Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 130

Ch.130 Apostle of the Goddess of War

“?”  

“?????”  

“?”  

“????????”  

Arwen widened her already large eyes even further and demanded an answer.  

“Why? What is it?”  

Sion, looking utterly blank, asked in return, “What’s the problem?”  

Arwen sputtered for a moment before finally speaking.  

“Weren’t we… allies?”  

“Huh? Of course we were.”  

“My Goddess said She had reached an agreement with Goddess Achille…”  

“Yes, I know.”  

“Then why?”  

“Why what—”  

Sion tilted his head slightly as he asked.  

“Joining forces ‘is’ the alliance.”  

He genuinely looked as if he couldn’t understand why she was even asking such a thing.  

For a brief moment, Arwen thought to herself:  

The concept of ‘alliance’ inside this Apostle of the Goddess of War’s head must be slightly different. No—actually, he just seemed like a strange person.  

‘Ugh…’  

Arwen was flustered. Tears involuntarily welled up in her eyes. He was clearly her junior, yet he was genuinely an uncomfortable person to deal with.  

‘Lady Menesia! Grant me wisdom…!’  

Menesia, who had been watching with her arms crossed, gently pushed aside the smugly grinning Achille beside her and stroked her lost Apostle.  

[Just let it go.]  

“Huh?”  

[Achille’s stubbornness has rubbed off on you. Anyway, we were already planning to combine our strength in a similar manner. The Wisdom Cult stands with the War Cult.]  

Arwen sniffled once, then nodded.  

“Understood.”  

[Cooperate as much as possible. That was Eru’s—my elder sister’s—final wish. We must forge that child into the blade that will annihilate the Evil Gods. That alone is our hope. No matter how much I agonize, that is the only answer I can reach.]  

This was Menesia’s final remaining purpose.  

She resolved to nurture Achille and Sion to utterly eradicate evil, fulfilling the last hope left behind by Eru—the sister she both loved and resented.  

Even if it meant earning the hatred of her other sisters.  

[Now is the time to stand with the War Cult. My other sisters are foolish. Blinded by Eru’s absence, they greedily scheme to become the new Sovereign Goddess themselves.]  

“Doesn’t Lady Goddess have any greed?”  

Menesia smiled gently and replied,  

[I’m simply unsuited to lead. It’s tiring, and responsibilities only pile up. Let fools take on leadership. It’s best to live modestly as an advisor.]  

“Well… I feel the same way…”  

[That’s precisely why I love you.]  

Arwen blinked shyly.  

Now that Menesia had shown her the path, all that remained was to follow it.  

‘I’ll just go along with it for now.’  

Arwen decided not to worry too much about it. After all, she’d already planned to support the War Cult as the central pillar.  

Having learned Eru’s true intentions, Menesia judged this to be the best course of action.  

The sooner, the better.  

Only by tempering the Goddess of War’s blade into an invincible sword could they restore order to this chaos and shattered world.  

“Yes, let’s do that.”  

“You’ve made a wise decision.”  

“Then for now, I’ll return to my cult to complete preparations. I’ll come visit you again later.”  

“I’ll be waiting.”  

Sion and Arwen shook hands. Sion gave a gentle smile.  

‘Did you see that, Goddess?’  

[Indeed, my Apostle. You made her submit in an instant.]  

‘That too must be the dignity of the Goddess of War.’  

[Our campaign of conquest begins now!]  

* * *  

Knock, knock.  

Sion knocked on the door.  

A voice from inside said, “Come in.” Sion opened the door and stepped inside.  

Though it was Lagan’s hospital room, he wasn’t visible; instead, cardinals of the Holy Kingdom surrounded him.  

What they’d been discussing was obvious even without hearing it.  

‘They pressured a man who just woke up to attend a council meeting to maintain their power.’  

The moment they saw Sion, they openly showed their discomfort.  

With the Goddess of Light gone, they were effectively unemployed. They’d either have to incite Lagan to somehow retain their authority or find a new path.  

The cardinals began leaving.  

As they passed Sion, they muttered all sorts of curses and complaints under their breath. The stench of greed wafted from the mouths of these avaricious old men.  

Lagan sat on his hospital bed, biting into an apple and waving at Sion with his one remaining hand.  

