Bear School Astartes

Chapter 947 - 929: Children of the Gods

"Neeigh!"

The Qilin, which had been waiting for a while at the foot of the artificial "cliff" created by Losric’s rise, let out a cry that sounded somewhere between smug and impatient.

Its eyes, bright red like crystal, watched as the Demon Hunter and the others were carried down by a few wing‑flapping little demons.

Losric, this massive Mountain City that covered an entire face of a mountain range, had been directly raised by more than a hundred meters under the orders of the two Princes.

By rights, this kind of power was more absurd than detonating hundreds of hydrogen bombs.

Yet in this world, as the mightiest branch among the Divine Race, Losric could pull this off without much effort at all.

And at the same time, Losric’s strongest violent institution, the Losric Knights, still fought with guns and swords.

To Lann, given the education he’d received and the common sense he’d constructed, this was extremely abnormal.

But considering the differing traits and vast disparities between worlds, perhaps having this sense of dissonance... was what truly made sense.

As a Qilin from the New Continent’s Ancient Dragons, it certainly didn’t care about a mere hundred‑meter height difference.

The thing could probably do a hard landing and not so much as get scratched; the Life Force and toughness of New Continent monsters were beyond question.

But if you were sitting on its back, the passengers weren’t going to walk away unscathed from the backlash of a hundred‑meter drop.

So Lann and Rong Buqiu, along with Othello and Geside, were all delivered down by the little demons on standby at Losric City’s gate.

These little demons had long, thin, scrawny limbs and bat wings, but were unexpectedly strong and flew quite steadily.

Not long ago, after the Profound Church squad under Lann’s lead had successfully fought their way out of the Great Library and brought back the Angel Daughter, Geside—

They had, according to the original route, safely left the Inner City and returned to the outer high wall.

Geside’s condition was far from optimistic; even later, in the church on the high wall, Klimte and Priestess Emma, two high‑ranking clergy, had unleashed miracles at full force but to no effect.

The crystal’s erosion was too strong, and the lore of crystal too profound, too ancient.

The stories the two of them had mastered were useless against it.

So, to get the Saintess treated as quickly as possible, they had to get Geside to the Profound Church and before Rosalie without delay.

And of course, there was Othello, who had appeared from his father’s torment.

In terms of transport efficiency, probably only Losric’s Dragon Knights could compete with the Qilin.

But now that the Dragon Knights of the fire‑linking faction had been purged by the Prince School in the Inner City, there was only one candidate left.

"I’m leaving it to you, Lann."

Before departure, Klimte clasped the Demon Hunter’s hands, his face framed by a graying full beard, wearing an uneasy, guilty expression.

"I beg you, you must..."

Halfway through, the devout believer choked up, unable to control himself.

"Rosalie really can’t afford to lose anything else. She’s already... too sorrowful."

"I will, my friend." The Demon Hunter patted his shoulder in reassurance.

That gentle and sincere face even made Klimte briefly lose himself.

"The revered Rosalie once saved me when I was being eroded by the Dark. In every sense, I will return her child to her side."

Lann had given his word, and Klimte believed his promise without the slightest doubt.

He had already seen the Demon Hunter’s character, and had no reservations about it.

"Don’t start acting all high and mighty where it doesn’t matter!"

Set down from the little demon’s claws, Lann walked up to the Qilin and punched its long, elegant neck.

The Qilin just gave its head an unconcerned shake, its pale mane dancing with the motion.

He swung himself into the saddle; Geside and Othello were held separately in the arms of Lann and Rong Buqiu.

"Target is the Profound Church. You remember the way."

Once seated, Lann lightly patted the Qilin’s cheek and spoke to it.

"Make it quick, buddy. Things are bad."

Lann lowered his head and looked at the Saintess in his arms, blind and voiceless.

She curled tightly against him as if clinging to her last harbor, from time to time letting out pained murmurs.

The Qilin seemed to sense that pain and urgency as well.

It turned its head to glance at its back, and dropped all thought of playing around or slacking off.

Those red‑crystal eyes looked at Lann and nodded solemnly.

Azure lightning flickered over the Qilin’s beautiful blue‑and‑white coat, tearing through the air. Yet it only flashed beneath the broad, heavy silk cloth inscribed with runes, without touching the passengers on its back.

This lightning could stimulate the Qilin’s bodily activity, and when necessary make its hide harder than steel.

With a whoosh!

Holding its speed to the perfect threshold, the Qilin turned into a trail of blue‑and‑white lightning afterimage across the desolate, jumbled earth and stone, shooting toward the distance.

The entire route was something the Qilin’s speed could easily devour.

Hillsides, cliffs, rocks in the way—none of these terrains posed any obstacle to the Qilin.

On the Road of Sacrifices, they even passed by the place of that Crystal Elder who’d allied with the Undead Team.

But Lann had no intention of provoking him.

