Be'ze had no time to concern himself with the silver-haired man's "disappointed mentor" tone.
Because the gun and sword in the man's hands were simultaneously cutting across Be'ze's body as a Dead Apostle. Dodging the blow, he counterattacked with a Black Key in one smooth motion.
They exchanged several rapid clashes. Eventually, the sword couldn't withstand the pressure of the Black Key and shattered, leaving only the spear. But following a surge of magical energy through his body, the spear delivered an even fiercer strike. He took advantage of the opportunity to avoid the Black Key's edge, and in that instant, reached out with his now-free hand, grabbed it, and used the momentum of his body to close the distance.
As a swordsman praised as the pinnacle of his era—who in the 3rd century AD had designed the Black Key as a mass-producible, portable, efficient, and damage-limiting conceptual weapon—and a priest of the Church, Be'ze had to admit it: this young-looking man's combat prowess was overwhelming. With near-unimaginable violence, he completely dominated the battlefield.
To be honest, Be'ze didn't want to fight him. There was no reason for a deathmatch—this man was still human, not a Dead Apostle.
Be'ze hailed from the Burial Agency under the Holy Church—specifically the Narbareck lineage—and held deep reverence for his faith. Even after all the achievements he had earned, he obeyed the Church's will and became a Dead Apostle. He now stood as the 25th of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, possessing the Principle of "Sword."
Decades ago, he had personally slain the Black-Winged Duke in Wales one-on-one. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was one of the Church's most efficient anti-Dead Apostle weapons—but he had always reserved his sword for Dead Apostles only.
"Be'ze! What are you doing?! Hurry up and use your Blood Principle!"
A cardinal who had narrowly survived the earlier battle shouted angrily, leaning on his cane, glaring at the purple-haired Dead Apostle.
The kind, dignified look he once wore had completely twisted into one of terror and rage—perhaps unable to accept that someone of his status had nearly been killed.
"..."
Be'ze remained silent, retreating while keeping his gaze on Avia, who made no move to press the attack.
Once someone becomes a Dead Apostle, they acquire a Principle—a manifestation of something they once held as a human, now cultivated into a unique existential directive. It becomes both their purpose for survival and the curse that denies them death.
And the only path to true immortality… lies in the Blood Principle.
The so-called Blood Principle is the fundamental law etched into the soul that qualifies one to be an Ancestor. It is the origin rule encoded in their very blood—a singularity capable of rewriting planetary physics by mere presence. It is the crimson stain that fell from the Moon to Earth—a poison to all other worlds.
The difference is this: the Blood Principle can be inherited. There exists a succession system among Ancestors. But a Principle is unique to each Dead Apostle—non-transferable, one of a kind.
Avia now held only a spear—his sword shattered. He glanced coldly at the silent Be'ze and spoke proudly:
"Monk of the sword, what's holding you back? Why won't you use it—your Blood Principle?"
He could more or less guess what Be'ze's Blood Principle was. After all, Be'ze would one day become the teacher of Ciel and the new 19th Ancestor—and die at Ciel's hands. Ciel would go on to develop the great magic "Calvaria Star" using his Sword Principle.
Its form and effect were likely similar: unfolding in the stratosphere, focusing sunlight into a burning angelic wheel via magical mirrors, raining down a fifty-kilometer-long, ten-kilometer-wide beam upon the earth—a tangible aurora, a guillotine of light.
Only with such a weapon could he have possibly executed the Black-Winged Duke in single combat, whose Reality Marble "No Return" turned the sky into a canopy of black feathers—devouring moonlight and stars alike, plunging everything into a world of absolute, unrelenting death.
It was a hard counter.
But Avia didn't care. He had once withstood the indiscriminate breath of a dragon; wide-area attacks like this no longer fazed him.
"…I can't use it. And I won't. That's not something to be used against a human."
Be'ze shook his head and ignored the cardinal's furious glare.
"You fool! You useless coward! If you won't use it on Phantasmal Species, at least use it on this heretic! How could Lord Marb have let someone like you live?!"
The cardinal struck Be'ze several times with his cane, then shouted at the approaching Executors, priests, and knights:
"Everyone—link up! Activate the cathedral's defense system!"
At that moment, a breeze began to howl and intensify. The cathedral itself trembled.
From an aerial view, a spiral unfurled outward from the cardinal's position—as if every Church member present was linked by shared magical circuits.
The magical leyline powering the entire city was now driving the circuits of all Church personnel present. To harness the Church's mysteries, they had turned themselves into simple components in a massive collective ritual—a true, large-scale group sorcery.
The weapon it summoned—
Was the sacred ground of the two-hundred-year-old Great Cathedral of Wales, steeped in blood and mystery.
In that instant, it shone—brilliantly.
Too bright to believe the sun was setting. It wasn't just physical luminosity.
To human perception, light itself was rising.
Vast. Overwhelming. And holy.
A massive beam of magical light hurtled toward Avia.
But he stood there unmoving—and smiled faintly.
"O people, heed my words: strike down the evil that walks among you."
The faithful chanted together, their voices echoing in the blinding radiance.
At the same time, a golden glow began to emanate from Avia's body.
A golden hue—like desire—manifested amidst the sacred brilliance, wrapping around him protectively.
Avia, too, had noticed it—this radiance from the Rhine Gold awakening upon his body. That the cursed gold would protect someone… was beyond belief.
"The power has gathered. I can use it once."
He murmured. At that moment—under the collision of the Church's mighty faith and the Rhine Gold's ancient curse—he achieved a perfect 100% synchronization with a remaining external unit beyond the planet.
Charged and ready, though incomplete—so the force might be slightly diminished.
"—This is the Gold that Pierces the Stars."
Then, in perfect counter to the cathedral's overflowing faith-light—
A golden ray, like a divine arrow, fell from beyond the stars.