Chapter 21
Crunch.
Glass shards crunching underfoot.
The stench of rotting flesh.
A putrid underground room.
A research lab haphazardly thrown into chaos.
Raiburn, the Inquisitor of Yecheol, adjusted his glasses and furrowed his brow.
"Captain. Please take a look at this."
"Hmm."
A long time had passed since they began their search, chasing after the apostate.
An underground laboratory the apostate, who had cleverly slipped through their search net, had passed through.
It was a horrific place where experiments on living subjects had been rampantly perpetrated.
"It appears all related test subjects have perished. Of course..."
There were also traces of a battle.
It seemed a considerable amount of time had passed, but it was not difficult to infer what had happened.
"A heretic who broke the taboo and an apostate who hid a holy relic... What an obvious combination."
He wouldn't have set up an experiment facility of this scale alone.
It was clear he had an accomplice, and that was the apostate.
"Callias."
It must be him.
"It seems there was some kind of dispute."
"They are ones who used demonic energy. They must have cooperated for their own selfish gains, so it's only natural for them to fall out."
If not that.
"The one possessing the power of the holy relic might have unilaterally disposed of them."
Deluin, who nodded beside Raiburn, crossed his arms, saying it was entirely possible.
"But is it alright?"
"About what?"
"...You saw the traces of the battle between the Pilgrim Esther and Callias, didn't you?"
Raiburn's lips tightened.
He had seen it too.
The traces of their battle.
In the middle of the devastated forest.
The distinct sword mark left clearly at the very end.
Traces that deeply gouged the ground as if a dragon had clawed it.
"What was it that Pilgrim Esther said to you?"
"...He said he was defeated. He said the man was not an apostate, nor did he possess a holy relic, but merely a skilled master."
Nonsense, even upon hearing it again.
Raiburn snorted.
If that scoundrel didn't have the power of a holy relic, how could Esther, the sacred prodigy of the Order and a genius among geniuses, be defeated in just three years?
"Didn't you say that Pilgrim Esther didn't have a single injury anywhere on his body?"
"Yes, I also found that slightly suspicious..."
Deluin firmly shut his mouth at Raiburn's sharp gaze.
"Once we reveal all of Callias's sins, we might end up investigating Pilgrim Esther next."
"...Yes."
He is a man whose deeds in an underground laboratory like this are unknown.
Even if Esther's words were true, he was a man with many deceitful aspects.
There was no reason for Raiburn, the Inquisitor of Yecheol, not to direct his steps toward him.
"You said he headed North."
"Yes, the advance party reported that rumors are circulating about a Pilgrim who wiped out all the bandits."
"Inquisitor Deluin."
"Yes, Captain."
"Send a communication to the Order."
"What..."
Pilgrim Callias.
He possesses a holy relic, and it is granting him progressively explosive growth.
His rate of growth is beyond my ability to gauge, and it is still ongoing even now.
It is clear that if left alone, he will become an uncontrollable monster.
Furthermore, now that circumstances deeply linking him to a Sacred Alchemist involved in forbidden research have been uncovered, he can no longer be left alone.
"I declare this in the name of Raiburn, Captain of the Inquisition. The danger level of Pilgrim Callias is to be raised from Level 5 to Level 2, and I request active support from the Order accordingly."
"Active support..."
"I request the deployment of five squads out of the seven Inquisition squads, excluding the 1st and 2nd."
The target is the apostate, Callias.
His life and the holy relic.
And.
Raiburn looked at the largest shattered beaker at the end of the lab.
"The results of the taboo-breaking research."
Seizure.
* * *
Whoooosh.
The bone-chilling east wind of the North cuts deeply across the White Forest.
The man, who had pulled his thick hood down deep, suddenly raised his head and let out a deep breath.
The pure white breath trailed long in the wind before vanishing.
White Forest.
A high-risk zone, notorious even in the North.
Grotesquely colossal trees, soaring high into the sky, situated right in front of the border garrison.
The forest they form.
That is the White Forest of the North.
Each and every tree is larger than a house, and those towering high enough to block out the sun fill the uppermost reaches of the North.
Viewed from afar, one might call it a spectacular landscape and feel the majesty of nature, but didn't someone once say,
Life is a comedy from afar, but a tragedy up close.
The White Forest of the North was the same.
