Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 46

Ch.46 Apostle of the Goddess of War

After disposing of the two gatekeepers’ bodies in an unseen location, Sion’s group sneaked inside.  

A cold air flowed through the interior of the hideout, and within it, the stench of blood vibrated heavily.  

“How many people have they killed?”  

Suppressing his rage, which felt like freezing frost, Sion took the lead.  

Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside the hideout. It seemed they, like the group that had attacked Sion earlier, were primarily focused on roaming the nearby areas to consume blood.  

They quietly eliminated the occasional Blood Cultists they encountered as they advanced deeper inside. The sensation of a splitting headache grew stronger as they progressed, due to the overwhelming smell of blood emanating from the large caves.  

“There.”  

Sion raised his fist, signaling the others behind him. There was something ahead.  

Upon closer inspection, it was a prison cage. There were signs of life—dozens of people at minimum. As they approached for a closer look, the situation turned out to be far worse than expected.  

“This can’t be… What is all this?”  

Tier whispered in shock. Garfenn also frowned deeply.  

Everyone inside the iron bars was emaciated. Their skin was pale, and their eyes were devoid of any spark of life.  

“They’ve barely kept them alive while sucking their blood.”  

“…T-That’s right.”  

Tier was reminded of a painful memory. His younger sister, who now worked helping Ruina in Elim, had once been in this very condition.  

“There are 34 people here alone.”  

“There seem to be more. There are several places like this. The Goddess has spoken.”  

Garfenn added grimly, his deep voice laced with anger.  

[This place must be wiped out before my lost appetite returns, my champion.]  

‘I shall wield it, my Goddess.’  

The wrath of the Goddess Achille had also reached this place.  

“Huh? You?”  

Sion, inspecting the people in the cage, spotted someone familiar. After several confirmations, he was certain—it was a face he recognized.  

“Roben…?”  

“…Y-Yes.”  

The knight of Order of the Holy Sword whom he had met in Foils.  

Deputy Commander of the 5th Sword Division of Order of the Holy Sword—Roben Rehinart.  

He was bound by chains, missing his left arm.  

From the faint groan he emitted, it was clear he recognized Sion.  

Keeeng!  

Sion drew his sword imbued with sacred energy and split the iron bars open, rushing inside.  

He freed Roben from his chains and supported him.  

“Sir Roben, Sir Roben! Do you recognize me?”  

“Uh… Uh…”  

He clearly recognized him.  

But his mind was not in a coherent state.  

It was unclear whether he couldn’t speak or was under some kind of spell.  

Considering he was a member of the Order of the Holy Sword, he was in relatively better condition.  

The other captives were barely human—more like livestock. They drooled saliva and excrement uncontrollably.  

“Do you know him?”  

Garfenn approached and asked.  

“He’s a member of Order of the Holy Sword I met in Foils.”  

“…Order of the Holy Sword.”  

Garfenn’s eyebrows furrowed.  

“I heard they dispatched troops nationwide to launch a large-scale extermination of devil worshippers. It seems he was caught up in that.”  

“If the Order of the Holy Sword has already been wiped out…”  

“Then the Blood Cult’s power is even greater than we imagined. There must be other devil worshippers involved as well.”  

Sion wore a bitter expression.  

The Blood Cult’s strength was stronger than he had imagined.  

He already knew this from personal experience.  

“Drink some water.”  

Sion brought a water bottle to Roben’s mouth. Roben showed no reaction. He had to force water into his mouth.  

“He can’t talk right now. Must be due to the Blood Cult’s sorcery.”  

“Yes.”  

Sion sighed softly. He was unsure where to even begin solving this mess. It felt as if his blade had lost its direction.  

Garfenn gave him that direction.  

“Sion. You go ahead and do what you came here to do.”  

“But—”  

“Rescuing the people is our job. Me and Tier will handle it.”  

“I’ll help too.”  

Sion vehemently objected.  

Yes, he had come to find the Demon Lord of Blood.  

His desire for revenge remained strong.  

But saving people in danger came first for Sion.  

That was why his blade had lost its direction.  

Garfenn, understanding his heart, restored that direction.  

“Even if we save these people and return to Elim, more victims will just appear.”  

