Chapter 89: Chapter 89

Death is not merely the end of life.

For some, it is an eternal rest.

So it was for Ran. And he felt a sense of kinship with Dario. Perhaps Dario, too, just wanted to let everything go and finally rest.

'Don't even think about dying peacefully.'

Ran cut off Dario's tongue.

Hakon was not only the High Priest but also the chief warrior of the tribe.

The remaining Black Priests had lost all will to fight.

Ran commanded Nachal.

When he was lost in his inner world, he became aware that two evil spirits had become attached to him. Although he hadn't yet learned exactly how to wield them, he resolved to discover their use gradually, along with karma.

Nachal silently decapitated the Black Priests.

"Aaah, is Tarok's blessing ending here?!"

Blood sprayed everywhere like fountains.

Some of the demons watched the scene in awe.

Tibo's eyes also grew wide as he nervously swallowed. He looked at Ran with a face full of alarm.

'When I heard from Rev that Ran could use the spirit-summoning sword, I thought Rev must have seen wrong.'

The demonic power of the demons is the counterpart to the holy power of the Holy Church. To become a necromancer swordsman, one must be born with this demonic power.

However, the terms 'demonic power' and 'necromancer swordsman' had practically vanished from use in recent times. Both concepts had been forgotten for so long that there are even young demons now who don't know what they mean.

'There are no more bearers now.'

Demonic power, unlike mana or holy power, is not a supernatural ability gained through harsh training or religious discipline. Nor can it be passed down to future generations. Recently, tibo had also heard about the concept of aura attained by warriors who reached a certain state after repeatedly facing life and death in a harsh civil war.

'Demonic power is fundamentally different from those. It's not something you can acquire later in life.'

How one is born with demonic power is not clearly known. Now the essence of the demon race will be remembered only as an ancient myth.

Yet, at least one thing is certain.

You must be a warrior of the demonic bloodline designated by Tarok.

'Ran couldn't be a demon.'

As Nachal's form dissipated, Ran's golden wings also gradually faded away.

Tibo let out a quiet sigh.

There was no doubt that this shining brilliance had originated from the Holy Church.

'He can wield both holy power and demonic power simultaneously??'

Even children know that these two gods and their respective powers are fundamentally opposed.

"Tibo! Don't just stand there, come help!"

Led by Terrence, the people of the safe zone began dealing with the aftermath. On one side, the bodies of the Black Priests were being gathered. Most people in the safe zone were former soldiers. They were used to handling such situations.

'The Pontiff was the ruler of Quersa, regardless.'

With his downfall and the sudden spiritual experience, many Northmen were in shock.

Ran had predicted all of this and left the organizing to Terrence.

'In the end, Ran saved us all again.'

The radiant light that had surrounded Ran was now almost completely gone.

Eventually, the form of his wings flickered faintly like dying embers and then vanished altogether.

The rain began to fall harder.

"Haha, so this is how it ends."

Tascar approached Ran and Iel. He tried to look unfazed, but to be honest, he still couldn't quite believe it.

'It wasn't just luck that broke the curse back then.'

When he first heard about Ran's plan from Rev, he couldn't believe it. It seemed completely absurd.

Yet, with no other options, they'd followed Ran's will with a resigned despair, just like when they crossed the bear beast's den.

And again, they witnessed a miracle.

Ran was looking up at the sky with a wistful gaze. Raindrops traced down his cheeks, falling drop by drop.

Tascar kept tilting his head in puzzlement.

'Is it just me, or does his face look more radiant now?'

Tascar had no way of knowing what had happened to Ran while he was nailed to the cross.

'What exactly are you...?'

As a Northman sensitive to anything mysterious, tascar couldn't shake the thought that Ran was something close to a transcendent being.

Tascar's eyes widened.

Tascar and Iel shouted at the same time.

Dario was limping across the plain. He had been exiled from Quersa.

He didn't even know where he was going or why he was walking. He just walked aimlessly, without purpose. His unfocused pupils were hazy and dull.

In the middle of the bleak plain stood a huge dead tree. Its twisted, withered branches were bare of a single leaf.

Dario collapsed against the tree, as if he'd fallen.

He gasped for breath. The priest's hat on his head slipped crookedly. With both hands, dario carefully set it back in place.

Clutching his belly, he rolled on the ground. Laughter echoed only within his mouth. Suddenly, tears streamed down his face. The tracks were visible on his dry cheeks.

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Dario's narrowed pupils suddenly widened.

The angry pounding of horse hooves was drawing closer. A group could be seen approaching from the distant horizon.

Three horses neighed fiercely.

With his head to the ground, dario rolled his eyes to look up at them.

The man in the middle took off his deeply drawn hood.

"What are you doing here, Your Holiness?"

Hodin and the men flanking him leapt down from their horses with powerful energy. Dust billowed up from the ground. All three were enormous men.

The tattoo around Hodin's eyes writhed here and there.

"Hmmm, let's have a look."

Hodin forced Dario's mouth open. Dario had no strength to resist. His powerless body was tossed about like a herbivore bitten by a predator.

Hodin clicked his tongue and suddenly burst out laughing. The Northmen standing behind him joined in.

"See, you should have listened to me!"

Hodin headbutted Dario in the face.

Dario grabbed his nose as blood spurted out.

"Oh dear, our Pontiff, huh?"

Hodin slung an arm around Dario's shoulders.

"Actually, I didn't leave Quersa. I was hiding, watching everything. Damn, I was curious! You really raised my expectations."

"His name was Ran, right? I thought he was suspicious. Anyway, the guy's really a disciple of Asriel? Then he's the nemesis our chieftain has to get rid of. Right?"

"You said it, didn't you? For the birth of a great god..."

Hodin drew out his words. One of the men beside him quickly cut in.

