Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 57

Ch.57 Apostle of the Goddess of War

“We were chasing that one who killed people and experimented with dark arts, and that’s how we ended up here.”  

Rakian stroked his long jaw.  

“Have you not seen her? A woman with a pale face. Her pupils have lost all color, turned completely white.”  

Just hearing the description was chilling. Anyone who saw her in person would have nightmares. Sion shook his head.  

“No, I haven’t seen her.”  

“That’s fortunate. She’s dangerous. You’d best keep yourself safe until we’ve dealt with her.”  

“She must be skilled at hiding her presence.”  

“Indeed. She’s one who worships death. She’s no different from the dead themselves.”  

“That’s…”  

Sion felt a twinge of unease. If she couldn’t be detected even by divine power, countermeasures would be difficult. It was an ability perfectly suited for ambushes.  

‘If such a person were moving around without my knowledge…’  

Sion’s thoughts raced. He grew worried about the War Knight Brigade who had gone to find the goblins.  

If they were somehow connected to the Priestess of Death, they needed to retreat immediately.  

“When did the Priestess of Death sneak into this area?”  

Rakian turned and asked. The woman with a chain scythe wrapped around her shoulder answered.  

“About a month ago. Was this even her main base to begin with? She just came out briefly to cause some mischief.”  

“I see.”  

Sion’s expression darkened. If this swamp was the lair of a monster, then the goblins were undoubtedly under that monster’s influence.  

‘It can’t be an ordinary goblin nest. It’s dangerous.’  

Sion bowed his head slightly in respect.  

“In that case, I should be going now. My knights are waiting.”  

“Wait a moment.”  

Rakian stopped Sion. He gestured with his chin toward the priestess holding the Holy Scripture of Fire. The female acolyte stepped forward.  

“Is there something?”  

Rakian nodded, and the woman began casting a spell.  

Whoosh!  

A flame bloomed in her hand, glowing with a mysterious radiance. For a moment, it looked like a red rose flickering like fire. The flame’s undulating movements resembled a mesmerizing dance.  

“Wow…”  

Sion let out a gasp of admiration.  

“This is a fragment of Sacred Flame. When you clench and open your fist, the flame will reignite.”  

“A fragment of Sacred… Flame?”  

“The Priestess of Death cannot be killed. Only the Sacred Flame of the Goddess Agnia can burn her away.”  

“Is that really true?”  

Rakian confirmed it and added further explanation.  

“They are beings united with death. Only the fire we’ve researched for so long within our Cult can erase their existence.”  

Sion stared at the sacred flame blooming in the priestess’s hand.  

It was miraculous—beyond any ordinary description. An energy so intricate and complex that it defied understanding.  

He couldn’t even begin to fathom how divine power had been woven into such an intricate, supernatural form.  

‘It’s beyond comprehension.’  

Sion had deciphered and countered even the most advanced blood magic.  

No matter how difficult or complex a spell was, he could usually grasp its structure after seeing it just once.  

But this Sacred Flame was different. Even Sion struggled to interpret it.  

Which means that these people had fought fiercely against the death-worshipping heretics and studied them deeply.  

This was the essence of their long history.  

Now was not the time to analyze it, but to be grateful.  

“Thank you. Are you sure you can give this to me?”  

“It’s single-use. If you happen to meet the Priestess of Death, smear it on your blade. If you strike her surrounded by flame, she’ll feel threatened and flee.”  

“So it’s a kind of self-defense tool.”  

“Exactly. But I pray you don’t meet her. It’s safer and more certain if we handle her ourselves.”  

This was the first time Sion had encountered such a considerate foreign Cult. He was touched by Rakian’s warm and thoughtful gesture.  

‘Why on earth did my master say the Church of Fire was the craziest of all?’  

It was incomprehensible. To Sion, these people were the first truly genuine religious figures he had ever met.  

“Open your hand. I’ll share the ember of Sacred Flame with you. Receive the grace of fire. If you wish to convert and receive our blessings, you are always welcome.”  

Sion did as Rakian instructed. He opened his palm upward, and the priestess with the Holy Scripture approached and handed him the ember.  

