Chapter 199 - Damn Reincarnation

The Crusader.

Commander of the Blood Cross Knights of the Holy Yuras Empire.

The Crusader, Raphael Martinez.

Eugene had heard about him many times. Certain names always came up whenever people debated who was the strongest on the continent.

The head of the Council of Elders at Black Lion Castle.

The commander of the White Dragon Knights.

The First of Shimuin’s Twelve Champions.

The king of northern Ruhar.

The commander of the Blood Cross Knights.

Eugene watched the man walking toward him from the far side of the forest.

He had lived longer than even Carmen or Alchester, his years rivaling those of the late Dominic Lionheart. Yet looking at the man approaching, it was impossible to believe he had lived for over a hundred years.

He did not even look middle-aged. Even calling him a young man would have been a stretch; he looked like a boy. A boy with beautiful blond hair and blue eyes... yet those large blue eyes held not a trace of boyish innocence. Instead, their bleak, dull gaze combined with his youthful appearance to create an eerie impression.

‘Eerie.’

Eugene had heard the stories many times, but this was his first time seeing him in person. An appearance that belied his years was hardly unusual for someone who had reached such heights.

A young body was invariably better than an old one. Thus, as soon as mages, knights, and martial artists reached the point where they could control their bodies with mana, they reconstructed their aged bodies into youthful ones.

Once they had rejuvenated their bodies, what they did with their faces depended on their tastes and positions. They could keep a dignified face befitting their years, or make it as youthful as the rest of their bodies.

Those unconcerned with others’ opinions or their own positions could choose a youthful body and face, as Carmen had. Those mindful of how their positions affected others’ perceptions kept distinguished, middle-aged faces, like Klein, the current head of the Council of Elders, or Gilead, the family head.

But Raphael had gone too far. That was how it looked to Eugene. He had a young boy’s face and an equally undeveloped body. Was he somewhere in the mid-160-centimeter range? He was not exceptionally short.

‘... They said he stopped growing in boyhood.’

Raphael was particularly small even among knights. It had not been especially noticeable when he was young, but once they passed their mid-teens and their physical growth accelerated, the other knights grew taller and filled out with muscle. Raphael’s body, however, stopped growing.

Despite that disadvantage, Raphael had risen to command the Blood Cross Knights. He had achieved perfect mana control and mastery over his body, yet he remained small. For a full half century, the Crusader had been renowned as the continent’s smallest and strongest knight.

“... Sir Eugene Lionheart?”

Raphael called to Eugene as he approached at a leisurely pace. He stopped where he was rather than coming any closer. Instead of answering immediately, Eugene studied him.

He really was small. The boy’s face and the eyes of an old knight who had seen everything were so utterly incongruous that, at a glance, he seemed to be wearing a mask.

He wore the Blood Cross Knights’ uniform, with red crosses emblazoned on its neck and chest. He wore no armor, but he was not unarmed. Behind his head stood a cross-shaped greatsword taller than he was.

Raphael’s gaze lowered. Eugene knew what that unabashed look was searching for, so he lifted his cloak to show the hilt of the Holy Sword in his hand.

“... I am glad you are safe.”

Raphael bowed his head.

Eugene could not readily fathom the thoughts of this old creature wearing a boy’s guise. Someone who had risen to command the Blood Cross Knights would surely be a fanatic of the Light. After everything that had happened, Eugene had privately concluded that such fanatics were impossible to understand.

“Lady Kristina, the candidate for sainthood, is with you, I presume?”

Raphael raised his bowed head. His dull eyes remained fixed on the Holy Sword. Eugene pointed at the tent behind him and spoke.

“She’s over there, yes. What brings you here?”

“Surely you are not asking because you do not know.”

“I know perfectly well. That’s why your attitude is so puzzling. What I did was probably... well... utterly unacceptable from your people’s perspective. Yet you’ve come alone, and you seem awfully mild-mannered about it.”

Raphael’s lips twitched. With a faint smile, he pointed at the Holy Sword on which Eugene’s hand rested.

“The Holy Sword has acknowledged you. If you have done something, there must have been a reason you had no choice but to do it. And your hand still rests on the Holy Sword, which means the God of Light who created it approves of your actions... That is what I would like to believe.”

“Hmm.”

“Furthermore, Lady Kristina is with you. I have not met her often, but I know that our candidate for sainthood is a deeply devout and good person.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. If you had abducted her against her will, she would have taken her own life.”

Eugene did not like that remark. With a twisted smile, he wrapped his fingers around the Holy Sword’s hilt.

“I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“Neither do I.”

Raphael smiled back and nodded.

