Chapter 752

Chapter 752
The heart of the Beast Forest remained submerged in a heavy, sinister atmosphere.
While the peripheral lands were being swiftly reclaimed, the core of the woods was still a desolate, untouched wasteland.
Prior to his collapse, Ghislain had issued a firm decree forbidding any soul from venturing into its depths.
Despite the warning, a small collection of figures was currently making a slow trek toward that perilous epicenter.
An elf, keeping his face hidden deep within his hood, spoke with a voice full of apprehension.
“High Chief, continuing further is an unnecessary risk.”
“……”
Positioned at the head of the party, Ereneth peered silently into the thicket, which was saturated with a poisonous rot.
Ghislain may have led his forces to purge the monsters that once claimed this territory, but the lingering stench of decay was still suffocating.
Even a warrior of great strength would find it difficult to breathe here. To cross the threshold into this zone meant engaging in a constant struggle against the corruption itself.
Ereneth issued a command in a quiet tone.
“Stay here for a short while.”
“High Chief! It is far too perilous inside!”
Ereneth met the protest with a soft, melancholic smile.
“This place… it holds a great deal of significance for me.”
“…Pardon me?”
“I shall return shortly. Simply wait for my arrival.”
Leaving no room for further argument, she stepped into the gloom.
Chiiiiik…
The foul energy lunged toward her like a living thing, yet it failed to leave a single mark.
Ereneth did not call upon the spirits to cleanse the air, nor did she make an active effort to suppress the miasma.
She simply glided through—as naturally as drawing breath—and the rot scattered away the moment it brushed against her.
Moving with swift grace through the tainted woods, she eventually reached a patch of scorched, scarred earth.
There, rising before her, was an immense black veil.
Gaaahhhh…
The shroud emitted a rhythmic, haunting aura.
It expanded and contracted as if it were a lung gasping in excruciating pain.
Ereneth closed the distance in silence and reached out a hand to touch the surface.
Just as she suspected…
The barrier was hermetically sealed.
More accurately, it was functioning as a dam, preventing the energy from within from spilling out.
“…Duke Fenris. How on earth did you manage to enter this place?”
Ereneth had found it impossible to fully accept Ghislain’s account of the events.
That was precisely why she had detoured here before departing from Ruthania—to witness the truth with her own eyes.
Confusion still clouded her mind.
The Duke’s interaction with the Saintess, the visions, everything felt surreal.
“Was it truly due to that necklace…?”
When Duke Fenris had first come into possession of the Saintess’s jewelry, she had acted as though she were oblivious.
In truth, she had been well aware that he harbored suspicions about her.
“It seems… my performance is still lacking.”
Ereneth shut her eyes.
Her former allies used to tease her constantly, saying she was a terrible actress.
She had always taken offense at the remark, believing her charades to be perfectly executed.
But…
Yes, those years had been truly marvelous.
The mere recollection of them brought a faint curve to her lips.
They had campaigned to preserve the world, shared laughter, and kept one another from harm.
It was an era of brilliant light.
So radiant, in fact, that the memories were bittersweet—to the point where she sometimes wished they would simply fade away.
A single tear tracked down Ereneth’s cheek.
“Duke Fenris… I recognize that necklace. It is the heirloom the former High Chief bestowed upon the Saintess.”
Yet she had remained silent.
She couldn’t speak of it.
She didn’t want to.
For that was a memory that belonged in the shadows—a path that had already reached its end.
After brushing the dark veil a few more times with her fingertips, she turned to leave.
The power of the Adversary is growing more potent.
Her own capabilities were surging back, approaching the peak of her former glory.
This meant the Adversary’s might was likewise undergoing a rebirth.
Ever since Duke Fenris had fallen into his slumber, the speed of this restoration had increased.
That unsettling correlation nagged at the back of her mind.
However, she quickly hardened her resolve.
Duke Fenris, whatever fate has befallen you… it is no longer relevant.
It was a relic of the past.
Even if he had unearthed some secret, it would not alter the course of events.
Ereneth whispered with a cold intensity,
“I will locate the Adversary and end him. I will eradicate every trace of the Salvation Order.”
That was the only way to ensure that the losses suffered a millennium ago… were not in vain.
Step.
As she moved to walk away, Ereneth suddenly lost her footing.
Drip. Drip…
Crimson blood began to leak from her nostrils.
Ereneth stared in disbelief.
“Me…?”
A nosebleed?
Her equilibrium vanished.
A thick fog settled over her consciousness, as if her very thoughts were being knotted and pulled apart by unseen hands.
