Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 47

Ch.47 Apostle of the Goddess of War

Crunch.  

“Ugh, ahh!”  

A Magon, terrified and gasping for breath.  

He gritted his teeth in agony, tears of blood streaming down his face.  

“Kreeeeeh!”  

He struggled desperately to escape, but Sion’s monstrous strength exceeded all expectations.  

It was impossible to break free from Sion’s grip, whose body had been enhanced by divine power.  

“Kyaah!”  

His only remaining option for survival was to use magic.  

Thwack—!  

Suddenly, the Magon vomited blood from his mouth—a volume of blood far beyond what could be considered normal, as if he were squeezing his own heart dry.  

“Ugh!”  

Blood splattered near Sion’s eyes, causing him to momentarily loosen his chokehold and retreat.  

The Magon also fled toward the ceiling, clutching his throat and breathing heavily.  

“Haaah… haaah! I really thought I was going to die. Damn bastard.”  

Despite his cowardice, perhaps he still had some pride—because he didn’t run away.  

He still believed he could win.  

“…Now, I won’t underestimate you. I’ll crush you with full power.”  

The Magon’s main weapon was, of course, magic.  

Blood magic, which manipulated blood.  

Seeing that gruesome weapon once again, Sion darkened his blade to an inky black.  

The Blood Cultist did not immediately charge.  

Instead, he stretched his hand into the air, and the scattered pools of blood gathered back toward him.  

Not just the blood he had spilled—blood from various passageways flew in from all around.  

It was a grotesque sight.  

Blood magic was even intriguing.  

Exactly how did he manipulate magical energy to draw blood from such distances?  

‘I should observe carefully. There must be a way to counter it.’  

Sion’s eyes fixed intently on the Magon’s magic.  

He absorbed every detail of that mysterious, miraculous ‘path’ created by arcane secrets.  

Even though it was complex and difficult, faint clues seemed graspable. Sion’s scalp burned with excitement.  

‘That’s enough. If I keep thinking too hard, I won’t have the strength left to fight.’  

Sion raised his blade forward.  

“Let’s end this now.”  

“Pfft! If you’ve got the guts, come at me.”  

The Magon’s face turned red with bulging veins. His body grew even larger. He clung to the ceiling, bending his body like a beast.  

Pfft!  

The air rippled, and suddenly the Magon had leapt right in front of Sion.  

It was a charge so fast it would be difficult to react to, even if one wasn’t fully focused.  

Whoosh!  

A large sword curved toward Sion’s neck as if to split it open.  

However—  

Sion’s eyelids didn’t even twitch. He observed every movement with perfect clarity.  

His body and senses, enhanced by Goddess of War’s Divine Manipulation, had elevated him to a different tier.  

“Too slow.”  

Sion’s lips barely moved.  

His arm blurred.  

The blade passed by the Magon’s neck.  

Thud.  

The Magon’s head fell to the ground.  

Droplets of blood slid down Sion’s blade. So much blood had been consumed that a fountain of blood gushed endlessly from the neck stump.  

Twitch.  

The Magon’s body jerked. It was true, then—that a blood-based Magon wouldn’t die instantly even if beheaded. His arms and body slowly rose, searching for his head.  

Whoosh!  

Sion layered the divine power of war onto his blade.  

“You, who bear great sins, receive the judgment of war.”  

Muttering a prayer he had made up himself, Sion pierced the Magon’s heart. Only then did the Magon’s corpse finally stop moving.  

[Well done, my Sion. That was a magnificent battle.]  

The Goddess, pleased with what she saw, converted the offering Sion had presented back into divine power.  

Sion smiled, feeling the gratitude of Achille welling up within his chest.  

At the same time, Sion closed his eyes and mentally reviewed the battle just fought.  

More precisely, he kept replaying the principle by which the Magon had controlled the blood.  

‘If I handle this well…’  

It seemed possible that he could seize control of the flow of blood itself.  

If he could achieve that, it would be a tremendous help in exterminating the Blood Cultists.  

