Chapter 154
When he first came into contact with Plema's White Flame, Simon was startled.
It hurt.
It hurt like hell.
But… was it really that unbearable?
Kajan and Feer had reacted like they were experiencing a living hell, but… was it really that bad?
Simon felt a small doubt.
Fwoosh!
He got hit by the White Flame a second time.
What had been painfully agonizing was now reduced to just "painful".
To put it more simply, it was bearable.
Fwaaah!
Then, he was exposed to a third burst of White Flame right after.
It felt like stepping into the infamous scalding hot bath of Keyzen Dormitory.
Simon was holding up well enough to describe the attack of one of Efnelle's Seven Saints as a hot bath.
No, truthfully, it wasn't just that.
'Why are my wounds healing?'
Plema's White Flame was healing the wounds on Simon's knees and elbows. It was a baffling situation, but Simon didn't let his surprise show.
This was a chance that might never come again.
Plema was a zealous fanatic. She held boundless pride in the fact that she was a Saint, and she believed that the holy power bestowed upon her, the "White Flame"—should be able to annihilate all that is evil.
Because, to her, this power was the proof of her god's will.
Her ability, fused with her personal faith. But what if that faith began to shake? Then a massive hole would form in Plema's emotional foundation.
Seeing straight through her core, Simon decided to use deception.
When touched by the White Flame, he rolled on the ground like Kajan and Feer, screaming in agony and drooling from his mouth. To avoid suspicion, he even bit his tongue on purpose, letting blood-mixed saliva drip out.
To Plema, the image of a necromancer suffering under holy punishment seemed to be quite satisfying.
And when Serne intervened a short while later, Plema looked severely distressed by the fact that she couldn't burn her feathers away all at once.
Thankfully, Plema seemed to consider Serne a special case and didn't turn her suspicion toward Simon.
Simon charged in recklessly. He swung his greatsword, got blocked by the White Flame, and rolled across the floor.
He repeated the same movements over and over, looking for an opening. However, the distance wasn't yet enough for Feer's greatsword to reach her body directly.
But it was worth waiting patiently. When Serne launched a strong attack by releasing thousands of feathers, Plema also raised the White Flame in full force to defend. At that moment, Simon rushed behind her in the same manner as before.
Because he had meticulously built up to this moment, Plema was completely off guard.
She once again tried to repel Simon by summoning a modest White Flame, but Simon boldly charged through the lukewarm fire with his whole body and swung the greatsword.
[...!!]
It was the most effective hit among all the previous attacks.
A deep slash tore from her shoulder to her back. Though it didn't slice her in half, the gushing fountain of blood told the story of its depth.
[Why!]
Plema faltered.
She hurriedly stepped back, trying to heal the wound, but the injury inflicted by the Sword of Destruction could not be regenerated by the White Flame.
[Why! Why! Why!]
The core element that supported the human named Plema—
Her faith—began to crumble.
[WHY!!!]
She screamed loud enough to tear her own throat, then dropped her stance, panting. Her trembling pupils locked onto Simon.
[What are you…]
And at that moment, what her eyes contained was—
[What is this?]
—fear.
Fear rooted in the unknown, something she could not comprehend.
"I don't know either."
Simon calmly responded as he readjusted his grip on the greatsword.
In truth, Simon didn't know why he could withstand the Saint's flames either. He simply used the method because he could take the hit, he hadn't really thought about the logic behind it.
And when humans witness something they cannot understand, and don't want to understand—
[DIE!!]
—they want to destroy it.
The White Flame shot from Plema's palm, engulfing Simon in the fiercest blaze seen so far.
'Guh!'
Simon immediately swung his right arm behind him to shield Feer in his Bone Armor state. Then he took the full brunt of the White Flame with his body.
He heard Kajan and Serne cry out in panic.
Even though he had some resistance to holiness, Simon was ultimately a necromancer. His body was reaching its limits under the overwhelming firepower.
[Boy! What are you doing? Get out of there!]
'Feer.'
While enduring the flames, Simon managed a strained smile.
'How long are you going to hesitate?'
[....]
Feer went silent.
