Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 107

Ch.107 Apostle of the Goddess of War

Whooshhh—  

The wind blowing into the exotic hall was dry and cold. A faint metallic scent of blood mingled into the air.  

Sion stood facing the wind, carefully choosing and re-choosing his response.  

But, as expected.  

It seemed that nothing could deliver more shock than simply making his voice heard.  

“Apostle of Blood.”  

The reaction came immediately.  

“Huh?”  

The Apostle of Blood turned around.  

His Adam’s apple quivered sharply.  

His already pale complexion turned even whiter.  

“You—you…!”  

He couldn’t even speak properly, overcome with excitement. The archenemy of the Apostle of Blood, who had never faced a true opponent, had finally appeared.  

“How did you get here—!”  

Bloodshot eyes stared at Sion, filled with murderous rage that struck the hall like a physical blow. He looked as if he wanted to strangle Sion to death at that very instant.  

Whoosh!  

His rage didn’t end with a furious shout.  

Instantly, blood surged forth like a geyser, shooting straight toward Sion.  

The blood transformed into the shape of a dragon, its jaws gaping wide open.  

Kwagagagak!  

Then, the Blood Dragon swallowed Sion whole.  

This was a high-dimensional blood magic spell—normally, anyone hit by it would have their own blood instantly sucked out, dying in an instant.  

But.  

It had no effect on Sion, who had completely disassembled and analyzed blood magic.  

The moment he was swallowed by the dragon’s mouth—  

Pah— Aang!  

The dragon’s head swelled up and exploded violently.  

That was all.  

Blood magic was no longer a threat to Sion.  

This was the overwhelming arrival of one who had grasped its very essence.  

“Tch.”  

The Apostle of Blood fell into a state of utter despair as he witnessed this.  

The wisdom granted by the Evil God of Blood had just been so pathetically crushed by a mere human.  

The True Ancestor, who pursued the beauty of futility, experienced for the first time in his long life a sense of emptiness.  

Empty, yet beautiful.  

This was the sentiment felt by the Apostle of Blood, father, mother, and progenitor of all vampires, as he looked upon Sion.  

The True Ancestor, once possessing the most lethal beauty in the world, now felt despair.  

“You! What in the world are you?!”  

Blisters formed all over his face.  

Skin and muscles melting away.  

Bones briefly exposed.  

The True Ancestor, now resembling a monster more than a human, clutched his own head in agony.  

“How can you possibly comprehend my magic and mock me like this?!”  

He had lived a life of absolute supremacy.  

The Apostle of Blood freely drank the blood of virgins and corrupted pure souls.  

Whatever he desired, he obtained. Whatever stood in his way, he eliminated.  

To him, the ultimate and most beautiful magic was undoubtedly blood magic.  

And yet, look.  

A human who had barely existed for any length of time.  

A mere human had seized blood magic.  

Not only that—he had stolen it just by seeing it once.  

It was unfair.  

For the first time in his life, the Apostle of Blood understood the concept of unfairness.  

“I was born blessed by the Evil God! But what are you? How can you, born in a human body, instantly decipher and nullify my magic the moment you see it?!”  

“……”  

Despite his heartfelt, desperate cry, Sion showed no reaction whatsoever.  

If anything, Sion felt proud of himself merely for managing to suppress his nausea while listening.  

“Are you done talking?”  

“What?”  

“If you’re finished saying everything you wanted to say—”  

At that moment, Sion’s figure seemed to stretch unnaturally. As if time had slowed, his body within the field of vision stretched like rubber.  

“Die.”  

He had transcended time.  

Sion reached the Apostle of Blood at the speed of a thunderclap.  

Whoosh!  

A short sword, filled with black flames, grazed the Apostle of Blood’s neck.  

The short sword he had acquired earlier transformed each time he infused it with holy power—its form shifting like flickering flames. It was truly a sinister blade.  

Thud.  

The grotesque head rolled across the floor.  

A headless corpse stood upright.  

