Chapter 86

Chapter 86
## Chapter 86

Picaol Cathedral (1)

At a training ground in the Roselia Cathedral.

“Haa—!”

Clang—!

Retired Paladin Luthus felt a surge of silent admiration for the young man executing sword strikes before him as he deflected the incoming blow.

‘His advancement has truly quickened.’

He had kept a close eye on the youth previously due to the exceptional status and treatment granted to him by the Church, but recently, his development had reached a breakthrough pace.

It had gotten to the point where gauging the young man’s ultimate boundaries felt impossible.

‘Heinrich Landguard… ‘

Luthus harbored internal reservations about the current state of affairs, though he kept his expressions neutral since the Church’s upper echelon and the Saintess herself were throwing their full weight behind the youth.

While he recognized the boy’s latent talents and prospects, he felt they were placing far too heavy a burden upon a novice who had only just achieved the rank of a holy knight.

‘An abundance of divine energy is not the sole requirement for a holy knight.’

Naturally, he held deep reverence for manifestations of piety, and possessing more was always advantageous…

Yet beyond that spiritual realm, raw physical capabilities were paramount for a warrior destined for the vanguard, unlike a priest who remained sheltered behind the front lines.

‘That was my conviction… and yet… ’

In truth, Heinrich’s combat skills had never been subpar to begin with.

Though he fell short of a captain’s proficiency, he easily matched the caliber of a standard high-ranking holy knight.

“Haa—!”

The youth’s blade abruptly shifted along an unorthodox trajectory, lunging straight toward Luthus’s midsection.

It was an angled strike that exerted immense strain upon the wrist joint, but Heinrich paid the physical cost no mind.

Clang—!

Deflected effortlessly by a sturdy guard, the blade immediately harnessed the momentum of the rebound, tracing a semi-circle to sweep toward the older warrior’s lower limbs.

Luthus shifted smoothly to counter that secondary assault as well…

‘Weightless?’

The strike carried absolutely no mass behind it.

The instant that realization registered, he swiftly retreated a step.

Whoosh—!

An armored mass hurtled through the empty air where his lower leg had stood just a second prior, carrying the force of a heavy cudgel.

It was Heinrich’s own leg, encased in dense plate armor.

Luthus’s gaze sharpened with intrigue at the sudden transition, but Heinrich merely clicked his tongue, showing clear dissatisfaction with the outcome.

‘I attempted to deploy it against a master, but it yielded nothing. Is it because my target is simply too skilled?’

The sheer bulk of his heavy armor undoubtedly influenced the execution.

Freesia, the True Blood of Brokoslack who had originated this combat style, moved with exceptional swiftness and ethereal lightness, making a divergence in their respective applications completely inevitable.

Even so, Luthus, who oversaw Heinrich’s martial development, gave a small nod, privately impressed by the young man’s remarkable tactical intuition.

‘He is far from ordinary. His capabilities already rival those of a seasoned combat veteran. Operating at this pace, achieving the standing of a Paladin within a minor span of years is entirely feasible.’

Though he fully validated Heinrich’s merits internally, he maintained a stern, unreadable countenance outwardly.

It was a deliberate measure to ensure the gifted youth did not succumb to arrogance.

“We will conclude today’s session here.”

“My gratitude, Instructor!”

Following several hours of intense exertion, Luthus departed from the courtyard first, a sense of gratification lingering beneath his stoic facade.

‘As the old adage goes, physical endurance is the foundation of all martial power. His innate vitality is remarkable.’

Heinrich’s stamina appeared bottomless, enabling them to maximize every minute of the scheduled block with highly productive exercises. As a mentor who derived profound fulfillment from guiding the next generation, Luthus could not help but feel content.

Left to his own devices, Heinrich performed a thorough full-body stretch before commencing the cleanup of the practice area.

Multiple days had passed since the Saintess had disclosed details regarding the holy sword, yet his routine had consisted strictly of repetitive drills.

He threw himself into comprehensive martial forms, divine incantation exercises, and rigorous solitary conditioning.

‘It is a privilege to possess the freedom to concentrate solely on elevating my combat strength without distraction.’

Enabled by the accelerated progression rate unlocked through the refinement of his personal trait, he could perceive tangible advancements with each passing day. Experiencing immediate gains naturally transformed the grueling routine into an enjoyable pursuit.

Roughly half a month into this rewarding and focused training regimen,

Saintess Liesta requested Heinrich’s presence.

Knock, knock—

“Saintess, it is Heinrich. I have arrived as requested.”

“Wonderful! Please, step inside!”

The interior of the Saintess’s private study was notably sparse, featuring little else beyond towering shelves crammed with literature and various decorative pieces bearing the standard emblem of the Church.

As his gaze idly drifted across the modest workspace…

‘Ah.’