“Hey.”  

“How are you feeling?”  

Lagan shrugged.  

“As you can see. Healthy.”  

He grinned, revealing healthy teeth. Naturally cheerful by disposition, yet an unmistakable gloom clung to his voice.  

“What about your arm?”  

Lagan waved his severed arm stump—the mark of Garfenn’s desperate battle to save him.  

He could never resent him for it. On the contrary, he’d feel gratitude toward that empty space for the rest of his life.  

“I’m sorry I couldn’t attend the funeral. Damn that senior.”  

“I sent him off properly. His body will be buried in Elim.”  

“Yeah, I knew you’d handle it well.”  

Lagan cheerfully offered the apple he’d been eating. Sion grimaced and said,  

“The meeting went exactly as you predicted.”  

“Told you, right? Those bastards would show their true colors.”  

“They were even uglier than I expected. I never thought they’d refuse even to ‘pretend’ to cooperate in this situation.”  

“Don’t even get me started. Even when my Goddess reigned, how greedily they schemed! The Evil Gods aren’t just outside—they’re right here.”  

“I genuinely agree with that.”  

Confiding the meeting’s events to Lagan felt like a weight lifted off Sion’s chest.  

Lagan spared no vulgar language in cursing the other cults. Sion’s ears nearly bled.  

“The Holy Grail War, huh? Quite a grandiose name.”  

“The Sovereign Goddess’s power was torn into the form of the Holy Grail.”  

Sion asked awkwardly, “Are you planning to mobilize the Order of the Holy Sword?”  

“No.”  

Lagan waved his hand dismissively and laughed.  

“I’m disbanding the Order of the Holy Sword. Those old fools are shouting about immediately searching for the Holy Grail—I’ll repay their nonsense with more nonsense.”  

This was unexpected.  

Sion had assumed Lagan would at least keep the Order of the Holy Sword intact to recover the Holy Grail.  

“My Goddess chose dissolution. If she wished to vanish, then seeking her out again to worship the Holy Grail as her replacement… that’s misguided faith. That’s idolatry.”  

Sion looked at Lagan with moved eyes. Of all the followers of Light he knew, Lagan was surely the most devout—so devout that even Sion felt he had something to learn from him.  

“Then—”  

“The Holy Kingdom and the Order of the Holy Sword will be disbanded. Tell those greedy cardinals to scatter to other cults.”  

“What about you, Sir Lagan?”  

“Me? Hmm.”  

Lagan gazed out the window. His back looked profoundly lonely.  

“Maybe I’ll just… rest for a while.”  

“What about the Order of the Holy Sword?”  

“Am I their father? They’ll manage on their own… Tch.”  

Sion knew Lagan wasn’t the type to truly abandon his subordinates. But it wasn’t his place to say anything. This was solely the commander’s choice. He bore no obligation to take responsibility for another’s life.  

Sion spoke lightly.  

“If you’ve nowhere to go, come to the War Cult. We’re always open.”  

Lagan’s shoulders twitched. He laughed wearily.  

“Truly, the more you live, the more you see. A War Cult follower telling a Light Cult follower to come if he’s got nowhere to go.”  

Sion lifted the corners of his mouth.  

“That’s life.”  

“Yeah. Life. Fleeting and damn frustrating.”  

Thud.  

Lagan lightly tapped Sion’s arm—a farewell gesture.  

“If our paths cross again, let’s meet. Thank you, Apostle of the Goddess of War. Sion.”  

“I’m the one who should thank you. I owe you a great debt.”  

Sion bowed deeply and left the room.  

He wasn’t worried about Lagan. After Garfenn, Lagan was the strongest man he knew—a dependable elder.  

He’d surely rise again from this trial as if it were a joke. And someday, Sion would bring him onto his side.  

Anticipating the day he’d meet the Commander again, Sion joined the procession returning to Elim.  

* * *  

From afar, a rider bearing a pink banner galloped toward them.  

Clatter, clatter.  

Sion and a few companions looked up. They were new believers expressing their intent to join Elim.  

‘That’s the banner of Purity…?’  

[She must have something to say.]  

Hearing Goddess Achille’s words, Sion grew cautious.  

