Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 15

Ch.15 Apostle of the Goddess of War

‘I need to finish this quickly. If it drags on, I’ll lose.’  

The two stood facing each other at a distance.  

“You. You can’t even use divine power.”  

“…You noticed.”  

“And yet you dare challenge me, a demonkin?”  

The demonkin asked angrily, his nerves frayed from Sion’s unexpected resilience.  

“I don’t need anything grand to kill one demonkin.”  

The demonkin snorted.  

“Arrogance, brat. If you can’t use divine power yet, it’s not too late.”  

He extended his hand.  

“Drink my master’s blood.”  

“What did you say?”  

“You have talent the Goddess covets. I’ll help that talent blossom. You’ll tread the world beneath your feet.”  

Sion knew the demonkin’s offer wasn’t false—it was a genuine attempt to sway him to their side.  

‘Is he trying to convert me before my faith solidifies?’  

Sion didn’t even entertain the offer. It held no appeal.  

…To Sion, the only appealing offer was one that could protect his siblings. Nothing else mattered.  

Huu—  

Sion took a deep breath.  

Releasing tension throughout his body, he relaxed his muscles lightly.  

‘Let’s end this now.’  

With his resolve set—  

—!  

Sion’s hair left golden afterimages as he shot forward like an arrow.  

“Foolish.”  

The demonkin narrowed his eyes.  

Taat!  

Sion, who had been watching his eyelids closely, kicked off the ground and leaped high.  

Whooosh!  

An invisible blade carved a long trail where he’d just been standing—precisely evaded.  

‘I definitely read the timing.’  

His hypothesis had turned to certainty. Now was the time to apply the countermeasure.  

“You noticed.”  

The demonkin realized his attacks were being anticipated. Though briefly startled, he remained composed and focused on Sion’s assault.  

‘A thrust? Don’t make me laugh.’  

To the demonkin’s eyes, Sion’s blade seemed to charge straight at him—an illusion.  

Then Sion’s sword tip vanished.  

‘What—?’  

Swiiish—!  

Before he knew it, Sion’s blade had curved around and sliced through his neck.  

The demonkin’s eyes widened as if about to tear.  

“How…?!”  

He never heard Sion’s answer.  

The moment he blinked, his vision slammed into the ground, consciousness fading to black.  

When Sion resolved to end it, the fight concluded instantly.  

Sion flicked his wrist lightly, shaking the blood from his sword.  

Exhausted, he slumped to the ground.  

***  

While Sion took deep breaths to recover, Achille alone reviewed his battle.  

[Even for Sion, I thought this demonkin would be too much.]  

[I was ready to intervene forcibly if things turned dangerous…]  

All her worries proved unfounded. Defying the Goddess’s expectations yet again, Sion had triumphed.  

A pleasantly surprising reversal.  

Even to the Goddess, how Sion defeated the demonkin was deeply impressive.  

[He vaguely grasped the demonkin’s magic mid-fight.]  

[It was magic exerting invisible influence through sight.]  

[Sion’s counter was unexpectedly simple—swinging his sword faster than the eye could follow.]  

The Goddess of War twirled her hair, clicking her tongue.  

[Though he’s to be my Apostle… truly… he’s astounding.]  

The more she learned, the more astonishing he became.  

Having lived immeasurable years, she’d witnessed countless warriors and war heroes.  

Yet even the Goddess of War had never seen genius that could inspire such envy.  

[This demonkin was clearly far stronger than Sion. Appeared to have lived around 150 years. In a fair fight, Sion would’ve lost.]  

[Sion ended it while the foe was still underestimating him. Clever.]  

[Even with Garfenn’s hints, to this extent… Ahaha.]  

Sion was the first human to evoke such admiration from her—no empty praise, but genuine awe.  

***  

“Haa. That was truly dangerous.”  

Though his expression never changed, even Sion had been tense during that fight.  

Had he made even one mistake—  

Had his predictions been off—  

It would’ve been Sion’s head rolling.  

‘Demonkin are definitely different from humans. Dangerous.’  

Luck had favored him greatly.  

While boldness was good, he realized he needed more caution moving forward.  

The thought that he might not live long at this rate suddenly struck him.  

‘If I die early, Ruina will curse me. Can’t have that.’  

After catching his breath, Sion began examining the demonkin’s corpse.  

Tok.  

