Chapter 641
[Who are you? How did you get in here?]
A world shrouded in pure white fog.
The ground was cracked open as if from a drought. And there, on that parched land, sat a woman.
Her linen clothes were frayed here and there, riddled with holes. She wore a hat woven from withered reeds, her skin was brown, her figure somewhat plump, and her lips were large and thick.
‘I see.’
Simon had already experienced this once before, so he knew who she was.
The Essence of the Saint.
Or to be more specific—
“You’re the Essence of Harvest, aren’t you?”
The woman still looked at Simon with wary eyes.
Then—
Grrrgle—
Her stomach rumbled. Almost instinctively, she groped at the barren earth, plucked out a shriveled sprout, and popped it into her mouth.
“Ughh!”
She immediately spat it back out and wailed in distress.
[It tastes awful!!]
Simon blinked in confusion.
[There’s nothing to eat here! Nothing here, nothing there!]
Every time she pointed, the fog receded, revealing more barren land. Dead trees, lifeless crops, and only scattered animal bones rolling around.
[Of all places, why did I end up here?! I’m ruined! Luchia! I miss you!!]
She burst into tears, covering her face. Simon hesitated before asking,
“Who’s Luchia?”
[She’s the girl I originally chose.]
Simon immediately recalled the Saint of Harvest. Apparently, her real name was Luchia.
[When I was in her body, the world was full of wheat! No meat, sure, but we baked bread, made noodles, everything!]
She shouted indignantly.
[But suddenly she must’ve died, because I was forced out! To be honest, I was a bit sick of flour after eating so much of it, so when I saw another tasty-looking person, I moved over! But that one’s granary was all show—inside there was nothing! I was tricked!!]
Simon’s mind raced.
At first, her words sounded like nonsense, but on closer thought, she was describing how the Essence of Harvest left the Saint of Harvest (Luchia) and transferred into Ever Kire.
[Still, I at least managed to catch rats in the empty granary! But then that one must’ve died too, because I was forced out again! So I left—only to find myself in some strange world I didn’t know! I wandered around until I found a girl who seemed to have a full granary. But then—!]
Her sobbing reached its peak.
[She was a dud! A dud! This time she was a necromancer!! Aaaaagh! No matter how hungry I am, how can I feed from a necromancer’s granary?! Not a grain, not even a single rat! I’m doomed!!]
Bang! Bang!
She suddenly bashed her forehead against an animal bone on the ground.
Then she turned to Simon.
[So what exactly are you?]
‘Took her long enough to ask.’
Simon gave a wry smile and explained.
“I’m Simon Follentia. The girl you entered is named Sasha. When I held her hand, I was able to see this place.”
[Oh my goodness, you!]
She jumped in shock.
[You have the ‘qualification’!]
Simon’s eyes gleamed. He remembered the very same words from when the Essence of Purification had once entered Sasha.
—You have the ‘qualification’! You may not realize how extraordinary this is, Simon Follentia, but it’s nothing short of a miracle!
Now, piqued by curiosity, the Saint of Harvest spun circles around Simon. It was dizzying, but Simon endured patiently.
[But this is funny. Why are you dressed like a boy?]
“……I’m not dressed like one. I am a boy.”
[Whaaaat?!]
She leapt back.
[Lies! How could a man…!]
“I wonder about that too.”
Normally, an Essence could only inhabit a woman’s body. Yet Simon was the exception.
[Hmmm.]
The Essence of Harvest scanned him up and down suspiciously.
[Are you really a boy? Should I pull down your pants to check?]
“What the hell?!”
Simon blushed furiously, clutching at his waistband and retreating.
To think a Saint’s Essence would tease people like this!
[No need to be so uptight. Still, it’s fascinating.]
She crossed her arms, her expression turning serious.
[A boy, yet you have ‘qualification’. And not just any qualification—it’s something special. Let me take a look… Oh!]
Her eyes lit up as she walked behind him.
[Someone’s already been here, huh?]
Simon turned to see what lay behind him—
A pure white throne.
Carved to look like flames, as though it were burning. The Essence of Harvest swept her palm across it.
[This one’s that guy.]
“Yeah. The Essence of Purification.”
It was currently dwelling in Lete. Strictly speaking, she should now be called the Essence of Stars.