Above the hollow neck, black holy energy danced, purifying the filthy blood.  

It was an especially gruesome scene.  

Black, boiling blood droplets splattered in all directions.  

Blood surged backward from his veins, and the stagnant magic that had flowed like prayer through every bone joint twisted and warped.  

The headless body still didn’t move a muscle.  

The only thing moving was—  

“You filthy wretch. How dare you sever my head—right now?”  

Only the Apostle’s mouth, rolling on the floor, was speaking. The sight was so bizarre it was almost comical.  

“How are you still alive?”  

“Even if I’ve weakened, do you really think a single slash could kill me?”  

He was at the very peak among demons, known for their tenacious life force.  

To think he could be killed easily would have been sheer arrogance.  

Sion wasn’t arrogant.  

He was merely slightly surprised.  

“Did you foolishly believe you could defeat me? How naive. Child of the Goddess of War.”  

Just as Sion prepared to finish the fiend off properly, ensuring he couldn’t move his treacherous tongue—  

Kugugugung!  

The entire hall shook as if an earthquake had struck.  

Shockwaves slammed against the walls, and debris began to rain down.  

“What’s this?”  

The atmosphere changed abruptly.  

Sion let out a faint groan.  

His premonition was not good.  

“Lord of all things, mother of all life, to the master of blood we offer all praise…….”  

The moment this eerie prayer echoed through the hall from the Apostle’s severed head—  

Tok—!  

A single blood droplet rose silently above the headless body, breaking the silence.  

Slowly, quietly, like a red boil, it ignited at the spot where the head should have been.  

A sphere of blood, replacing the head.  

The sphere swirled with a strange, unnatural aura.  

The Apostle’s head had already lost all signs of life.  

Was this blood vortex now replacing his brain and thoughts?  

‘Or is this his true form?’

Sion felt an overwhelming pressure emanating from this unknown entity before him.  

It dominated the space through sheer presence, radiating terror.  

It was not of this world.  

It surpassed even the category of demon.  

This was something much closer to what was called a Goddess or an evil deity.  

Sion exhaled briefly and lightly raised his sword.  

Spinning the blade once, he faced the Apostle of Blood, now transformed entirely into blood itself.  

Wooong.  

[Acknowledge me. You, who should not exist. What are you? Has Eru crafted yet another malformed abomination with his own hands?]  

The voice didn’t reach his ears—it resonated directly in his mind.  

It was an attempt to communicate via mental waves.  

Sion realized the oppressive aura dominating the space had intensified even further.  

He assumed the Apostle of Blood was making his final desperate attempt.  

That this was the end.  

“I’m just a human.”  

“A War disciple.”  

“A knight of the Goddess of War.”  

The mental wave turned venomous, piercing like a needle.  

Clearly, Sion’s answer displeased him.  

[Then you’re saying I, after a lifetime of pride in my blood magic, have had it stolen by an ordinary human?]  

The confidence he had placed in blood magic throughout his life had been shattered by a boy’s indifference.  

The crumbling vampire progenitor felt himself becoming increasingly pitiful.  

Sion watched this scene and felt a small pang of pity.  

It was a similar emotion he had felt when he saw Arwen, when he saw Lagan.  

Those who, by their mere existence, made him feel small—despite being called geniuses.  

This was the despair of encountering the true ‘genius’.  

[You deny it? Your very existence proves my question.]  

The Apostle of Blood transmitted.  

[But one thing is certain—you will die by my hand. I will kill you, devour your body and talent, and then once again—]  

Whoosh!  

The blood saint stomped his foot.  

That was the starting point.  

Kwa— Aang!  

A blood wave spread out like a hemisphere. The entire hall was enveloped in red ripples, cracks spreading across every wall.  

Kwang!  

Sion’s body was flung backward. He crashed across the wall, slamming into the twisted floor.  

“Kkuut……!”  

A mouthful of blood gushed from his lips. The impact was massive—speed, mass, lethality.  

“The weight is different.”  

But that wasn’t all.  