He kicked the body over with his foot.  

The demonkin’s lifeless form rolled limply.  

Rummaging through it—  

“Tch.”  

Unfortunately, the demonkin carried nothing of monetary value.  

Flesh and blood were all a demonkin needed to live, and as a magic-wielder, this made sense.  

However, Sion found something far more valuable than material wealth.  

‘Is this the missing artifact?’  

What he discovered was a golden chalice.  

No liquid remained inside—only swirling black smoke hovering within.  

Undeniably ominous.  

“Demonic energy, I suppose.”  

Sion frowned.  

Malevolent energy overflowed from the sacred object.  

Though he didn’t understand fully, it was clear the demonkin had done something foul to the relic.  

The dark energy dancing inside seemed ready to steal his mind if he stared too long.  

‘This demonic energy must be what turned the beasts into monsters.’  

A reasonable assumption—the only explanation that fit.  

Carefully setting the chalice down, Sion inspected the demonkin again.  

This time, he noticed something peculiar on the left wrist.  

‘Like master’s. There’s some mark engraved.’  

Looking closer, it was a tattoo—a serpent biting its own tail forming a circle, with one vertical line and five horizontal lines at the center.  

‘This should suffice as proof.’  

He’d need evidence to prove he killed the demonkin upon returning.  

Bringing just the head might not be recognizable to Roben of the Holy Sword Brigade.  

‘Will he recognize this mark?’  

Praying Roben wasn’t that foolish, Sion began slicing off the demonkin’s arm.  

After severing both the arm and head, he wrapped them in the creature’s clothing.  

Then he stabbed his sword into the corpse, letting it drink blood.  

‘Goddess. I offer this delicious sacrifice to you.’  

[Hmm. Sion? This Goddess doesn’t actually drink blood… Regardless. Thank you…]  

‘With this demonkin, you’ll grant me land to farm, right?’  

One-sided communication.  

The Goddess smiled wryly and chose the blessings to bestow upon Sion.  

[You must be tired, so I’ll restore your body and reforge your sword. The rest I’ll remember for future rewards.]  

At that moment—  

“Oh?”  

Sion’s eyes widened at his suddenly lightened body.  

‘Offering something tasty really brings blessings. Nice.’  

***  

After dealing with the demonkin, Sion returned to camp.  

Heading straight to Roben’s tent—  

The man greeted him with an ‘I knew it’ expression.  

“Sir Sion. You’ve returned. Any success?”  

“Yes. Look at this.”  

Tok.  

Sion placed the bundled object on the ground and unwrapped it.  

The demonkin’s cloak was soaked through with blood.  

“Incredible.”  

Roben exhaled sharply.  

For someone who’d gone out alone to return and casually produce a pale head was a sight that would shock even lifelong swordsmen.  

“I found the demonkin.”  

“Demonkin?!”  

Roben stared disbelievingly between Sion and the severed head.  

“I-Is this true, Sir Sion?”  

“Yes.”  

“Finally found it! We couldn’t locate a single hair!”  

Roben called his adjutant and issued orders, his eyes filled with determination.  

“We march immediately. Prepare for extermination.”  

“Yes!”  

Sion tilted his head at Roben’s actions.  

“Why prepare?”  

“Huh? Now that we’ve found the demonkin, of course we—”  

Roben sensed something off in Sion’s tone. The boy was far too calm.  

Now that he thought about it, Sion returning unharmed after ‘finding’ the demonkin was strange itself.  

Roben reexamined the head on the ground.  

“Wait—this.”  

Only then noticing the demonkin’s severed wrist beneath the head, Roben paled drastically.  

“…Sir Sion. Is this not just a demonkin’s limb, but the actual demonkin’s head? Are you saying that now?”  

“Yes. It used magic. Definitely one.”  

“Magic?!”  

Roben’s voice cracked from sheer shock.  

His brow remained deeply furrowed.  

‘Impossible.’  

A demonkin capable of magic would have lived at least a century.  

Even skilled Holy Sword Brigade members would struggle against one.  

Roben himself couldn’t guarantee victory, even staking his life.  

“Is this true, Sir Sion? It’s hard to believe.”  

Expressionless, Sion picked up the wrist and asked:  

“I brought this since I wasn’t sure. Do you recognize this symbol?”  

