[What? A novel?]
The feeling of “Is this guy out of his mind?” was there. Kriel gave a bitter smile.
Of course, it wasn’t a novel from the Tirnanog Rpg world, but one he had read back on Earth. A story featuring a noble paladin as the protagonist, unlike a Dark Knight like himself.
Kriel recalled that the character who used this technique always had a priest by their side. Without divine healing, it was a technique far too painful to endure on sheer grit alone.
“It hurts more than I thought.”
[What, you think reading a book makes you capable of pulling that off? Want me to recommend some novels with killer moves?]
“My taste in novels is a bit picky.”
Brushing off the sarcasm with a quip of his own, Kriel assessed his physical condition. His vitality was completely depleted, and even though he activated his body with fighting spirit, his regeneration was sluggish.
Perhaps it was because the weapon was crafted directly by the Demon King, as it seemed to have an added regeneration-blocking effect. Kriel vowed to smash that cursed blade to pieces.
Not now, though. Later, when Morgina arrived with her divine power.
Footsteps echoed from afar. Using his horn dagger as a crutch, Kriel struggled to his feet. Orishin kept saying something along those lines [Ow, ow, you’re heavy!].
“So, I guess you’ve already dealt with everything since it’s so quiet? If you’re done, maybe you could give me a hand…?”
“You’re late.”
The moment Morgina saw Kriel’s condition, she gasped and rushed over in horror. The plate armor that was carefully blessed with anti-abyss enchantments by the cathedral priests, was in shambles. The left side of his chest bore a huge wound, so deep that his internal organs were visible beneath it.
A wound that wouldn’t heal. It was a detail that unsettled Morgina even more.
“This chivalric lunatic again! And you’re barely responsive to divine power, too!”
Morgina enveloped her hands in the radiance of divine power and clung to Kriel. A miracle of healing cast directly by someone of Saintess caliber should instantly regrow flesh and mend wounds without leaving a scar.
But divine power and the Abyss were natural opposites.
For typical abyss beings, divine power caused harm rather than healing. That was why priests led the charge against the Abyss on the frontlines.
As a Dark Knight, Kriel was a being partially separated from the Abyss. Unlike most abyss beings, contact with divine power didn’t injure him.
However, Kriel’s essence, and by extension the very nature of a Dark Knight, was deeply tied to the Abyss. While he wasn’t harmed by divine power, its healing effects were greatly diminished for him.
For this reason, Morgina often chose indirect blessings, such as increasing the durability of Kriel’s armor, rather than directly strengthening his body.
Items blessed with divine power, such as swords imbued with sharpness or armor enchanted against the Abyss, were useful to Kriel. But effects that worked on the user, such as increasing the user’s physical strength, were largely ineffective for him.
The divine power she strained to muster poured over Kriel. It brought a subtle pressure reminiscent of when he donned the Mark of the Champion.
It felt like being wrapped in tight bandages from head to toe. Kriel struggled to speak and forced his mouth open.
“There’s something more urgent than healing.”
“What could be more urgent than fixing you when your insides are literally exposed?!”
“There was a curse on the sword that hindered healing in the first place. My body already has poor compatibility with divine power, and adding a curse on top of that makes trying to heal me a complete waste.”
Kriel raised his right hand to point at the demon sword lying on the ground. The blade that was once swirling with a vivid blue light now appeared dull and ashen.
“That sword is the main body of the Seed. The demon wielding it couldn’t handle its power, got consumed by it, and died. Take it back nicely wrapped in divine power or something.”
“What?”
“Don’t waste divine power on me. Seal the sword instead.”
Morgina muttered a curse about his infuriating stubbornness and approached the ashen sword. Her mind raced with records of cursed weapons.
Though the records were old, and the weapon had likely been modified for use as a “Seed”, its defining features were unmistakable.
“A Sampling Sword…”
As expected, Orishin made a fuss, saying it must be one of the Seven Demon Weapons. The rumors Kriel had heard about the Seven Demon Weapons were mere folktales, lacking the detailed names found in the Holy Kingdom’s Grand Library. Thus, the name Morgina mentioned was unfamiliar to Kriel.
“Sampling? Sounds like it’s great at gobbling things up.”
[Hey, that sounds just like me.]
Morgina secretly agreed with Orishin’s remark. She shot a glare at the obstinate man and spoke.
“It’s not ‘sampling’ as in test-eating food. It’s ‘corpse-eating’ because it devours even the dead. The Sampling Sword Gratoun. The unwanted guest of the battlefield.”
“Unwanted guest?”
It seemed a strangely humble nickname for a notorious demon sword. The original name, Test-Eater Sword, carried a much grimmer connotation.
[Ah, I can explain that. No one survives on a battlefield where that sword appears. Not the winners, not the losers.]
