Chapter 210
Passing through the forest and ascending along the river stream, the cave from the Paladin's memory appeared.
A small cave in front of the riverside.
In front of it was a quiet landscape, and a white-haired old man, as if he were part of the scenery, was dangling a fishing rod by the river.
A ferry made by binding sturdy, albeit shabby, ropes.
The old man, wearing a pressed-down straw hat, was endlessly staring only at the fishing rod by the river.
Even knowing that an unidentified man was approaching him.
He merely slightly raised his dark eyebrows that had turned pure white. There was no sign of caution.
"Did you come to fish too?"
Swish, splash.
Along with the calmly spreading ripples, the old man's voice echoed in his ears.
"Since you're tall, just standing there blankly won't catch any fish, so why don't you sit down."
Callius pondered for a moment before sitting next to him as offered and grabbing a fishing rod.
"Haven't you fished before?"
"I have."
Callius's hand, which was trying to take out an earthworm from the old man's bait box, stopped.
There was no bait in the bait box.
"There's no bait."
"What is it you want to catch?"
"Um."
There was no way he had something he wanted to catch.
Because he hadn't come to fish.
But for some reason, he couldn't easily answer. It seemed the old man's question wasn't simply about wanting to catch fish.
"Fishing isn't always easy, you see. You have to be sure of what you want to catch, and you have to put on the bait the fellow likes to catch it. Is that all? They are also heavily influenced by the weather. And no matter how delicious the food is, they only bite the bait when they are hungry."
The old man muttered that fishing might look easy, but it really wasn't.
"If you just put on anything roughly, you'll only catch some random riffraff. Would you call that fishing? Fishing is originally the aesthetics of wholehearted preparation and waiting."
"......."
At the words that seemed to be probing, Callius fiddled with the hook caught on the fishing line.
"Why are you silent?"
At the old man's question, Callius threw it into the river without even putting bait on.
Splash.
A pleasant sound of water echoed by the riverside.
"I don't have anything I want to catch yet."
"Is that so? That's not a bad thing either. They say life is half sleep and half wandering, so as time passes, a goal will naturally arise, won't it?"
Callius nodded at the old man's words, spoken as if it were no big deal.
The old man's tone had a strange power.
He was speaking without exerting any effort, but strangely, Callius felt as if he was being healed.
As if he was being comforted that it was okay.
'Peaceful.'
The sloshing sound of water.
The sound of birds coming from the nearby forest.
The lively sounds of life from fish occasionally leaping up pleased his ears.
It was a quiet and nice place.
Callius closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the tranquility of the ferry.
"Are you a pilgrim?"
"Yes."
"Of which god?"
"For now, the Sword."
"Haha, 'for now, the Sword,' you say. It seems your faith isn't that deep."
He didn't deny it.
Though he called Valterus a god, he had never truly possessed faith.
Nor could he have.
Besides, hadn't he reached a point where he couldn't even purely call himself a pilgrim of the sword? Thinking about it, a hollow laugh escaped him.
"It's not a bad thing. Faith isn't always a good thing, you see."
"Is that so?"
"Ignorant faith sometimes harms many things, doesn't it? They even rob and hurt others, making a fuss under the name of god and wielding it as they please."
The old man's eyes were facing the river.
But those eyes were steeped in melancholy, as if recalling a distant past rather than the river.
"A pilgrim of the sword... A rare guest has visited this neighborhood. Is Karpe still resisting the Empire?"
"Yes. By now, they are probably blocking the Principality's invasion."
"Is that so? Then it will soon fall."
"It might."
At his calm attitude, the old man seemed quite surprised this time and turned his head.
"I don't know about faith, but you don't even have patriotism?"
"No. I almost died there dozens of times alone... I have no attachment to the nation."
He had no attachment to Karpe itself.
Now, it wouldn't matter if it perished.
The reason he had tried to protect Karpe all this time was for his own prosperity.
Now that he had enough leeway to at least protect himself, it didn't matter.
"Still, it seems you have something else."