Matching the vast size of the forest, the size of the demonic beasts is equally massive.
Moreover, they are far more vicious and cunning.
Not only do they fight among themselves over territory, but many move in packs, making them no easy prey to hunt.
Demonic beasts that view humans as prey and prowl across the border are aplenty.
Every year, a considerable number of knights enter the White Forest only to be hunted themselves and reduced to their prey.
One might ask, why not just cut down all the trees? No matter how large, a tree is still something that can be felled.
If logging had been carried out over several generations, the White Forest would not exist, and there would be no need to fear the breeding of the demonic beasts that make it their home, right?
However, those are the words of someone who has never truly seen the White Forest even once.
Most of the trees in the White Forest are petrified wood; in a word, trees that have turned to stone.
How can one fell a tree turned to stone?
They cannot be felled.
If one were a Holy Knight, there might be some who could somehow manage to fell one over the course of a few days.
But even then, when would they ever fell all the petrified wood in the White Forest?
Who would commit to such a tedious endeavor?
Would those who had trained so painstakingly to attain the position of Holy Knight want to spend their lives felling trees as hard as stone?
That, too, is utter nonsense.
Therefore, leading knights and soldiers to hunt the demonic beasts here from time to time is Zervan's duty.
Even if they cannot fell the trees, cannot set them ablaze, and cannot eradicate the demonic beasts at their roots... Zervan still exists in the North.
"It's cold."
The man in the heart of the White Forest felt a trace of longing and weariness as he looked at the sword scar on the petrified wood.
Three years ago.
Callias had been here.
Right after gaining the status of a Pilgrim, he had nearly died wandering aimlessly without knowing where to go—an innumerable close call.
After sorting through his many thoughts, he firmly resolved to temper his body, and because of that, he sought out the White Forest.
No, to be precise, he set out to find *him* who resided in the White Forest.
"...But why isn't he here?"
He was always here.
An eccentric old man who, despite being a Paladin who had completed his pilgrimage, did not return to the Order and instead hunted demonic beasts in the White Forest.
"Bernard."
The owner of the Lightning Sword, Lakan, and at the same time, a Pilgrim who had completed his pilgrimage, having turned his rosary into a scabbard. An ordained Paladin who never left the North, a hunter who hunted the demonic beasts of the White Forest.
Callias had come looking for him.
"Hmm? You. Who are you? The White Forest is off-limits to just anyone."
The emblem emblazoned on his chest was a combination of a gray wolf and a sword.
It was the crest symbolizing Zervan.
'A knight of Zervan.'
However, seeing as there was no ash-gray in his eyes and he could only feel a faint divine power, he was a knight who had only received a minor baptism.
But the sword he held was a Cursed Sword.
A sword bordering on a Named Sword.
"Do my words fall on deaf ears?"
Clang! Pale swords were drawn from the scabbards of the knights following him.
The eyes of each knight were filled with valor, and their hands looked merciless.
As expected of Northern knights, their very spirit was different from other regions.
Their spirit and killing intent, prickling the skin, made the blood of a knight boil.
But Callias did not draw his sword. After observing them for a moment, he let out a sigh and pushed his hood back.
"Ah."
The knight captain let out a small gasp and bowed his head.
His attitude shifted in an instant.
The stiff neck of the knight captain, who had been trying to interrogate him with a high-handed attitude, bowed instantly.
It was a testament to just how immense Zervan's status was in the North.
"So you are of Zervan."
Callias nodded reluctantly and pulled his hood back up.
He didn't want to show his face, but it was better than a pointless sword fight.
It wasn't that he feared fighting the knights, but Callias was no bloodthirsty killer.
He wished to avoid pointless battles, and if blood was spilled here, it was obvious the demonic beasts of the White Forest would swarm in droves.
Besides, there was absolutely nothing to gain from killing the knights of Zervan.
"Then."
Swish, the moment he tried to walk past.
"H-hold on!"
Callias's footsteps halted at the urgent voice of the knight calling out to him.
"By any chance, are you Lord Callias?"
"..."
As he stared back silently, conviction filled the knight captain's eyes.
"It truly is you."
"You know me?"
"Do you not remember me?"
As he frowned as if he didn't recognize her, she took off her helmet with a hearty laugh.
"I am Orphin, who guarded the young master's side when you were young. Orphin de Liophev!"
