Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 91

Ch.91 Apostle of the Goddess of War

Executioner, Sion.  

Observer, Kaili.  

Objective: Expose the spy.  

This was the first mission assigned to both Sion and Kaili together.  

For some reason, Kaili was hopping around as if she were playing an amusing game.  

She seemed to be in a particularly good mood.  

“Brother. Brother. Should I dress up a little more?”  

Kaili grinned.  

What could she possibly be expecting?  

Sion had absolutely no talent for understanding the whims of his notoriously difficult younger sister.  

“Hmm. Since it’s a secret mission, wouldn’t it be better to look more ordinary?”  

Kaili grabbed the hem of the skirt Ruina had prepared for her, spun around in a circle, and tilted her head in confusion.  

“Really— is that so?”  

Watching Kaili seriously ponder a casual remark he had made without much thought, Sion struggled to suppress the overwhelming urge to dote on her.  

He desperately wanted to ruffle her hair, but if he did, he was certain he’d experience death firsthand.  

After all the effort she’d put into her appearance, there probably wouldn’t even be a body left.  

“Oh.”  

A helpful thought came to mind.  

Right now, Kaili wasn’t just going to the refugee zone as Sion’s younger sister.  

She was, in a sense, attending her first unofficial duty as a priestess.  

It would be good if she appeared modest yet dignified—at least enough so that people wouldn’t see Kaili merely as a cute little girl.  

Thus,  

Sion took off his cloak and draped it over the girl’s shoulders.  

“Huh?”  

“You’re the priestess of the War Cult, right? Wouldn’t wearing a black cloak be quite symbolic?”  

Kaili observed the cloak dragging along the floor, turning her body this way and that to examine it.  

Sion worried she might not like it and return it.  

But there she stood, wearing the cloak imbued with the divine protection of the War Cult.  

“There are practical reasons too,” he thought.  

The future priestess smiled.  

“Do I look cool? Me?”  

The future apostle replied, smiling and giving her a thumbs-up.  

“Yeah.”  

“You’re not being sincere.”  

Would he really get hit by that tiny little hand?  

Sion quickly added more.  

“You look like a princess.”  

“I’d rather be a queen, if possible.”  

“You dream big.”  

“Dreams should be big, brother.”  

“You’re right.”  

Suddenly, Kaili began humming a little tune to herself.  

Apparently, she was quite pleased with both his response and the cloak.  

Sion also felt secretly proud inside.  

“Maybe I do have a bit of aesthetic sense after all?”  

……Meanwhile, Ruina, who had been quietly observing them from a short distance away, silently shook her head.  

Are they playing house?  

“She’s going to trip over that dragging cloak and fall flat on her face.”  

Ruina wanted to intervene in various ways, but decided to leave them be.  

Kaili soon took off the cloak anyway.  

She put back on the simple robe Ruina had prepared for her and explained.  

“You’re right, brother. We shouldn’t stand out too much.”  

“Yeah…?”  

She could distinguish between personal and official matters so clearly.  

An inscrutable younger sister.  

It was the same this time.  

Despite being the youngest, she showed a maturity beyond her years.  

“Hey, sister, how do I look?”  

Kaili spun around in front of Ruina and asked.  

“Cute.”  

“Look at you, soulless.”  

“W-what?”  

“See you later! Thanks for fixing my hair, sister!”  

Kaili walked out the door, swinging the twin braids Ruina had neatly tied for her.  

“That girl.”  

As she stepped forward, she took Sion’s hand.  

She was utterly whimsical.  

***  

Another day dawned at the refugee screening area.  

Those who had applied for conversion and drawn a waiting number began their day full of hope.  

They would get through the day safely and earn points.  

If they accumulated a certain number of points without incident, they could officially enter Elim.  

This was the bare minimum screening system temporarily established by Bishop Gustein.  

People who had come to Elim seeking salvation cleaned the inside of the tents themselves, swept the streets, and prayed to Achilles.  

The prayer they had to memorize was surprisingly simple:  

“The Goddess of War is with us.”  

This was a natural part of daily life for followers of the War Cult, and the Cult’s rules were much looser compared to other Cults.  