'If you want to defeat Efnelle's Saint, you have to change your very nature. If you truly are the overseer of my legion.'
Simon's eyes sharpened.
'Then follow me, Feer.'
[Kuhuhuhuhuhu!]
Feer laughed.
[Kghh! Kuhuhuhuhuhp! AHAHAHAHAHA! KHAHAHAHAHAHA!]
Laughter echoed in Simon's mind. A voice of madness, howling with laughter like a lunatic.
[Even mockery of the dead has its limits, boy!]
But despite saying that, Feer's voice sounded delighted.
'This isn't mockery.'
A smile also formed on Simon's lips. Plema's face, as she launched her White Flame, was frozen with utter terror.
'This is what you call evolution.'
Drip.
A droplet fell into the pond.
Simon had only been an endlessly small droplet of water.
Feer was the pond.
The white droplet fell into the stagnant, rotting black pond and vanished without a trace.
Drip.
Another white droplet fell.
This time was different. As the droplet hit, white spread through the pond like concentrated ink, staining it pure white.
[Kuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh! AHAHAHAHA!]
Swish.
Sshk.
Bones lying scattered across the ground floated into the air and began attaching themselves to Simon's body, which was enduring the White Flame.
Chaaak.
Chak.
Chachachak.
The bones neatly formed the shape of armor, covering his right arm, connecting his torso and legs. The cloak wrapped around Simon once more. And finally—
[Good! Son of Richard!]
Chaaaak!
Feer's skull helmet latched onto Simon's head. Simon grabbed the skull with both hands and pulled it down tightly. His eyes were covered by the skull, only his nose and mouth remained visible.
[For your victory! I will now abandon even the identity of the dead!!]
Fwoosh.
From his right eye socket, as usual, a dark blue flame roared like a torch.
And then—
Fwoooosh!
From the left eye socket, a blazing white flame ignited.
Flames from both eyes. At last, Feer had caught up to Simon's growth.
"Let's go, Feer."
[KHAHAHAHA!]
SHHHRRRRRAAAAAAAK!
Simon swung his greatsword. The slash cut through the radiating White Flame, slicing Plema's abdomen.
[What…!]
Her pupils trembled.
A necromancer enduring the White Flame, fine.
But an undead wielding holiness?
The shock was too great. One after another, devastating realizations shattered her sanity.
[KYAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!]
Plema let out a shrill, tearing scream.
Impossible.
Fear. Fear. Fear.
The purest fear overtook her mind.
For a priest, this was no different from having the foundation of a lifetime of faith crumble before them.
Taaat!
Simon kicked off the ground and charged. With Bone Armor's full effect activated, his physical abilities soared dramatically.
[Khhgh!]
She looked at him with disgust as though seeing something vile and leapt into the air, raining White Flame upon the ground. Simon planted his feet hard and slashed his sword into the air repeatedly.
Shaaaak!
Even though the ranged slash cut through the White Flame and slashed her body, the wound flared with White Flame and healed rapidly.
[As expected! Against that Saint, unless we strike her directly with the Sword of Destruction, it's meaningless!]
'Yes, but…'
Simon had no aerial combat techniques. The only option was to jump and catch up.
As Simon dashed forward, eyes searching for a foothold—
'…?'
Serne's feathers were following around him.
—I'll help you.
Serne's voice echoed. The feathers that had caught up with Simon's speed clung to his shoulders and back with a soft tap.
'...!'
Simon instantly felt his concentration leap by several levels.
The very image Serne had shown in Magical Combat class was being recreated. The feathers attached to his back emitted high output like boosters, lifting Simon's body into the air.
'Okay.'
Catching the rhythm, Simon kicked off the ground and launched upward.
Srrrrng!
With the force of his ascent, Simon slashed across Plema's shoulder.
Blood erupted like a fountain, and Plema's face twisted in intense fear.
[Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!]
Plema soared higher into the sky. The barrier of White Flame surrounding her like divine protection shattered the ceiling and rocky walls of the cavern, opening a hole as she rose even further.
'Hup!'
Simon's eyes sharpened at the sight.
He couldn't lose her now.
