Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 155

Ch.155Apostle of the Goddess of War

The moment they glared at Sion, the temple floor and walls blazed crimson all at once. The ambient temperature surged instantly.

The explosive force and heat transcended natural disaster—it existed on a conceptual level.

Ahaha!

The Goddess of Fire’s laughter echoed.

KWAANG—!

A massive detonation erupted from Agnia’s core, shattering the entire temple like a volcano.

KWA! KWAANG!

The barrier enveloping Sion glowed red-hot. Achille placed her hand upon it, reinforcing its strength.

Wooong!

Armor materialized from Achille’s shoulders—like the illusion of angelic wings unfurling. It appeared as if a steel-clad angel had descended solely to save Sion.

[Sion. You take Chaos. You cannot win—just buy time. I’ll subdue Agnia as fast as I can and come to your aid.]

“Understood!”

The Goddess of War issued her orders. Sion immediately gripped his sword and darted sideways.

Chaaang!

Moments later, Achille’s barrier shattered. Dragon-like inferno engulfed the entire temple.

The explosion was heart-pounding; the flickering flames shimmered like precious gems. Enthrallment seemed to be the baseline power of goddesses’ divine authority.

‘I must not get caught in their fight.’

The temple—once sacred—was now a maelstrom of fire and chaos, utterly unrecognizable. Even the yellowed sky over the marshlands was obscured by red smoke, blurring all sense of up and down.

Whoosh!

Sion ducked his torso low.

Through the thick smoke, a spider leg—hard as an iron grate—lanced forward.

Sion parried with his short sword. The impact felt like striking something harder than meteoric iron.

Wounding Chaos’s true form seemed practically impossible.

Dadadadadadadada!

With horrifying speed, the Evil God of Chaos—its grotesque, spider-like limbs multiplied—charged toward Sion.

‘That size… and that speed? It’s a monster beyond monsters!’

Simultaneously, Chaos unleashed its authority.

Light erupted from its haunting eyes, splintering into dozens—hundreds—of rays, tearing at Sion’s consciousness.

“Ugh… gk?”

Blood trickled from Sion’s nose.

A dizzying sensation struck him—as if bludgeoned from behind. His legs weakened, swaying uncontrollably.

‘I didn’t even look directly at her—and she’s interfering with my mind?’

Sion’s sword hand trembled faintly. This enemy was absurd.

The very notion of ‘buying time’ against such a foe felt impossibly distant.

Sion’s innards churned under the searing heat and pressure. Blood surged backward; his grip on the sword faltered.

“Haah… haah…”

His vision began spinning violently.

Fighting through the mental assault, Sion steadied his short sword. He had to respond to the Evil God’s attack.

All he could rely on were his countless experiences and honed instincts.

Ssweeek—!

Dozens of limbs whipped fiercely through the air, each tip exploding with fire.

Battling dizziness, Sion swung his arms wildly, defending purely on instinct.

KWA! KWA! KWA! KWA!

Chaa! Chaa! Chaang!

No matter how hard he fought, blocking all those dozens of razor-sharp legs was impossible. Even parrying left devastating aftershocks. The earth behind Sion was shredded.

Internal injuries worsened with each blow. Harm accumulated.

Magoth—untouchable even by sanctity—lodged into him like tiny shards of glass.

Whoosh! Kwing!

Already battered and torn, Sion rolled his body heavily, bursting through debris to evade.

He judged the final strike utterly unblockable.

“Ugh!”

Sensation vanished from his left arm. The acrid stench of singed hair stung his nose. A moment’s delay, and his entire torso would’ve been severed along with his arm.

Sion clutched his forehead, staggering. His mind felt shattered—like scattered fragments. He desperately tried to gather them, but they slipped away like sand swept by waves.

His consciousness was being sucked into Chaos’s vortex.

‘I won’t… survive the next attack…’

He strained to move—but it was futile. Even Achille seemed too preoccupied to respond to his prayers.

Wooong!

An overwhelming killing intent pressed down from above. Likely, Chaos’s spear tip was already at his crown.

‘Evade! Move, you useless legs!’

He berated himself—but trapped in Chaos’s curse, his body refused to obey.

Just as he accepted true death—

Kee— Kwing!

A sharp metallic ring cleaved through the flames.

Sparks flew as sword clashed against steel-hard spider carapace. Sion felt hot embers prick his cheek.

Wooong!

His blurred sense of reality slowly returned. Chaos receded. Calm settled quietly into his mind.

He sensed clean, cold sanctity. Then a voice:

“Sion! Sion! A-are you okay?”

A clear, dewy voice—so unfairly sweet it almost hurt. Familiar. Sion recognized it instantly.

“Lady Arwen!”

His vision cleared. Before him stood the Apostle of Wisdom, shielding him. From her blue cloak radiated an authority that repelled flames in all directions.

“Did I… not arrive too late?”

“A little?”

“Eh, eeh! I’m so sorryyy!”

Arwen’s voice quivered with tears again. Sion smiled faintly in relief.

‘Worth hiding nearby and having her follow me.’

Arwen had joined Sion’s mission by order of Menesia. To avoid suspicion, she’d trailed him invisibly.

Appearing at this critical moment meant the plan was half-successful.

Chak.

Sion stood beside Arwen.

“Arwen.”

“Yes, Sion.”

Chaos approached. Each footstep—thud, thud—shook Sion’s skull again.

But Wisdom’s authority shielded them. Though unseen, Sion felt Menesia clinging close, blocking mental interference.

[Fight wisely—and win.]

Menesia’s voice brushed his ear—clear and crisp. His mind felt instantly lucid.