Sion clenched and opened his fist. As described, the flame vanished and then reignited.  

“Thank you. I’ll remember this kindness.”  

“May fortune favor the Order of the War Knight.”  

Rakian gave a small bow. The followers of Fire behind him lightly bowed their heads as well.  

Sion had heard that the worshippers of the Goddess of Fire were reclusive. But in reality, they seemed more open-minded than anyone.  

‘Could it be that rumors about these people have spread strangely?’  

He felt no hostility or prejudice toward the War Cult. In fact, they seemed to barely acknowledge the War Cult’s existence at all, as if they simply didn’t care.  

Rakian slung his spear over his shoulder again. Sion returned the gesture with a blessing.  

“May the Goddess Agnia’s protection be with you on your path to burning down monsters.”  

When Sion offered the formal greeting, they all answered simultaneously.  

“Sins shall burn, and we shall be reborn from the ashes.”  

It seemed to be their own motto. When spoken by many at once, it felt slightly eerie. Yet Sion found it impressive.  

‘Maybe our Cult should come up with a phrase like that…’  

The Red Knights turned without further delay.  

Their red robes vanished like mist slipping through damp underbrush. Gradually, their presence faded into the distance.  

Left alone, Sion looked down at the ember of Sacred Flame remaining in his palm. The rose-like flame flickered strangely, giving off no warmth.  

Meanwhile.  

[Hmmmm.]  

A voice thick with dissatisfaction. It was the Goddess of War, Achille.  

[To give something as trivial as a firefly’s glow and call it a blessing… Agnia, just as petty in power as she is in personality. Still the same, still just the same.]

Agnia, listening from her roundtable seat, nearly burst into laughter but barely held it in. Achille’s blatant jealousy felt childish, yet somehow endearing.  

[And what’s this? Conversion? How dare those fire-stick freaks think they can recruit anyone! I’d rather attack the Roundtable myself than see my Apostle wearing those red rags and spouting nonsense like ‘Sins shall burn—’!]

Her rage was so intense it seemed the throne itself would tremble. It was the kind of outrageous rant that would shock any other Goddess on the lofty Roundtable.  

Agnia, struggling to suppress her bubbling laughter, pretended not to hear.  

[Hmm… My Sion. Do not fall for the seductive words of those snake-like creatures. Soon, this Goddess shall bestow upon you even greater and more useful powers!]  

The Goddess’s fury burned endlessly. Though she knew it was impossible, she feared—just in case—betrayal.  

After all, hadn’t she already once lost a candidate Apostle to the Cult of Wisdom? That trauma tugged at Achille’s nerves.  

Unaware of any of this, Sion quietly clenched his fist. The Sacred Flame in his palm vanished without a trace.  

‘I’ve been away too long.’  

Tat!  

Sion lightly leapt onto the trees. He avoided the muddy ground to maintain speed.  

His body cut through the damp air, advancing like a black panther, leaping from branch to branch.  

As he ran, his mind was chaotic.  

‘The Priestess of Death.’  

The death-worshipping heretic the Church of Fire was pursuing. And she had chosen to hide right here in this swamp.  

They might even meet. And if the War Knight Brigade happened to encounter the Priestess of Death…  

‘Something terrible will happen.’  

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but a dark premonition gnawed at him. He silently prayed that the Church of Fire would eliminate her first.  

Too many variables had emerged. He needed to rejoin the knight order quickly.  

Sion’s heart grew restless.  

***  

The War Knight Brigade was having a miserable time.  

“Damn it, my foot’s stuck!”  

“Be careful! Something just twitched over there!”  

The sticky marsh clung to their ankles, and unidentifiable sounds from all around gnawed at their sanity.  

The initial tension of their first battle had long since turned into fear of the swamp itself.  

“Keep formation! Don’t get separated!”  

Tier shouted with a hoarse voice. He, too, was covered head to toe in sweat and mud.  

But he was their commander. In the midst of chaos, he couldn’t afford to lose sight of the path forward.  

‘What would Sir Sion do in this situation?’  