His stamina and mental energy were already wrung out, and if he relaxed even slightly, the recoil would hit him all at once.
Before that—
'I'll bring her down!'
Simon pushed the feather's flight speed to the maximum and gave chase after Plema.
Thudududududuk!
Holy spheres and boulder-sized debris rained down like a storm. Simon abandoned conscious thought and rushed headlong into madness.
'I'll slash everything in sight!'
He swung his sword as he ascended. White slashes tore through the sky like a frenzy.
As the field of vision filled with war's fragments, shadows, and barrages of holy spheres, Simon pushed his cognition far beyond its limits, cutting, slashing, and cutting again.
At last—
Fweeeeeeeeeh!
All obstructions blocking Simon's view vanished. Bathed in blinding sunlight, Simon's body soared thousands of meters into the sky.
Harsh winds whipped his hair. Looking down, the summit where the command center was located now had a gaping hole, and beyond it, the Keyzen campus looked impossibly far below.
[Just die alreadyyyyyyy!]
Plema in the sky raised both arms high.
Spiked crosses, formed of White Flame, floated in the air. Perhaps her mind had finally returned to normal; she gave up trying to burn him with divine power and decided to fight with physical force.
"Let's go, Feer."
[Kuhuhuhu! Do your worst!]
Simon flew upward, and hundreds of crosses fell. White slashes tore across the sky in countless streaks, only for the gaps to be immediately filled with more falling crosses.
Even the students fighting the monsters of Prima Materia on the ground turned their gaze skyward at the repeated thunderous crashes.
"It's a cross!"
Students pointed their fingers toward the sky.
"That's a priest, right?"
"But who are they fighting…?"
"Hey, move aside!"
Maelyn shoved Dick's head out of the way and stared at the sky with wide eyes.
Her cheeks flushed red.
'Lord Feon…!'
Chwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!
Simon's sword strikes cut through the crosses one after another.
But now he began to feel his limits. Though her mental defenses were broken, it was already a miracle that he had driven the Saint this far. If the battle dragged on and she regained composure, the tide would turn against him.
'This is the final blow.'
Grit!
He clenched his teeth. Something cracked between them.
Suspended in midair, he drew the greatsword behind him, twisting his waist and lowering his stance.
A slashing stance.
He poured all his strength into the greatsword. It began to ripple and surge with overwhelming momentum. Radiant light poured forth in a blinding glare.
"What the—?"
"M-My eyes!"
Even the Keyzen students on the ground had to shield their eyes from the massive flash of light streaming from the sword.
'Along with space—!'
Both arms swung as his waist turned. The bones of Feer attached to his body reproduced the accumulated experience through Simon's form.
Simon felt like a hole had been punched through his chest and smiled.
'This is the feeling of cutting through!'
CHWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A pure-white trajectory ripped through the air and sky in a straight line, slicing even distant clouds and vanishing beyond the heavens.
The massive shockwave that followed shook the entire Keyzen campus.
[Gagh!]
Together with the surrounding crosses, the Saint's waist was cleaved in two.
But Efnelle's Saint was an absolute existence. White Flame surged over her torn body, attempting to reconnect her halves.
'Not yet!'
Chwarururururuk!
'It's not over yet!'
Simon, having unleashed the colossal slash, began spinning once more. During the spin, all the bones of Feer attached to his body moved toward his wrists.
Chuk!
After one full rotation, Simon thrust his arm out, pointing the tip of his sword at Plema.
Simon's hands gripping the greatsword, and Feer's bones covering his arms, began to tremble violently, like a vessel barely holding back immense power.
And into this—
'I'll land it no matter what!'
Simon's Absolute Order was cast.
TWOOOOOOOOM!
With an eardrum-shattering roar, Simon's arms snapped upward, and the bones encasing his arms burst outward in every direction.
Plema, focused solely on restoring her split body, lifted her gaze.
[What—!]
Before she could even process it—
The Sword of Destruction passed by the side of her neck.
As she turned her dazed gaze to follow it, the sword was already far, far away.
And then—
[Ah.]
Her right arm was soaring high through the sky.
[Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!]
The Saint's scream of agony echoed across all of Keyzen.