“Yes, nehe!”

“Understood…”

Sion reached into the void. His short sword was useless here.

Only a weapon of goddess-tier power could wound her.

As Sion drew a new blade, the spider of Chaos flinched—visibly startled.

‘The Fallen Blade—proof the Evil God herself betrayed them. No wonder she’s shaken.’

Kiyaaooo!

Chaos roared. A floodgate of psychic waves burst forth—too overwhelming for even Menesia’s grace to fully block.

Both Arwen and Sion began bleeding from their noses as they darted left and right, creating confusion.

No predetermined coordination.

Yet these two swordsmen—having faced defeat together—knew precisely how to blend offense and defense without words. Their strikes never clashed; their sword paths flowed with seamless flexibility.

Chang!

Chaa! Chaa!

Kwajik!

‘It’s working.’

The Fallen Blade severed spider limbs. The strike landed. Evil God power could only be countered by Evil God power.

Arwen matched Sion step for step.

As Menesia’s direct vessel, her sword aura alone rivaled the Fallen Blade.

Whoosh!

Sion and Arwen’s blades crossed—but hit nothing.

Sensing danger, the spider of Chaos moved with lightning evasion.

KWA! KWA! KWA! KWA!

It slid along ruined walls, reaching the ceiling in an instant. Hanging by threads, it readied for swift strikes.

A tense standoff.

Sion frowned upward, straining to focus—but dizziness returned.

‘The ground feels molten… like my feet are sinking.’

Directly meeting Chaos’s eyes during combat triggered side effects—even Menesia’s protection couldn’t fully filter it.

Thup.

Arwen placed a hand on Sion’s shoulder. Cool, intellectual sanctity seeped through her fingertips.

It felt like waking abruptly from deep slumber.

“Ah.”

“Fighting a manifested Evil God is hard. I can only endure because Lady Menesia stays close. Sion… it’s tough, but please hold on. I’ll go all out now.”

Arwen took a quiet breath.

‘Incredible presence.’

Arwen, Apostle of Wisdom.

Sion had never witnessed her true strength.

Even when sparring with him, Arwen had held back.

‘She was originally meant to be the Apostle of War.’

A genius no less than Sion himself.

A pulse of energy began radiating from Arwen. Chaos’s Magoth shrieked as it was repelled. Her fighting spirit was so intense it made their bodies tremble.

“Mental Realm Unfolding.”

Hwa— ak!

The scenery transformed.

Beneath a clear blue sky, scales of justice filled the horizon.

There—on a heavily tilted scale—stood the Evil God of Chaos.

Furious and bewildered at being trapped in a mere human’s mental domain, she unleashed bizarre, thunderous roars.

Kyiiik!

Shweeek! Shweeek!

Sion shared Chaos’s sentiment.

‘My whole body’s gone numb…’

His limbs stiffened uncontrollably.

Was this the full power of the Apostle of Wisdom?

In a realm backed by direct divine intervention, it was truly transcendent. All Sion could do was gape.

“Sion. Only the Apostle of War can kill an Evil God—that’s why Eru chose you. This, too, is a trial to grow stronger.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“G-g-good? You’re amazing…”

Arwen blinked, startled, and looked at Sion. His blue eyes held only sincerity—no trace of bravado or fear.

He turned crisis into opportunity.

The worse the odds, the sharper his focus—and the stronger he became.

‘The terrifying trait shared by the Goddess of War and her Apostle.’

Arwen recalled Menesia’s words on why Achille was the strongest Goddess. Her Apostle would be no different.

“In any case—I’ll buy time and create the best opening I can. You know what to do.”

No need for long explanations. Sion simply nodded, lips pressed tight.

Wooong—

Even the Fallen Blade resonated. An ominous chill ran through it—as if Tartania watched and laughed.

The Fallen Blade pointed toward the scales. Sion raised his arm in unison.

Chaos poured all her strength into shattering the domain, slamming into empty space.

“Let’s go! We must finish this now! Lady Menesia can only sustain this realm for a little longer!”

“Let’s do it!”

Taah!

Sion and Arwen leapt across the scales. Wisdom’s sanctity interacted with their feet, letting them kick off midair.

Pha— ang!

Arwen, familiar with this power, planted her foot vertically in the air and launched herself with recoil.

Sanctity exploded like magic. A blue trajectory shot forth like an arrow.

KWAANG!

Arwen struck first, unleashing fury upon Chaos—bravely weaving between dozens of limbs, blocking and repelling every attack with flawless precision.

Chaa! Chaa! Chaachang!

Her speed escalated. Sword paths vanished from sight. Blue sword energy painted the scenery like brushstrokes.

Sion gritted his teeth.

‘Focus. This is the chance—don’t miss it.’

He lowered his torso, preparing to kick off the air just as Arwen had.

He trusted Arwen to create the perfect opening—he just had to wait.

His mind narrowed. Only the sword and attack trajectories remained visible. Focusing on those paths, he saw again the two dancing energies:

Arwen and Chaos.

The flames they carried.

Blue flame and a kaleidoscope of colors swirling in dance.

Sion began perceiving their essence.

He touched a realm unseen by others.

‘What is that?’

He felt he could cut that flame—extinguish it.

His will echoed in his consciousness.

‘Cut it.’

Everything tangled, swirling. He reached into the chaos.

Finally breaking free of consciousness, he grasped the flame.

Life and death.  

War and peace.  

Chaos and stillness.

Opposites were, in truth, one.

Sion lowered his arm and lifted his head.

His mind had never been clearer.

It felt as if the cold Milky Way had washed through his brain.

…Pat.

The sound of sanctity erupting—

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