“But that is the candidate for sainthood I knew and saw—the one Cardinal Rogeris raised. ... For someone like her... to abandon a sacred ritual halfway through and remain with you is something I still find difficult to accept.”

“Have you seen the temple?”

“It was a dreadful sight.”

Eugene had thought that might strip away at least one layer of his expression.

“... Ah. I should have asked sooner. Though I do wonder whether there is any need to confirm it... Was all of that your doing?”

“Killing over a hundred holy knights and inquisitors, Atarax the Punisher, and... then... who was it?”

“If you mean the captain of the Blood Cross Knights, his name was Giovanni.”

“Ah, yes. Sir... Giovanni, and Cardinal Sergio. I killed them all.”

Throughout their conversation, Raphael’s expression had not changed. He wore the same smile as before, and his calm, subdued eyes seemed to regard all of this as a strictly routine report.

“You have done something momentous,” Raphael said.

“Yes, well... that’s how it turned out,” Eugene replied.

A brief silence followed.

... Was this really how this conversation should be going? Eugene could not help wondering. Wasn’t Raphael’s reaction a little too much? He was, after all, a holy knight representing an entire nation. His loyalty to the empire and his religion, and his faith in the Light, ought to be profound.

Raphael looked genuinely unperturbed. But Eugene did not lower his guard. From his experience, including his previous life, inscrutable men with such bizarre attitudes tended to harbor outrageous madness.

“Ah, Lady Kristina.”

Kristina, who had been waiting in the tent, stepped outside. Though the tent was some distance away, Raphael saw her emerge and waved with a bright smile.

“I am glad you are safe and unharmed.”

“Didn’t you say you hadn’t met her often?”

“That does not mean we are strangers. I was the one who taught her to wield her flail.”

Kristina started toward them. Eugene was about to raise a hand to stop her, but Raphael raised his first.

“My lady. Please do not come any closer yet.”

“Sir Raphael...”

“I have not yet decided precisely what I must do.”

Eugene chuckled at that. Looking down at the shorter Raphael, he asked,

“What are you deliberating over?”

“I do not think I need to say. It is something I do not particularly wish to do, and it would hardly be good for you, either.”

“Why don’t you want to do it?”

“Well... I have seen the temple. Cardinal Sergio was strong, and Giovanni was skilled enough to become a captain. Atarax of Maleficarum was no opponent to take lightly, either. On top of that, approximately a hundred and seventy holy knights and inquisitors are dead.”

Raphael shook his head.

“Having wrought a tragedy of that magnitude in a single night, you must be tremendously strong. That is why, to be honest, I would rather not fight you.”

“Then why not simply avoid fighting?”

“If that were an option, I would never have come here. You must know perfectly well how unreasonable your suggestion is.”

“I suppose so.”

“Yes. What you have done is far too momentous. Regardless of my reluctance to fight, judging solely by the facts before me, I have no choice but to fight and kill you.”

“It would have been easier if you’d brought other holy knights instead of coming alone.”

“I had no choice. The temple here and the Spring of Light are secrets even within the Church... I came to establish precisely what happened here.”

“I see.”

“To be honest, it exceeded anything I had imagined. I saw the bodies of those you killed, and they were quite... remarkable. Swordplay that merciless is rarely seen in this day and age.”

Silence fell again.

“His Holiness the Pope sent me. He ordered me to ascertain what happened at the spring, then either subdue you completely and bring you to the Holy See... or bring him your head.”

“Oh dear... Do you think you can do that, Sir Raphael?”

“I will have to try to find out. But among His Holiness’s knights, none are as strong, devout, true, and loyal as I am. Thus, I had no choice but to come.”

“What will you do now? Draw that greatsword?”

“I am still considering it... But perhaps you might run away instead?”

“What?”

“I suggest it because that would make it easier for me to summon some motivation. Preferably... leave our candidate for sainthood here and flee alone.”

“Are you serious?”

“I have given it considerable thought. I do not wish to cross blades in front of her... and seeing you stand there so confidently has shaken my convictions somewhat.”

“I see.”

“Ah, I forgot to mention something. Well... before we cross swords, may I ask a favor?”

“What favor?”

There had been no anger, hostility, or killing intent in their conversation. Yet Eugene sensed the distinctive smell of metal. It was like conversing with a sword that had a mouth. Like Eugene, Raphael had no need to warm up.

The holy knight wearing that boy’s skin could unleash a madman’s killing intent the instant he chose to. If necessary, he would rage and seethe over the deaths of his subordinate holy knights, the cardinal, and the faithful of the bureau of inquisition, honing every emotion they inspired into killing intent and imbuing his greatsword with it.

Or, if he considered that manner of fighting and killing distasteful, he would swing his sword with the same utterly businesslike demeanor he had displayed in his words, gaze, and attitude thus far.