As the Essence of Harvest touched the flame-carved throne, suddenly—fwssh!—real fire blazed. She yelped and snatched her hand back.
[Okay, okay! So touchy! Fine, I’ll stop touching you!]
Speaking to it like it could hear, she straightened up.
[So the power hasn’t vanished yet. It still lingers inside you.]
“Guess so.”
Simon knew this well; his mother Anna had gone through something similar. When the Essence of Purification sought a new host, it had clashed dangerously with the lingering Essence of Miracles inside Anna, who had once been the Saint of Miracles.
‘So if I let the Essence of Harvest in, will the same backlash happen?’
Simon frowned, folding his arms.
‘But I can’t waste time hesitating.’
If he delayed, Lete—currently fighting Ever Kire alone—would die.
Not just her, but everyone here, and the ruined Roke Island might become reality under Ever Kire’s power. The entire continent would be in danger.
Even a little more strength would help.
“I’ll propose a deal, Essence of Harvest.”
Simon held out his hand.
“Lend me your power to defeat the false god, Ever Kire.”
She recoiled at the sight of his hand, grimacing.
[Ugh, even if you have ‘qualification’… the thought of entering a boy’s body is just repulsive to me.]
“There’s already a precedent. Another Essence has entered my body before. So what’s stopping you?”
[Nngh, that’s true. But still—it feels… no, it feels really weird!!]
“Would you rather sit here chewing on rotten roots forever?”
That hit home. She scratched her head in agony.
[…Fine, no choice then. But you said this is a deal, right?]
She grabbed Simon’s hand, then walked behind him.
She stopped beside the throne the Essence of Purification had made, then turned and mimed sitting down.
Clack.
A new throne appeared beside it—white, adorned with engravings of grass, trees, and grain.
[I have conditions too. Will you accept?]
Simon nodded without hesitation.
“Of course. That’s what a deal is.”
* * *
At the same time, Roke Island.
Outside Valkese Arena.
With the closing ceremony approaching, students from every department were playing their morning matches.
“……”
Kajan walked with a complicated look on his face. He checked his wristwatch again.
‘Simon hasn’t sent a status report.’
Simon was also supposed to be in Valkese Arena.
But since Simon had been assigned to guard the Saint directly, he had promised to report even during matches.
And yet no report had come.
‘Did something happen?’
Kajan raised his communication crystal as he headed for the arena.
“This is K-1. Confirm the Saint’s status at Valkese Arena.”
Chhhk!
—This is HO. What are you talking about all of a sudden?
A necromancer agent’s voice came through.
—The Saint in the arena? The Saint of Harvest is in the cave. Still unmoving.
“I don’t mean the Saint of Harvest. I mean the one who…”
Kajan stopped short.
What was he saying just now?
The one who came in this time?
—Hahaha! What are you talking about? Are you saying there are two Saints in Keyzen? That’d be a crisis!
“……”
Only one Saint had crossed into Roke Island—the Saint of Harvest, defeated by Ever Kire. Alastair’s team was still searching for her.
And yet…
‘I was trying to contact Simon.’
He raised his wrist.
‘Because I thought Simon was with a Saint…?’
Bzzt!
A gray-haired image flickered in his mind. A strange sense of deja vu.
Kajan pressed a hand hard to his forehead.
‘A second Saint? Who?’
Crackle—!
He forced his thoughts to stay focused, and then faint voices resurfaced in his mind.
—What’s going on, Simon? Why are you alone?
—Lete…!
Fragments of conversation with Simon floated back.
Memories he hadn’t had before. As if his mind had been rejecting them. But with sheer focus, Kajan pulled them out.
—No, the Saint has vanished! She left this note…!
Crackle!
—Even after her predecessor fell, she still acts recklessly.
Kajan’s eyes snapped open.
‘Lete? If “predecessor” meant the Saint of Harvest, then… was there really a replacement who came here?!’
Maybe it was just delusion, scraps of dreams from fatigue.
But—
The enemy he was pursuing was Ever Kire.
And when he thought of her ability—
‘!!’
Goosebumps exploded across his skin.
“Damn it! Has she already gotten to me?!”
Ever Kire had the power to erase and warp memories.