“…”  

“Only by eliminating the mastermind can we prevent greater casualties.”  

Sion clenched his fists, his face bitter. Yet, he couldn’t refute the truth in those words.  

Someone had to eliminate the Demon Lord.  

“Then, Master, you’ll go after the Demon Lord…!”  

“No. This is your mission.”  

Garfenn cut him off sharply.  

It was Sion’s trial, his sacred duty.  

“The task you began, you must be the one to finish.”  

Sion looked at Garfenn and Tier. In their eyes, he saw infinite trust directed toward him.  

“…Understood. I will eliminate the Demon Lord, no matter what.”  

Sion nodded firmly, as if making a solemn vow.  

“Good. Leave the people to me and go quickly. They might have noticed us by now and fled.”  

“Yes.”  

Sion laid Roben down gently and rushed out.  

Toward the place where a powerful energy could be felt.  

[Then I shall watch over Sion. My champion.]  

‘Please take care of my disciple.’  

The Goddess Achille was with Sion as well.  

“Alright, let’s get to work.”  

“Yes, Garfenn! What should I do?”  

Garfenn placed a hand on Tier’s shoulder.  

“First, it’ll be easier if we eliminate all the obstacles before trying to get the people out.”  

Whoosh.  

In midair, Dragon Slayer revealed its imposing form.  

***  

“That Demon Lord… I must definitely…”  

Sion silently reaffirmed his determination. If he encountered that Demon Lord, he would sever his head today.  

If it were up to him, he’d wipe out every single Blood Cultist he came across.  

Devils and devil worshippers—unforgivable.  

‘Focus.’  

Sion spread his sacred energy to survey the Blood Cult’s hideout.  

Though it appeared to be a cave with no fixed pathways, that wasn’t the case.  

“There’s a space leading to the second floor. And it extends to the third floor as well.”  

It only appeared to be surrounded by rocky walls on the outside.  

Inside, the structure was no different from a typical castle or large mansion.  

The rumors that vampires lived in castles weren’t far off.  

Sion moved swiftly. Every Blood Cultist he encountered along the way had their necks mercilessly severed.  

They had passed the point of worrying about being discovered. It was now a race.  

The hostages they occasionally encountered were in similarly poor condition as Roben—drooling, with severely diminished cognitive abilities.  

This went beyond merely killing people and causing damage. Their methods and cruelty were among the most heinous imaginable.  

Since drinking blood granted immortality, it made sense why so many were deceived and corrupted.  

‘And Master said something too.’  

He had mentioned that by drinking blood excessively, one eventually becomes addicted to it. That was why they didn’t kill all their victims.  

This was also the reason why they were the most powerful among devil-worshipping factions.  

‘Too dangerous.’  

Random thoughts surfaced in Sion’s mind, but he quickly erased them.  

‘Now I must focus solely on defeating the Demon Lord. No impurities must cloud my thoughts.’  

When fighting a Demon Lord, one must concentrate entirely on the blade.  

Even the slightest distraction could mean death.  

Sion ascended to the second floor.  

The scenery changed slightly.  

The hostages seemed to be confined only to the first floor.  

The second floor was quiet, and the smell of blood was faint.  

Apparently, only high-ranking Blood Cultists used this level.  

“Most of them aren’t here. We attacked at a fortunate time.”  

He continued forward, sensing a powerful energy.  

He stopped abruptly as he felt a presence.  

“Hmph. So some pest was causing trouble—”  

A Blood Cultist radiating strong energy grabbed Sion from behind. As if he were guarding the main base.  

The man spoke.  

“So you’re one of the church dogs.”  

The difference from ordinary Blood Cultists was that he felt less like a human and more like a Demon Lord.  

“You’re a Magon.”  

A Blood Magon—a human empowered by receiving blood from a Demon Lord.  

His power was on a completely different level from that of a common cultist.  

A Magon could use magic.  

‘He’s stronger than the Magon I met in the Foils Forest. I need to be careful.’  

Sion adjusted his grip, spinning his blade. He glared at the Magon with the intent to kill immediately. He had no interest in pointless conversation.  

“Puny brat. You’ve got no fear.”  

