Encrid approached Audin’s side. Blood trickled from Audin's eyes, nose, and ears.
Encrid remembered the time Audin, bathed in a radiant glow, faced death.
He remembered when Audin appeared from behind to face a duke.
He remembered Audin teaching him the Isolation Technique.
He remembered Audin praying on his behalf.
Encrid recalled the past Audin had shared with him.
Haunted by guilt?
Could this massive yet gentle soul truly be blamed? Really?
Audin’s hands trembled once more, and blood streamed from the corners of his mouth.
He was dying. Anyone could see it.
"Tell me what you want. I’ll take it on in your place."
He was once Encrid’s mentor, and Encrid wanted to carry on his will.
Audin looked at him with a smile. Even bleeding, he managed to smile well.
“Do you wish to tear it all down? Do you wish to cut away the rot? Do you wish for the Order to walk a righteous path? I will make it so.”
For the Audin he remembered, yes, Encrid would even dance the blade’s dance.
Audin hadn’t just watched his own death, unleashing his divine light, Encrid could surely do the same for him.
"So, speak."
Audin still wore a smiling expression. His lips parted in a smile.
"Please punish those with corrupted divinity. Be they Holy Knights, Crusaders, or priests, if they walk a wrongful path, punish them. Do not let them terrorize people by labeling them heretics. Please grant peace to the hearts of those who truly believe. Make the Order one that helps the poor and the downtrodden."
Perhaps that was truly Audin’s deepest wish.
He paused for a moment, then spoke again.
"Disregard what I’ve said so far. And, as for what you, my Captain, desire, fulfill your dreams. That is what I truly wish for."
Audin did not pass off his duty and responsibility. He closed his eyes.
And then.
Flash.
He opened his eyes again, as if he had lingering regrets.
"Ah, tell Brother Barbarian and the other brothers that I’ll give them extra training if we meet in the afterlife."
If this was his last will, it would be an amusing one.
"I’ll let them know."
"Tell Sister Teresa to keep moving forward in faith."
"I will."
"And when Sister Dunbachel returns, don’t nag her too much about bathing. Honestly, she doesn’t smell that bad, does she?"
"There’s a bit of a musty smell."
"Don’t let Brother Shepherd berate others for lacking talent. It wouldn’t be good for him, either."
Listening to Audin’s words, Encrid could tell how much he cared about those around him.
Encrid quietly waited for the death of his mentor, his comrade, the heart of his order.
The fight to honor him would be fierce.
Even if he had to burn down the entire Order, he would fulfill Audin’s will.
That was also how Encrid would achieve his own dream.
When Audin passed, he would announce it here and, in the end, show it through his actions.
And so, he waited.
"The weather is nice."
"It’s autumn."
"When winter comes, take Brother Rem’s heated leather hide and hide it for a while. It’ll be entertaining."
"That’s going a bit far for a prank."
Rem hated the cold to an extreme.
If someone suggested a trip to the mountains in winter, he’d probably swing an axe first.
"Brother Ragna will never find his way properly, will he?"
"That’s a little too much to ask for."
Audin was kneeling on both knees, his hands clasped in prayer.
Was this the true end?
He began to pray. A silent prayer, murmured from his heart.
Perhaps he was asking his Father to come meet him.
After a short prayer, Audin spoke.
"It hurts."
"It would."
Encrid remained at his side to the end.
"Hah."
Audin let out a breath. Encrid blinked a few times.
But he thought Audin was talking a lot for someone on the brink of death.
Was this an irreverent thought?
To think such things while his mentor, his comrade, was dying?
Still, it felt excessive.
Meanwhile, Sinar approached and spoke.
"Doesn’t he look a little too fine?"
Everyone was staring at them, bewildered.
The sight of the dying Audin and Encrid watching over him appeared pitifully solemn, and Encrid had all but made it clear with his stance.
He seemed ready to forgive no one who dared to interfere.
Even Shilma, who was nearly half-mad, didn’t dare speak further.
However,
"Hmm."
Audin raised a hand to wipe his eyes. Though blood tears had flowed, they’d stopped now.
His entire body ached, but he didn’t feel like he was dying. The trembling in his hands had ceased.
Above all, the exhaustion he’d felt from the backlash of unleashing his divine light was now receding slightly, returning some strength to his body.
He couldn’t summon divine light as he had moments ago, but he didn’t feel as though he was going to die.
After clenching and unclenching his hands a few times, he was certain.
His regenerative ability seemed to be working, and his body was gradually recovering.
While it wasn’t at the level of Frog’s regenerative limbs, his wounds would likely heal.
"Hmm."
Audin let out another soft groan.
‘Why am I alive?’
There must be a reason.
When he’d released the restriction, he had accepted death.
Though it was a self-imposed restriction, after so long, if he had truly intended to release it, he should have removed it gradually, peeling it away layer by layer.
Tearing it off recklessly should have severely damaged his body.
He should have lost at least half of his bodily functions from the backlash, even if it hadn’t killed him.
"Hoo."
Audin took a deep breath and exhaled.
Though he felt slight discomfort, he could breathe fine, meaning his lungs were intact.
His stomach throbbed, but he didn’t feel as though he’d lose control of his muscles or soil himself.
So, he was fine.
Anything different?
Audin’s hand instinctively went to his waist, and there was the reason.
The ‘Counterfeit Relic’.
It was something Encrid had brought from the western lands. Over time, Audin had worked to purge the curse it carried.
There was only one way to do it.
He transferred part of the curse to his own body to burn it away.
