Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 146

Ch.146 Apostle of the Goddess of War

Sion’s chest burned with warmth.  

In this world, he could witness Achille’s manifestation—his eyes reddened with emotion.  

Every moment with her was fresh and wondrous.  

Even if she seemed temperamental at times, her presence remained noble and beautiful.  

Had Magoth not been present, he would’ve knelt instantly in reverence.  

“Achille. Menesia. Even Emily…”  

Magoth’s blackened lips twitched. The once lethally graceful Goddess of Darkness now seemed like a grotesque witch beside Achille.  

Sion realized it himself:  

‘So I truly do worship Lady Achille.’

His perception shifted instantly—proof enough of his worthiness as an Apostle.  

Achille spoke:  

“Magoth. Not only did you abduct my Apostle—you dared lay hands on him. Today, we settle this. Through your complete annihilation, the world shall find peace.”  

At Achille’s earnest warning, Magoth’s mouth twisted into a sneer.  

“You, of all beings, should know—even if you’ve regained your strength, you cannot defeat me.”  

“Length is measured only by testing it.”  

“Living among mortals has made your words as weak as theirs. It’s obvious even at a glance!”  

Crack!

Magoth thrust her hand forward. Simultaneously, shadows erupted from beneath her feet like spears.  

Achille kicked off the ground, leaping upward. The shadow spears pursued the Goddess of War as if alive.  

Several Evil Gods joined the chase.  

True to her title, capturing Achille required multiple Evil Gods—War itself reigned as terror even among them.  

Remembering Achille’s prime, Sion swallowed hard, awed by her might.  

‘This isn’t the time to stand idle.’

Sion snapped to focus.  

This was a battle of Goddesses.  

A mere human had no place here—only hindrance.  

If he were injured, it would nullify the very reason the Goddesses had descended.  

‘My role…’

The situation was chaotic—but he had to turn it into opportunity.  

He needed to find what a human could do amid divine conflict.  

‘Sir Loenhaugter.’

That was why he’d come here in the first place. Without hesitation, Sion sprinted toward Loenhaugter’s presence.  

Clang!

An Evil God blocked his path—Goddess of Rage.  

“Don’t—don’t go! You stay here.”  

“Please step aside.”  

“My sister’s orders. I don’t want to kill you… just chop off one leg.”  

She spoke in a clumsy tone, yet uttered chilling words effortlessly. Sion raised his sword, bracing for battle with her true form—  

When—  

BOOM!

Lightning struck between Sion and the Goddess, and Menesia appeared.  

Her sea-blue dress billowed like clouds, radiating innate divinity.  

“Vilena.”  

“Me—Menesia? Oh—it’s been so long!”  

“Indeed. Centuries, hasn’t it?”  

“I—I don’t know!”  

“Step aside. Let that boy pass.”  

“I-I don’t want to…”  

The Goddess of Rage trembled, her speech strained—uncharacteristically frail for one of her title.  

‘She reminds me of Arwen.’

Sion didn’t lower his guard. He couldn’t miss Menesia’s window of aid.  

“Then you’ll have to fight me.”  

“B-but getting scolded by Sister Magoth… is scarier.”  

“Oh?”  

Menesia’s eyes froze like glaciers. Rage, madness, chaos—all were antithetical to the Goddess of Wisdom, whose icy intellect governed reason itself.  

Even now, Sion could feel her suppressing deep-seated revulsion.  

A sphere of azure divine power gathered in Menesia’s palm—compressed so intensely it could erase a mountain in an instant.  

“Then die.”  

“U-ugh…”  

The Goddess of Rage flinched—then erupted:  

“KEHEHEHE! Who dies?! YOU die, Menesia! Who the hell are you to tell me to die—YOU! Yes, YOU! Menesia, you insufferable bitch! The emptiest-headed fool in the Heavens! Always acting like the smartest! I hated you! You never liked me! I wanted to pluck those smug blue eyes and stomp them into paste! Die! Die! Die die die die die die die die!”  

She charged Menesia in a blind fury.  

CRASH!

Her speed defied imagination—tearing sky and earth, screaming through the air.  

“Tch. Crazy bitch. Having another episode.”  

Menesia sneered.  

Just before impact—  

[Go. Secure Loenhaugter. Apostle of Achille.]  

WHOOSH!

Menesia swept her arm—and launched Sion flying. He soared across Magoth’s manor, stabilized midair, shattered a window with a roll, and landed inside.  

Crash!

Sion rose effortlessly from the glass shards.  

Outside, a mythic battle already raged in the sky.  

‘My Lady…’

Achille must’ve strained immensely to locate him here. Her current exertion surely drained vast divine power.  

Even with Menesia and Emily aiding her, facing all the Evil Gods would be overwhelming.  

No time remained.  

He had to find Loenhaugter faster—return before it was too late.  

Sion closed his eyes, extending his senses through the manor. His hyper-refined perception swept every corridor.  

‘Malice is rising fast.’

With negotiations broken, Magoth wouldn’t let him leave easily.  

Perhaps she never intended to.  

‘I’ll have to strike hard.’

Sion locked onto Loenhaugter’s faint presence amid the clinging darkness and moved.  

He sprinted through halls and stairs.  

