Chapter 47 - The Stigma of Malice
Holy Sword and Demonic Sword.
These were the swords wielded by the Hero and the Demon King, respectively.
They were weapons that could not be crafted by ordinary means, as they needed to amplify the immense power of their wielders.
"The Holy Sword?"
And currently, unlike the demonic sword that was born with its own will and willingly served Clay, the Holy Sword crafted by the Dwarves remained in the Sanctuary.
"Th-That..."
It had to be.
"It's gone."
"What?"
"It's disappeared, the Holy Sword..."
The Holy Sword was supposed to be stored in the Sanctuary for charging with the power of light, and always positioned on the altar where the path of light was created, ready to answer the Hero's call.
The Second Commander of Kratia's Knights, who had just received news of the Holy Sword's absence from one of his subordinates who had searched the Sanctuary, turned pale.
"Nonsense! How can the Holy Sword disappear when there's no Hero?!"
Only the Hero could summon the Holy Sword.
This was because the Dwarves only recognized the Hero as its rightful wielder.
Setting the coordinates for creating the path of light and utilizing the Sanctuary, an ancient ruin, required the essential cooperation of the Dwarves and priests.
Now that there was no reason for them to cooperate again, no one could secretly spirit away the Holy Sword.
'What happened...'
The Second Commander bit his lip.
'No one could have taken it.'
The Holy Sword, embedded in the Sanctuary in a standby state, couldn't even be drawn without the Hero's summons.
The Knights, who had come to retrieve the Holy Sword under Emperor Lutan's command, had intended to move the entire altar where the Holy Sword was embedded.
Of course, since the altar also belonged to an ancient ruin, it couldn't be removed freely due to the protection guarding the Sanctuary.
However, thanks to high-ranking priests who had temporarily nullified that protection beforehand, the altar could be removed now.
'This is serious.'
Nevertheless, since the Holy Sword itself wasn't in the Sanctuary, moving the altar would be useless.
The Commander clutched his helmet, fidgeting.
'If Emperor Lutan finds out...'
Rumors were already circulating that Beatrice had picked up the Hero's corpse and was pulling strings.
Lutan believed the demon race was striving for revival by any means necessary.
The Commander had only just learned a few hours ago that even summoning an ancient god and sending her to the demon realm had failed.
And that too, not through official channels, but through personnel dispatched to the Guardian Knights.
"Commander, for now, you should report this fact through an official report..."
"Silence!"
The Commander waved his arm and shouted.
"Report that the Emperor personally ordered this, but when we went, the Holy Sword was gone? Are you out of your mind?!"
Even after the execution, Lutan remained highly sensitive to matters related to the Hero.
He seemed uneasy even though the Hero was dead.
"If he knows the Holy Sword disappeared even without the Hero, he might be very displeased. If we're not careful, he might even think the Dwarves did this."
"Yes?"
"If we report it recklessly right now, he might immediately suspect the Dwarves and attack them!"
Even if he followed Lutan's orders absolutely, the Commander was still a human.
The Hero's death had left a bitter taste in his mouth as well.
In such a situation, he did not want to provoke the sensitive Lutan and create animosity with the Dwarves.
"For now, it might be stuck somewhere else due to a return error, so go look for it."
"B-But the possibility of that happening is..."
"Just do as I say!"
At his harsh tone, the subordinate bowed his head and ran back the way he came.
Soon, those who received the Commander's orders dispersed and began searching for the Holy Sword again.
'Damn it.'
The Commander put a hand to his forehead.
'What on earth happened?'
Unless the Holy Sword grew legs and walked off on its own...
"Commander!"
It was then.
At someone's shout, the Commander rushed over.
"Wh-What is this?"
In the bushes around the Sanctuary.
There was a clear trace, as if something had moved forward, mowing through the grass.
♧
"Speak of the devil, and she appears."
Beatrice heard Shiltnaro knocking and scoffed.
"It's only been a short while since you showed your fangs to me, and already you're trying to cling to his side. Be careful."
"I'm the one who wanted her by my side."
"I'm telling you to be careful about treating her like a mere weapon."
Beatrice frowned slightly.
"She is a sword, but she is also a sentient being. You can't know what kind of influence she'll have on you, who just became the Demon King. So, be moderately cautious."
"You seem a bit sharper than usual."
Clay asked, looking slightly troubled.
"Is it because Shiltnaro said she wants to stay in my room?"
"Well, that might be part of it."
"You're being a bit vague."
"You're the vague one, Clay."
Beatrice said, as if warning him.
"Hierarchy is important to the demon race. Having her stay in your room could disrupt that hierarchy."
"..."
"If it's hard for you to say, then I..."
"Beatrice."
Clay sighed.
"I never sent the Holy Sword back to the Sanctuary except when I needed to charge it with the power of light."
"Huh?"
"Keeping a weapon by one's side is, in fact, a natural thing for someone like me."
Since one never knew when or in what form an enemy might attack, it was only natural to keep a weapon close at hand as a precaution.
"Anyway, Shiltnaro has come under my command, and she won't harm me because of herself. So don't worry."
"No, that's not what I..."
Beatrice, trying to continue, eventually waved her hand with a look of embarrassment.
