Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 14

Ch.14 Apostle of the Goddess of War

[As expected of my War Apostle!]  

Sion’s bold acceptance of the sparring match.  

The Goddess raised her fist and cheered.  

Without being taught or whispered to, Sion acted exactly as Achille desired.  

She was pleased with Sion, who valued honor above all else despite not being lighthearted.  

“Quite spirited.”  

“Heh. As expected of a Church of War follower. I like this one thing about you.”  

“Who wants to go first?”  

The Holy Sword knights smiled contentedly and decided the order.  

The first opponent stepped forward.  

“I’m Calvin of the Holy Sword Brigade.”  

“Sion of the Church of War.”  

Calvin smirked.  

“If you want, I can tie one hand behind my back.”  

“No need.”  

A ridiculous provocation.  

It was clear their purpose wasn’t the sparring itself but to bully the weak out of boredom.  

There are Churchs and knights to protect the weak.  

Tch. Sion clicked his tongue.  

His dislike for the Church of Light pierced through the roof.  

Kiiing.  

Needing an outlet for his anger, Sion drew his sword and swung.  

Calvin, who had provoked him to fight with one hand—  

Ended up having to tie one hand with bandages.  

Because his arm was broken from Sion’s beating.  

All subsequent spars ended in an instant.  

No one lasted three exchanges against Sion’s sword.  

Sion deliberately used more force to overwhelm his opponents.  

‘So they’ll never dare look down on the Church of War again.’  

As if to clearly show who was superior.  

It was close to merciless slaughter.  

“…What the.”  

Roben, who had watched the matches from start to finish, opened his mouth dumbfounded.  

After Calvin’s defeat, he couldn’t even properly observe the spars.  

All he saw were the Holy Sword Brigade members stiffening their shoulders and collapsing pathetically.  

‘What did I just witness?’  

Though not the absolute best, they were all skilled spiritual knights trained by the Holy Sword Brigade.  

Swordsmen who wouldn’t be outmatched anywhere.  

Yet they were trampled by a boy who wasn’t even an adult yet.  

‘They couldn’t block that seemingly clumsy sword even once?’  

It was so absurd that denial was the only response.  

‘Something’s off. Is this real? Did he really just start wielding a sword? Given he doesn’t know about divine power, it doesn’t seem like a lie.’  

Roben felt like he was facing an immense wall.  

He had seen the Holy Sword Brigade’s finest swordsmen, but never felt like this.  

‘His stance is clearly rough too. Seems like he’s never properly learned swordsmanship…’  

If they seemed like scalable fortress walls that could eventually be conquered with sweat and blood, Sion felt like an infinite tower with its peak hidden in clouds.  

Daring to climb it wasn’t even conceivable.  

‘…I’m speechless.’  

Sion approached.  

Without a drop of sweat or a single panting breath.  

Then he thrust his sword into the ground with a flourish.  

“Is that all?”  

He smiled faintly, baring his teeth.  

Roben’s will to protest was utterly crushed.  

He might have felt competitive if it had been somewhat even, considered stepping in himself…  

But this wasn’t some third-rate mercenary group—it was the Holy Sword Brigade’s elites. This level of performance was unreal. His fighting spirit evaporated.  

Roben stammered.  

“Y-yes, that’s right.”  

Sion maintained courtesy while sneering.  

“It was a good lesson. Thank you.”  

Roben’s stomach twisted.  

The way he spat such humiliating words with an innocent face was utterly diabolical.  

“I saw it well too. Truly Sir Garfenn’s disciple.”  

“It’s nothing special.”  

Roben had to confirm again.  

This outcome.  

No, Sion’s very existence felt unbearably unfair.  

“Sir Sion.”  

Roben’s voice stopped Sion as he turned away.  

Sion only slightly turned his head to respond.  

“Yes?”  

“Did you truly only start wielding a sword two weeks ago? Swear to the Goddess and answer!”  

Roben’s agitated words.  

Sion casually deflected.  

“It’s been about two weeks and two days now. I swear to Goddess Achille.”  

“…”  

Roben was speechless.  

***  

The evening after the dull sparring with the Holy Sword Brigade.  

“Phew…”  

Watching the sun hide behind the endless plains, Sion let out a long sigh.  

“Another wasted day.”  

No gains again today.  

Crushing those arrogant Holy Sword Brigade members only provided momentary relief.  

No real benefit.  

If anything, relations worsened further.  

‘This can’t continue.’  

Sion went to find Roben.  

Then announced he would act alone from now on.  

“Are you serious?”  

“Yes.”  