Ever since the foot stomp, the high ceiling of the hall was now filled with countless blood droplets.  

To Sion’s eyes, they looked like spheres of death, like fatal viruses.  

‘That structure… the moment I touch them, they’ll suck every drop of blood from my body.’

To spread such an absurd magic on this scale—this was an impossible feat.  

The Apostle of Blood was behaving like a true transcendent being.  

This wasn’t about swordsmanship or magic anymore. He was assaulting Sion from a realm utterly beyond comprehension.  

[Don’t breathe.]  

The mental wave pierced his mind again. Simultaneously, the space compressed, crushing Sion’s lungs.  

[Don’t even exist.]  

Each word seemed to possess will and manifest reality. The air grew heavy, and an urge to commit suicide surged within him.  

Unless he enveloped his entire body in holy power and firmly held onto his consciousness, he would be overwhelmed instantly.  

‘I need to… expand my domain.’

Sion quickly maneuvered, trying to escape the fiend’s line of sight.  

He had to act before the enemy could react—create an opening, then project his mental world to weaken the opponent’s influence. Only then could he win.  

Sion swiftly closed the distance and swung his sword.  

Boooong!  

It traced a straight line through the air.  

Following the launched sword energy, the blood droplets scattered by the Apostle of Blood split apart.  

Swish-swish-swish!  

However, the blood droplets floating in midair instantly wrapped around and swallowed the sword energy.  

The Apostle’s sphere violently vibrated.  

In an instant, blood from the air began to pour down violently.  

Papapapapapp—!  

“Kkuu……!”  

Sion didn’t dodge every attack. It wasn’t possible to dodge them all.  

He had to block or deflect every single one.  

And Sion had the means.  

Flap!  

The rain of crimson flower-like droplets.  

Sion unfurled the mantle blessed by the Guardian of the Body high into the sky, successfully neutralizing the relentless assault!  

Without giving any opening, and amidst the Apostle’s constantly humming vortex.  

The raging torrent of demonic energy intensified further, surpassing all limits.  

[How long can you endure?]  

Kung!  

A heavy collision sound and vibration shook the hall.  

The power of blood magic had increased to such a degree that the space itself struggled to withstand the demonic energy. Simply by existing, the Apostle of Blood was causing cracks in space.  

‘Dangerous!’  

With sharpened senses and heightened awareness, Sion began cutting and evading his way through the blood droplets.  

Slicing through the blood viruses that sucked away all blood on contact, dodging, advancing step by rapid step.  

Witnessing this, the Apostle of Blood calmly began casting his next spell.  

The Apostle of Blood slowly murmured death.  

“Mother of all noble blood. Gather back the life you have sown.”  

Only a single phrase.  

The Apostle’s vortex unleashed a tremendous wave, as if sucking in life itself, then began drawing everything inward.  

All things existing in the hall, including the blood droplets scattered in the air, were drawn toward the vortex to satisfy his thirst.  

Sion, running forward, was no exception.  

His footsteps lost strength. His feet gradually failed to touch the ground.  

Sion’s body floated upward, pulled toward the vortex of blood.  

“Kkuut!”  

Now there was truly no place to retreat.  

Not standing at the edge of a cliff—but already falling.  

In this life-or-death crisis, Sion once again prayed to the Goddess of War.  

‘Please, become the roof that protects me in this transcendent space stained with blood.’

As Sion fixed his gaze upon the Apostle, now a living embodiment of blood.  

He blinked.  

‘I win.’  

The next moment.  

The surroundings darkened.  

[…!]  

Through the mental waves, the Apostle of Blood’s astonishment was transmitted.  

His massive blood-sucking spell, which had been consuming everything made of blood, was abruptly severed.  

The space itself had been twisted, pulling the Apostle of Blood into Sion’s mental domain.  

The Apostle was stunned.  

Even without a face, the sense of shock was palpable.  

[You expanded your domain against me—while I am in this state?]  

No matter what he said, the War knight had already begun running, clutching a star in his hand.

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