It required enduring excruciating pain from searing his flesh, but he couldn’t send it back to the Order, so Audin had borne it as an act of penance.
And in the process, the relic had absorbed part of his divine energy.
When he unleashed his divine energy earlier, this relic had absorbed some of the strain on his body.
The impact was minimal.
It only helped a bit, but that was enough. Audin’s resilient physique could handle the remaining burden.
Was it fate or coincidence?
"Whatever you give, it will return to you. Fortune returns from what you give rise to."
Borrowing the words of the Goddess of Luck, it seemed something like this.
Audin felt thoroughly embarrassed. He thought he would die, but he was too fine for it.
He felt Encrid’s blue-eyed gaze fall on his face.
"Ahem."
Audin cleared his throat.
Yet the gaze remained.
It seemed he had to speak up properly.
"Well, I will handle matters with the Order myself."
Encrid continued to look at him.
"There’s no need to delay Brother Rem’s and everyone’s training."
"Ah, so you lived?"
Encrid asked, keeping a straight face.
Audin grinned. Embarrassed, he couldn’t help but smile.
Encrid looked at Audin for a moment before nodding. To be honest, he was immensely relieved that Audin was alive.
It could be called a comical turn, but being able to say this brought him great joy.
"Don’t go beating everyone in the Order to death."
Considering the divine light he had seen moments ago, Encrid figured most priests wouldn’t withstand a mere tap without their heads exploding.
"Of course not."
"Brother Alma!"
Finally, Shilma shouted.
The moment the comical scene shifted back into motion.
Alma briefly glanced around before raising his hammer high, seemingly having made up his mind.
"All for the glory of the Order."
He’d once given each of his two disciples a ring.
The ring stood opposed to divinity, something forged by a demon.
Why would he secretly bestow something he’d obtained from the Demon Realm upon his disciples?
There was a reason.
The rings his disciples wore could quickly absorb their life force and channel it to Alma’s ring.
In this way, Alma could temporarily surpass his limits.
A similar incident had occurred when his two disciples went missing previously.
It was a way of borrowing power.
The reason?
Alma wasn’t desperate from despairing over the limits of his talent. He simply chose the easier route.
That was Alma’s way of life. He always chose the path of ease and comfort.
He lived the opposite of those who chose the path of hardship. Because of that, his divinity had gradually lost its light.
That was why he, a Crusader at the level of a Junior-Knight, took on such menial tasks.
"Huh?"
"What?"
His disciples let out screams.
"Aaaah!"
The cries were laced with intense pain.
Encrid turned his gaze from Audin to Alma.
The demonic energy surrounding him was apparent. It wasn’t the first time he’d encountered such power. There was no reason for surprise.
He’d seen something similar from Count Molsen. So a thought crossed his mind.
Is playing with demonic power becoming trendy these days?
Was this a casual thought?
Perhaps, but it was inevitable.
Compared to the demonic power he’d seen before, this was lacking.
Alma’s two disciples withered and shriveled, turning brittle like dried wood.
Their eyes lost their light, and they crumbled to the floor.
Their screams were their final words.
With his fallen disciples behind him, Alma spoke, not sparing them a glance.
He thought only of himself.
"Can you withstand the power of a Knight in your weary state?"
The light he emitted was truly murky. Dim, with black specks floating throughout.
It was the price of selling his soul to a demon.
Whatever method he used to absorb his disciples’ life force, this was the result.
And Encrid, weary and injured though he was, knew he wouldn’t lose to such a pseudo-Knight.
Not to mention Sinar was still in fine shape.
If Overdeer interfered, it might be a problem, but—
"How lamentable."
Overdeer shook his head.
And he didn’t stop there.
"Stand down."
He added one more command.
Encrid thought he was telling Alma to retreat, but that wasn’t the case.
In response, Inquisitor Bert shifted aside as if fleeing.
Shilma, knowing Alma’s secret, wasn’t surprised.
She believed that even demonic power, if used for righteous purposes, was justified.
"Fools."
Overdeer’s tone shifted, distinct from before.
His usual polite speech had turned somewhat casual.
He raised his dual iron rods. His direction was clear. It was the opposite of what he’d done before.
Encrid watched quietly, compelled to add one comment. He couldn’t resist.
"Hey, Count Molsen already tried that."
He meant that he’d already encountered a pseudo-Knight act like this.
Of course, Crusader Alma wouldn’t know who Count Molsen was.
"What are you talking about?!"
Alma shouted, his voice fierce.
It was understandable. With such newfound omnipotence, one might feel capable of anything.
It was just a feeling, though. Just a feeling.
Despite taking hits from Audin, the hundred-year-old elder raised his iron rod.
"You should have remained a martyr."
It was a bitter statement.
To summarize, Alma’s head was crushed with two iron rod strikes.
Shilma tried to conceal herself with divine spells, but Sinar’s energy-infused blade sliced her leg.
"Thank you, young Fairy."
The elderly man, with a changed tone, offered his thanks.
"I am one hundred and forty-eight, young human."
Sinar replied, and that was the end of it. The situation was settled.
"Lord Overdeer."
Only one remained: Bert.
"I think we need to talk."
The elder, momentarily surprised by Sinar’s age, spoke while wiping the blood and brains of pseudo-Knight Alma from his combat robe.
Encrid looked at the old man, who, though not openly hostile, had shown he was ready to fight them all if necessary.
Plop.
Raindrops began to fall. The atmosphere around the Holy Knight Overdeer changed entirely.
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