But inspiration and understanding were still lacking.  

It seemed possible, if he watched a bit longer.  

He needed an opportunity to witness higher-level blood magic with his own eyes.  

‘I need to find a demon.’  

Sion stood up again and ran toward the third floor.  

***  

The path to the third floor was completely hidden.  

There wasn’t even a staircase.  

Only a hole in the ceiling just wide enough for one person to squeeze through.  

‘This isn’t a path meant for ordinary people.’  

The third floor was either completely sealed off from the lay cultists or they might not even know of its existence.  

It was a place only high-ranking officers could reach, using their ability to cling to the ceiling.  

Cold, damp air pierced deep into his lungs. Feeling his way along the moist walls in the darkness, Sion barely reached the third floor.  

What came into view was a vast space.  

The ceiling soared high above, and bizarrely shaped stalactites and stalagmites jutted out like the fangs of a monster.  

The floor was slippery and slick with pools of blood.  

Every step he took produced a revolting squelching sound.  

On the cave walls, red moss and unidentifiable black mold intertwined, forming grotesque patterns.  

The entire space seemed to writhe as if it were a living organism.  

‘…?’  

Far ahead, a massive altar was faintly visible.  

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a bathtub filled with blood.  

Antique statues surrounded the tub.  

‘It’s a person, but not really a human.’  

Although submerged in blood, making precise identification impossible, the overwhelming aura emanating from that being raised every hair on his body.  

‘Belazma? No… someone even stronger. Who is this?’  

Sion tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. There was no turning back now.  

A chill from the stone cave brushed past Sion. His entire body froze, making it difficult to move.  

Moonlight seeped through cracks in the ceiling. The pale light illuminated the figure immersed in the blood-filled tub.  

It resembled a still painting, a frozen scene.  

The being looked both mystical and dangerous, almost indistinguishable from natural elements.  

It was said they were exceptionally skilled at hiding their presence within nature.  

Sion stepped forward. The cold marble floor was spotless, as if someone meticulously cleaned it every day.  

Sion walked silently. The path to the tub felt unusually long.  

No one guarded this place.  

Only the mysterious being and Sion were present.  

Bright red hair swayed in the blood. Not even a hint of hostility could be felt. Sion began to doubt whether this being was even an enemy.  

Slash.  

With a sound of parting blood, the unknown figure turned his body.  

…Someone Sion had never seen before.  

“It’s been hundreds of years since I last saw a human. I have many questions. Let’s talk for a moment.”  

The voice was unexpectedly warm. The tone was gentle beyond measure. For someone bathing in blood, there was no trace of malice—so much so that it was strange.  

Suddenly, Sion realized.  

This was confidence.  

Absolute certainty that he could kill Sion at any moment.  

Because he knew that no matter how desperately this sudden arrival of a knight struggled, he wouldn’t even reach the tips of his toes—he didn’t even feel the need to be cautious.  

Yes.  

Sion had effectively stuck his head into the jaws of a lion.  

‘Incredible mastery. Amazing.’  

Even facing such an overwhelming opponent, admiration came first. Sion trembled as he stood before a being existing in a realm he couldn’t even perceive.  

The figure gestured with a wave of his hand through the blood.  

“Come closer.”  

“…”  

“Come closer. Let’s talk.”  

Drip.  

He slowly rose from the tub. Blood streamed down his body.  

His revealed naked form resembled a sculpture crafted solely for beauty. The overwhelming aura bursting from his red eyes was mesmerizing, as if it could swallow souls whole—even though he was male.  

“There’s nothing I want to discuss with you.”  

“I want to talk. You know well enough you don’t have the right to refuse.”  

“…”  

It was true. Sion knew it too. If he swung his sword at this being right now, it wouldn’t even reach.  

‘For now… maybe I should stall for time.’  

This was a figure of great concern. Just by looking, he clearly seemed to be at least the leader of the Blood Cultists.  

