Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 95

Ch.95 Apostle of the Goddess of War

The knight opened his eyes.  

A hellish landscape unfolded.  

However, there was no need to go as far as the Evil God—the world itself was already hell.  

People were starving, and the weak were close to death.  

Even the Goddess who stood on humanity’s side was drooling with desire to arbitrarily mold them, carrying terrifying ideologies.  

Where was Eru, the Supreme Deity who supposedly created the world? What had she been doing while things reached this state?  

Sion sought answers at the Round Table.  

But those answers had to be found by himself.  

The Goddess of Light had sealed her lips shut, and the Goddess of War was in a position where she could not help.  

‘I’ll do what I can.’  

Whether the world turned into hell or not,  

Sion had to fulfill his duty.  

This was the conclusion he reached when he briefly sighed and looked up at the night sky.  

The twinkling stars seemed to guide him like Achille showing the way.  

‘I will go now, my Goddess.’  

The early winter chill froze the land of Elim. Sion walked along the path, stepping on the withering grass.  

At the designated meeting place, they were already waiting for him.  

Blue cloaks.  

Upon them, the image of a scale.  

The Scales Knight Order, proud of the Wisdom Cult, along with the Apostle of Wisdom.  

Those who had briefly lived as refugees in Elim now stood inside the city gates, greeting him with cold eyes.  

“You’ve come, Sion.”  

“Yes.”  

Sion, arriving alone, revealed a calm, composed gaze.  

“Hoo.”  

Antarius couldn’t help but express admiration at Sion’s aura.  

It was genuine praise.  

‘I can’t believe someone so young possesses such presence.’  

Selana and Antarius—both veteran Scales Knights who had served for countless years. They had the discerning eye to instantly recognize who was a ‘true’ knight at a single glance.  

Sion clearly wasn’t an ordinary swordsman.  

Not even considering his age.  

Not even factoring in that he was a young warrior of the War Cult.  

‘He’s different. What is he?’  

Beyond those determined eyes, they faintly sensed the unique aura of a true master.  

Sion, indifferent to their inner turmoil, spoke.  

“Still, for people who sneaked into Elim and tried to kidnap a child, you seem quite relaxed.”  

Antarius’s eyebrows shot up.  

“You’re picking a fight about that? Now?”  

An aggressive reaction.  

His personality was as fiery as his massive frame.  

But—  

“Then. Did you really think I’d just let you walk away unharmed?”  

Sion’s anger was even greater.  

Antarius’s eyes widened in shock.  

“This is the sacred territory of the Goddess of War. It’s not so weak that outsiders from other cultts can enter with sinister intentions and leave with all limbs intact.”  

Kuuung!  

The city gate, previously open, suddenly slammed shut.  

At the same time—  

Kiiing!  

A razor-sharp saber was drawn, slicing through the cold night air.  

Shadows began to rise one by one behind Sion. On the still-drying city walls, sentries appeared and stared down at them.  

……The Order of the War Knight.  

Kegan, the commander of the Order of the War Knight, roared from atop the wall.  

“An—ta—ri—us!”  

“Huh!?”  

“How dare you raise your voice here? Do you even know where you are?”  

“Ha, ha! That madman.”  

Antarius muttered under his breath.  

The two knew each other.  

If anything, they were bitter rivals.  

Their operational zones overlapped, leading to several past clashes. They were well aware of each other’s strength. Antarius clearly didn’t welcome Kegan’s interference.  

In any case, Arwen and the two Scales Knights were now trapped.  

Inside the belly of the sacred land of War.  

They had boldly challenged, confidently maintaining superiority, acting with arrogance until the end.  

Yet now, they were gradually being overwhelmed by an unknown force.  

The War Cult had changed.  

This was no longer the place that had lost its glory and barely clung to survival.  

Under Sion’s leadership, it had grown stronger, rapidly evolving into a formidable cult.  

Though still small in size, their hope and courage were clearly worth a hundred men.  

Even if unseen, they believed.  

They believed the Goddess of War was with them.  