Roben was stunned by Sion casually handling the severed limb—then utterly horrified upon seeing the mark.  

“…Thi-This is—!”  

His face froze upon identifying the symbol.  

Taking the arm, Roben scrutinized it intently.  

As he studied the tattoo, the color drained from his face.  

This wasn’t something one could fake to deceive.  

“What’s so significant about it?”  

“Sir Sion.”  

“Yes?”  

“How… how did you survive?”  

Sion scratched his cheek awkwardly.  

“I almost didn’t.”  

“You said you couldn’t use divine power, correct?”  

“Embarrassingly, no.”  

Roben’s mind threatened to explode from overload.  

Stammering, he barely managed to explain:  

“This symbol represents the Dark Sigil—followers of the Evil God Magoth who believe in his resurrection. They attack devotees of the Goddess to break his seals.”  

Normally, these cockroaches rarely appeared outside border regions…  

Trailing off, Roben studied Sion—more shocked by the boy’s existence than the dark cultists.  

He felt as if his soul had left his body.  

Without divine power, Sion had single-handedly beheaded a magic-wielding demonkin and returned alive.  

A boy not yet an adult. Who’d held a sword for less than three weeks.  

Roben’s vision blurred slightly.  

Envy.  

‘The Goddess is unfair…!’  

Shivering from full-body chills, Roben shuddered.  

‘No. I’m Holy Sword Brigade. I can’t waver like this.’  

Yet the harder he tried to shake it off, the more he felt trapped in quicksand.  

Sion’s absurd talent left him feeling hollow, dark thoughts creeping in.  

‘If I kill this boy now and claim his achievement—’  

It would be a monumental feat.  

He’s from the Church of War anyway.  

The Holy Kingdom disapproves of the Church of War gaining influence.  

It’s regulation—restrictions placed upon them.  

Meaning punishing a Church of War follower would be legally justified.  

‘Crush him!’  

Especially if he’s Garfenn’s disciple!  

‘Before this brat grows stronger. We must cut him down now!’  

Doing so would earn him recognition upon returning to the main order—perhaps even promotion trials.  

Reaching the Holy Sword Brigade’s inner circle wouldn’t be an empty dream.  

Roben’s desire-filled subconscious focused on the sword at his waist.  

‘He’s off-guard now. If I’m to behead him, it must be now.’  

Ddddd…  

His hand resting on the hilt trembled violently.  

Then—  

Lightning seemed to strike Roben’s mind.  

‘What… what am I thinking?’  

No matter how blinded by envy, he was a devout follower of the Goddess of Light.  

A man who’d lived rightly now contemplated murder and theft of merit.  

He wanted to crawl into a mouse hole.  

‘Unbelievable. Did the dark cultist’s corpse influence me with wicked thoughts?’  

Roben smoothed his pounding chest.  

Regaining rationality, he realized how absurd his thoughts had been.  

The sparring had already shown Sion’s skill clearly.  

Moreover, he’d slain a magic-wielding demonkin without a scratch.  

‘Could I even win to begin with?’  

Cold sweat dripped down Roben’s back.  

Even if he drew and swung his sword lightning-fast now, it wouldn’t reach Sion. The more he considered, the wider the gap between them seemed to stretch.  

He couldn’t envision cleanly killing Sion in one stroke.  

Blocked, then counter-stabbed.  

His wrist seized the moment he drew.  

Sion unsheathing faster and beheading him instead.  

…Only visions of pathetic defeat surfaced.  

Overwhelmed by mere imagination, Roben saw no path to victory.  

‘First, I must report to the main order. Judgment isn’t mine to make.’  

Finally organizing his thoughts, Roben forced himself to speak while gasping for air.  

“…To win without divine power. Truly fortunate.”  

“I got lucky.”  

“That’s skill. Defeating a magic-wielding demonkin alone isn’t possible through mere luck.”  

Sion shrugged.  

“He was strong indeed. I’ll need to be wary of dark cultists from now on.”  

“All demonkin and demons are dangerous, but those bearing this symbol are especially so. Extremists are capable of anything.”  

Only then did Sion nod in understanding.  

“So that’s why you were so tense earlier.”  

“Huh?”  

“You were emanating bloodlust strangely. I thought something was off. Given how dangerous that symbol is, tension makes sense.”  

Roben’s heart plummeted.  

‘I was moments from death just now.’

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