of Lionheart. Its uniquely refined mana manifested as pure-white flames. With training, those flames would envelop the entire body, streaming like a lion’s mane, just as the family’s name suggested.

And that was indeed how it looked. Eugene unleashed a wild flurry of strikes, his flames streaming like a mane. But their color was neither white nor beautiful. Condensed over and over and layered upon itself, his mana was a blue-black like the early hours before dawn.

“... What an...”

Sergio sighed and removed his hat.

“...ominous light.”

Blood poured down.

Atarax could not maintain his blood magic. He staggered backward. His blood evaporated before it could become magic, and his outstretched arms fell in dozens of pieces. As if that were not enough, those blue-black flames slashed his chest and abdomen to ribbons.

Giovanni, who had charged directly at Eugene, was no longer even standing. His last cry had been the “Condemnation” he kept repeating like a parrot. His body split into four pieces, and finally, his head fell.

“... What is this...?”

Atarax muttered, trembling.

He had known Eugene Lionheart was strong. He knew Eugene had played the leading role in suppressing the rebellion at Black Lion Castle in a single night. He had even seen Eugene toy with Hemoria like a child while in less than perfect health. He had heard that Eugene had survived an encounter with the Rakshasa Princess and displayed preposterous swordsmanship in the competition with the White Dragon Knights.

But wasn’t this too much...? Even strength had its limits. He had not used magic. Nor had he used another of Lionheart’s treasures. He had armed the Holy Sword, which ought to be used for the Light, with an evil power...

And swung it. That was all he had done. Atarax had not even properly seen that sword dance. Neither had Giovanni. Block. Dodge. They had been cut down before they had time even to think those things.

The training that had brought Giovanni to the rank of captain in the Blood Cross Knights. The battles Atarax had fought to become a high-ranking inquisitor. All of it had been meaningless before that sword dance.

They were... on different levels. How could this possibly be? A servant who served only the Light, humiliated so completely by a fallen man with faith in some unknown pagan god...

“... Devil...”

In that sword dance, so immeasurably beyond his own level, he had felt vicious murderous intent and hatred.

The Holy Sword’s flames had evaporated Atarax’s blood magic with such ease, and its blade had split flesh and bone. That chilling sensation. The keen edge carried murderous intent and hatred that had never existed in the Light Atarax had served all his life.

... How could this be? Why did the Holy Sword not burn that pagan’s hands?

Altair, the Holy Sword.

It had lain dormant in Lionheart’s Treasury for three hundred years since Vermouth the Great. Not a single Lionheart family head after the founder had drawn light from it.

But the Lionhearts could at least hold the Holy Sword. The Holy Empire had failed to reclaim it from Lionheart for three hundred years because the clergy who served the Light more devotedly than anyone else could not even hold it.

... Why?

Thoughts he did not wish to acknowledge threw his mind into turmoil. Atarax stumbled backward, panting. Why did the Holy Sword not burn that devil’s hands? Why did it slaughter believers in the Light in a devil’s hands? Atarax’s eyes trembled.

He recalled the countless things he had done.

Things done for the Light, for God. Things done to become a more faithful servant, to hunt heretics more effectively. Hunting apostates. Hunting pagans. Researching Ancient magic and black magic. The cultivation chamber beneath the bureau of inquisition...

‘Divine punishment?’

The words Eugene had spoken rose in his mind once more. He could no longer feel his earlier anger. Atarax felt the terror of having his very existence and his entire life denied. Had he actually been wrong? Why? He had never missed a service. It had been blood shed for the Light. All of it had been right. God had watched over him, always bathing him in warm light. The sun that kept the skies over the capital, Euresia, clear and blue was proof of God’s existence and care...

That should have been true. Yet now, the sky was so dark...

“Do not deny it.”

The voice approached.

Cardinal Sergio Rogeris. His face was no longer gentle. His eyes shone coldly, as they had in his days as the inquisitor called the Exterminator, and he walked into the Holy Cross Barrier.

“The Light will throw open the gates of heaven for your martyrdom. You, Sir Giovanni, and every believer martyred here fighting that devil. All of you will be guided to a heaven filled with light.”

“... Your Eminence...”

“Everyone here will have their name inscribed on Yuras’s memorial. You, who tried to stop the devil to the very end, will be remembered as a saint.”

“... Ah...!”

“So, please.”

Sergio raised a hand. Beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his right arm, his stigmata emitted a gentle glow. Atarax closed his eyes in rapture at the divine heat spreading from his back through his entire body. Slowly, he fell forward.

BOOOOM!

A storm of light erupted in the direction Atarax fell. It was an enormous explosion of divine power. Using Atarax as its detonator, the blast annihilated his body without a trace, tearing through the darkness and engulfing Eugene.

Layers of Empty Sword overlapped. Blue-black flames enveloped the Holy Sword once more. Eugene’s slash cleaved the storm of light in two.

Sergio stood beyond that intense light. Backlit by its radiance, he extended his right hand toward Eugene.

The stigmata carved into his forearm looked familiar. Though fainter and containing fewer characters than the stigmata in Eugene’s memory, those engraved on Sergio’s right arm resembled the ones carved into Anise’s back.

“... You people...”

Sergio closed his outstretched hand.

All the divine power amplified by the Holy Cross Barrier and unleashed through “martyrdom” flowed into his hand. Dripping blood, his stigmata absorbed every bit of it.

“What the hell are you?”

Instead of answering, Sergio wrapped the red cloth draped over his shoulders around his left arm. Then he clenched the right hand marked with bleeding stigmata into a fist and glared at Eugene.

“You are a devil.”

Eugene laughed silently at those words.