“It’s dangerous. If you encounter monsters—”  

“I’ll take care of myself.”  

Roben bit his lip, resenting his inability to refute.  

“I acknowledge your skills, Sir Sion. But traveling alone at night is too risky.”  

“Weren’t we in a competition? I don’t understand why the Holy Sword Brigade is so passive.”  

Sion sharply provoked.  

Roben glared at Sion.  

Provoking the Holy Sword Brigade was another matter entirely.  

“I can’t risk my members over some foolish competition. It was stupid.”  

“I respect that. Anyway, I’ll scout alone further.”  

Roben sighed as if frustrated with Sion.  

“…If your resolve is firm. I’m not your superior—do as you wish.”  

“Yes. I’ll report if I find anything.”  

“May the Light’s blessing be with your night travels.”  

Certain Sion would find nothing, Roben saw him off with empty words.  

Sion left the camp without looking back.  

‘The Holy Sword  Brigade is too complacent.’  

He was tired of idly waiting for monsters to appear. They should have been actively searching from the start.  

‘Moving alone is risky… but now that’s exactly what I want.’  

Acting alone might make him perfect bait.  

If monsters or demonkin appeared seeing Sion alone, that would suit him just fine.  

Sion’s steps lightened as he raced across the plains swept by night winds like his hair.  

When alone or during crucial moments, Sion often felt his body grow lighter and strength surge.  

‘Is the Goddess helping?’  

The Goddess, hearing his thoughts, affirmed.  

[This Goddess is always with you.]  

Though Sion couldn’t hear the reply, he believed it so.  

He never doubted this recurring phenomenon.  

That vague faith guided Sion’s feet somewhere.  

‘For some reason, I feel drawn there.’  

The Goddess truly guided his steps. It felt like his feet moved on their own—an illusion that wasn’t really one.  

‘Is the Goddess leading me to the incident, as master said?’  

Running toward where justice’s blade should fall, Sion found clues faster than expected.  

A place he hadn’t visited while moving with the Holy Sword knights.  

A forest formed not far from Foils, a remote area on the path toward deep mountains with few travelers.  

Approaching, goosebumps rose on his arms.  

The same murderous aura he felt when meeting the Baron.  

If demonkin were nearby, they’d surely be there.  

‘We should have searched here first…’  

He resented Roben for insisting on checking nearby areas methodically.  

Entering the forest’s edge, he immediately encountered monsters to his surprise.  

Kiiing.  

Sion instantly drew his sword.  

Wolf-like monsters bared their teeth at him.  

But soon tucked their tails and whined uneasily.  

“Not attacking?”  

Sion tilted his head.  

—Grrrl!  

The wolf monsters gnashed their teeth as Sion approached but couldn’t bring themselves to charge.  

Thus, the monsters’ heads fell one by one.  

Sion’s blade held no hesitation.  

After three heads dropped, Sion briefly sheathed his indiscriminate sword.  

“Who dares invade my domain?”  

A figure appeared, placing hands on the decapitated monster corpses.  

A human.  

‘When did he—?’  

Appearing without any presence—startling even Sion—was a pale-faced man with an eerie aura.  

Sion had seen someone giving off this exact feeling before.  

‘…Like the Baron. A demonkin.’  

From afar he hadn’t noticed, but up close, the oppressive aura from the corrupted being made his skin tingle.  

Demonkin were those who drank demon blood.  

As dangerous as the years they’d lived.  

Monsters who would only grow stronger and harm people if left unchecked.  

‘How long has this one lived?’  

One thing was certain—he was far stronger than Rebecca’s father.  

Sion muttered as if hypnotizing himself.  

“Letting your guard down means death. Stay alert.”  

Under sharp tension, Sion stared piercingly at the demonkin.  

‘Dangerous. My back’s tingling.’  

But Sion didn’t retreat.  

Demonkin were foes he’d face and eliminate countless times.  

He had no intention of backing down from their first encounter.  

“Scent.”  

The demonkin muttered lowly, sniffing the air.  

“The stench of blood and iron radiates from you, boy.”  

That moment, the demonkin’s mouth split grotesquely in a hideous grin. Pale skin, blackened teeth.  

“A Church of War follower? Rare prey indeed.”  

With each word, the demonkin unleashed surging bloodlust and demonic energy.  

Swooosh.  

The surrounding demonic energy assaulted Sion like fog.  

However.  

Swish!  

As if splitting the momentum in two, Sion’s sword flashed.  

The cold metallic echo resonated like the Goddess of War’s roar.  

“No.”  

Sion’s voice was resolute.  

