Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 7

Ch.7 Apostle of the Goddess of War

The annex where Garfenn had washed up was quiet, with no servants coming or going. The outside was no different.

The moonlit lord’s mansion was eerily silent, as if no one lived there.

“Ruina.”

“Yes?”

Garfenn, who had been munching on the cookies meant for guests, suddenly spoke.

Ruina, who had been putting the younger children to sleep, stiffened at his voice—she still found Garfenn awkward.

“Take the kids and hide in the bathroom. Don’t come out until I say so.”

“……Okay, got it.”

Though Garfenn was still intimidating, Ruina was sharp.

She didn’t know why he was saying this, but she wasn’t about to argue.

“Kids, wake up. Let’s go.”

Ruina took the children and hid in the bathroom.

Not long after, the window of the annex where Sion’s group was staying slid open. Under the moonlight, a shadowy humanoid figure appeared.

As the shadow stepped into the room, cold crimson eyes flashed.

“Came straight for me, huh? Can’t hold back that boiling blood, young demon.”

“Garfenn. You’re a man who sits heavy on his ass.”

“No reason to walk into an obvious trap.”

The uninvited guest was the pale man Sion had glared at earlier. Now that night had fallen, he made no effort to hide his demonic nature.

A sinister, unsettling aura oozed from him, flaunting his lethality as if daring anyone to challenge him.

“I’ve heard of your reputation for a long time.”

“Reputation? What an honor.”

“Monster hunter. The Apostle who has slain the most demons. The Black Wolf.”

“Embarrassing. If you’re gonna keep praising me, at least throw in some money.”

Kik!

The demon let out a gleeful laugh.

“To think I’d kill such a legendary warrior with my own hands today! What a joyous occasion.”

Garfenn chuckled silently at the demon’s words.

“So. Baron Flandre decided to become a demon, huh?”

“Kekeke. There’s no shortage of humans who crave immortality by drinking demon blood.”

“Even the Age of Light is corrupt. Tch.”

Garfenn clicked his tongue, then asked:

“What’s the Baron up to? Did my disciple go there?”

“Kehehe. By now, he’s probably had his heart ripped out by the newly demonized Baron.”

“One question. How strong is the Baron after drinking your blood?”

The demon stretched his lips wide and smirked.

“Worried?”

Garfenn shrugged.

He wasn’t worried about Sion—he was just curious about his current strength.

He wanted a benchmark.

“At the very least, he should be able to match my fangs.”

Garfenn cut him off.

“Damn it. Cut the barbaric demon metaphors and give me a number. Got it?”

The demon, amused by the question, pondered sincerely.

“At best, the Baron’s at… 20% of my strength?”

“I see. Got it.”

“Not worried? Once a human drinks demon blood, they surpass humanity by leaps and bounds. Your disciple is as good as dead.”

Garfenn, now bored, rattled his sword provocatively.

Worried about Sion?

He never had been.

If he were worried, he wouldn’t have sent him in the first place.

He just wanted to gauge—

How strong Sion was right now.

Judging by this demon’s analogy, Baron Flandre wasn’t even worth considering as a challenge.

Unless he was strong enough to overwhelm Sion, he’d just be a good training dummy.

Garfenn, having dismissed any concern for Sion, spoke:

“Enough talk. Come at me.”

“Confident, are we? Garfenn. No matter how strong you are, you’re just an old—”

Schlick!

Garfenn’s shoulder blurred. The sound came a moment later.

The demon clutched his throat, gurgling. In an instant, his head was severed, blood gushing out.

“Old, what?”

“Ghk—what…?”

“This is why young demons are so annoying. Boiling blood makes you forget your place… Tch. You charge in without even gauging your opponent’s strength, and this is what happens.”

The demon, unable to regenerate his severed head, slowly died.

Garfenn wiped his blade on the bedsheet, then suddenly jolted in alarm.

‘Ah, damn! The kids!’

Ruina and the others were still waiting in the bathroom.

He couldn’t let them see the blood-soaked room, so Garfenn hastily threw a blanket over the mess and started scrubbing the floor.

***

Baron Flandre bared his teeth in a grin.

His sharp, protruding fangs looked beastly.

“Kill him. We need to finish the ritual quickly.”

The soldiers swung their swords simultaneously.

Sion ducked under the attacks, then slashed at a soldier’s instep with his blade.

“Guh!”

Shoving the pained soldier aside, he created an opening.

Slipping through the gap, Sion pressed his back against the wall.

Now, he didn’t have to worry about enemies behind him.

‘This way, I can take them all on at once.’

Instinctively, Sion grasped how to fight multiple opponents.

He thrust his sword forward.

A cold edge lingered on Sion’s blade.

“Attack!”

The soldiers charged.

Sion swung his sword calmly—yet powerfully.

The Baron’s seasoned soldiers fell one by one to Sion’s unpredictable acrobatics. Even against fully armored foes, Sion fought brilliantly, instinctively exploiting gaps in their armor to deliver fatal strikes.

As time passed, only corpses piled up.

Sion suffered only minor scratches, never once in real danger.

A combat sense so sharp even the Goddess of War held her breath in awe.

The more experience he gained, the steeper his growth curve became.

‘20 seconds? 21? Took longer than I thought. Did I waste movements?’

After downing the last soldier, Sion stopped his mental replay and lifted his chin.

‘No, focus on the task at hand.’

Other thoughts were a luxury.

“A mere disciple took down all my soldiers?”

The Baron’s fists trembled.

“How dare this brat…”

He tore off his cumbersome outer robe, revealing thick forearms hidden beneath the ornate clothing.

Veins bulged grotesquely.

“I’ll kill you.”

Sion steadied his breathing and advanced.

With no soldiers in the way, movement was much easier.

