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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 247: In a Place Where No One Can See (1)

Chapter 247: In a Place Where No One Can See (1)

The​‍⁠ sound of the‌‍ bell was dismal.‍⁠⁠

From‍​ the strange bell‌⁠ tower that rose‍​ into the sky,‍ a bell echoed.‍⁠

Ding-dong-Dong-don-⁠​‍

A ruined church that‌‍‍ instilled fear just⁠‍​ by looking at⁠ it, and anxiety​⁠‍ just by hearing⁠‍⁠ it.

In‌⁠ the hearts of‌‌‍ the soldiers watching‌ it, a vague‍⁠ sense of unease⁠⁠⁠ spread, like black‍⁠​ ink diffusing into‌ water.

“…What.”‌

Was‌‌​ it because I’m⁠⁠‍ so close to​​​ God’s embrace?

Inside‌‌ the church, now⁠‍‌ shaking with tremors,⁠ Pope Conrad, his‌⁠​ face pale, staggered.​

While‍‍ all the high-ranking‍ priests who were‌ with him had​ collapsed from exhaustion,​‌ he was the⁠​ only one standing,⁠ looking at the‍​ church in Achiuk⁠⁠‍ that had come⁠​ to life.

“It’s‌‌ terrible.”

From‍ his perspective, the‌​ interior of the‍​⁠ church was truly​‍⁠ miserable.

It​ was a scene‌‌‍ so grim that​‍ even the Pope,‍‌ who had followed‍⁠ God’s will all​⁠‍ his life, was​‍ left speechless.

“…”​‍

In‍⁠‌ front of the‍⁠ completely charred chapel‍ stood the symbol‍ of the one‌ he served.

It‌‌​ was constructed properly,⁠⁠ but badly burned.‌‍‌

However,⁠ Pope Conrad’s eyes⁠​ didn’t rest on​‍‍ the emblem of⁠​‍ the church.

“My​⁠ God.”

Numerous​‌⁠ white handprints just‍‍⁠ below.

The⁠ handprints, painful to‍ look at, screamed‍ beneath the church‍⁠⁠ emblem as if‌ they had waited‌⁠⁠ for God’s salvation‍‍ until their final,​ burning moments.

“What‌‍⁠ in God’s name⁠ is happening…?”

Pope‌​ Conrad slowly walked​​‍ toward the pattern⁠‌ and carefully extended‌ his palm to‌ a handprint there.​​

“…”⁠

The‍‍⁠ handprint that met⁠⁠ his own was‍​⁠ extremely small.

Dozens​‍ of tiny handprints,‌‌ which his old‌​ hand could have‌ encompassed.

As‌​​ he followed the⁠‍ handprints with his⁠ gaze, Conrad looked⁠ up, observing the‌ symbol of God⁠ that the children‌ must have desperately​‍‌ called out to‌​ in their final​ moments.

“God,‍ have mercy.”

With​ Conrad’s lament, a ray of sunlight​ filtered through a broken window.

However,​⁠ the sunlight that​‌‌ entered stopped only​ in front of​‍ the symbol of‍ God and couldn’t​⁠‌ reach the traces⁠⁠ of the children‍ beneath it.

Drip-‌ Drip-

A cold, dark space‍‍​ that no one​‌ in the world​‍⁠ had ever visited.⁠

The⁠⁠ children, unable to‍⁠ enter God’s embrace‌ or the warm‌‌‍ sunlight, remained seated‍‌ in the darkness‌ for so long.​‍‍

“Pope,‌ pope.”

Now‍⁠ that the Pope⁠‍ had finally found⁠ those poor children,​‍ he was crying.​

As⁠​ the symbol of⁠‌‍ the church began​ to turn upside‍⁠ down.

“Pope!”‍

Crack-Crack-!​

Black​ tears began to​‌ flow from various​​ points in the​‍ church, accompanied by​‌ the shouts of‍‍​ an unknown priest.⁠​​

The⁠ tears that ran‌ across the ground,‌‍⁠ mixed with black‍‍ ash, were the⁠ tears shed by‍​ the lone woman‌ who held her⁠​ children in her‍ arms.

