Chapter 88: Chapter 88

Ran opened his remaining eye.

Within his drooping eyelids, his pupils gradually regained their vitality.

Ran let out a quiet, hollow laugh.

His body was still bound. But he instinctively knew. He felt as though his bones and flesh were regenerating.

Even the speed of his blood flow was palpable. Blood raced through his now-clear vessels. The pulsing of his heart was distinct.

'So this is what my body was meant to be.'

He bubbled with vitality. His mind was much clearer too. The fog that had clouded his thoughts vanished entirely. It felt like seeing a sea glitter after the morning mist cleared away.

'I think I understand now. Was it called karma?'

It was a concept he'd first heard from Nelga, the Imperial City gatekeeper, when they met. Then he recalled it again in his dream.

Karma is a term encompassing supernatural energies such as holy power, mana, aura, and ether.

Of course, he still lacked the theoretical understanding of how karma was acquired, refined, or manifested.

But if all the powers and miracles he used so far didn't come from a god, but from this innate karma within...

'I've never felt so abundant.'

The surroundings quieted. The hymn stopped for a moment.

Ran felt the stares pouring onto him. His clarified sight could see every one of them.

Faces of believers filled with awe—and some familiar faces he hadn't seen in a while.

There was Iel, weeping, and next to her, arcangelo, whose face mixed wonder with a strange suspicion.

Arcangelo stood up, wiping away the drool running down his chin.

Soon, all traces of amusement vanished, replaced by a solemn killing intent.

"... Priests, prepare the Judgement of Light."

The two black-clad priests beneath the altar drew their swords. Startled, Iel shot Arcangelo a look.

"Now, with the blood of the Guide, I shall summon the Seed of Destruction."

Arcangelo's chest thumped as if it would burst.

In truth, 'the Seeker' was never mentioned in the apocalypse scroll.

[On the Day of the End, the blood shed by the Guide shall finally bring about the completed destruction upon the living world.

Destruction takes many forms, but humanity shall behold the manifestation of resentment, and so tremble with fear.

If the Savior embraces the destruction descended to this world, a new world will at last be born; outside the authority of the Savior, there shall be utter ruin.]

Arcangelo assigned himself this role.

He resolved to bring about the day of the apocalypse with his own hands, forcibly extract the Guide's blood, and design the Savior's authority himself.

Thus, the Seeker was born.

Suddenly, arcangelo looked up at the sky. His eyes widened.

The southern part of Northland has long dry seasons. The Northmen described the Rain Goddess as a cold, haughty maiden. She would only grant rain for a brief moment each year, and only if the rain-calling ritual was especially earnest.

Black clouds started gathering against the overcast sky.

The Northmen, assembled beneath the altar, raised their heads. The sky, once ashen, now seemed almost clear by comparison.

Thunder vibrated deeply and low through the air.

The faces of the Northmen lit with reverence. No one believed this skyborn phenomenon was the work of the Rain Goddess.

Even Arcangelo found it hard to believe, mouth agape as he stared upwards.

'I was right. In the end, I really was!'

The testimony he'd cried out, now becoming reality before everyone's eyes. His body shook with uncontrollable excitement.

Proof that he was the only human to commune with God!

Ecstasy at being acknowledged as the true Seeker!

"Behold, everyone! The revelation of God is being fulfilled!"

Reactions varied among those about to receive God's presence. Some hit their heads on the ground, muttering to themselves; others prayed fervently to the sky. Amid the people wailing to the point of madness, hakon too had removed his hood and stared blankly heavenward in awe.

The sky rumbled again, louder this time. Rain seemed imminent.

As screams and laments mingled from all sides, the people from the safe zone froze as well. Their gazes flickered frantically between the sky, the Pontiff, and Ran.

Arcangelo fell to his knees.

He proclaimed the Judgement he had devised and practiced countless thousands of times:

"The Lord has spoken: Let there be light. From within the Seed of Destruction, a single ray shall fall, which shall finally devour the Saint and transform into the Light of the Second Coming."

He spread both arms and lifted his head gently.

The swarms of black clouds swirling above the sky seemed to breathe and undulate. White lightning flickered intermittently within.

It was an ominous sight, yet somehow comforting.

"... I will make you a light for the nations, to spread my salvation to the new creation."

The echo lingered. The sky remained as it was, the dull thunder continuing within the swirling clouds. It would not have been surprising if a storm broke out any moment.

"Guide, offer your final words for the peace of the world."

Arcangelo's eyes twitched as he spoke.

Ran's golden irises surged brilliantly.

He broke the silence.

"Tascar, summon Nachal."

Out from the crowd stepped Tascar. As the black priests approached, a flash of light burst at the sweep of Tascar's arm.

A chilling wind blew, then a gas denser than the earlier mist formed into a shape.

Someone among the demons shouted out.

Everyone, arcangelo included, witnessed the evil spirit appearing in midair. Shock rippled like wildfire.

Nachal looked upon those people with a lingering gaze.

That empty gaze fell on Arcangelo.

Arcangelo collapsed in horror. His face turned ghostly pale.

"... Dario, look at me."

The trembling stilled for an instant. With those few words, time itself seemed to freeze.

Only his pupils jerked rigidly.

The Pontiff, arcangelo, reverted to the boy Dario, barely even breathing.

Dario gasped unconsciously, and soon, others made similar sounds.

Behind the crucified Ran, a blinding radiance exploded outward.

The light swallowed up the surrounding darkness in an instant before gradually calming down.