“You’re skilled, but do you really think you can beat me after I’ve drunk demon blood? Foolish.”

Baron Flandre grinned, his teeth stained with blood.

“We’ll see.”

“Your arrogance is insufferable.”

The Baron summoned his power—the strength granted in exchange for offering his daughter’s heart and soul to the Evil God.

“Let me teach you the fate of a lowborn who doesn’t know his place!”

Swish!

The Baron slashed as though clawing the air.

Wind blades followed the trajectory of his nails, hurtling toward Sion.

Sion jerked his head back.

Splat!

A cut opened on his cheek, and strands of hair were severed.

Too close.

‘He’s tearing the air itself into blades.’

Sion touched his neck.

‘Can’t let my guard down. That was dangerous.’

His attention kept drifting to Rebecca, lying motionless.

He worried he might be too late.

Distractions slowed his reactions.

Sion shook his head.

‘Focus only on killing the Baron now.’

Baron Flandre lunged, closing the distance in an instant.

Sion raised his sword to block the axe-like downward slash of the Baron’s claws.

Clang—!

The floor beneath Sion’s feet cratered.

His arms and ankles ached from the impact.

‘Strong.’

Compared to the Baron, every enemy he’d faced before was child’s play.

For the first time, Sion felt real tension.

Sion’s eyes widened.

The Baron’s figure blurred—then reappeared beside him.

“Too sl—”

Sion reflexively swung his sword sideways.

Crash!

He blocked the attack but was sent flying into the wall.

A fraction slower, and his head would’ve rolled.

“Ugh… too fast.”

Sion shook off the shattered debris and stood.

The Baron strode forward.

“Kid, you picked the wrong opponent. Maybe if you’d grown a bit more, you could’ve beaten me.”

Kukuku. The Baron clenched his fists, delivering his verdict.

“The one who got you killed today is that fool Garfenn. Blame him for sending you alone.”

The Baron swung his arm for the finishing blow.

His lethal claws tore through the wall horizontally as they slashed.

Schlick!

A flash of steel.

A lightning-fast strike.

Splat!

Blood splattered across the wall.

But the blood wasn’t Sion’s.

“Huh?”

The Baron stared at his own severed hand on the floor.

Crimson blood gushed from the stump of his wrist.

“Guh…”

Sion pushed himself up from the wall, breathing heavily.

“I’ve got a rough idea now. Your speed, your techniques. You’re strong.”

“What?”

The Baron gaped, stunned.

Sion didn’t bother answering further.

He saw no point in talking anymore.

Sion’s counterattack began.

Swish!

His blade flashed toward the Baron’s throat.

The Baron barely jerked his head back in time.

He kicked off the ground, putting distance between them.

“What the…?”

The Baron touched his neck with his remaining hand—blood coated his fingers.

‘That damned disciple.’

His gaze turned murderous.

As he glared at Sion, the wound on his neck closed, and his severed hand regenerated.

“Huh?!”

Sion’s eyes widened in shock.

Now he understood the power of one who had drunk the Evil God’s blood.

Even if cut, he regenerated. Unfair.

But regeneration wasn’t the Baron’s only trick.

His muscles bulged grotesquely as he widened his stance.

“Hah! Such power! Die…!”

Crack! The Baron flexed his muscles.

He whipped his arm like a lash, creating a shockwave.

Whoosh!

Sion barely twisted aside.

Dodging the unnatural attack, he retaliated with a slash of his own.

Clang!

‘My arm’s numb.’

But it wasn’t crippling.

He could still match the Baron’s speed. Sion’s eyes sharpened, reading every move.

Clang! Clang!

The Baron’s beastly onslaught continued, blood and fury fueling his strikes.

Sion blocked them all.

Clash! Clang!

Their exchanges grew faster, fiercer.

Clang-clang-clang! CRASH!

Human eyes could no longer track their movements.

Naturally, they reached their limits simultaneously.

Both Sion and the Baron knew—

The fight would end soon.

And by the slimmest margin.

Whoosh!

The Baron’s claw grazed Sion’s side.

Sion let his sword drop slightly.

At the last possible moment, he deflected the Baron’s claws with the flat of his blade.

‘Deflect—then cut cleanly.’

After blocking, Sion twisted his wrist upward, slicing through the Baron’s forearm.

In that instant—

Sion’s eyes flashed like a hawk spotting its prey.

The slash that had severed the forearm continued downward in one fluid motion—

Straight through the Baron’s shoulder.

The climax of their lightning-fast duel.

Schlick!

The Baron’s arm, tendons severed, dropped like a puppet’s limb.

Now, he had no way to block Sion’s next strike.

Swish!

Sion swung his sword wide.

The blade carved deep into the Baron’s throat.

Thud.

The Baron’s head hit the floor.

It was over in seconds.

A high-level duel, decided in mere exchanges.

“Haah… haah…”

Sion panted heavily. This was the hardest fight he’d ever had.

He could barely remember how he’d fought—how he’d won.

Only the faint awareness that he was still breathing told him he’d survived.

‘Rebecca!’

Belatedly, Sion remembered her.

Staggering, he rushed to her side.

But she didn’t move.

She wasn’t even breathing.

‘Too late?’

His mind went blank.

A cold despair welled up from deep within.

Again.

The crushing thought that he’d failed to protect someone precious.

‘No… not again…’

Then—

A warm presence enveloped his hand.

The divine sensation made Sion’s tears freeze.

[I shall take the blood of the Evil God’s worshipper, my Sion. Do not despair.]

Sion’s hand moved on its own, resting over Rebecca’s chest.

An inexplicable warmth flowed from his fingertips into her.

“Hah…!”

Her still chest slowly rose.

The breath that had stopped began again.

‘Goddess…?’

There was no doubt.

He had just witnessed a miracle.

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