“Get​‌‍ the Pope out‌‌⁠ of here, now!”‌‌⁠

Her​ tears, stagnant with‍ nowhere to go,‌ had become corrupted.‌​‍

Her​‍‌ anger, which had‌ slowly bloomed because​‍ no one cared,‌‍ might have been‌ justified.

Kwaaaaaaaaa!⁠

A massive door began​‌‍ to emerge from⁠‌ the symbol of‌‍​ God, exploding with​ a loud noise​⁠‍ as if someone‌​ had shattered it.‌⁠‌

Behind​ that door, which⁠‌ rose like a bubble with an⁠ ugly creaking sound,⁠‌ it was still​ full of the​⁠ screams of fierce,‍⁠⁠ malevolent beings.

Grrr!​

Roar!‍

Above⁠⁠​ the head of‍‌ Pope Conrad, who‍ continued sobbing, a cascade of black​⁠ water began to⁠‍⁠ flow.

The‌‍ waves were so​​‍ strong that even​ the noble Pope⁠ could not contain‌​ them with his⁠ hands.

The​‍‍ army of the‌ dead poured out‍​‍ as if they‌ had finally found⁠ a place to⁠ escape, trampling over⁠ the exhausted priests⁠‍ and rushing out‌‌ of the church​‍​ like a flood.‌⁠

***​⁠

Grrr!‍⁠

Stop‌‌ them! Push them‌ back!

Damn‍⁠ it! There are​‌​ too many!

The‍ sound of spears​‍⁠ and shields clashing,⁠ the shouts of⁠‍‍ soldiers, and the​‌‍ chilling sound of​​‌ something being pierced.⁠⁠⁠

There⁠ was noise at‍ the foot of⁠ the hill that⁠‌‍ sounded like something⁠ straight out of​ a battlefield.

The​​ group riding down⁠​⁠ the hill halted⁠‍‍ at the sound⁠ that shook the‌ earth and turned‍‍ their heads.

“…!”‍‍‍

“What‍‌​ the hell is‌‍ that?”

Along‌ with Radu’s astonishment‌‌​ was the sight⁠ of Achiuk below.‍

A ruined village with⁠‌⁠ only a black,⁠​ wolf-like bell tower‌ piercing the sky.‌‍

However,​⁠ what the group⁠ was witnessing at‌​​ this moment was​ an incredibly strange​ sight in the‌ field.

“…What‌ bastard.”

What⁠​ they saw were‌​ soldiers of the⁠ Northern Alliance army,​ fighting against a tide of reanimated‌⁠ corpses.

No,⁠ to be more‌‌ exact, it was‌‍⁠ soldiers stabbing the⁠​​ reanimated corpses.

The‍⁠ army of the‍‌ dead was so‌ dense that it​‌‌ was impossible to​ pull back the‍ spears they had​ thrust, given the‌‌​ sheer number of‌​ corpses they were​‍‌ facing.

[The‍⁠ situation is bad.⁠‍‌ They’re being pushed‍⁠​ back.]

Just‌‍​ as Kiihano had​‍ said, the Iron​‌⁠ Duke’s army was⁠​⁠ slowly being forced‌ backward.

As‍​​ if they couldn’t​⁠​ withstand the waves‍‌‍ bursting from the⁠ dam.

Although‌ the Iron Duke’s⁠​ army had formed⁠‍‌ their maximum force‌ to face the‍‍​ advancing army of⁠‍⁠ the Blood Dragon​⁠ Duke, the efforts‌ of the largest‌​ gathering of dark‌‌​ sorcerers in the‌​ Empire’s history were‍​‌ just as formidable.​​⁠

“Let’s​ go down!”

The‍ flags of the⁠‌‍ North were swaying​‌ precariously in the‌‌ black, wolf-like waves‌ that surged forward.‌​

Vlad⁠⁠ saw this and⁠⁠ tried to charge​​ down the hill,⁠ but stopped when‌⁠ he heard Marcus’‌ voice behind him.​‍​

“…Not​​ that way!”

Marcus‌ urgently blocked Noir’s‍​ path as if‌⁠‌ to prevent him‍ from falling.

His‍‍​ eyes gleamed as⁠⁠‌ he looked at‍‌ Vlad.

“Those⁠‍ soldiers don’t need​‌ your sword. They‍ can handle it.”​‌

“…”‍

“Your‍‌‍ sword must reach⁠‍ another place. I’ll‍ guide you.”