“If you entered so freely, you’ll have to pay the price.”  

Kegan growled.  

Antarius clenched his fists in fury, trembling. Selana calmly waited for Arwen’s orders.  

Arwen looked up at the city wall.  

Her face was deep in thought.  

Seeing this, Selena also thought:  

‘The Apostle is most terrifying when silent.’  

Something huge was about to happen.  

She didn’t know what, but she had to prepare.  

She would perfectly support the Apostle, letting the situation unfold exactly as she intended.  

Arwen turned her head back toward Sion.  

Her skin, white like glass, shimmered with a smooth luster. Under the moonlight, Arwen’s appearance drained all color from the surrounding scenery.  

She spoke.  

“Is this… Sion’s answer?”  

“Yes. After much contemplation, this is my conclusion. I seriously considered the will of the Goddess of Wisdom.”  

“And yet, it still disappoints me?”  

“My thoughts from earlier today remain unchanged. Removing emotions is worse than death.”  

A tear sparkled as it ran down Arwen’s cheek.  

“…How sad. To be treated worse than an Evil God.”  

Arwen’s tears did not cease.  

Her lustrous silver hair fluttered in the wind.  

“I thought… we might at least be able to talk.”  

“That’s a lie.”  

“I had hope.”  

“Greed, then. Senior.”  

“Aa. Foolish junior.”  

In response to Sion’s firm reply,  

Arwen wiped her tears, and said, “So be it.”  

Her hand reached for her scabbard.  

“You’ve forced me to draw my sword.”  

A chilling, flame-like haze began to rise around her.  

Sssss, sssss—  

The ancestral blade of judgment used by generations of Wisdom Apostles slowly emerged.  

The Judgment Blade.  

A treasure of Menesia that placed sinners on the scale and passed sentence.  

From all directions, killing intent surged like blades cutting through the night air.  

The War Knights on the wall instinctively flinched at the sheer lethality.  

It felt as if sharp weapons floated in every direction.  

Wuuung, wuuung!  

The rising divine power was no less extraordinary.  

The atmosphere itself seemed to scream.  

The concentration of divine power was so thick it felt as if a blue film had been laid over their eyes.  

‘This… is the Apostle of Wisdom…!’  

Sion trembled inwardly.  

This presence felt more threatening than any madman or demon he had ever encountered.  

Even the Apostle of Blood in poor condition or the relatively weaker Apostle of Decay paled in comparison to this monster before him.  

At least in Sion’s experience, only one person possessed such power and pressure.  

‘Master. What kind of monster did you raise?’  

This was the level Sion had to reach.  

He had to go there, and surpass it.  

Soon, he must possess overwhelming strength—so great that no demon would dare raise a hand against him.  

It was Achille’s wish, and Sion’s goal.  

“Violence is barbaric. But when necessary, it can become an efficient means of communication.”  

A distant voice echoed.  

“I’ll teach you a lesson, junior.”  

Pale jade-colored flames rose in Sion’s eyes. The cold divine power of reason began to envelop Arwen like armor.  

It was impossible to even imagine breaking through it.  

An overwhelmingly supreme state.  

The awe lasted only a moment.  

Sarak.  

Arwen’s blue cloak, fluttering like a fairy of moonlight, left afterimages. At the same time as her elf-like light footsteps, her blade flashed.  

She attacked, as if folding space to close the distance.  

Kiiing!  

Sion swung his sword to deflect the attack. Had he hesitated even slightly, his head would have been severed instantly.  

Arwen glanced back, her lips twitching.  

“Retreat. Selena, Antarius.”  

Without hesitation, Selena and Antarius turned their bodies at the firm command.  

It might seem like a lack of loyalty, but for the Scales Knights, this was the correct choice.  

They thoroughly excluded unnecessary personal emotions from mission execution, judging only by objective facts.  

Now, Arwen would buy time, while the remaining two opened an escape route—that was their decision.  

Sion realized this and shouted.  

“Block their escape! I’ll deal with the Apostle!”  

“Do you think you can?”  