Just like the demon who had recently become its puppet, any warrior wielding Gratoun would inevitably fall under its control. They would swing the sword until every ounce of vitality was drained from their body, eventually collapsing in a lifeless heap.
[And that sword is inherently bewitching. Whether someone picks it up from the ground or defeats its previous wielder to claim it, a new slave to the blade always emerges.]
Even if an entire army was annihilated, or a victor emerged in the battle, Gratoun’s bewitching would drive comrades to fight among themselves to claim it.
Once every soldier on the battlefield had given their life force to Gratoun and perished, the sword would animate the last remaining corpse and move on in search of its next meal.
[That’s why it’s called the unwanted guest. It consumes everything and disappears.]
“What was the Holy Kingdom doing instead of sealing that thing?”
“They did seal it. They barely managed to, and were transporting it to Temlis when a group of demons launched a deliberate attack to retrieve it.”
Morgina unleashed her divine power with a look that made it clear she wanted nothing to do with the cursed blade. The crimson energy manifested as chains, wrapping tightly around the ashen sword.
“Let’s get out of here. Now that the core of the Abyss has been sealed, the entrance we used to get in should have returned to normal by now.”
[But, uh, what about us…?]
“What? Just spit it out.”
At her sharp words, Orihisin, who had been flitting nervously around her, finally spoke up after she shook her clenched fist threateningly at him.
[You know, Kriel basically brute-forced his way into the depths by demolishing a weak spot in the foundation. Do we even have a way to get back to the entrance? Wouldn’t it be better to just wait patiently?]
“Make Kriel do it.”
At Morgina’s response, Kriel let out a hollow laugh. Well, she wasn’t wrong. No matter how complicated the Abyss’s structure was, it was fundamentally a domain crafted for the powers of the Abyss.
The Dark Knight was originally meant to be the commander of the Abyss Legion. Just as he had discovered the weaknesses in the surface of the Abyss, he could also roughly understand the structure of the Abyss.
“Yeah, you’re right. This isn’t exactly the kind of place you want to hang around in. Let’s get moving.”
***
The Saints waited leisurely.
However, this calmness did not indicate any complacency or neglect on their part.
Their composure was entirely because of, or more accurately, thanks to Morgina.
Having entered the monastery with her Champion, Morgina was better known by grim monikers like “The Skull Reaper” or “The Harbinger of Calamity” than by her official title as the Saintess of Eve Kaha.
If one were to evaluate the clergy solely on their fighting power against the Abyss, she would easily rank among the top five priests. Her companion had requested thirty minutes, and the Saints interpreted this request as follows:
“Oh, I see. She means she’ll demolish everything within thirty minutes and come back, so we just need to stand guard and make sure nothing escapes!”
If, by any chance, Morgina failed to return within the given time, it would indeed signify a grave situation. In that case, they would simply charge in together and deliver a thorough beating to whatever lurked in the Abyss.
After watching the monastery in silence for about 10 minutes, someone suddenly spoke.
“Does anyone know who that thug’s Champion is?”
No one answered immediately. After a brief pause, an old monk scratched his beard and spoke.
“I heard that when Morgina briefly served as a chaplain for the Western Army, she worked with a knight there… though there’s no record of that knight formally joining Eve Kaha.”
“What? So they just handed the Champion title to an outsider? That’s so like her, but still.”
“Well, you can’t be so quick to call them an outsider.”
“What do you mean, old man?”
“Why? It’s common enough, isn’t it? Even if someone hasn’t joined the church officially, they might hold a title like Champion because they’re related to a member of the clergy by family…”
The Saints’ expressions twisted subtly. Although the martial monk was one of the most seasoned figures in the Holy Kingdom, this time his speculation seemed off the mark.
“Morgina was raised by the Eve Kaha church. She has no secular family. So, if she were to form a new family connection, it’d probably be through marriage… but with her personality?”
Before long, all the Saints were nodding their heads in agreement. Even calling her headstrong felt like an understatement.
After it came to light that Morgina had served as a chaplain for the Western Army, it was considered a miracle from Eve Kaha that the church hadn’t received any formal complaints. Her fists often moved faster than her words, and her impulsiveness was infamous.
The monk nodded with a begrudging expression as if to say, “Let’s leave it at that for now.”
“Oh, here they come!”
Morgina and the Champion of Eve Kaha emerged through the same doors they had entered.
However, their appearance was far from how they had looked going in. The Champion bore a deep wound across his chest, and Morgina was practically dragging him along, doing her best to support him.
“Stop gawking and get over here, all of you!”
Though Morgina was shouting at the top of her lungs, her unsteady voice betrayed her concern and worry for the Champion. The Saints turned their eyes toward the monk.
He shrugged.
“I’ve officiated plenty of marriages in my time.”
But there was one thing he left unsaid.
It seems like the Champion doesn’t feel much for her just yet…
It was the kind of beginning that hinted at a destiny bound to entangle many lives.
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