Chapter 117

Chapter 117
## Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: The Refused Feast

‘I refuse to perish in this place.’

Gracia was withering away, her vital years snatched by the specter of the Reaper.

This desperation had guided her steps to this location.

She sought to outrun the grave.

The path to her continued existence required the slaughter of Baal, one of the Four Evils.

‘Baal is the very wellspring of vitality. By ending him, I can reclaim the life that was stolen from me.’

The Four Evils were nightmare incarnations.

Their power was such that four great metropolises could be reduced to ash in a single day.

Despite this, Gracia held a trump card that fueled her resolve.

‘I had hoped to keep this hidden, but the situation demands it.’

Reaching into her attire, Gracia produced a small glass container. She pulled the stopper and emptied the liquid onto the pulsing ‘blue glow.’

Instantly, the azure radiance shifted into a sickly, venomous emerald.

‘A toxin designed to snuff out life in a heartbeat. Not even a being as ancient as the Four Evils can withstand its touch.’

Gracia had acquired this lethal substance through a stroke of incredible fortune and immense peril.

It was the ultimate blight, a poison that unraveled the threads of life upon the slightest contact.

The most potent venom in existence.

《The blue glow has reached full saturation with the ‘Uroboros’ Poison.’》

The Banquet of the Reaper.

A grand assembly where all members of the Orthodox gathered for a ceremonial meal.

There was a profound significance attached to why the ‘initial feast’ was the most critical moment for any Orthodox.

‘An Orthodox lacking the Reaper’s essence is incapable of true nourishment.’

The prevailing theory that the twelfth Orthodox had fasted until now was based on a fundamental truth.

Without the Reaper’s spark, an Orthodox could not manifest a Reaper, and without that manifestation, they could not partake in a legitimate ‘meal.’

The only true source of energy for their kind was the ‘soul-fire’ of transgressors bound as Reapers.

Consequently, every new Orthodox sought to consume a ‘complete feast’ during their debut banquet to ignite their latent Reaper abilities.

It was more than a tradition; it was an essential law.

Yet, history showed that no Orthodox had ever managed a total consumption during their first outing.

This held true for all eleven predecessors.

‘Furthermore, the soul-fire of this particular transgressor is twice the standard magnitude.’

The volume of the flame was dictated by the status of the seized sinner.

A typical flame matched the size of a grown man.

This one, however, was double that proportions.

The sacrifice of Gracia’s vitality along with several elite captives had swollen the flame to these dimensions.

‘Typically, an Orthodox manages to ingest about 40% during their first sitting.’

Driven by a lifetime of starvation, an Orthodox usually gorged themselves at the first opportunity.

The 40% benchmark was the standard.

Absorbing such a massive influx of power triggered the growth of extra wings, awakened the Reaper’s core, and allowed for the summoning of their spectral servants.

This pattern was universal.

The only remaining questions centered on the newcomer.

‘The long-absent twelfth member. And those peculiar white wings.’

Every Orthodox was tethered to the Reaper Church, beginning as a dormant egg.

Only those with the proper lineage could hatch these vessels to become protectors.

There was no record of an Orthodox or their embryonic form ever being found beyond the church’s walls.

The snowy plumage was equally baffling.

Initially, the others dismissed it as a ‘mongrel.’

Regardless, an Orthodox was still a member of their kin.

Validation was required before rejection.

They needed to witness what made this specific entity different from the rest.

-Kyakyakyaang!

The black goat-headed Orthodox suddenly twitched in response to the massive soul-fire.

It had clearly recognized the ‘sustenance.’

The primal, ancient craving was impossible to stifle.

It was a reaction that bypassed the guardian’s conscious control.

To the onlookers, the reaction signaled that the meal was about to begin.

‘It will likely manage 10% at best.’

Expectations were low among the observers.

A tainted creature, marred by the color of purity.

The way the other members of the Orthodox seemed to cautiously give it space was noted.

Ultimately, this was viewed as a mere ‘diversion.’

The elite had gathered out of a morbid curiosity, much like spectators watching a caged predator.

The figure behind the golden mask was not the only one harboring such doubts.

‘It’s a hybrid, so maybe 5%?’

‘White is a hue that corrupts easily. It acts as a toxin to our kind.’

‘A half-breed attempting this… how bold.’

‘Vaguely interesting, but nothing more.’

The surrounding guardians mirrored these cold thoughts.

A crossbreed, a mongrel.

If it wasn’t pure, it wasn’t one of them.

The idea of a tainted Orthodox attempting a full feast was, to them, a joke.

Finally, the twelfth Orthodox unhinged its jaw.