His eyes caught a cluster of matching volumes tucked into an obscure corner of a shelf, prompting him to instantly shift his gaze away, feigning total ignorance.

It was only proper to give a young woman her privacy.

The Saintess, entirely oblivious to Heinrich’s polite discretion, bounded away from her workspace to offer a warm welcome.

The stack of administrative paperwork she had been painstakingly reviewing was completely forgotten, strewn carelessly across the surface of her desk.

While the vast majority of bureaucratic matters were handled directly by administrative personnel executing the decrees of the Cardinals, certain responsibilities were intentionally designated to her as practical exercises to foster her governance skills.

The specific text she had been agonizing over prior to his entry belonged to that category of tedious obligations, but she used Heinrich’s arrival as the perfect pretext to abandon it entirely.

Naturally, neglecting the material would not make it vanish; it merely deferred the burden to a later time…

Still, the Saintess felt immensely relieved to escape the immediate mental fatigue.

She would let her future self handle the consequences!

“I offer my respects, Saintess.”

“Greetings, Sir Heinrich! We have significant matters to review, so please take a seat.”

Heinrich settled himself onto the couch positioned opposite her, a low tea table separating them.

“Accounts of your performance have reached me. Despite the presence of several incredibly demanding mentors, the feedback regarding your progress is universally glowing.”

“You praise me too highly. The credit belongs entirely to the exceptional mastery of those guiding me.”

Following a standard exchange of pleasantries and modest deflections, the core purpose of the meeting arose.

“Evaluating the assessments provided by your instructors, it appears the appropriate window has arrived for you to face the trial of the holy sword.”

“The holy sword… that is far more rapid than I anticipated.”

Fewer than thirty days had elapsed since Heinrich had dedicated his schedule to intensive preparation following her initial mention of the legendary weapon.

Despite the swift elevation of his current capabilities, his personal estimation suggested a longer period of conditioning would be required…

“In truth, my original intent was to afford you a more substantial period to prepare without haste, but a persistent unease troubles me.”

“An unease?”

“A distinct premonition that a massive upheaval is fast approaching. Though the specifics remain obscure, I suspect the Immortal King is orchestrating a plot.”

“Oh… is that the case?”

It was widely whispered that the Saintess’s inner promptings carried the weight of absolute prophecy, though on this particular occasion, her intuition missed the mark.

Hans was currently occupied with charitable endeavors back on Earth.

“Consequently, the Church is elevating its strategic readiness to maximum and making arrangements for any potential crisis. Official notifications will be dispatched to neighboring powers in short order. A storm is brewing, so we must remain vigilant.”

Yet her absolute certainty suggested she had indeed picked up on an anomalous variable.

It was completely unrelated to Hans, but some underlying shifting of forces must have prompted such a decisive stance.

“Returning to the matter of the holy sword, we have received a formal dispatch from Picaol Cathedral situated in the western territories, confirming that the path to the trial is open to you immediately.”

Approximately three centuries prior, the second incarnation of the Immortal King had brought devastation to the western expanses of the land, completely dismantling the once-mighty Sarv Empire that dominated the region.

Following the successful campaign of the allied forces that brought down the monarch of death, a coalition of four separate sovereign nations emerged from the ashes, each declaring themselves the rightful inheritors of the Sarv Empire’s legacy.

The nations of Talia, Sharotti, Tulk, and Lesque had finally managed to overwrite the deep scars left behind by that ancient conflict after generations of recovery.

Granted, their individual geopolitical strength remained modest due to the lingering historical trauma, but they pursued collective advancement through close alignment and mutual assistance.

‘And the prominent sanctuary established within the borders of the southern realm of Lesque is… ’

Picaol Cathedral.

The most contemporary regional sanctuary, erected during the comprehensive structural restoration 300 years ago, served as the active resting place where the holy sword remained bound…

It marked the exact geographical location where the legendary champion of old and the crusade forces had delivered the final blow to the second Immortal King.

“Regrettably, despite securing a victory over the Immortal King, the forces of light were unable to fully neutralize and bind his core heart.”

Whether due to the systemic decay left in the wake of the battle, or an insidious final curse cast by the dying entity, the site of the tyrant’s fall began to suffer from a creeping spread of abyssal corruption.

“To counteract the blight, the original champion and the Holy See anchored the holy sword directly into the epicenter to act as a permanent cleansing seal, subsequently constructing a massive sanctuary directly over the site.”

That structure became the western anchor known as Picaol Cathedral.

As the pre-existing western spiritual seats had collapsed alongside the fall of the Sarv Empire, the establishment of the new site occurred at an ideal historical juncture.

“If the holy sword is unseated from its position, will the containment field fail? Am I truly permitted to interfere with it?”