“Kh…!”
A massive, crushing weight crashed into her mind, and she spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
“This sensation is…”
In that fleeting moment of agony, Ereneth sensed it.
An immense presence—something that stood outside the flow of time—was tampering with her psyche.
And…
The fabric of reality was starting to shift.

*** Throughout their journey, Lionel was relentless in his harassment of Deneb.
“Return my holy power to me!”
“I truly have no concept of what you are referring to.”
“You committed a theft! You stole my divine energy!”
“My power remains exactly as it has always been. I honestly do not understand what occurred.”
Deneb was under the genuine impression that the event in the woods had been a divine intervention.
Her own connection to the holy was still nothing more than a flickering spark compared to what it should be.
Regardless, Iralniel had placed trust in her and surrendered the Blessing Stone.
That knowledge alone left Deneb feeling unworthy and weighed down by a sense of inadequacy.
Thus, when Lionel persisted in demanding his power back, she was genuinely baffled.
Lionel, however, would not let the matter rest.
“Give it back! That power is mine!”
“I did not take it, and even if I had, I would have no idea how to transfer it back to you.”
The repetitive bickering finally reached a point where Ghislain felt the need to step in.
“Listen, it’s gone. What’s done is done. It’s not like holy energy is a physical object you can just pass around like a coin.”
“But I felt it! I literally watched it being pulled into that low-ranking priestess!”
“You were likely just confused by the heat of the moment. Things don’t work that way.”
Ghislain had questioned Deneb privately several times, but she had no recollection of absorbing anything.
However, there was one vital clue.
“She looked upon the corruption of the Salvation Order and felt it was insignificant.”
Immediately following that realization, the miracle had taken place.
Ghislain could piece together a theory from that.
This had been Deneb’s first genuine encounter with the aura of the Salvation Order.
It seemed that being placed in direct opposition to that malevolent energy had acted as the catalyst for her latent abilities.
It was logical.
Divine power and the energy of the Salvation Order were fundamental opposites.
For a Saintess in particular, the Salvation Order represented a mortal antithesis.
She hadn’t reached her full potential yet, but she now held the Blessing Stone.
Which meant—
The criteria for the next stage had been fulfilled.
Ghislain was now curious to see what would happen the next time she was forced to face the Salvation Order’s strength in battle.
That was the extent of his deductions.
As for the disappearance of Lionel’s holy energy—that remained a total enigma.
Ghislain offered a bit of advice.
“Since your holy power has vanished, why not focus on your mana breathing techniques? I assume your house has a traditional method?”
“…What did you say?”
“Start from the basics and train the right way. Your foundation is solid, so if I guide you, you’ll improve rapidly.”
Ghislain wasn’t trying to be cruel.
Lionel had been a member of the hero’s party who fought the Apostle in his past visions.
Naturally, Ghislain felt a sense of duty to help him grow stronger.
Lionel responded with a derisive snort.
“You? You want to instruct me? A practitioner of the dark arts? I’ll grant that you’re powerful, but magic and the way of the sword are worlds apart. Do you honestly believe you could stand against me without your spells?”
He was being entirely sincere.
He had never seen Ghislain engage in a true physical duel.
During the elven conflict, the Death Knights had handled the front lines.
Ghislain had merely stayed back, weaving magic until he was eventually struck by a priest.
So, while Lionel respected his cunning and tactical mind, he assumed it was all reliant on sorcery.
In his estimation, Ghislain’s hand-to-hand combat skills were likely nonexistent.
Ghislain let out a small, knowing grin.
“Would you like to test that theory?”
“…What are you suggesting?”
“I won’t utilize a single spell. I won’t even tap into my mana. Just raw physical ability and martial technique. One-on-one.”
“Ha!”
Lionel laughed out of pure reflex—but the amusement died quickly.
His gaze turned sharp and hateful as he locked eyes with Ghislain.
“You’re mocking me because I’m powerless now and I’ve been made a laughingstock, aren’t you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then why else would you offer such an insult? Fine. I accept. But when you lose—what are the stakes?”
“What is it you desire?”
“You will surrender the Blessing Stone to me immediately.”
Lionel had tried to reclaim the Blessing Stone from Deneb the moment they exited the woods.
Ghislain had stopped him, and Deneb was too intimidated to defy Ghislain’s protection.
Lionel had been stewing in resentment ever since.
Ghislain gave a firm nod.
“Done. I’ll hand it over the moment you win. Anything else?”