"Fine. Do as you wish. I'll be leaving as an envoy now."
"Travel safely. I will keep your advice in mind."
Clay spoke to her as she was about to leave the room.
Beatrice let out a hollow laugh, looking at Clay.
"Yes, thank you."
She walked away, saying.
"See you when I get back."
CREAK.
As she opened the door and stepped out, Shiltnaro was standing there.
"U-Um. Hello."
Shiltnaro looked at Beatrice, seemingly unsure how to react, and greeted her awkwardly.
"I'm not doing well, but hello."
Beatrice replied softly to Shiltnaro.
"Go on in."
"Oh, oh?"
"Isn't that why you came?"
At Beatrice's words, Shiltnaro suddenly came to her senses and moved.
"R-Right. I'm going."
Beatrice nodded, watching Shiltnaro enter the room and close the door.
"Well, as Clay said, she's just a weapon."
She turned her gaze and continued on her way.
♧
Iser.
That place was preparing for war under Tia's command.
'Is she really going to confront Kratia?'
Imperial Knights Commander Lexter swallowed dryly, watching the soldiers bustling about.
'Even with Yapheon alone, they're not an opponent we can win against.'
Yapheon was a nation hardened by war.
As they had participated in countless battlefields on behalf of Kratia, a significant portion of their military strength could be considered elite soldiers.
'Of course, we have two people of the hero's party, but...'
Nael and Yelena, were part of the Hero's party.
Though not on the level of the Hero, Nael and Yelena boasted the strongest fighting power on the continent.
If they fought with all their might, they might be able to offer some resistance against Yapheon and the nations belonging to the Holy State Alliance.
If only they were both normal.
"..."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
A little distance from the area where soldiers came and went.
There, Nael sat blankly, and Yelena was still mumbling apologies to the empty air.
"Haa."
Lexter sighed.
'It's a complete mess.'
He couldn't understand how the Hero was found to be a traitor, and he had no idea what was going on with the current situation.
'Somehow, I'll have to make it happen.'
While Lexter turned his gaze to the empty air, Tia, the Empress of Iser, remained in her bedroom instead of her office.
"..."
She stared blankly at the cross in her hand.
She wasn't sure if a proper resistance against the Holy State Alliance was possible with the abnormal Nael and Yelena.
Yapheon and Marpein were not what made her uneasy.
Kratia.
That hegemonic nation at the center of the Holy State Alliance was her main concern.
"As expected, there's no other choice."
To win the war, she too would have to take that much risk.
She closed her eyes, clutching the cross.
"From now on, I intend to bear all responsibilities, so please inhabit me. This is to protect my faith in you through balance."
CRACK!
As she slowly recited the prayer, the cross began to crack.
"So that those who use deceit can no longer blind my eyes and disturb order, I will fulfill my duty, upholding the promised power passed down through generations."
SHATTER!
Finally, the cross shattered into pieces in her hand.
"Gah!"
At that moment, she gritted her teeth at the burning pain in her back.
WHOOSH!
A momentary burst of flame.
It left a mark on her back and then faded.
"Hah, hah."
The cross.
Instead of the broken cross, something etched onto her body glowed and then permanently stained her skin like a tattoo.
"Haaah..."
She slumped down, bringing a trembling hand to the area where her clothes had burned away.
The Stigma.
Even without seeing it, she clearly felt it etched onto her body.
She lowered her gaze and let out a hollow laugh.
"I've done it."
Etching the Stigma was an act that shortened one's lifespan.
Because it would gnaw away at one's vitality to exert power an ordinary human could not.
"Rather..."
Rather, she wished she could have used this power before the Hero was executed.
But at that time, she couldn't use this power.
Because she couldn't even touch the cross.
In a situation where she absolutely had to hold it with bare hands and recite the prayer, the cross emitted heat so intensely that it could melt flesh and bone.
The strange thing was that this phenomenon only occurred in her hands.
There was no problem with where the cross was placed or stored.
It seemed as if she was under some kind of restriction that prevented her from using the cross.
But whatever the problem, it didn't matter now.
The Hero was dead, and the Hero's party had disbanded.
There was no glory left to protect.
All that remained for her was to survive with this nation.
"Yuru."
The pain of the Stigma subsided, and she tightly clenched her delicate hand.
"Where are you now?"
An enemy's enemy was an ally.
Though their relationship had soured, she needed even one more fighting force.
"I want to roll around in the mud together."
SLITHER.
She slowly rose to her feet and took a step.
It was the birth of a Saint of Malice.
♧
WHOOSH.
Above the gorge that covered Barungenia.
"Brother."
Yuru, the Tower Master of the Blue Magic Tower and a Grand Mage who had reached Origin, was there.
"Amazing."
She had watched the entire battle between him and the ancient god Athanasia.
Even his victory.
She mumbled, looking down at the traces of the battle.
"It's a trial after all."
The world's trial to present Clay with a more suitable position.
It was when Yuru, who had followed Athanasia and found out everything she needed, smiled.
CLANK, CLANG.
She turned around at the sound of something scraping the ground.
"Huh?"
What she saw was the Holy Sword, moving by itself, scouring the ground.