Everyone opened eyes they'd clamped shut.

A wondrous halo of light spread from Ran's lower back in multiple rays.

Each golden shaft of light, fanning out like wings, rippled as if dancing.

Dario murmured, dazed. The Second Coming's light, or the light of ascension, just as he once read in the scriptures.

Something tiny landed on his eyelashes. Dario blinked and raised his chin. Then everyone else looked to the sky.

Raindrops were falling.

At Ran's quiet command, Nachal moved. The two black priests at the altar buckled, legs giving out as the enormous evil spirit took action.

The scythe sliced through the aura-binding ropes that held Ran's wrists.

Ran landed, bracing himself with both hands. As he bent forward, the golden, winglike lights from his back became clearer.

Even among the falling rain, the wings formed a magnificent cross behind him.

"Y-Your Holiness the Pontiff?!"

Hakon threw his hood aside, shouting. The stunned Dario trembled.

"Isn't something wrong?! Wh-What are those things?!"

If things had gone wrong, too many were beyond counting. Dario wasn't able to process it all.

"Ha, dario. I spent countless hours considering how I should punish you."

Ran tilted his head to look down at Dario. Beside him, Nachal slung its scythe over its shoulder and moved fluidly.

"I—I, I... Arcangelo?"

Dario recoiled in fright, covering his head.

Ran shouted in Northlandic to all.

"Behold! Your god has descended!"

The holy fire, made manifest as golden wings.

The evil spirit descending to represent its lord.

And the human who wove them all together proclaimed once again in their language.

"All who would obey, kneel!"

The noise of people moving echoed all around. Every Northman fell neatly to his knees.

A miracle had occurred. In the presence of a transcendent being, humans were utterly powerless. Reason and logic faded far away.

Only one person remained standing.

"Don't play games, imperial."

Hakon ground his teeth. Even as transcendence unfolded right before his eyes, he didn't quail.

"Your Holiness the Pontiff, didn't you tell us?"

"There is only one God, you said so yourself."

Hakon tossed his axe to the ground. Then he threw back his robe, baring his burly torso.

"Father god Dakir, mother god Asriel?"

Dario echoed Hakon's words like a trance.

Dario jolted and looked at Hakon.

"N-No! Don't! Don't say it! Hakon!"

Bloodshot eyes, hakon roared.

"Their son Lycan—!! There is only one god, lycan—!!"

As Hakon lunged for Ran, a hand axe struck his shoulder. The blade did not penetrate deeply into the thick, muscular flesh.

Two Northmen drew axes from their belts at the same time.

Tascar grinned easily.

"Told you, I don't remember any of you."

Blows were exchanged. Hakon was an excellent warrior in his own right.

When Lycan sent Dario south, he picked his escort himself. Dario had handpicked Hakon and Hodin with utmost care. Faith mattered little; only the quantity and quality of light was scrutinized.

The match was decided in an instant.

Hakon coughed blood. An axe was lodged in his fallen chest.

Dario recoiled in horror at the sight.

Dario sobbed. Rain-soaked dirt clung to his long hair and priest's robe. Tears streamed endlessly from his wild eyes.

He looked up into Ran's golden eyes. The omnipotence that seemed to see through everything made his body tremble. He felt utterly exposed.

He crawled on his knees and clung to Ran's leg. It wasn't by his will; his body just moved that way. Tears and snot gushed out all at once.

"I—I tried my best. Please, please, spare me?!"

Ran's golden pupil bore down on Dario.

"You really are something, dario. I even wonder where the limits of your imagination end."

"With all that I am, I just wanted to build your paradise—th-that was all."

"My paradise? Do you even know who I am?"

"The archangel of all angels incarnate as saints in this land, the demigod who transcended mortal body and soul, the holy apostle reborn of the Spirit, the true son of the Lord, I greet you?!"

"Shh. I'm tired of hearing your voice. Enough nonsense, look at me, dario."

Dario slowly raised his head to look up at Ran.

The features of his face were unmistakably human, yet there was not an ounce of humanity felt.

Ran squatted down to meet Dario's eyes.

He pressed his index finger firmly to Dario's forehead.

"For all your sins, that you can still ask for mercy—truly, you're something else."

"I don't even know how I should remember you. Usurper of godhood? Heretical blasphemer? Or just some murdering lunatic?"

His convulsing body calmed.

Dario's eyes turned cold.

"You bastard, you're really a son of a bitch."

"Don't laugh. If you were going to show yourself, you could have answered my prayers sooner. You ignored me when I begged until my voice was raw, but now you'll judge me?"

"Fuck off, you son of a bitch."

Flickers of Ran's golden wings shone within Dario's hollow eyes.

"You never answered my prayers. You drove me into the abyss. Made me so goddamn miserable—so I tried to make a god with my own hands. Why? Was that so wrong?"

"Answer me—! I was never wrong!"

Silence around them was absolute. Only Dario's desperate scream echoed.

Ran stood and pulled the hatchet from Hakon's chest.

Everyone watching saw Ran as an unfathomable being, but none doubted he was linked to the divine.

A god, or an apostle, with a hatchet dripping blood. Check latest chapters at noᴠelfire.net

Everyone was witnessing an unfamiliar scene.

"So in the end, your tongue is the problem."

Ran understood Dario.

If he hadn't killed innocent people—if the people of the safe zone hadn't needed a new land—

He really didn't know what might have happened then.

Ran gripped Dario's chin tightly with one hand and raised the axe with the other.

Everyone averted their eyes from him.