Realizing this, Kajan immediately stepped onto Darkness and sprinted for Valkese Arena.
“This is K-1! I need a specific file, now!”
—This is HO. State it.
The key was Simon.
If he strung these faint memories together, a second Saint had entered Roke Island. Her name was Lete.
She was under Simon’s protection. And Simon should have been sending reports. But none had come.
The last place Simon had been—
“I need data on the 16th arena—Valkese Arena!”
—Okay. Just that? With Alastair’s clearance, it’ll take 10 minutes.
Kajan kept running, reaching Valkese Arena.
He entered cautiously, tense in case of an ambush by Ever Kire.
But the arena looked… normal.
The crowd in the stands cheered, and the students fought fiercely in the arena. Among them, Simon’s figure could be seen.
‘Did he simply fail to report because the match was intense? No… impossible.’
Kajan sniffed the air.
‘Faint, but blood… And…’
The hair on his arms stood on end—not straight, but twisted in spirals. There was only one cause for that.
‘Holiness.’
No doubt Ever Kire had done something to this arena.
Kajan strode from the stands toward the arena floor.
—This is HO. We found the file, but there’s definitely something strange.
“Speak.”
—There are two orders on record. One rejecting Valkese Arena, and another granting its use.
“There can’t be both a rejection and an approval order.”
—We asked the clerks, but they all just scratched their heads. Even the issuing officials don’t remember why they filed a rejection. It was just swept under the rug.
“Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
—It does, but… Did you figure something out?
Kajan tapped his temple.
“If you have a brain, think. Who is our enemy?”
—I don’t know what you’re—oh, wait! Alastair, sir!
Clack!
The sound of the crystal being handed over.
—Ever Kire has already acted. She tried to hide Valkese Arena because it’s the target site.
Alastair’s deep, weighty voice came through.
—I was listening in on your report. And this talk of a second Saint is fascinating.
Kajan smirked.
“I’m glad to find someone who understands. But do you believe it?”
—I must.
There was a note of anger in Alastair’s tone.
—Until now we’ve pursued her using logical, modern investigative methods, and achieved nothing. That means we must shift our perspective. We must accept the irrational and insane as truth.
Kajan’s lips curled.
“Splendid.”
—Are you on site?
“Yes.”
Kajan gave a detailed account of the arena’s state, and Alastair quickly devised a plan.
—There are spectators nearby, yes?
Kajan turned his head, crystal still in hand. He spotted a middle-aged man cheering loudly at the match.
“Yes. Something about him feels off.”
—Make contact.
Kajan placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.
Thump!
“I can touch him. Not just an empty illusion.”
—As expected. Now provoke him for a reaction.
Kajan tightened his grip.
Crunch—
Strong enough to dislocate a shoulder, yet the man smiled, still cheering with no pain.
“…Damn it.”
—As I thought. This is the same as Case Six of Ever Kire’s incidents. Analysis complete. Give me coordinates.
The moment Kajan reported them—
Wummm!
A smooth magic circle opened in midair, and a bag dropped out. One of Alastair’s abilities.
Inside was a handle with a switch.
—An artifact to slice through illusion barriers.
Shrrrk!
Kajan pressed the switch, and a blade of mana sprang forth.
—Can you sense the holiness?
“Yes, unless the priest deliberately conceals it.”
Kajan rolled up his sleeves, showing his arms. The hair stood up, then twisted in spirals.
—Excellent. Here is what you must do. We’ll depart immediately.
Following orders, Kajan leapt into the center of the arena.
Even as he intruded, the audience ignored him, still cheering.
‘There. The place with the strongest holiness!’
Raising both arms, claws bared, Kajan summoned every shred of Darkness he could and slashed at the fountain statue.
<Kajan’s Original – Fang>
Shhhhraaaaaaa!
Crossing blades in an X, he tore through the air, and the arena’s scenery warped.
Through the split in space—
Whooom!
He hurled the artifact. Spinning, the blade drilled into the rift.
Krrrraaaashhh!
The fountain collapsed.
‘This…!’
The veil of distortion lifted, revealing an empty arena, devoid of a single soul.
Signs of chaos lay everywhere—scattered belongings, shattered stands, scorched floors.