The Apostle of Purity, Ravienne, approached and greeted him. She came alone, carefully approaching with a sword at her side.  

“May I speak with you for a moment?”  

Ravienne asked with an air of dignity.  

“Yes, of course.”  

Though he answered, doubt filled him.  

The Purity Cult was the faction most hostile toward the War Cult.  

It was hard to guess why its Apostle would suddenly seek him out now.  

Beside him, Goddess Achille ground her teeth. Her narrowed eyes glared murderously at the approaching Goddess of Purity, Lirienne.  

[Sion. My Apostle. Never, ever fall for that vulgar woman’s words.]  

Sion replied inwardly.  

‘I’ll stay sharp.’  

Sion urged his horse forward, separating himself from Ravienne. They rode side by side.  

“What brings you here?”  

“I came to speak with you.”  

“You just said that. Get to the point.”  

“Your tone is rather aggressive.”  

“…You were the harshest toward me during the assembly.”  

At Sion’s retort, Ravienne’s eyes widened in anger.  

“I’m just… naturally prickly. As you can see, men never leave me alone. Not since I was a child.”  

“Must be nice.”  

“Nice—?”  

Ravienne sighed softly. From head to toe, there wasn’t a single likable thing about this man.  

“…Not at all. It’s always exhausting. Being beautiful beyond necessity.”  

Now that he thought about it, this woman was mentally unstable.  

Sion suppressed the urge to point it out. Though her face was unnaturally beautiful, hearing her say it herself was deeply unsettling.  

Her pride was as high—if not higher—than her aesthetic appeal.  

“Well, that’s precisely why I became the symbol of Purity, serving Lady Lirienne…”  

Not wanting to hear more, Sion cut her off.  

“So, what’s your point?”  

“…You have terrible manners. Typical of an unpopular man.”  

Sion turned his horse away. He didn’t want to talk anymore.  

Ravienne’s eyes widened, and she chased after him.  

Plook!  

The horse Ravienne rode spat—its tack as flamboyant as its rider.  

“I strongly advise you to cooperate willingly.”  

“Huh?”  

Sion turned his head, anger tightening his brow.  

“The Fire Cult can’t possibly leave the southern region anyway. So the most likely candidates for the next Sovereign Goddess are our Goddess and Lady Menesia… and as you know, the Goddess of Wisdom is clearly insufficient to lead the Round Table.”  

Achille snorted.  

[Menesia would be furious if she heard that.]  

[Think carefully, Achille. There’s no need for meaningless conflict, is there?]  

[Shut up, Lirienne. Unless you want scars on that pretty face of yours.]  

[How ignorant!]  

[Hmph.]  

Both Goddesses were equally beautiful. Without another word, they fell silent. Their wills were conveyed through their Apostles.  

Sion, who’d been listening quietly, spat on the ground and said,  

“Are you done talking?”  

“Huh?”  

“Is that really all you have to say right now? How about proposing we form a pursuit force to hunt down the vanished Evil Gods? Or suggesting we combine our strength to gather the Holy  Grail shards and quickly quell the chaos? Or sending a delegation to the royal court to aid the people?”  

Sion’s frustration boiled over.  

“Can’t you say something a bit more constructive?”  

“What did you just…?”  

“You. Are you truly an Apostle of a Goddess? Not an Evil God?”  

Keeeng!  

Ravienne drew both her swords in a flash-like motion.  

“That’s blasphemy. Say one more word and—”  

“You want to settle this here and now? I’d welcome it.”  

Sion sneered.  

“It’d save us unnecessary effort. Sounds good to me.”  

Sion’s hand rested on his sword. He was fully prepared. At this moment, he was confident even against the most senior Apostle present.  

Ravienne touched her crescent-moon pendant, seemingly communicating with her Goddess. An eerie light flickered from it.  

“…I clearly understand the War Cult’s stance now. So you’re determined to ignite a civil war?”  

“Let me be clear: it’s you who defied the Sovereign Goddess’s command and refused to aid the War Cult.”  

Sion’s hair fluttered. He was truly furious. He no longer felt obliged to show courtesy as a member of the Round Table.  

“Starting today,” Sion declared, “the greedy Goddesses are Evil Gods.”  

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