“U-um, to the Goddess, Goddess of War…”  

However, even this was torture for the Knights of Wisdom.  

It wasn’t even easy for them to pretend to worship another Goddess.  

“Selana. Mom. Can you pat my back? I feel like I’m going to throw up… Urgh!”  

“Arwen! Are you okay?”  

“Y-yes, n-n-nnn! Uuuuuugh!”  

Arwen vomited while praying.  

She couldn’t hold back the overwhelming nausea.  

Watching this, Antarius was amazed.  

Even reciting a prayer of another Cult triggered a physical rejection response—a testament to their highly developed faith.  

Their body and spirit had become one in devotion to Wisdom.  

They were, in fact, the ideal model every true follower of Wisdom should aspire to.  

“No wonder someone has to be an apostle to reach that level.”  

“Uuuuuh. D-dad…”  

“Y-yes, um… Dad. What’s wrong?”  

“If your daughter’s vomiting, at least bring her some water.”  

“Oh! I’m sorry.”  

It was such a striking sight that Antarius slapped his own cheek and immediately brought water.  

After drinking water and calming down, Arwen spoke.  

“The Goddess must have warned me.”  

“What?”  

“She said not to recite even a fake prayer to the Goddess of War.”  

“Is that what it was?”  

Antarius asked in surprise.  

Arwen nodded weakly.  

It wasn’t just her faith causing her body to react automatically.  

Goddess Menesia herself was angry.  

It was a clear warning to heighten their alertness.  

The refugee area was still disorganized enough to require separate management, and the Cult itself was still small.  

It looked like a trivial Cult, easy to overlook and dismiss.  

But this was a warning from the Goddess of Wisdom not to let their guard down.  

……Especially since Arwen had previously been a follower of the War Cult, she needed to be extra cautious.  

“Could she be worried that I might convert back?”  

Arwen pondered while wiping her mouth.  

Had her faith ever wavered?  

Had there ever been a crack in her mission to illuminate the world with the light of wisdom and truth?  

“No. That’s impossible.”  

She had felt uneasy at times since returning to Elim, but her beliefs had never shaken.  

She had resolved to treat everything here with cold rationality.  

Sentimental attachments like that had been abandoned long ago when she left.  

Arwen sharply raised her strained consciousness.  

She armored her entire being with faith sharpened like an arrowhead.  

“The priestess will be secured. Lady Menesia.”  

She reaffirmed her determination once more.  

And just then, her opportunity arrived.  

“Daughter, shall we go out now? We need to eat breakfast.”  

“Yes, Mom.”  

Wiping tears with her sleeve, Arwen stepped out of the tent.  

Outside, a remarkable scene unfolded as people lined up waiting for rations.  

These were people who had risked their lives to travel long distances.  

Even a meager but warm soup and a single piece of bread was a blessing.  

However, Elim received continuous food supplies from Foils, so the rations were quite generous.  

The good word-of-mouth about Elim surely included Foils’ full support.  

“I’m so hungry.”  

Grrrrr.  

Arwen clutched her growling stomach and trudged to the end of the line.  

She had cried all night and again in the morning, and now her stomach was loudly demanding food.  

After a hearty meal, she was ready to begin her serious exploration of Elim.  

First, she would locate the priestess.  

Then, she would analyze the movements of the guards and knights, and track the movements of Sion, the future apostle candidate.  

“……There’s no variable to consider.”  

As long as her master wasn’t here, Arwen had no other unknowns.  

She was confident she could accomplish this without any problems.  

At least, that was what she firmly believed—until it was her turn for rations.  

“……?”  

“Would you like more soup?”  

Arwen flinched. Why was she here?  

‘This person—isn’t this Sion!’  

Why was a knight, who should be training or patrolling right now, serving food here?  

For a moment, Arwen stared blankly at Sion, as if she had just been rejected.  

“Excuse me?”  

“Ah, yes, yes.”  

Arwen quickly nodded.  

She took the soup Sion offered and hurriedly moved to the side.  

“How many pieces of bread would you like?”  