“Ever Kire has taken Simon and the others.”
Kiiiing!
Kiiiiiing!
Darkness magic circles spread across the ground.
Kajan stepped back and waited. Soon, a squad burst forth.
“Well done, Kajan.”
It was Alastair and his subordinates. His face flushed red, dripping sweat, panting—an unusual sight.
“What happened?”
“We’re late. Ever Kire already took Simon, the second Saint, and the spectators to another branch point.”
“A power beyond belief…”
Alastair paced irritably, spreading Darkness circles across the ground—not from anger, but to analyze.
By the stain of Darkness alone, he distinguished where Ever Kire had stood, what formulas she’d used.
“She’s an unprecedented foe. What’s done is done, but we must do what we can. This may be our only chance to strike back.”
His face hardened.
“We must help those ‘over there’ somehow. Kajan—where are you going?”
Kajan was digging through the debris of the destroyed fountain.
Then he pulled something free.
“Looks like an invincible ability…”
It was an artifact radiating holiness.
His eyes gleamed coldly.
“But no ability is without weakness.”
* * *
At the same time.
Another Roke Island—this one a heaven of stars.
Stars rained from east and west, colliding, exploding over the floating island.
“Urgh!”
Lete, arms outstretched, staggered under the strain.
She glanced aside and shouted,
“Simon! How long will you sleep? Get up alrea—Ah!”
Krakkkk-booooom!
A star hurled by the goddess slammed beside her, carving a vast crater. Blasted by the shockwave, she tumbled across the ground.
“Hahh…”
She rose from the rubble, dazed. She had no holiness left to summon even a single star.
Worse—she could not strike the goddess directly.
Her trembling arms lifted again.
‘To die in this foreign land, at the necromancers’ heart…’
No. It wasn’t time for weakness.
“I… I can still fight…!”
Fwaaaashhh!
As if answering her will, a blinding pillar of light erupted from Simon’s body.
“Ah, finally! Took you long enough, Sim—”
Her eyes widened.
“…on?”
Simon’s body was changing.
His hair turned snow-white, his eyes gold. His uniform transformed into radiant white robes.
It was the Holy Garment, symbol of a Saint.
And it clothed a necromancer.
Lete’s eyes bulged.
‘Am I dreaming?’
Swish.
Simon kicked off his shoes and set bare feet on the ground.
Immediately, power surged—like roots drinking water, his soles absorbed holiness from the earth.
He swept his arms.
Whooom!
Wheat all across Roke Island bent wildly. Each holy grain lifted like fireflies, streaming into him.
Wummmmmmmm!
His body blazed with light.
[What are you scheming?!]
Ever Kire shrieked, hurling stars at him.
Simon didn’t dodge. He raised his head.
Kwoooong!
A massive holy barrier formed before him. The stars shattered or ricocheted off.
“This is insane!”
Lete gasped. That was unmistakably the Earth Wall, hallmark of the Saint of Harvest.
A man—no, a necromancer—wielding the power of a Saint!
Believing Ever Kire’s twisted world was reality seemed more realistic than this.
Shrrrk.
Simon drew his arm back. Holiness coalesced into a hilt, extending outward, forming a massive blade.
A scythe, forged of substance that existed nowhere in the world. A power given shape by Essence.
So huge, its blade pierced deep into the ground.
“Here I come.”
Gathering all holiness, Simon crouched.
Then—
When his foot struck the ground, Roke Island’s crust ripped away as he vanished.
[……!]
Ever Kire flailed, eyes darting. Even the false goddess searched frantically.
“Don’t move.”
Shrrrk.
She froze.
The boy with hair of white flame stood on her shoulder.
One hand gripped the scythe. The blade rested under her chin.
As if to slice her throat.
[Insolence!]
Ever Kire roared.
[You dare cut the neck of the goddess? With holiness itself?!]
Her arm rose to seize him.
“I said don’t move.”
Expressionless, Simon pulled the scythe.
<Simon’s Original – Termination>
It was silent.
The white scythe slid without sound, without trace.
Shrrrk.
The goddess’ neck parted upon the blade.
Falling into the sea below.
The world itself seemed frozen. No one moved.
[Noooooooo!!]
The boy—
Had severed the neck of a living god.
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