“Please draw the Holy Sword,” Raphael said. “Show me its light.”

“Sir Raphael! Sir Eugene is...”

“Forgive my boldness, Lady Kristina, but I will not listen to you. What I need now is confirmation on which to base my judgment.”

Raphael retreated a few steps. Eugene gazed into his still-clouded eyes, then slowly nodded. This was not the first time someone had asked him to draw the Holy Sword and show its light.

Whenever Eugene drew the Holy Sword and made it shine, the followers of the Light all marveled and hailed him as the Hero. Yet once they learned he had acted contrary to their views, they reversed their judgment of him as easily as turning over a hand.

“Will this do?”

The blade of the Holy Sword shone as Eugene drew it from his cloak. Making it emit light was not remotely difficult for him. He simply had to hold the sword and think of the light.

Eugene himself had many questions about this ‘light.’

When Eugene killed the faithful in the temple, the Holy Sword had not emitted light as he wished. Nor had it burned his hand in an attempt to escape his grasp. Instead, it had guided him along the right path through the temple’s fog, and in the final moment when he killed Cardinal Sergio, it had burst into brilliant light without Eugene even asking it to.

As though proving the divine punishment Eugene had spoken of.

Yet the Light had also lent its power to every cleric in the temple. Sergio had even summoned angels through high-level divine magic and used stigmata.

Through Eugene’s hands, the God of Light had truly inflicted divine punishment out of contempt for the imitation incarnations called saints and the rituals that completed them.

At the same time, he had lent his light to the other faithful as well.

Anise had said that the God of Light loved all his followers and bestowed light upon them.

Had the God of Light instead responded to Eugene’s wishes and withdrawn his light from the clerics before him, Eugene could have used his position as the Hero to act with considerable freedom.

But the God of Light did no such thing. He was indifferent rather than merciful. He allowed the corpse of his incarnation to be used to create imitation incarnations called saints, and silently bestowed light even as Yuras conducted centuries of inhumane experiments to perfect them.

For hundreds of years.

Eugene was indeed the Hero acknowledged by the Holy Sword. Yet the fanatics of Yuras—especially the Pope and cardinals, who knew the whole truth and lied that their self-inflicted stigmata had been granted by the Light—would feel neither regret nor repentance even if Eugene thrust the truth of the tragedy before them. The fact that they had sent Raphael Martinez here alone already offered a glimpse of their thinking.

The Pope and cardinals would bury this affair completely.

“...”

Raphael stared at the shining Holy Sword for a while, then raised a hand to the hilt behind his head.

Drawing a vertically mounted greatsword from behind one’s back was impossible. Instead, Raphael pulled its hilt toward his shoulder. The belt around his chest moved with it, bringing the greatsword across his shoulder.

SHING.

The cross-shaped greatsword slowly slid from its scabbard. Raphael took it in both hands. Eugene watched him without extinguishing the Holy Sword’s light.

Light flared from Raphael’s greatsword. That casually summoned radiance was incomparably more brilliant and intense than the light of the holy knights Eugene had seen a few days earlier.

“...”

Raphael silently compared the lights. Radiance filled his dull, subdued eyes. He studied his greatsword without a trace of a smile, then nodded slightly.

The greatsword spun. Supporting it horizontally in both hands, Raphael knelt where he stood.

“Honor to the Hero.”

Raphael bowed his head. Eugene still could not fathom his intentions. Raphael lifted the greatsword in his hands to the height of his head.

“Worship to the Light.”

Raphael raised his head. Looking up at Eugene beyond the brilliant light, he lowered the greatsword from above his head and laid it before his knees.

“What are you doing?”

“The Holy Sword has acknowledged you. Despite your killing so many of the faithful, its light has not faded. It shines brilliantly even now.”

Raphael lowered his head.

“... Since the light remains bright in your hands, what you have done must not be a massacre of the faithful, but divine punishment accompanied by the Light.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“As a believer, I have no need to distinguish all those truths. I merely follow the brilliant Light.”

“You don’t think I’ve fallen?”

“If that much light shines in the hands of someone fallen, then falling must be the right path.”

Raphael laughed, his shoulders shaking.

“For a long time, I have believed in the Light and served the Church loyally. In that time, I have seen a great many things and forced myself to believe. A secret temple. Rituals that were no different from abuse. The missing bodily remains of previous saints. Secret discussions between the Pope and cardinals.”

“...”

“Yet the merciful Light granted them a radiance more brilliant than anyone else’s. It also bestowed light on me, though I guessed at all of this, suffered over it, and entertained thoughts of disbelief. So I concluded that ‘this side’ must be right after all... But seeing your light, I understand that this side was not necessarily right.”