Unconsciously, he thought of Sion.  

Sion would have easily broken through such a swamp. But Tier wasn’t like that. Every step was agony.  

And on top of that, he had to look after his men. He was trapped in an impossible situation. He wanted to give up and run away.  

Then, Set, holding his shield, shouted.  

“Commander! Ahead—there’s a clearer path! The ground looks solid!”  

All eyes turned to Alt, the scout. Sure enough, far ahead, they could see a densely wooded area where the land seemed to rise and solidify.  

“Good! Move as fast as possible toward that spot! Just a little more effort!”  

Inspired by Tier’s encouragement, the knights squeezed out their last strength. They barely reached the solid ground and caught their breath.  

“Haa…”  

“Feels like we’re alive again.”  

“I thought I’d die stuck in the swamp.”  

The firm sensation of earth, instead of squelching mud, spread through the soles of their feet.  

A few collapsed right there, using their muddy hands to gasp for breath.  

They looked awful. Their expensive armor was coated in mud, and their faces were smeared with exhaustion and the swamp’s foul stench.  

“Get up. We can’t rest here. This is exactly the kind of terrain goblins love.”  

Tier snapped the men out of their momentary relaxation. He wanted to find a safer place to rest, no matter what.  

It was at that very moment.  

“Shh.”  

Set, who had been on alert scanning the surroundings, pressed a finger to his lips.  

Everyone reacted as trained. When Set or Alt gave a signal, they immediately fell silent and prepared for combat.  

‘…’  

In the silence, Set’s finger pointed to a spot. All eyes turned that way. Their heightened nerves grew as sharp as blades.  

Through the underbrush, a small, hunched silhouette moved.  

Smaller than a human, larger than a monkey. There was no mistaking it—this was a goblin.  

“…Is it just one?”  

Tier whispered quietly.  

The goblin was dragging what looked like the corpse of an animal. Oblivious to the knights’ presence, it trudged along the path.  

Tier saw an opportunity. He recalled his own words.  

‘Next time, don’t confront them. Sneak up and follow them to find their main base.’  

Tier made his decision. He pointed to the two most agile members.  

“Set, Alt. Follow quietly from behind. The main force will follow right after.”  

Tier’s eyes sparkled.  

“Send a signal as soon as you find the base. Just like we trained.”  

“Yes, Commander.”  

Set nodded, crouched low like a cat. Alt followed, carefully securing his weapon to prevent any noise.  

The distance to the goblin was about 100 meters.  

Not too close, not too far. Set and Alt used rocks and bushes as cover, silently trailing the goblin.  

Unlike the swamp, the solid ground made footsteps easier to hear, but the trained knights expertly masked their presence like wild animals.  

The goblin walked steadily along, completely unsuspecting.  

How much time passed?  

The goblin stopped at the entrance to a clearing surrounded by massive rocks standing like a screen.  

Beyond the rocks came a foul, metallic stench and the smell of something burning.  

Low, crude laughter and incomprehensible goblin gibberish buzzed like language.  

Set and Alt hid in the cracks between rocks and cautiously peered inside.  

And they swallowed their breath in shock.  

“…This is it.”  

A clear main base of the goblin horde, complete with a roughly built wooden fence and watchtowers.  

They had barely survived a struggle to eliminate three scouts. The number of goblins visible in the base numbered in the dozens.  

The sight before them felt like overwhelming despair.  

But that wasn’t all.  

At the center of the base, in front of the largest bonfire, a hobgoblin—one head taller than the others—was drinking blood.  

At its feet, wolf-like beasts crouched, baring their fangs, displaying their master’s authority.  

On a crudely built altar made of black stones and animal bones, dark red smoke rose like a haze.  

‘It’s much bigger than I thought. Could they have settled here much earlier than we were told?’  

Set and Alt exchanged glances. Without needing words, both were pale with fear.  

‘Do we really have to defeat these monsters on our own…?’  

Even Set, who had been acting brave until now, felt his spirit break. Naturally, his mind turned to the strongest person he knew.  

‘Brother Sion.’

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