“Three centuries have rolled past. At the time, no alternative existed, but the site has undergone centuries of continuous purification. The structural integrity will remain perfectly stable even in the absence of the blade.”

For that reason, successive generations had made consistent, structured attempts to reclaim the weapon.

A blade of such magnificent power was far too crucial an asset to leave abandoned as a stationary anchor indefinitely.

Of course, historical attempts had yielded a predictable pattern.

“Every single claimant met with failure. The parameters appear exceptionally stringent.”

The Saintess let out a soft sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly.

To earn the right to wield the holy sword, a candidate had to endure an array of grueling tests, and should a single individual attempt the trial multiple times, the benchmark of difficulty escalated exponentially with each successive venture.

Thus, the optimal path demanded securing the weapon’s acknowledgement on the very first attempt.

“What gives you such absolute certainty that I will succeed where others faltered on my opening try?”

“Because you, Sir Heinrich, are the destined warrior who will bring an end to the Immortal King!”

Her gaze held absolute, unwavering conviction as she spoke the words.

Heinrich quietly directed his eyes downward, experiencing a flash of internal guilt when confronted with such pure, unshakeable confidence.

“I understand the gravity of the task. What is the scheduled timeline for my departure?”

“Immediately!”

“Pardon?”

“The administrative personnel overseeing the spatial transit gate have already been notified! Stepping through right now will deliver you directly into the halls of Picaol Cathedral.”

The Saintess delivered the declaration instantly, a proud expression overtaking her features.

Her body language conveyed immense satisfaction regarding her own organizational efficiency.

As he stared back at her in sheer bewilderment, she tilted her head slightly, offering an innocent blink.

‘Well, I carry no extensive baggage to arrange, so an immediate departure presents no true obstacle.’

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Heinrich pushed himself up from the couch.

Naturally, he ensured he left a parting remark for his host.

“Then I shall take my leave. I offer my best wishes for the completion of your remaining administrative tasks.”

“Ah! Oh no…”

The vibrant energy draining instantly from the Saintess’s face as she recalled the abandoned paperwork she had briefly put out of mind.

The documentation must have been exceptionally tedious to elicit such a dramatic shift in demeanor.

Exiting the Saintess’s private quarters, Heinrich made a direct line for the spatial transit chamber.

His objective: to cross the vast distance to Picaol Cathedral in the western reaches of the continent.

And to claim the legendary weapon forged to lay low the Immortal King!

—

Whoosh—

[Hmm… It appears the local affairs are largely sorted out.]

Perched upon the precipice of a towering skyscraper dead in the middle of the night.

A solitary silhouette observed the sprawling urban expanse stretching out below, cloaked heavily by the dark atmosphere.

The vigilante of the Korean underworld, the slayer of malicious offenders, the unacknowledged apex combatant.

And simultaneously, the living catastrophe of the Auterica Dimension, the manifestation of death emerging directly from the void.

It was Hans, the entity known as the Immortal King.

‘Operating with the infrastructure of a structured organization drastically simplifies the process. Trying to manage everything as a lone actor places too many constraints on what Hans can accomplish.’

On occasion, a coordinated network of moderately capable operatives proved far more effective than a singular, omnipotent entity.

The baseline productivity of his operations had scaled dramatically since integrating the machinery of the Blood Alliance, alongside the assets of Heterosis.

‘For starters, their intelligence gathering systems operate on an entirely superior tier.’

Previously, Hans had been restricted to reacting purely to active threats that crossed into the direct path of his sensory perception fields.

A deeply corrupted individual could theoretically evade his judgment through sheer fortune.

That limitation no longer applied.

He systematically intercepted data utilizing the network of the Blood Alliance as it pushed its influence across the country, while members of Heterosis—who had achieved vastly enhanced power levels through the consumption of “Refined Blood Essence”—hunted the targets down.

In instances where a target proved too formidable for the sub-factions to neutralize, Hans personally stepped in to eliminate the variable.

It represented a flawless distribution of operational responsibilities.

[There seem to be no remaining high-profile targets requiring immediate concern.]

Hans extracted the secondary burner phone formerly belonging to Heinz the Second to verify if any critical intelligence remained unaddressed.

Yet, after days of continuous, rapid maneuvers through the underworld, he found no outstanding situations that demanded his personal enforcement.

[Hmm… Truly nothing left to resolve?… In that case, perhaps a return journey is in order? Hehehe.]

The destination he envisioned was not his residential apartment.

If forced to categorize the location, it aligned far more closely with his true place of origin.

‘The pronouncements made by the Saintess have been lingering in the back of my mind. It would be wise to investigate the underlying cause.’

With those thoughts anchoring his intent, the Immortal King, the absolute terror of the continental realms, set his course back toward Auterica.