In​‌⁠ the middle of‍ the ruined village,‌⁠​ there was a dark, wolf-like church​‍⁠ that continued to⁠‍‍ spew corpses.

The‍‍ Iron Duke’s army‌ was fighting on‌ the front line​⁠​ to destroy it,‌​ but if they​⁠ continued to face‌‌⁠ it head-on, they‍ would give the‍‌​ hidden sorcerers inside‍​​ too much time.‍​

“Understood.”‌‍‍

As‌‍‌ if understanding Marcus’‌⁠ words, Vlad silently‌‍‍ sheathed the sword‌ he had drawn.‍‌‌

The‍ group ran quietly‍ up the hill,⁠ leaving behind the‌‍⁠ fighting soldiers, and‍⁠⁠ finally found the‍‌​ men hidden behind‌‍⁠ a shallow bush.‌

“Pleasure‍​⁠ to see you‌​‌ again. Vlad Aureo.”⁠‌

The‌​​ Holy Knights were​‌⁠ secretly hiding behind​‍ the church, waiting‌​ for the right‌ moment.

Among⁠ them, one of​‍ the men wearing⁠ the brightest armor​​‌ recognized Vlad, who‌​ had just arrived,⁠‍‍ and smiled warmly.⁠

“Sir⁠⁠ Gunther.”

“I’m​​​ glad it’s not‍ too late.”

The‍​ second-in-command of the​ Templar Knights, pride‍‍ of the Northern​⁠‍ Orthodox Church. Gunther.‍​​

The​‌ man who had‍​‍ fought alongside Vlad‌​ against the Black​ Woman in the‌⁠⁠ city of Moshiam‌​‌ had been waiting‌⁠‌ for him all‌ along.

“I‌‌‍ insisted on waiting⁠ for you. I knew facing this​‌‌ would be easier‌​ with someone who’s​​ already done it.”‌​

Behind‌​⁠ Gunther, who shrugged,​ were exorcists whispering‌​‌ prayers softly.

They​⁠ were searching for‍‌‍ the right path​⁠‌ while cloaked in‌ the darkness, looking‍ for another way⁠‍⁠ to secretly enter‌⁠ without being detected⁠​⁠ by the sorcerers,​‍‌ instead of using‌ the visible entrance‍​ ahead.

“Are⁠‍ you tired?”

“No.”‌

“Are​‌ you hurt anywhere?”‍‍

“No.”⁠‍

The⁠‍ voices of the‌​ exorcists grew louder​‍ as they realized​ that Vlad had‍​ arrived.

The‌‍ air around them⁠⁠ began to stir‌‍‌ slowly with it.⁠

Finally,⁠ having found another‍‌‍ passage to the⁠‌ world inside the‍‍ bubble, the paladins‍‌ with Gunther slowly‌‍ stood up.

“Then​ I, Gunther, would⁠ like to formally​​ request your help⁠‍ on behalf of‍ the Northern Orthodox⁠​⁠ Church.”

Crack-crack-​​

With‍‌ a sharp sound‌ like paper tearing,⁠⁠ a black hole​‍‍ was forming behind⁠ Gunther’s back.

The​ hole, like a dark well, was‌‌ too small for⁠ an adult man⁠⁠ to pass through,⁠​⁠ making it doubtful‍‍ whether anyone could‍‌ get back out‍​ again.

“Please,​‍ join us this​​ time as well.”‌‍

And⁠⁠ now, Gunther was‍‌ asking him to​⁠ step into that‍⁠‌ darkness where nothing⁠‍ was certain.

Towards⁠‌‍ Vlad Aureo, the​ Pope’s knight who​​ had banished the‌​ darkness of Moshiam.⁠

“…”​‍‌

After​ hearing Gunther’s words,‌‌​ Vlad quietly looked‍ back.

To‌‍⁠ see the three​‌ men who were‍ watching him.

A wizard pursuing mysteries.​⁠‍

A heretic inquisitor who​ practices the word⁠ of God.

And⁠‍​ a dragon bound⁠⁠ by a vow.‍​‍

All‍ nodded their heads⁠​​ silently.

“Let’s​​ go.”

Though‍‍ one gaze was⁠​​ challenging, Vlad knew‌ that his group​⁠ was ready.