“I have nothing to say to a criminal.”  

Swish!  

Sion shot forward like lightning.  

A straight, rigid arc traced by his sword.  

Klang!  

But the Magon’s head did not fall.  

He had anticipated an attack with no words and had already prepared his defense.  

Crrrunch.  

Squeak—!  

The blades clashed, ringing out. The Blood Magon grinned at Sion.  

“I’ll drink your blood and grind your bones.”  

“Belzama. Is the woman here?”  

“Kek, kek. I’ll tell you when you kill me.”  

The dead can’t speak. It was just a cheap joke.  

Klang!  

Sion pushed harder, forcing the Magon back. The Magon cackled and leapt onto the ceiling. Sion was momentarily startled by the grotesque technique.  

‘Is that magic too? Or is there a large-scale spell covering the entire cave?’  

Paaat!  

The Magon jumped. Instead of charging straight at Sion, he continuously crossed back and forth across the ceiling, floor, and walls.  

Hahaha!  

Hahahaha!  

Hah! Hah-ha!  

The Magon’s chilling laughter echoed through the cave. Soon, the sound grew louder, pounding against the eardrums.  

‘So that was his plan!’  

To disorient him with agile movements and unleash sonic attacks.  

Truly the fighting style of one guarding a hideout.  

A combat method specialized for this rocky cave.  

Sion had to find a way to counter it.  

Tat! Tat! Tatatat!  

Boooom!  

Sion ducked. A Blood Cultist’s greatsword passed through the space where his head had been. Without even looking, Sion avoided the attack from the blind spot.  

‘As long as I spread my divine power, I can avoid attacks. The problem is…’  

The enemy’s speed and sonic attacks.  

The sonic attacks were especially troublesome.  

Damn, that eerie echoing noise disrupted his sharp thinking.  

Tat-tat-tat-tat!  

Paaat!  

Hahahahahahaha!  

Sion frowned. The Magon acted as if he had already won, as if drunk with victory.  

The smell of blood gradually grew stronger—indicating the Magon was preparing to cast a spell.  

‘Here it comes…’  

Sion swung his sword swiftly. Magical energy flew from the left side—a semicircular ring made of blood.  

Klaaang!  

Despite being made of blood, it was as strong and sharp as steel.  

The Blood Cult’s sorcery was this threatening.  

“Not bad. You’re quite the high-ranking priest!”  

The Magon praised Sion. It had been a long time since he’d encountered a priest who could block his attacks so effectively.  

Such praise meant nothing to Sion. In fact, it irritated him.  

‘How disgusting.’  

He hadn’t defeated the enemy quickly enough to deserve praise. It was an insult to his pride.  

If he had fought the same opponent a second time, he could have finished him faster. The first encounter was always the hardest.  

But that also made it thrilling.  

Because it was also an event where he discovered something new.  

Simply put, it was an opportunity to grow.  

Kwahahaha!  

Hah-ha, hahahaha—!  

Tatata! Taat! Tat!  

—Thud!  

“Huh!? Huh, kkh!?”  

The Magon, increasing his speed even further, suddenly found himself grabbed by Sion’s hand, which had unexpectedly shot out.  

Kwaaaaang!  

Sion used the Magon’s own momentum to slam him straight into the ground. Boom! Chunks of rock fell from the ceiling due to the impact.  

“Gwah! What the—!?”  

The Magon struggled, clutching Sion’s arm. His long fingernails scraped Sion’s forearm. He clearly never expected to be caught.  

“It’s simple. I’ve been watching you. You have a pattern, you know?”  

The cave seemed randomly carved, but upon close observation, only certain parts of the ceiling, walls, and floor were worn down.  

In other words, the points where the Magon stepped were fixed.  

The Magon could only fight—  

And only within this specific location of the hideout.  

“Gwaaah! How could you…!”  

From the Magon’s perspective, it was truly unfair.  

It was absurd that Sion would even attempt to find a pattern in such chaotic movements, let alone observe and decipher it with his eyes.  

Before meeting Sion, the Magon likely hadn’t faced a single threatening opponent.  

No matter where this guy came from, at this very moment, Sion was a far more terrifying existence than Belzama to the Magon.

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