"You need a damn cool and legendary tale for that."

Hodin snapped his fingers toward the man who answered and then headbutted Dario's face again.

Teeth tumbled from Dario's smashed face as his eyes began to roll back.

"If you think about it, I might be alive thanks to you. Arcangelo is just as clever as they say. Just leave things to me now. I'll report to the chieftain properly."

Hodin pulled a comical face but clenched his teeth tightly.

He had seen Hakon die at Tascar's hand.

When Tascar became famous as a warrior of the Sabertooth Tigers, both Hakon and Hodin had looked up to him. Hodin had once challenged him to an honorable duel, only to be dismissed instantly. Honor duels require warriors of similar standing. For someone to be refused is a lasting disgrace.

"Hehe. Right. Our Snow Leopard clan ended up because of you, you know. We all know it."

"And not only that? Thanks to you, I managed to get noticed by the chieftain. Your eye for people is something else—amazing."

As Hodin said, there were warriors hired by Lycan precisely because Dario had strongly recommended them.

Through his ability to read karma, dario had hand-picked warriors who became widely known for bearing the Pontiff's stigmata.

"So we made you a king. You used me plenty too. You have any idea how unbearable it is to bow your head to someone who was once a slave—huh!!"

Hodin yelled in Dario's face.

In Northland, strength is the highest value. There is nothing more humiliating than bowing to the weak.

The Pontiff's Black Priests, who swallowed their pride and beliefs to serve Arcangelo, did so only because Lycan had insisted so fervently.

Hodin could no longer hold back his pent-up anger.

Dario collapsed backward after catching Hodin's flick on his forehead. Hodin and the two Northmen beside him burst out laughing.

"Such a fuss over something so minor."

"Pontiff, let's hear some of that famous talk again. You'll wiggle out like a rat this time too, right?"

"That Ran guy is sharp. How did he know this bastard's tongue was his weapon?"

Dario's teeth chattered as he trembled. His face was a mess of tears, snot, and blood.

The faces of everyone who had tormented him in the past overlapped with those of these Northmen before his eyes.

Dario curled up completely and grabbed his head.

"Is he a bit out of it now?"

"Maybe? He was the first time we met too, wasn't he?"

"He just went back to his old self. Hehe."

Beyond the jeering Northmen, the horizon could be seen.

The horizon before his eyes blurred into the remembered line of sea.

After leaving the Zima family, he'd boarded a smuggling ship.

Binut, the Northman Dario had met through the church in the past, was someone who wanted to fill his emptiness with religious fervor.

The 'new land of creation' mentioned in the Apocalypse was, he believed, a place where such pure people gathered.

The smuggling ship, loaded with imperial weapons and supplies, was caught in an unseasonal storm off the Northland coast.

Dario was lucky to survive. When he opened his eyes, he was on a foreign shore, surrounded by scattered supplies from the smuggling ship.

It really was a stroke of luck.

Dario gathered up all useful weapons and supplies. He planned to use these as capital to slowly begin his missionary work in the surrounding area.

Eventually, he made first contact with the Snow Leopard tribe.

"He really was a brazen bastard. Trying to bargain with us with no sense of fear."

They robbed him of everything, and Dario became a slave.

"Meeting you was lucky for both of us, wasn't it?"

At that time, the Snow Leopard tribe was on the verge of annihilation. They had been caught up in a bloodbath instigated by tribes that had long coveted Ortega.

The weak Snow Leopards had been driven from their home all the way to the far western Aurag coast of Northland.

They had no barbarians among them, but their chief Lycan was shrewd and-nimble.

Seeing Dario, who pleaded for Asriel's mercy and honored Dakir until he was out of tears and snot, gave Lycan an ingenious idea.

"The savior of Northland."

People who had grown weary of Northland's pervasive violence, those disillusioned with Dakir and living in hiding, and those who had fled in hopes of living peacefully—

Lycan declared he would be not a ruler over them, but their savior.

Hodin wiped Dario's nosebleed off with his thumb.

"Hehe, lycan really liked you."

Dario's vast religious knowledge was of much use to Lycan in many ways.

Their interactions deepened.

Dario became involved in both large and small battles of the Snow Leopards, never sparing his advice to Lycan. The strategies and tactics he'd learned while observing the Zima family proved very useful. He also enthusiastically recommended capable but overlooked people for important roles.

Father god Dakir, mother Goddess Asriel.

Dario completed the Snow Leopard tribe's rallying cry, imbued with their firm identity, and proposed it to Lycan.

Lycan was overjoyed. At last, he declared to all:

Arcangelo, the imperial, was not a slave but his friend—the Pontiff of Northland.

'That was my shining moment.'

Dario closed his eyes. Memories flickered past like a lantern slide.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You want to ask why I'm doing this, right? I'm Lycan's friend! And the Pontiff of the new era, right? Am I wrong?"

Dario could only stare at Hodin, unable to answer. Northlandic has no written language. There was no way of communicating.

Seeing Hodin's face up close after so long scared Dario. He felt like he might wet himself.

"Lycan always knew this day would come. That's why he gave special instructions to me and Hakon alone."

Hodin brought his face in close.

"You're of no more use, he says. Hehehe."

"But he says we absolutely need your corpse."

One of the biggest differences between Asriel and Dakir is how they treat the dead.

Dakir emphasized that the dead must be released to let both body and soul freely cross into the afterlife.

In contrast, Asriel would call the soul to himself and leave the body in this world. The idea was that the body should nourish the world of the living, so the departed would not be forgotten by their loved ones.

Sometimes, in such memorials, a hero would be born.

The life of a person, completed only through death.

When Dario spoke of such things, lycan had shown great interest.

Dario's trouser cuffs grew increasingly damp.

New Names, locations, skills, techniques (