“······!!!”

“······ What just happened?!”

The mocking smiles were wiped away in a heartbeat.

What followed was a moment of sheer disbelief.

The towering pillar of soul-fire flickered,

······ and vanished into nothingness.

“It can’t be.”

“Did it… eat everything?”

“A total feast······!”

Soul-fire didn’t simply dissipate into the air.

If it was gone, it had been consumed.

An impossible, unprecedented total feast!

Every morsel provided at the banquet had been devoured. They had achieved the very feat everyone deemed a fantasy.

The shock was palpable.

“Is it more than just a common mongrel?”

“Does this imply it outranks our own Orthodox?”

“The black goat… its pride wasn’t unearned.”

“Consuming that much means its evolution will be ‘explosive.’”

“Hmph, a full feast right out of the gate could call forth a Reaper of terrifying power.”

Reality was hard to ignore.

The focus shifted to how much this entity would transform after such a meal.

A portion twice the size of a standard feast, consumed in its entirety. No one could calculate the scale of growth or the potency of the Reaper power that would follow.

Every member of the Orthodox manifested Reapers with distinct attributes.

All eyes were fixed on Hel.

-Kya······ kya?

The creature cocked its head to the side.

Was it confused by the sudden surge of growth from its first feeding?

The creature’s eerie laughter died down as Hel opened its mouth wide once again.

And then.

-Kaak, ptoo!

······ it forcefully ejected the meal.

The guardians erupted in derisive laughter.

“It overreached, didn’t it?”

“Ha! It should have known its limits!”

It made sense.

A total feast? It was a pipe dream.

It was too much to handle, and the creature’s body had rejected it.

-Ptoo ptoo ptoo ptoo!

However, the reality was different.

Hel continued to gag and spit as if trying to scrub its mouth of every lingering trace.

There was only one logical explanation for such a visceral display.

······ The flavor was intolerable.

It was the reaction of a creature that had just bitten into something utterly rancid.

A heavy silence fell over the room.

In the quiet, the golden mask finally spoke.

“Well. The statutes are clear. The first meal was a failure, so we proceed.”

The illusion of success had shattered.

Since the meal was vomited back up, the opportunity was lost.

The black goat might feel the sting of regret, but it would have to find its own food from now on.

“We gave it a chance, and it couldn’t even keep the food down. Pitiful.”

The Golden Lion.

The massive, horned Reaper that had drained Gracia’s youth stepped forward.

“Eat it. Take this chance to have a full feast and grow into a more formidable Orthodox!”

At the command of the Golden Lion, the horned member of the Orthodox paused, then firmly shook its head.

-Ku ku!

“What’s wrong with you? Consume it!”

-Ku ku!

It was a flat refusal.

The other members of the Orthodox responded in kind.

Some even swung their weapons in a dismissive gesture and turned their backs.

Their collective body language was clear.

“······ Are you suggesting it’s contaminated now because it was already chewed and spat out?”

“This is ridiculous······.”

A scene never before seen in their history was taking place.

Despite the banquet being laid out, every single Orthodox turned their nose up at the food.

They treated the regurgitated soul-fire as if it were garbage.

“········· I have never witnessed anything like this.”

The golden mask’s voice was tinged with genuine bewilderment.

The first total refusal of a meal in the history of the banquet.

All due to the actions of that black goat.

‘To eat it and then spit it back out…’

If it wasn’t going to digest it, why bother tasting it? What kind of monster was this?

The debate over the rejected meal lingered, but no consensus was reached.

They viewed the food as tainted; there was no way to force the issue.

“······ This ‘soul-fire’ is your burden to deal with, Black Goat.”

Ultimately, the golden mask assigned the problematic remains to me.

The other guardians didn’t object.

There was no sense in keeping a meal that no one would touch.

Then, the golden mask fixed me with a piercing look.

“However, if you fail to provide a suitable ‘banquet’ by the next gathering, your status as a guardian will be revoked. Part of your mandate is the proper stewardship of the Orthodox.”

Revoked.

It meant being cast out of the Reaper Church entirely.

Feed the fire to Hel, help her grow, then hunt for more and return.

I gave a casual shrug, and the golden mask addressed the assembly.

“As strange as this has been, we cannot continue the feast. Next, we shall decide which city is slated for ‘cleansing.’”

Clap!

The golden mask struck his palms together.

The ceiling slid open, and a massive ‘sphere’ descended into the room.

‘Is that a Desire Orb? It looks the same, but the scale is massive.’

It looked like the artifact the Imoogi possessed before its ascension.

But this was easily a hundred times larger.