“I’ll‌⁠ finally be able‌‍‌ to fulfill what⁠​‍ the Pope entrusted‍​ to me.”

With​‍​ those words, Vlad,​‌‌ his left eye​‌ closed, carefully touched⁠​ his left chest.‍⁠

Feeling‌ those words with‌​ his fingertips, Vlad​ raised his own‌​‌ world like a torch toward the⁠‍ darkest place in‍ the world.

“I​ was hoping you’d⁠‌ say that, Vlad.”‍‌

A knight who saved​ the lives of​ children.

Vlad​ recalled the children‌ he couldn’t save‍ from the darkness⁠ of Moshiam, where⁠ he had entered⁠⁠ through a dream‍⁠ to rescue Jean.⁠

At⁠ that time, he‍‌ had no choice⁠‍‍ but to leave​‍​ them behind because‍⁠​ his skills weren’t​‌‌ enough, but this‌ time, Vlad planned⁠ to shine a bit of light‍‍‍ for those children.​​‍

***‍

“Cough!‌‍‍ Ugh!”

The‍⁠‌ world inside the​‌ bubble created by‌‌⁠ Ramashthu.

The‍‍ sound of someone‌ vomiting echoed through​ the dark hallway.⁠

“Ugh,⁠⁠⁠ ugh…”

It⁠​‌ was a violent⁠​​ cough, but the​‌‌ way he tried⁠ to suppress it​‍ was pitiful.

Fearing​‌ that someone might‍​⁠ hear him, Joseph,‍‍ leaning against the‍‌​ hallway wall, smiled​‍‌ faintly as he‍‌​ sat down.

“It’s‍​⁠ finally spreading.”

The‌⁠ tips of Joseph’s‍‌⁠ fingers were slowly⁠ turning black.

Just​ like the countless​⁠⁠ corpses running rampant​‍‍ out there.

Realizing​‍​ that his time​⁠ was running out,‌ Joseph picked up⁠​‍ the bag that⁠ had fallen at‍​ his feet with⁠​​ trembling fingers.

“Is⁠‌⁠ this even the‍‍‌ limit of dwarven‌ craftsmanship?”

From⁠‍ the bag Joseph​⁠‍ had picked up,⁠‌‌ a gentle warmth‍‌‍ radiated.

It‍ was a bag⁠​ containing tea items‍⁠​ from the dwarves,​‍‍ said to have⁠ been baked with⁠​ a breath that​ would never fade⁠⁠ away.

It‍ was a sacred‍ item of the‍ dwarves, known to​⁠​ purify everything in​⁠ the world because‍​ their breath was‌⁠ warm and pure,‍‍‍ but even that​ seemed insufficient to‍⁠ block the poisonous⁠⁠ tea of death.​

“…I​‍ suppose I can’t​​⁠ return it either.”‍​

Though‌⁠ he had promised‌⁠ to return that​‍ precious dwarven treasure,​‍‍ it seemed he⁠‌⁠ no longer had⁠‍ the chance to​‌ do so.

Even‌‌ if it ended​​⁠ up as a betrayal of trust,​‌‌ Joseph was determined​ to do whatever⁠⁠⁠ he could to‍ fulfill his cause.​

“Where‍ are you going?”​

“…!!”‍⁠

A golden opportunity to⁠⁠ expose the evil‌ groups that had‍ long taken root.​‌

Joseph‍ was trying to‍‌⁠ burn everything he⁠ had for that‌⁠ chance that would‍ never come again,⁠‌ but suddenly shivered‌ at the cold‌ energy he felt⁠‍‍ behind him.

“…You‌ always appear behind‍⁠‍ me, Lord Frausen.”​

The⁠ tip of a sword pressing against‌‍ his back slowly​⁠ rose to his​‌⁠ shoulder.

When​‍‌ the blade of​​​ the sword, now‌‍⁠ resting on his⁠‍ shoulder, grazed the‌ side of his‌ neck, Joseph felt‍‍‍ as though he‌‍​ couldn’t breathe.

“That‍ army outside, did⁠‌​ you bring them?”‍‌

However,​​‍ for Joseph, Frausen’s​ voice from behind‌‌‌ was even more‍​⁠ chilling than the‍​⁠ silver sword pressed‌⁠ against his neck.‍⁠

“Yes.”‍‌

“You⁠​‌ don’t even deny‍ it.”