"...There are things I want to protect."
However, Karpe was also a place he couldn't just stand by and watch fall.
Because it was a land where many people he had formed connections with were risking their lives to protect.
Besides.
"It's also a place I must return to."
"I see. Patriotism is originally like that. Even if you're sick and tired of it, you feel bad when someone else tries to mess with it."
At the old man's attitude, speaking as if he fully understood, Callius pondered.
There were two reasons he had sought out this place.
First, he had to wander intentionally because of those targeting him, and second, the old man at the ferry was the purpose of this Grace.
His name was Demetri.
He was by no means an ordinary old man.
"What did you come out to catch, old man?"
"I came to catch an insolent fellow."
The old man looked up at the clear sky and swallowed a sigh.
"Whether it's the cold weather, or the fellow's stomach that's the problem, it absolutely won't bite."
The old man lifted the fishing rod and examined the hook.
There was nothing on the fishing hook where bait should have been. However, as if he didn't care, he threw the hook back into the river. Splash.
"The fishing rod in hand lacks bait, and though the eyes look at the river, the mind is elsewhere, so there's no way it'll be caught."
The old man, reciting it as if quoting a verse of poetry, shook his head as if there was nothing he could do.
"That's why bait is so important. If the bait is half-hearted, a weird fellow will end up getting caught."
Whether that is a blessing or a curse, one wouldn't know until they take a bite.
"Gray apostate. Why did you come looking for me?"
The old man's posture remained the same all along.
Leisurely and carefree, like a passing breeze, like a flowing river.
However, his eyes were sharp, like a beast hiding in a reed field, concealing himself and aiming for his prey.
"I received a request."
Callius took out an armor from his bosom.
It was the Master Armor made from the Paladin who used the hook.
"They told me to give it to you."
"...A Master Armor."
Demetri, receiving the armor, caressed it bitterly, then hung the Master Armor on the fishing hook and threw it into the river as it was.
Splash!
Along with the sound, his mouth opened.
"Derin must have died by your hands."
He was saying the name of the Paladin who used the hook.
"Derin, that fool. I warned him he would die if he went, but he still went looking for a place to die."
"He missed you before he died. Former Pope Demetri."
The God of the Hook, Dim.
The former Pope of that place, Demetri.
One who had risen to the ranks of a Saint, gradually erased his traces, and chosen to live in seclusion.
He was the true identity of the fishing old man.
He hadn't recognized him at first, but seeing him fishing and the cave, he couldn't not know.
A Saint can choose.
Whether to create their own sanctuary.
Whether to forge a holy relic.
Or whether to go to the god.
Retreating into seclusion to ponder their choice was a long-standing common trait among Saints.
"Even to this old and useless body, an oracle came down. Telling me to purify the gray apostate, no less."
And among the few Saints on the continent, Demetri was.
"Annoyingly, that is."
A figure who was quite skeptical of so-called gods.
It was then.
Boom! Boom boom!!
Something surged up from the river near the ferry.
Several people wrapped tightly in black hoods emerged; they were fellows hiding near the reeds by the water.
"Protect the Pope!"
The fellows charged at Callius, holding hooks with slightly curved ends in both hands.
"Don't do pointless things, you rascals."
"Pope?!"
The Paladins, who came to a halt, glared at Callius as if they wanted to kill him and answered.
"But he is the one God spoke of."
"Even if the oracle says so, he's an opponent you can't handle even if you swarm him. It'll be a meaningless death, so stop."
"But he killed Derin!"
"Derin also tried to kill him. He couldn't kill him, so he died. It's only natural."
Then he brushed off his rear and stood up, patting the Paladin's shoulder.
"It suits you well. Since Derin left it, cherish it."
"...I understand."
I wondered what he was doing hanging the armor on the fishing hook, but it seemed he was trying to pass it on to the fellow in the water.
Demetri, leaving the Paladin behind, tilted his head as he looked at the sword held in Callius's hand.
"Who did you kill to obtain that sword?"