Orphin de Liophev.
The female knight who introduced herself thus bloomed with a smile all over her face.
'I don't remember.'
Considering she spoke of his childhood, it was a memory the current Callias did not possess.
"You have grown up indeed."
"..."
Judging from her demeanor and words, she must have been the knight tasked with escorting the young Callias.
'A name I'm hearing for the first time... She must not be a major figure.'
Still, it was an unfamiliar name.
If it were even slightly familiar, he would have recognized it, but it was completely alien.
"We were on patrol. This is quite a coincidence, but would you care to join us for a moment?"
"...Very well."
"You all wait here."
"Understood."
Whoooosh.
Crunch. Crack.
Walking across the crunching snow, Callias and Orphin traversed the White Forest, exchanging many words.
"Is that so, the Patriarch took in an adopted son..."
The direct line of Zervan.
The current Patriarch's children consisted of one son and one daughter.
One of the two children was Callias.
The sole son was a scoundrel, and having been practically exiled from the family, a new son was needed.
"Yes. He is an individual outstanding not only in swordsmanship but in all respects, even coming from the collateral line. Everyone believes he will likely succeed as the next Patriarch."
"Hmm..."
"Ah, I spoke out of turn."
"It's fine."
'I'm busy enough just trying to survive, let alone becoming a Patriarch.'
He had no interest in it to begin with.
It's not some ordinary family, it's Zervan.
Not only do they defend a vast territory and the border, but it is also a region that can be exposed to danger at any moment due to the White Forest.
Furthermore, feeding the countless subjects and retainers living here is not a task just anyone can handle. Even just protecting himself was overwhelming enough.
He lacked the audacity to covet the Patriarch position starting from scratch with nothing.
Clank.
Orphin, who had suddenly stopped walking, looked at her sword with sorrowful eyes.
"Do you remember?"
He did not remember.
Callias was slowly finding it awkward to be around the knight who was so delighted to see him.
Listening to tales of a past he had no memory of was a waste of time, and he had no interest.
He had to find Bernard quickly.
It seemed she had something she wanted to say, but she only hesitated, making it frustrating.
"When you were young, you requested a spar with me, saying you were honing your swordsmanship."
"Did I now."
"At that time, your wooden sword was knocked away by my blade, and you threw a fit."
A scoundrel never changes.
Unable to contain his anger, it seemed he had tormented his escort knight quite a bit.
"You kicked my shin and said this: 'You became a knight just because you're a little good with a sword despite your lowly birth? Do you think that makes you a noble?'"
"...Did I."
Swish. Orphin's sword, slowly drawn, flaunted a chilling killing intent.
He wondered what she wanted to say, but it seemed what she wanted wasn't words.
"After that, you beat me black and blue with a wooden sword. You said if I resisted, you would frame me for raising a sword against my master and drive me out as a knight devoid of honor."
Bitterness and relief could be seen peeking through her face as she smiled bleakly.
To speak of such disgrace to a knight who lives and dies by honor.
As expected, a scoundrel is a scoundrel.
"This too must be fate. Just as you could no longer use the Zervan name and became a Pilgrim of the Order. That my sword must strike down a scoundrel who lost his surname outside the borders, it is all..."
Is it not the will of God?
Callias's eyebrow twitched.
"Callias. A scoundrel like you should never have returned to the North."
The sword bearing an old grudge he had no memory of was pointed at him.
Callias looked at Orphin's sword and let out a deep sigh.
"This is exactly why I hated the North."
"Callias! Draw your sword!"
It was utterly unjust, but what could he do.
If she told him to draw, he had no choice but to comply.
Srung— Clank.
He grabbed the [Predatory Sword - Roas] to draw it, but put it back and instead drew the Named Sword - Lucean.
"You have absolutely no talent in swordsmanship, yet you carry around a fine sword. Truly pearls before swine!"
"Does it?"
"I thought you might have changed a little after becoming a Pilgrim. But seeing the rat-tail amount of divine power flowing through your body, a scoundrel is a scoundrel to the end! It's a miracle you're still alive."
"..."
"To think my honor was tarnished by a trifling thing like you... Come. Out of consideration for our past, I yield the first strike."
"Is that so."
Callias raised his sword, looked at the blade, and muttered.
"Thank you."
At that very instant. Callias's sword surged forward like lightning.