As​⁠​ Joseph swallowed hard,⁠ dark veins began⁠‌ to form around⁠‌ his neck.

Frausen,⁠⁠‍ who knew exactly​ what those veins‍ meant, looked at‌ Joseph in front‍‍ of him with​‌⁠ interest.

“Death‌‌‌ is just around⁠​‌ the corner.”

“That’s​ why I have‌⁠ things to do.”​‌

Although⁠​ the person standing​⁠ before him wasn’t​‌‌ a dragon, Frausen‌​‍ slowly began to‍‌ see his colors​⁠ return.

Joseph’s⁠​​ voice, calm and⁠⁠⁠ truthful, neither deceptive‍ nor false, gradually‍‍ started to fill⁠ something that had‌‌‍ long been broken‌‍‌ inside Frausen.

“Do⁠​⁠ you seek honor,⁠‍‌ even in your‌‍⁠ final moments?”

“…”‌‍​

Joseph​​‍ slowly began to‍‌ turn around in⁠ response to Frausen’s‌ question.

The‍⁠​ blade of the​ sword grazed the⁠​ back of his​ neck, cold as‍‍‌ it was, but‌​‌ Joseph seemed unbothered⁠ by it.

“Honor‌​​ is what knights​​ seek. Unfortunately, I have not sworn​ my loyalty to‍ you.”

Though‍‌ his life was​⁠ on the line,⁠ Joseph’s voice did​ not falter in⁠​​ the slightest.

Instead,‍ his voice, tinged⁠​‍ with subtle anger,​‌ was gradually drawing‌ Frausen’s full attention.‌

“Then​⁠ why do you​‌ do it? For‍⁠ your family?”

“…To⁠⁠‌ drink.”

“Drink?​ What?”

The⁠‍ blue blood of​ nobility had to‍ be cold.

That‌‌ was because it‍​ existed solely for‍‌‌ the glory and‍⁠⁠ survival of the‌​ family.

Frausen⁠‌‍ knew this well,⁠ but the young‍ man with dark‌‍‌ eyes standing before‍ him was not​⁠‌ driven by such‍⁠​ things.

“To‌‌‌ drink the poison‌​ you left behind.”‌‌‌

Joseph‍⁠ Bayezid had been‌⁠ freed from his‌‌ duties as a noble after losing‍‍⁠ the competition to‌⁠‍ become head of‌​ the family.

Thus,​ the world he‌‍ was free to⁠ explore was already‌‌​ a place filled‍​ with poison.

“I‌⁠‍ understand that the​ previous generation focused⁠ on prosperity and​‌‌ glory, just as⁠⁠ Your Majesty did.‌ But what you⁠​‍ ignored left a legacy of poison⁠ for generations.”

There​‍ had once been‌ a shining empire.‍

An​ empire that someone⁠ had built, someone‍ had protected, and‌ someone had made‍ flourish.

However,‍ the current empire​ was torn and⁠‌ groaning, and it‌ was likely the‍​‌ fault of those​‌ who had neglected‍ the darkness that​ needed to be​ swept away in‍⁠‌ pursuit of mere⁠‍​ brilliance.

“Look‍⁠‍ out there. In‍⁠‌ the end, these​‍​ evil poisons that‌‌ you left behind‌​‍ have become the‍ responsibility of our‌‌‍ generation.”

As‌ such, the deep-rooted​​‌ evil was spilling‍⁠ out along with⁠​​ the black tears⁠​ shed by the‌ woman.

The⁠‍‍ flower of darkness,​‌ which had grown‌‍ silently while everyone‍ sought only prosperity,‌‌ could pass through‍⁠‌ Achiuk and spread⁠​ across the entire‌ continent.

“…That’s‌‌​ why we have‌⁠‌ to drink the‌​ poison. It’s that‌ kind of generation.”​‍‍

Even‍​ now, there were‍‍​ those who laughed⁠ amid their mirth.‍

Among‍ the nobles of‌​​ the center who‍ ignored the north.​‌‍

Among⁠​ the servants of⁠⁠ God who disregarded‌‍⁠ the non-believers.