Even though the betrayal of the Crystal Elder twins was already out in the open, there was something more important to do right now.

Racing like lightning all the way, the Demon Hunter soon returned to the domain of the Profound Church.

Even though the sun had risen again, the Undead who had already died and turned into wandering souls still hadn’t returned to normal.

In the graveyard before the Profound Church, wandering souls whose corpses had long since been hollowed out by maggots roamed about; there were so many of them it was practically one per step.

And the Gravekeepers who were supposed to bleed them out and stuff them back into their coffins had clearly gone mad as well.

They prowled about brandishing their twin blades, and no matter whether it was a wandering soul or not, they looked ready to chop first and ask questions never.

Luckily, with the Qilin’s mobility, these lunatics didn’t even have a chance to get close to Lann, much less block his path.

Passing by the Purification Chapel, Lann glanced inside.

The old Knight who’d once exchanged a few words with him on the road—Grandpa Gael—seemed to be gone now; Lann hoped he’d found some place to settle down in this chaotic age.

Stepping once more into the thick-walled church, he looked at that solemn, grand, and familiar architecture, those huge flame-red banners hanging down from the dome, veiling the statues of the Divine Beings, symbolizing the flame’s protection.

Lann actually felt a strange sense of peace in this unsettled world.

Maybe it was because he’d once enjoyed a rare stretch of calm here, or maybe it was because of Rosalie’s "Sunshine Moisturizing," that warmth that had sunk straight into body and soul.

In any case, in a world held together by fire, this feeling was truly precious.

"Clatter-clatter"—the Qilin’s hooves struck the floor just inside the church; a shallow, clear layer of water had pooled there, and its hooves kicked up little splashes.

The sound echoed long and low through the vast interior of the church.

"Who’s there?"

From the second-floor platform of the church, a voice questioned him, the words carrying an echo as well.

Lann looked up and saw Leonard’s silver-masked face.

"Ah, looks like our hero is back?"

The other man’s voice had the same old playful, low timbre, sounding exactly like some ill-intentioned schemer.

But Lann had long since figured out what this guy was like; that creepy tone, to his ears, was nothing more than Leonard being incapable of talking like a normal person.

"Cut the act! It’s urgent! Get us up there!"

"Of course, of course."

Leonard bent down to pull the lever as he spoke.

"What I sent you to do was urgent to begin with. Now that you’re back, of course I want to see... hm?!"

With the lever’s activation, the mechanism began to rise; Lann and the Qilin stood atop the one-person-wide metal gate frame and were lifted upward by the mechanism.

It aligned perfectly with the platform where Rosalie’s bedchamber was located.

And right then, the previously unhurried Leonard suddenly looked like he’d seen a ghost!

He saw the woman cradled in Lann’s arms, and he also saw the cat on the Qilin’s back dragging along a huge infant!

In an instant, he realized he’d gotten it completely wrong.

He’d thought Lann had just come back mid-mission to seek some backup—after all, escorting the Saintess home couldn’t be easy.

But he never expected the Demon Hunter to return already carrying the target, and even with a bonus target!

"Her Highness Geside! And...!"

The eyes behind the silver mask widened involuntarily, and his speech turned clumsy and stilted.

"King Othello’s—Prince Othello?!"

"Hurry, hurry, come with me!"

The snide greetings, the sarcastic small talk... in a single instant, Leonard forgot every line he’d planned out.

He couldn’t even maintain the basic steady footing of a Warrior; in his rush to turn around he almost tripped himself and fell face-first.

But Leonard no longer cared about any of that.

Lann and the Qilin followed right on his heels; a cluster of Maggot Men squirmed across the terrace floor, and Lann only gave them a nod in passing without slowing down.

Leonard didn’t even bother with that much.

They hurried all the way to the door of Rosalie’s bedchamber.

The dent in the outer iron gate that Elderidge had hammered in when he hollowed out the giant was still there.

And Leonard rushed ahead of Lann to strain against the sturdy door, which was nearly as tall and heavy as the main doors of the Profound Church.

"No, don’t touch it. I’ve got it, let me."

From Leonard’s tone, it was as if he were terrified that any movement from Lann might somehow damage the Saintess in his arms.

The huge, heavy door swung open, and for the first time since he’d been laid across the Goddess’s lap for healing, Lann saw Rosalie again.

She still sat slumped on her bed, wearing her black veil, sunk in sorrow into her own world.

But this time was different.

As the main doors creaked open, it was as if she suddenly sensed something all at once.

Her once silent, grief-stricken head snapped up, turning toward Lann and Rong Buqiu as they stepped through the doorway.

Or rather, toward the children of god they carried.

On the lower half of Rosalie’s face, not hidden by the veil, her delicate lips trembled.

Even without a tongue, Lann and Leonard could still clearly tell what she was murmuring.

They were her children.