Conversing with such a person might yield valuable information or inspiration. Perhaps this was a crucial opportunity.  

‘O Goddess of War, please protect me.’  

[I am here, Sion.]  

Sion silently prayed while staring at the man. When he gave a slight nod, the man revealed a cold smile.  

“Thank you.”  

As he stepped out of the tub, the blood gathered on its own and formed an antique-looking piece of flowing fabric.  

Sion had been slightly uncomfortable at the thought of talking to a naked man, but this worked out well.  

The man sat at the edge of the tub, dragging the red cloth wrapped around his body.  

“You must have many questions.”  

He parted his lips. Sion stood awkwardly, staring at him.  

“…Are you the Evil God of Blood?”  

“Hahahaha—!”  

The man’s laughter echoed through the cave walls. Even his simple laughter was sharp, like a sonic blade. Once again, Sion felt the unfathomable depth of the man’s mastery.  

“What an interesting idea. But wrong. The world was created entirely by the Goddess. Men are merely imitations of the female form. You say such things even after seeing my male appearance? That’s amusing.”  

“…”  

Sion had asked the question knowingly. The man’s level of mastery was so profound that such a thought couldn’t be avoided.  

After all, there was no reason why the omnipotent Goddess couldn’t take a male form.  

Sion harbored no prejudice.  

Free thinking was one of Sion’s greatest strengths.  

“I am what you commonly call an Apostle. The Apostle of blood.”  

The supreme champion of the Evil God of Blood, the knight who served closest to him.  

Meaning he was the leader of the Blood Cultists, and a demon who had reached the pinnacle.  

Sion was now face to face with that unfathomable being.  

To claim he wasn’t trembling would be a lie.  

But Sion didn’t cower.  

Even a demon at the peak of power was but a speck of dust compared to the Goddess of War.  

And he had faith—faith that the Goddess watched over him.  

“Just as I thought.”  

“You didn’t know, yet you say that?”  

“I did know.”  

“Hmm.”  

The Apostle of Blood folded his arms and looked at Sion, a chilling smile lingering on his lips.  

“The scent of fire, blood, and steel clings to you. You’re of my kind, aren’t you?”  

Sion grimaced.  

“To be lumped in with you? That’s disgusting.”  

“Oh? Haven’t you also made slaughter your purpose? Can you really claim the blood you spill in that process is always justified?”  

Sion narrowed his eyes and retorted.  

“At the very least, I don’t spill the blood of the innocent. I only cut down sinners like you.”  

“Hypocrites bore me. You all firmly believe yourselves to be righteous. Yet in truth, we’re all the same—struggling to survive, driven by our own purposes.”  

You and I alike, flailing about just to stay alive—he added.  

‘Nonsense.’  

Sion listened to his words with one ear and let them drift out the other.  

It was just another logical defense, sounding plausible.  

In reality, they were beings who killed indiscriminately.  

This kind of conversation was meaningless. It only made him more irritated.  

“So. What were you doing here?”  

Sion placed his hand on the crossguard of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.  

“Hmm…”  

Despite possessing absolute power, the Apostle of Blood had a surprisingly straightforward side.  

He was like that now. His attitude—adding little interjections and tilting his head in thought—revealed a strangely human aspect.  

He searched his memory before speaking.  

“It was about 300 years ago, I think? After the civil war of the Round Table, an opportunity arose, and I led the Blood Cultists out on a campaign. I took advantage of the time when the Goddess’s power had weakened.”  

The Apostle of Blood grimaced, as if recalling an unpleasant past.  

“I led my forces forward like an unstoppable tide. We were on the verge of swallowing the imperial continent. It seemed we would rule over the world—until I met the Apostle of Light.”  

“The Apostle of Light…”  

The Apostle of Blood’s voice trembled.  

“I thought I had no equal, except perhaps the seeds of death and darkness. But no. Before that being, even I was nothing but a mere speck.”  

Sion swallowed hard. His mind went blank.  

This unfathomably powerful being referred to himself as a mere speck?

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