As malice thickened, breathing grew harder.  

Tartania’s temporary aid was fading.  

‘I have to save him in time.’  

Squelch. Squelch.

His ankles blackened—skin corroding with indescribable decay.  

Sion’s pupils wavered.  

As if fate mocked him, another figure blocked his path.  

Crimson hair. Crimson eyes.  

Palest skin among all Goddesses and Evil Gods.  

Lips stained deep red—as if freshly fed.  

“Hello, human of deep karmic ties.”  

“…Goddess of Blood.”  

“Yes. I watched you eating. Made me crave your blood. My disciples owe you much, don’t they?”  

Sion smirked provocatively.  

“They’re all dead—I wouldn’t know.”  

“I’ll refresh your memory.”  

Swoosh!

Hateful blood sorcery flooded the walls—sharp, dense, reeking of iron. The magic seeped into Sion’s veins, numbing them.  

She meant to drain his blood through his very arteries.  

BOOM!

As Sion swung Yogeo to block—  

A fragrant floral scent filled the corridor, erasing the stench of blood.  

Before him stood a small girl, hair adorned with wildflowers.  

“Lady Emily!”  

“Go, Sion. I have much to discuss with Sestia.”  

“Emily…”  

“Hurry!”  

“Understood!”  

No time for questions.  

Even the Goddess of Wildflowers couldn’t defeat the Goddess of Blood—her limit was buying time with her unique barrier arts.  

[Downstairs. Last room at the corridor’s end. A darkness barrier awaits. Coat Yogeo with divine power and strike.]  

Sion nodded mid-sprint.  

The Goddesses risked everything to aid him—he had to succeed.  

KABOOM!

He tore through the hallway, shockwaves from the sky battle shattering every window.  

Above, the clash defied description—  

Each sword stroke warped space itself. The sheer physical might was unimaginable.  

“Guh…”  

Sion ran again. His ankles were nearly pulp. Pain threatened unconsciousness.  

Yet he gritted his teeth, propping himself along the walls.  

Drenched in sweat, he reached the room Emily described.  

Beyond the door radiated a presence so terrifying his hair stood on end.  

Instinct screamed: ‘Do not open.’

Sion coated Yogeo with Achille’s divine power.  

The blade, saturated with deep-sea malice, resonated with the Goddess of War’s light—and shimmered with black starlight.  

‘Stronger than before.’

He could feel it—even without seeing.  

This power could wound a Goddess.  

Yogeo, infused with Evil God-level might, now wielded fangs rivaling apocalyptic beasts.  

Slice!

A black starlight carved a galaxy across the barrier.  

Black flames burned—and the magic-woven seal tore apart.  

Dark smoke rose from its surface.  

Inside, a presence raged.  

Sion looked—and recoiled at the sight.  

Something that had been Loenhaugter writhed in agony, grotesquely transformed.  

In the corner, a demon—likely his jailer—lay dead beneath the same horrifying corruption now creeping up Sion’s ankles.  

His time was short.  

But he didn’t care.  

His only thought: ‘How do I save Loenhaugter?’  

“Sir Loenhaugter!”  

Sion shouted.  

WHOOSH!

Loenhaugter unleashed abyssal malice—shadows swallowing Sion whole.  

This was how the jailer died.  

‘Close call.’

Without his cloak—blessed by Achille—he’d have perished instantly. Only divine light resisted Magoth’s corruption.  

Sion pushed through the suffocating darkness, Yogeo cleaving paths with starlight.  

Achille’s blade shredded the abyssal shadows before they could consume him.  

He walked—  

To fulfill Eru’s will.  

To save Loenhaugter, who’d aided him so greatly.  

It felt like parting the sea with bare hands.  

Something harder than stone blocked Loenhaugter.  

SPLASH!

As Sion slashed the shadow, black blood geysered—soaking even his cloak.  

Consciousness blurred. A sensation of soul-erosion crept from his fingertips.  

“Loen…haugter…”  

He finally reached him.  

Shoulder bone met his palm.  

Sion forced his eyes wide open, channeling his last strength.  

He accelerated his divine ring to its limit—  

Releasing Achille’s power in full to incinerate the devouring malice.  

“HAAA!”  

His battle cry amplified the divine surge.  

Starlight purified the abyssal corruption.  

Energy flowed through his arms—slowly restoring Loenhaugter.  

Just as Sion’s strength failed—and darkness claimed his mind—  

“Amazing. You actually did it.”  

A familiar girl’s voice echoed in his ear.  

Sion turned weakly.  

Tartania stood there, tousled chestnut hair framing her smile.  

“I faked fighting. Took effort to sneak you out unnoticed.”  

She winked.  

“Time to show my sincerity. I’ll extract you now. Don’t worry—the other Goddesses will escape on their own.”  

Sion blinked slowly.  

Even now, he couldn’t fully trust her.  

But one thing gave him peace:  

Tartania lifted her dress, revealing her smooth, pale stomach—  

Which split open with a wet rip, exposing Set and Jien sleeping safely inside.  

“See? They’re unharmed.”  

Sion nodded.  

The sight was grotesque—but survival mattered most.  

“Come. Into my intestines.”  

Tartania embraced him with warm hands.  

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