“This group lacks a proper commander. I will take charge, and everyone here will answer to me from this point forward.”
“Agreed. But if you lose, you will follow my commands without a single complaint. In fact—you’ll join the mercenary band. You’ll start at the bottom as a recruit.”
“Hmph. Very well. I don’t expect a mercenary to value his word, but I am a knight. I swear this on my personal honor and the prestige of the Empire.”
Lionel unsheathed his blade and hoisted his shield.
Provided Ghislain didn’t use magic—or even mana—Lionel was certain of his victory.
His family’s martial arts were renowned as elite, even within the Imperial capital.
Still, a doubt lingered in his mind.
Even if I defeat him, will this mercenary actually honor the bet? He’ll probably just have his men jump me.
There was a high probability that Ghislain would break the agreement.
Mercenaries were, by definition, low-born thugs without integrity.
Regardless, Lionel craved this fight.
Unacceptable. I’ll take this chance to show him who is superior.
He had always been the object of admiration—until now.
Ever since he’d been forced into this mercenary company, he felt like a clown.
He needed to release his anger and settle the score for all the embarrassment he had suffered.
Seeing Lionel’s intensity, Ghislain smirked.
“Hey, someone get me a sparring rod. And a shield, too.”
Before long, the mercenaries provided Ghislain with a sturdy training stick and a small buckler.
Lionel’s style was centered on shield defense—designed to hold ground or turn fights into wars of attrition.
Ghislain decided to pick up a shield of his own, intending to beat Lionel at his own game.
The sight of it made Lionel’s face twitch with irritation.
“The arrogance…”
Shield mastery was a completely different discipline from swordsmanship.
To use a shield effectively required as much dedication and time as mastering the blade.
I have spent my whole life with a shield strapped to my arm!
Even as a child during his family’s traditional selection ceremony, he had reached for the shield.
And now this mage, who usually leaned on a staff, was brazenly imitating him—with a cheap, flimsy buckler.
It was an unbearable mockery.
“I’ll teach you a lesson in humility!”
Thwack!
Lionel lunged forward with explosive power, leading with his shield.
His intent was to collide with Ghislain and shatter his stance immediately.
He threw every ounce of his weight into the charge.
CLANG!
To his shock, Ghislain took the impact without moving a centimeter.
Then, with a subtle tilt of his own shield, he allowed Lionel’s momentum to glide harmlessly past him.
“…What?”
Stumbling from the missed connection, Lionel lost his footing for a heartbeat—and Ghislain’s rod instantly whipped toward his skull.
CLANG!
Lionel barely managed to parry with his sword, stepping back in a hurry as he gasped for air.
His expression was a mix of bewilderment and sudden focus.
Was that a fluke? It had to be. There was no other explanation.
The shield movement Ghislain had just executed was flawless and incredibly advanced.
But he was a dark mage. There was no logical way he could possess high-tier shield skills.
Flustered, Lionel glared as Ghislain gave his shield a casual, mocking shake.
“Your stance is wide open. Did you actually receive proper training?”
“You arrogant brat…”
Boiling with fury, Lionel crouched low and raised his shield to charge again.
But once more, Ghislain met the assault with a calculated, effortless deflection.
CLANG!
Lionel’s balance broke again—and, as if on cue, Ghislain’s rod came whistling through the air.
THWACK!
“Ghhk…!”
The wood struck Lionel’s forearm, causing him to wince.
Despite the sting, the knight’s training kicked in, and he swung back immediately.
CLANG!
Ghislain raised his buckler slightly and neutralized the strike without any strain.
Lionel didn’t relent.
He knew that stopping now would mean certain defeat.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
But Ghislain met every blow with a calm efficiency.
His shield was like an iron gate—unyielding and perfectly positioned.
No matter how frantic the offense, nothing penetrated his guard.
The more Lionel attacked, the more his confidence began to crumble.
W-Why? How can he be this proficient with a shield?!
It defied logic. He had never heard of a wizard mastering defensive martial arts.
What kind of black mage spends his time practicing this?
Yet the evidence was undeniable.
The way Ghislain manipulated his shield was nothing short of perfection.
Then, Lionel noticed a detail that chilled him to the bone.
The way Ghislain was moving… it was eerily familiar.
Wait… it can’t be…
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The footwork, the specific shield rotations, the flow of the counterstrikes—
They were a mirror image of his own style.
Lionel spoke the words before he could stop himself.
“H-How… How do you know my family’s secret techniques…?”
The dark mage was wielding his own ancestral combat style… as if he had been born to it.