The next station was for bread, but when Arwen saw the person handing it out, she jumped in shock again.  

“This—this is the priestess!”  

She was so shocked she wanted to strangle her own throat to prevent a scream from bursting out.  

Unlike her usual self, she found it hard to maintain composure. Her heart was pounding wildly.  

Her target was right in front of her.  

She could just drop her disguise, kidnap the priestess, and run away right now.  

But her judgment was clouded by the suddenness of the situation.  

The priestess and the future apostle suddenly appearing here to serve food? It was unbelievable.  

“Are they doing volunteer work? Do they have nothing better to do?”  

No, that couldn’t be.  

For any true believer, a whole day spent in prayer alone was barely enough.  

There was no reason for such esteemed figures to come here and suffer by serving meals.  

At least, not within Arwen’s frame of common sense.  

“This is a scene I’ve never seen before.”  

She had never even imagined it.  

At the same time, a dangerous thought crossed her mind.  

What if they had already detected the infiltration?  

And had come here themselves as bait?  

“……I’m going crazy.”  

She felt like she was about to lose her mind.  

She simply couldn’t gauge their intentions.  

This wasn’t a typical exploitation of a weakness.  

If they had come here knowingly, it was an incredibly bold move.  

“Do they have confidence they can subdue us?”  

Arwen quickly scanned her surroundings. There were no people who looked like knights.  

All the presences around were ordinary civilians—except for one: the man known as Sion, the future apostle.  

“Selana and Antarius should have noticed by now.”  

As soon as she gave the signal, they would immediately act.  

Arwen would leap over the serving counter and secure the priestess, while the remaining two Knights of the Scales would restrain Sion.  

Then, they would stall for a suitable amount of time before escaping.  

Mission complete.  

The War Cult is completely defenseless.  

Their weaknesses are clearly exposed.  

Just as Arwen was about to summon her combat awareness, a thought struck her.  

“No— no, wait.”  

No matter how she thought about it, this couldn’t be this easy.  

This was the War Cult.  

Someone like Arwen, who had once served the Goddess of War, must not underestimate them.  

“She is a disciple of Garfenn. They can’t possibly be this careless.”  

Sion was still smiling, serving soup to Antarius.  

Behind that kind smile, who knew what kind of blade was hidden? It was suspicious to the point of being irritating. Impossible to read.  

He was probably just a novice knight who had recently picked up a sword.  

‘……Still, it’s better to be cautious.’  

Perhaps the nausea she had felt this morning was a warning for this very moment.  

It suddenly occurred to her that the Goddess of Wisdom wouldn’t get angry over a mere pretense prayer. That seemed a bit petty.  

‘Could she have been warning me about a trap?’  

There was no harm in being cautious.  

Today wasn’t the only chance they had.  

In fact, an immediate response didn’t align with the Wisdom Cult’s style.  

The Wisdom Cult preferred certainty over speed, even if it meant moving slowly.  

Arwen received her rations and returned to the tent.  

The little girl who would become the priestess handed her two pieces of bread with a sullen expression when Arwen didn’t respond.  

Arwen took them, put them in her mouth, and returned.  

A short while later, Selana and Antarius entered the tent.  

“……Arwen, ma’am.”  

“Did you see it?”  

“Yes, yes. Let’s not show anything for now and eat first. We might be under surveillance.”  

“Understood.”  

“Selana, what about the perception-dampening magic?”  

Selana quickly pulled out a hand mirror to check.  

Both she and Antarius appeared as different people.  

Even Arwen, with her silver hair, appeared to others as having ordinary brown hair.  

***  

They were on their way back to the church after finishing the rations.  

Kaili seemed to be in a great mood, as if serving rations had been a fun activity.  

“Was it fun?”  

“Yeah. Watching people is fun.”  

Her definition of fun wasn’t exactly childish.  

After telling her she had worked hard, Sion asked with a serious expression.  

“Were there any interesting people?”  

Kaili nodded readily.  

“Yeah. Three of them.”  

“Who?”  

“The older sister who kept crying, and the two people right behind her.”  

Sion nodded.  

“Good job.”

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