Whoosh—  

A streak of blue sword energy slashed at Sion’s chin. Sion barely tilted his head back to evade.  

Each sword movement chilled their very bones. This was high-level swordsmanship—so refined that even Sion marveled.  

Kaaang!  

Paaang!  

They exchanged blows repeatedly.  

Every clash between the two knights erupted in dark blue flashes.  

The sound of their battle echoed onto the city walls.  

The elite of the Scales Knight Order lived up to their reputation—their breakthrough speed was exceptional, their momentum nearly impossible to stop.  

Had Kegan or Jena not been present, such a tactic wouldn’t even have been imaginable.  

Kwaa, aang!  

As Sion parried Arwen’s clean sword strikes, he thought:  

‘This wasn’t a plan devised with the expectation of success.’  

Their strength wasn’t quite at that level yet.  

Kegan had assessed that the forces Arwen brought were incomparably strong—second only to the Light Cult.  

And Antarius and Selena represented that level.  

Then—  

At the very least, they had to demonstrate the might of the War Cult.  

This was not a place they could enter and leave as they pleased. Not anymore.  

They would use this crisis as a stepping stone to elevate the prestige of the War Cult.  

‘I’ll leave the others to Senior Kegan—’  

Sion bit his lip and focused back on the fight.  

Blocking Arwen’s attacks, her eyes cold and sharp, was already a struggle.  

Chachacha-chang!  

Cha, chachachachaang!  

The speed of their sword exchanges grew faster.  

Their arms were no longer visible, only afterimages remained.  

Trying to follow with the eyes would only lead to defeat.  

One had to block by instinct, cut, and stab into the future.  

Whoosh! Kaaang!  

Both were pushed backward by the force of their blows.  

Hwaaaah!  

Tudududu……  

The air exploded, sending surrounding objects flying.  

Sion looked up into the sky.  

The Apostle of Wisdom floated in midair. Her levitation time was long. She showed no sign of descending, calm as if lying on clouds.  

‘Impossible.’  

A human flying.  

Did Apostles of the Round Table possess such techniques?  

She simply gazed down at Sion. Moonlight shattered along her delicate jawline.  

A brief silence passed.  

Then Arwen spoke.  

“I don’t want to see blood, Sion.”  

“Then give up. Apologize, and I’ll let it go.”  

“I know you won’t do that.”  

The Apostle of Wisdom spoke softly.  

“Sion. Do you truly believe your way is right?”  

“…What?”  

“Do you really believe that building overwhelming force will suppress war and lead the world to peace?”  

Hwaaak!  

Sion raised his sword.  

He activated his divine ring. Divine energy sprouted from his meridians and filled his entire body.  

“It’s something I won’t know unless I try.”  

“Your faith is weak.”  

“And yours is pointlessly rigid.”  

Whoosh!  

Their divine powers exploded, engaging in a tug-of-war.  

Belief clashed with belief.  

They unleashed blazing divine energy charged with their wills at each other.  

Blue tendrils stretched like tentacles, entangling Sion’s divine power.  

Arwen’s divine manipulation was as free and precise as that of the Apostle of Blood. A dazzling skill, worthy of being Garfenn’s former disciple.  

‘Can I really stand against her?’  

Could he last even a few seconds?  

This was a battle to uphold their beliefs.  

They were entering the realm of mental domain combat.  

Kugugugugugu—!  

The divine clash intensified.  

And from the point of collision, the scenery began to change.  

“Sion. Show me. What is your path?”  

Behind Arwen, floating in the sky, a blue sky unfolded.  

The night sky folded away, revealing a vast sky as if they were in the middle of an ocean.  

And the world inverted.  

———!  

“Is your faith heavier than mine?”  

In an instant, everyone except Sion was placed upon a scale.  

“The Judgment of the Scales.”  

Sion murmured.  

This was Arwen’s mental world.  

The domain of the Scales, constructed by the Apostle of Wisdom.  

“From now on, every time your belief weakens, the scale will tip.”  

The outcome was obvious, even without seeing it.  

A merciless judgment had begun.

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