“Look upon this.”

As he spoke.

Glowing text and digits manifested on the surface of the yellow sphere.

「Current Users: 220,779」

······ What did that mean?

Current users?

Was it tracking the number of ‘players’ currently active in the world?

Did the Reaper Church have a direct line to the player count?

“Two hundred and twenty thousand! A staggering number of sinners awaiting our verdict. Our ‘cleansing’ will persist until that count is zero, until every last one is brought to justice.”

The others murmured in agreement with the golden mask.

“No matter how many we slaughter, the numbers barely budge.”

“Pests······.”

The air thick with pure hatred.

Why did the Empire and the Reaper Church harbor such a deep-seated loathing for players?

“Which location shall it be? Black Goat, since you are new, give us your perspective first.”

The golden mask gave a twisted grin.

His eyes were burning with a manic intensity.

He was asking me for a target.

Which city was infested with players? Which one should be wiped off the map?

‘These people are completely lost to madness.’

Every one of them, except for me.

Then, he spoke again.

“Do not hesitate. As a protector of the Orthodox, you must have felt the ‘divine malady’ yourself. You witnessed it—the moment of ascension. You saw how those wretched sinners mocked you, and our entire world!”

······ Once the tension had faded.

The Banquet of the Reaper concluded, and the golden mask held up his end of our bargain.

He delivered the ‘three artifacts’ I had selected without a hint of doubt.

Each was a masterpiece, but one stood above the rest.

‘The Armor of Baal!’

I tightened my grip until my knuckles turned white.

I wanted to let out a shout of triumph.

The final piece of the legendary set, the ‘Armor of Baal’!

It was finally mine.

‘The path is clear now.’

I had traveled a long and winding road.

From the secluded peaks where I found the Sword Sage’s records, through the heart of the Empire and its royal courts, and finally into the depths of the Reaper Church.

With the Baal set finished, there was no turning back.

The only way was forward.

I reached out for the dark, intimidating plates of the Baal Armor.

I strapped it on immediately.

《The ‘Baal Set’ is now complete!》

《The concluding chapter of the ‘Sword Sage Diary’ has been unlocked.》

《By the power of the hidden chronicle, the final page of the Sword Sage Diary, the ‘Baal Set’ undergoes an awakening.》

《The ‘Ominous Baal’ form has transitioned into the ‘Golden Baal Image.’》

《Every piece of Baal equipment has been promoted from ‘Ultimate Mythic’ to ‘Transcendent Mythic’ status.》

《The hidden trait ‘Transcended Baal’ has been activated!》

Devastation

“I… are we truly safe staying in this place?”

Balt spoke up.

He had been brought here—though ‘kidnapped’ might be a better word—from the mountains, and he looked at Hudson with wide, nervous eyes.

Immediately following the auction, Randolph had disappeared along with the golden mask.

Their instructions were to remain within the Darkan Territory until his return.

“Steady yourself. There is no reason for us to be unwelcome here,”

Hudson answered with a calm grace, lifting a teacup to her lips.

Her composure was superior to that of any high-born lady in the Empire.

“That’s easy for you to say, looking like that······.”

Balt muttered a heavy sigh.

The issue was Hudson’s physical appearance—the gender had shifted entirely.

The muscular man he knew was gone; in his place sat a delicate woman who carried herself with Hudson’s soul.

“W-what if we are targeted while he’s away?”

Balt couldn’t shake his fear.

Even though Randolph had personally gifted him the ‘Berserker Set.’

He wore the armor constantly, even refusing to take it off while he slept.

‘I will never have the steel that Randolph or Hudson possess.’

Balt’s throat felt parched.

Both of them had commanded such presence back in the Empire—the kind of charisma that could lead nations.

Randolph, in particular, carried an aura that felt almost otherworldly.

He was a figure Balt looked up to but felt he could never truly reach.

That was the man Randolph was.

“Honestly.”

Hudson gave a soft, pitying click of her tongue at Balt’s anxiety and turned her gaze toward the window.

“Move it! Keep the pace up!”

“Steady now! Watch the weight!”

They were looking out from the lord’s fortress.

In the courtyard below, a massive operation was underway as soldiers and knights moved vast quantities of crates and equipment.

“They are shifting a lot of gear today.”

“Indeed. It has the look of a mobilization for conflict.”

“War······.”

The moment the Reaper Church finished its business, the Lord of Darkan had begun stockpiling resources with frantic energy.

Were they actually preparing for a full-scale campaign?

‘It looks like a desperate attempt to show fealty.’

With the threat of a purge hanging over the city, it was as if they were running with fire at their heels.