Raphael rose.

“So let us go behead the Pope.”

“... What?”

“Pope Euryus is waiting for my return in the Holy See’s Audience Chamber. Cardinal Beshara and Cardinal Pietro are with him.”

“...”

“With all three together, we can behead them in one go. There are quite a few holy knights stationed at the Holy See, but if I lead the way, we can easily reach the Audience Chamber.”

“Wait.”

“Euryus does have his own escort knights with him, but there are only ten of them, and their skills are comparable to Giovanni’s, whom you killed.”

“Wait a moment.”

“I believe the real problem will be Euryus, Beshara, and Pietro. You said you killed Sergio. Did he use the Light?”

“He did, but...”

“I see. The merciful Light truly shines upon all who have faith. That will make killing the Pope and cardinals quite difficult for us.”

Raphael casually included himself alongside Eugene, calling them ‘us.’

“I would recommend a surprise attack, of course, but I will need your help. If you pretend I have subdued you and enter the Audience Chamber with me, we should be able to kill the cardinals by taking them unawares. That still leaves Euryus... Hmm... Here is the problem. If we fail to kill Euryus with a single stroke, holy knights, inquisitors, and clerics will come swarming in. And even if we succeed...”

“Wait, wait!”

Eugene hastily shouted over Raphael.

“I have no intention of killing them.”

“But do they not deserve to die? They will want to kill you, too.”

“Really?”

“I imagine they probably will. I hear that most of the holy relics kept in the highest-grade relic vault have disappeared.”

“... What?”

“I do not know why, of course, but are you not involved?”

Eugene recalled the Spring of Light and the holy relics that had served to filter and purify the water inside the machinery. All of them had turned to light and disappeared before his eyes.

‘The Holy See’s relics disappeared too?’

Those holy relics would ultimately be the bodily remains of previous saints.

“Most of the highest-grade holy relics preserved since Yuras’s founding have been lost. The Spring of Light, regarded as sacred ground, has vanished as well. Cardinal Rogeris is dead, and holy knights and inquisitors have been slaughtered en masse. Naturally, the Pope and the other cardinals will want to kill you or hold you responsible.”

“They’re still clerics, aren’t they? Like you, Sir Raphael, they might see the Holy Sword’s light and have a change of heart.”

“I have not had a change of heart. I have become disillusioned.”

Raphael spoke with an untroubled smile.

“I was disillusioned long ago. I merely needed another impetus. But the Pope and cardinals will be different. To them, you are a Hero who appeared out of nowhere—a whim of the Light. They may hail you as a miracle, but if they must, they will not hesitate to call you fallen, or a devil.”

Just as Sergio had.

“What you should hope for is not a change of heart, but their acceptance. They occupy lofty positions, have seen much, and have steeled themselves for much. They will demand from you what they lost because of you. In my judgment, satisfying those demands is impossible, so it would be better to kill them.”

“What do you think they’ll demand?”

“They might order you to assassinate one of Helmuth’s Three Dukes to prove you are the Hero... Hmm, that would provoke the Demon King of Incarceration too much. Requiring you to become a fully naturalized citizen of Yuras would be too lenient... Ah. There is a suitable demand. Pope Euryus will probably order you to assassinate the king of Ruhar.”

“... What?”

“The king of Ruhar, the Beast King, Aman Ruhar. His nation has repeatedly refused to join the Demon-Subjugating Alliance led by the Holy Empire. In recent years, it has also begun dealing with Helmuth. King Aman himself is strong enough to be considered among the continent’s strongest, making him a thorn in the Pope’s side.”

“Why make me do it?”

“However troublesome he may be, the Pope cannot act personally, nor can Yuras go to war with Ruhar. So they will use you, placing restrictions on your mind in case you fail. That way, even if you fail, your connection to Yuras will remain hidden, and Kiel or Lionheart will clean up the mess.”

“Hah.”

“Alternatively, they might cut off your arms and legs and turn them into holy relics.”

“Then let’s put their demands aside and discuss persuading them to accept this.”

“That seems impossible...”

Raphael murmured with an impassive face. Ignoring him, Eugene turned his head. Kristina was lingering hesitantly some distance away.

“Kristina. Come here.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t just walk over. Do that thing as you come.”

What thing? Kristina was briefly bewildered, but soon understood what Eugene meant. Clearing her throat softly, she clasped her hands before her chest.

As Kristina took a step, eight wings flared up behind her back.

“Wouldn’t showing them that convince them?”

Pointing at Kristina as she approached with her wings spread, Eugene turned to Raphael.

Raphael’s mask had shattered.

His mouth hung wide open, his face filled with pure wonder and emotion befitting the boy he appeared to be.