"I defeated a dragon that lost its child and obtained this sword."
"A dragon that lost its child... How interesting."
The sword obtained by killing the Fire Dragon, Erviwe.
It was Erviwe.
The Predation Sword - Roas had broken.
And now that Bitan was completely shattered.
Since there were no usable swords other than the Iron Monarch and the Mad Dragon Sword, it was the sword he had been frequently using lately.
Its unique ability was Frozen Fire.
It was a sword that spewed cold blue flames.
"Pope, it must be a lie. An apostate's words cannot be trusted."
"Why would that fellow lie? I was thinking Rumpard was acting strange, but it seems a dragon appeared."
"No way. Rumpard is a nation that is the backbone of the State Federation. If a dragon had appeared, they would have requested support from the allied nations long ago."
Demetri shook his head.
"The place where the heavens opened was Rumpard. And that fellow has a Master Armor. I may be an old man with poor hearing, but I'm not too busy to turn my back on the rumors that reach my ears."
Perhaps the armor he was wearing could be called the symbol of Rumpard.
"Rumpard's Sacred Armor, right?"
There was no need to hide it.
"Rumpard's Sacred Armor was a symbol of compassion and bravery. The first armor that made Rumpard what it is today! But having lost that, Rumpard is also at its end now. I can roughly guess the reason the gods were enraged."
"Why do you think so?"
"Isn't that obvious? They are busy competing among themselves, so they wouldn't want to witness the birth of another god."
The birth of a god. He was implying that Callius would become a new god.
It was so absurd that even he himself thought it was ridiculous.
But why? The phrase 'the birth of a god' had quite a large resonance.
"Would you come to my dwelling for a moment?"
"Your Holiness!"
"Step back. Why are you youngsters with your whole lives ahead of you doing all this just to protect an old man who'll be gone soon anyway."
"But God..."
"Enough. God also knows well what kind of fellow this old man is. That's why He is silent now, isn't He?"
One who, despite rising to the position of Pope, did not properly serve God.
Yet, one who reached the realm of a Saint.
At Demetri's words, the Paladins bit their lips and stepped back in unison.
"Now, shall we go?"
The small cave in front of the ferry.
He was referring to that place as his dwelling.
Callius pondered for a moment before following behind him.
"You want Dim's Hook? Well, it's not like I can't give it to you. It's not that great anyway."
Like dyeing Rumpard's Sacred Armor.
He immediately noticed that he intended to do the same with the Hook's Holy Relic.
He had felt it since earlier, but a Saint was indeed a Saint; his insight was remarkable.
"By the way... Have you decided what to catch?"
He grabbed the hook caught on the fishing line. No, he grabbed the small hook and grinned.
"How much do you know?"
"Isn't there a saying that spring is not mine, nor is summer? It'll be easier for you to understand if you think of it as the result of wandering to find the doubts and truths I harbored while doing what a short human life should do."
As he entered the cave, he glanced at the Paladins following behind and asked.
Even though they were told to step back, they were keeping their distance and following.
"What is the reason you're helping me?"
"Compassion. Old folks naturally grow soft-hearted when they see wandering youth. Besides, newly drawn water is clearer and cleaner than stagnant water."
And I have a favor to ask, too.
"What is it?"
"I want to make a Holy Relic."
"...Why do you need my help for that?"
Making a Holy Relic requires a price.
Like Beria, who made Beria's Ring.
A Saint burns their end to create a Holy Relic, just like making a Master Relic themselves.
It is originally a sacred act done by having people of the same denomination attend, or in a place without anyone's interference.
But he needs the help of Callius, of all people, for that act?
"Funnily enough, seeing the apostate who enraged the gods gives me conviction. I must make a Holy Relic."
"What kind of Holy Relic are you talking about?"
"A Holy Relic that no one in this world has ever made. An arrogant Holy Relic that seeks to contain everything in the world."
If it contains a sword, a scabbard. If it contains a spear, a spear-sheath.
A sheath to contain all armaments.
"That is this old man's final wish."