His gaze hardened like steel.  

Pointing his sword tip at the demon’s forehead, Sion declared:  

“I’m going to be the Goddess of War’s Apostle.”  

“Apostle?”  

The demonkin scrutinized Sion up and down.  

With eyes like a snake tasting scent with its tongue.  

“Regardless of your words’ truth, your energy is strong. Drinking your blood will grant me great power.”  

“My blood? It’d taste bad.”  

The demonkin sneered. “Kek. Impossible. It looks more delicious than any wine. Especially from a young one like you.”  

Sion felt nauseated by the disgusting analogy.  

He held his breath.  

‘Heard enough.’  

The demonkin seemed ready to use force rather than words now. The ominous atmosphere intensified.  

‘As master said, demonkin and demons must be cut down on sight.’  

Sion abandoned any thought of capturing this one alive.  

He clearly understood no demonkin should be left alive for even a second.  

Sion focused intensely while gripping his sword. Concentrating his mind to a needlepoint.  

The background faded from his vision—only the demonkin remained.  

‘Recall master’s teachings for fighting demons.’  

Reading the flow of demonic energy around the demonkin, he slowly shifted his stance.  

They circled each other warily.  

Faat!  

Sion moved first.  

The instant the demonkin acted, his body reacted.  

Swiish!  

Cutting through the night air.  

Sion’s sword tip curved sharply inward.  

Kaaang!  

A heavy impact traveled through Sion’s forearm. His sword was blocked mid-air.  

The demonkin only slightly furrowed his brows.  

‘How?’  

The sword’s path had blurred strangely.  

Not an illusion—a real phenomenon.  

“That was close…”  

The demonkin’s voice oozed eerily.  

“Ah!”  

Sion hastily retreated.  

Whoosh!  

An invisible blade passed where he’d stood.  

‘Would’ve been cut if I stayed. What was that?’  

The demonkin narrowed his eyes at Sion.  

“Good instincts. Do you have precognition?”  

“Using strange powers. Magic, I assume?”  

The demonkin didn’t look pleased.  

His initial composure had slightly faded.  

“You dodged purely by instinct despite knowing nothing of magic? Interesting.”  

The conversation ended there.  

The demonkin’s aura changed.  

Sharper beyond comparison to before.  

“Time to die.”  

Piiing.  

The demonkin’s sharp eyes twitched.  

Blades of wind assaulted from all directions.  

Sion leaped up, twisting his body.  

Barely grazing his back, he evaded the magic.  

Landing, he recalled Garfenn’s teachings:  

—Demonic powers are mysterious. Human knowledge can’t perfectly decipher them yet. So accept the phenomena as they are. Hand gestures firing something, things erupting when they click their tongue… Identify those specific actions.  

Through several exchanges, Sion analyzed his opponent.  

Even in crisis, he never took his eyes off the enemy.  

‘His eyes slightly twitch before using magic. That’s my opening.’  

Thanks to this, he spotted it—the demonkin’s tell before casting.  

With exceptional focus and relentless observation, he found a breakthrough to reverse the disadvantage.  

‘Thank you, master!’  

[Well done, Sion! Crush him!]  

The Goddess thrust her fist forward.  

Tap.  

The moment Sion’s foot touched ground, his sole pushed off as he charged.  

“How dare you!”  

The demonkin’s brow furrowed.  

His momentarily startled expression quickly gathered demonic energy before his chest and fired.  

Pishoot!  

Sion rolled forward, dodging the invisible blade.  

Whooom!  

Flowing seamlessly into the motion, he swung his sword upward.  

But again, his sword was blocked mid-air.  

‘Again.’  

The blade tip blurred, the physical resistance transmitting through his palm.  

It felt like trying to cut through maximally compressed air.  

‘If I could coat the sword with divine power, I could cut this too. That’d be convenient.’  

But he couldn’t use that now.  

He had to throw himself into the breakthrough.  

The demonkin bared his fangs, muttering.  

“I won’t miss this time.”  

Whooosh!  

An angry wind blew.  

Sion hastily ducked.  

Some hair was severed.  

“Tch.”  

Sion twisted the hilt to pull free.  

It felt like an invisible grip had caught the blade.  

He narrowly avoided another crisis.  

But it wasn’t just survival.  

The swordsman beloved by the Goddess of War was different in some way.  

Sion furrowed his brow.  

A shudder ran through him like a spike driven into his crown.  

‘This…’  

In that single exchange—  

Just through clashing—he gained enlightenment.  

‘I think I understand now.’  

He grew in real-time.  

‘I can win this.’

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