Among⁠ the countless desires‌ of the beastfolk‌ who had lost​‍ their home, the‍⁠ elves hiding in​​‍ the forest, and⁠⁠ the dwarves who‍​​ controlled fire.

Among‌​ the countless worlds⁠‍ that were so‍​ different from each​​ other, evil people​ spat venom and‌‍‍ stuck out their⁠​‍ wolf-like black tongues.‍⁠

“…So,‌ do you want‌‌ to eliminate these‌​ poisons?”

In‍⁠‍ the midst of​‍ a dark and​ venom-filled hallway, the​‌​ emperor who had‍ ushered in the‍ era of glory​‍‍ looked at the‍ now ragged young‍⁠‍ man of the​⁠ age.

“For⁠‍​ the next generation?”‍‍

This‍‍ was a generation‍‌ born to drink⁠‌‍ poison, even though​ they hadn’t asked​ for it.

Unlike⁠⁠‌ those who had⁠⁠​ pursued bright things,​ the children of⁠​​ today were a generation forced to⁠​‍ gather the scraps‍ of fallen stars.​‌

“That’s⁠⁠ a funny story.”​​​

Tap.‌‌⁠ Tap. Tap.

Frausen’s‍ sword tapped Joseph’s‍‍‍ shoulder as if‍ the tale amused‍ him.

Once,‌ twice, and three‌⁠​ times.

Each‍ tap reminded Joseph​ of the obligations‌‌ he had yet‍‌ to fulfill.

“Then​‌‌ go ahead.”

“…What?”‍⁠​

With‍⁠ a sarcastic laugh,‍​ the silver sword⁠ turned and returned‌ to its sheath.⁠

Though⁠⁠‌ its gleam had​ faded, the sword​‍ that still belonged‍‍ to Frausen left‍​ Joseph’s shoulder and⁠ returned to its⁠‌ scabbard.

“Do​⁠⁠ what you can,‍⁠⁠ until your death⁠‍​ arrives.”

Frausen,‌​⁠ standing in front⁠‍‌ of him, had‌‍⁠ a faint smile‌ on his face.‍‌⁠

But​⁠‌ Joseph, standing in‌⁠ the dark hallway,⁠‍⁠ couldn’t tell whether⁠​ Frausen’s smile was‌‌​ mocking him or‍ held some other⁠‍ meaning.

“…Thank⁠‌ you.”

It​​⁠ wasn’t clear why⁠‍‌ he was letting⁠‌ him go, but​ Joseph turned around​⁠⁠ to seize the⁠⁠ last opportunity given‌ to him.

Running‌‌ through the dark⁠ hallway with a small bag.

Frausen,​ whose colors were⁠⁠ slowly fading again,‍⁠​ watched his back.‌‌

“For‌⁠ the next generation.”‌‍​

So⁠ that the young‌⁠ may have the‍‍‌ potential to build‍ their own world.‍​

“He’s‌ the last one‍ left.”

If⁠ you’re where you⁠​‌ need to be,⁠‌ do what you​‌‍ have to do.​⁠

“…I​ probably won’t have​⁠ a good death.”​⁠

A person who only​‍‌ receives and pays‍‍ the fair price.⁠

Now‍‌‌ he ran alone​​ through the dark‌‍‌ hallway.

Trying‌⁠‌ to ignore the​⁠‍ taste of death​ rising in his‌‍ throat.

“I⁠⁠‍ have no choice‌ but to let‌‌ you go, since‍ you have the‌ right qualifications.”

There‍‌​ was a young​​‍ man who wanted‌​ to become a knight.

A boy with dark​⁠ eyes who longed⁠‍⁠ to be a knight and dreamed‍⁠‌ of becoming the‌ knight from the​‍‍ fairy tales his​ mother used to⁠‍⁠ tell him.

However,‌‍‍ the honor of‍ knighthood, which he⁠​‌ had considered an‌‍‍ unattainable dream, now⁠​ rested on Joseph’s‌⁠⁠ shoulders.

A faded silver sword⁠‌⁠ tapped his shoulder.⁠⁠

Joseph‌ Bayezid. The last‍‌​ knight named by​ the first emperor​ of the revived‍ empire.

Now,⁠​‍ he was running⁠ through total darkness⁠​ to drink the⁠ poison he had​ been given.

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