Chapter 431 - Two Days
Chapter 431 - Two Days
Audin contemplated his inner self, confirming the restraints placed upon his body.
In his mind, the image of golden chains tightly coiling around his entire being emerged.
Over time, thin veils covering the chains had frayed and vanished, likely from his occasional use of divine power, but the chains themselves remained.
The chains were his own doing, while the veils were restrictions imposed by others.
Seeing the chains again after so long brought a flood of memories that he had deliberately avoided confronting.
"Defending heresy—is that what you believe an Inquisitor's role to be?"
A corrupt bishop had once raged at him.
"Trusted because he claimed to follow the God of War?
What a disgrace!"
Another priest's rebuke resurfaced.
"What will you do now?"
Even the one who had mentored and guided him asked this question.
That person, the previous pope, was a man said to be blind but capable of glimpsing into people's futures.
He had resigned from his position just ten days after becoming pope.
"This is no place for me, brothers and sisters," he had declared, casting aside his authority before whispering to Audin, "I felt like I wouldn't live long if I stayed there."
It was an absurd reason, yet he had claimed it was the result of foreseeing his future.
Among the chaotic entanglement of memories, this was someone Audin respected as a father, the only family he had known.
And it was his question that had left Audin unable to answer for a long time.
This happened shortly after Audin became a sinner for failing to fulfill his duty as an Inquisitor.
"Do you not know what to do?"
"Yes, I have lost my way," Audin had confessed, kneeling.
"The only destination for a shepherd who has lost their path is the darkness below."
The previous pope, the man he saw as a father, had spoken in a stern tone.
"To the underground prison cloaked in darkness, is it not?"
Audin had responded.
In the doctrine, the judgment of sin was overseen by the deity of balance, who governed the sun and moon.
A sinner would face judgment before the God of War and, if condemned, be confined to an underground prison.
Audin served the God of War, while the previous pope worshipped a two-faced god.
One face symbolized the jailor of the divine prison, embodying darkness and love, while the other represented judgment through radiance and divine light.
Though seemingly contradictory, scripture proclaimed these two aspects to be one.
A deity had descended into the deepest prison of the underworld to offer pure love while leaving the light of radiance on the surface to illuminate the world.
Thus, the single deity served both as the jailor of the underworld, offering compassion and forgiveness, and as the enforcer of justice, delivering punishment through light.
"You are destined to wield the radiance," the previous pope had once said to Audin.
Those words led Audin to become a punisher of heretics.
The God of War had blessed him with an exceptional body, allowing Audin to swiftly transition from an apprentice priest to a combat priest.
His time as a combat priest was extraordinary as well.
"You're the first to delve so deeply into Valah-style martial arts and achieve such mastery."
His talent quickly brought him into the realm of divine power.
With the light of radiance and divine brilliance descending upon him through his devotion to the God of War, his peers began to exclaim, "A miracle!"
While training to become a paladin, Audin was appointed as an Inquisitor.
"Pray and temper your body and spirit there," instructed a sly-eyed archbishop, pushing Audin to take on the role of heretic punisher.
Audin complied, wielding the light of radiance to punish.
One day, during his duties, he executed the hidden son of a guilty bishop.
This marked the beginning of his doubts.
In a small town under orders from a bishop, Audin encountered a man accused of heresy.
The man immolated himself in a desperate bid to prove his innocence.
Watching the man's body consumed by flames, Audin instinctively felt that something was profoundly wrong.
But what was the mistake?
Was it his faith in the divine?
The decayed state of the temple?
The power-hungry archbishop?
The pope who resigned after glimpsing the future?
Or perhaps…
"Is it the fault of the god who granted me, so unworthy, this strength?"
No, it could not be.
The flaw lay in his own inability to grasp the will of his god.
His faith wavered.
The foundation of his belief began to crumble.
The dream of becoming a paladin who eradicated evil and sent demons to divine judgment was shattered.
The tower built on his faith collapsed.
"If punishing with radiance is unbearable, then hide yourself in the darkness," his mentor had advised.
At the time, Audin simply sought to escape.
He placed restrictions on himself, both to suppress his power and to avoid responsibility.
Even that wasn't enough; others who wielded divine power added further restraints to his body.
"I'm sorry, brother," said a comrade who would have willingly sacrificed their life for Audin.
"Why did you do it?"
asked a sister who now looked at him with hatred, despite their shared laughter the day before.
Without a word of defense, Audin accepted the restrictions, abandoned his position, and left the temple.
On his way out, his mentor had spoken one last time:
"When the day comes that your path becomes clear, you will step forward of your own accord."
"Is that a prophecy?"
"Prophecy?
Hardly.
Let me be honest—I cannot predict the future.
It's a guess, an expectation.
If I, as pope, have more enemies than allies, it's inevitable that someone will try to kill me."
Six months later, the mentor who spoke those words was stoned to death as a heretic.
He had no divine power beyond simple healing abilities.
Audin learned of the incident six months after it happened.
The rage he felt then was indescribable.
He wanted to storm the temple and destroy everyone inside.
But he didn't.
To do so would have been to uproot and burn the last remnants of his foundation, leaving nothing behind.
Instead, he wandered, eventually finding himself in the ranks of a chaotic squad.
There, in his despair, he encountered someone who had not given up on anything.
That man welcomed knights, survived wars, triumphed in civil strife, and faced demons without faltering.
Even the king of the East sought him out personally.
Audin began to question whether he could persevere without breaking his own restraints.
He dreamt once more of becoming a shield and sword of divine brilliance, a fist that would eradicate evil in the name of his god.
However, a problem remained.
He had sworn an oath to bind himself and could not break it on a whim.
No one in the temple would approve of him breaking the prohibition.
The past intertwined, bringing him back to the questions he had once hurled into his inner void.
Legion, a secluded monastery in the corner of the holy city.
He had no parents from the moment he was born.
"Why was I born?"
Audin had often asked himself.
His unnecessarily large body—what was its purpose?
Even when he attained sanctity, the question remained.
Was it to slay the temple's enemies, labeled heretics?
No, it couldn't be that.
He sought to become a fist that eradicates evil.
That was his goal, but there were times he couldn't achieve it.
He threw those moments behind him, leaving the past temporarily forgotten.
Instead, he looked toward a new sun, setting his sights not on today but on the approaching tomorrow.
"What did you say you wanted to achieve by becoming a knight?"
Audin asked, and Enkrid answered.
"A battlefield free of children, a knight who upholds chivalry, a world that reveres what is right—that is the world I wish to build."
On that day, hearing Enkrid's answer, Audin wept.
He hid in a secluded corner behind the barracks, praying as tears streamed down his face, careful not to let anyone notice.
Jaxen and a few others saw but said nothing.
It wasn't the first time Audin had cried while praying.
During one of those moments, Teresa approached him, patiently waiting for his prayer to end before speaking.
"I think my body and talent are insignificant.
I tried learning songs to calm my heart, but it hasn't been easy."
"Why do you strive to go further?"
"Because I wish to walk the path I believe is right.
And I think that path lies beside him.
More than anything, I want to protect this place."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, it is.
I want to challenge him, prove myself, and support the path he walks."
To set a purpose and act on it—that was the greatest light a person could possess.
It may not be divine, but it is an enduring light.
Reciting the words of the holy scriptures, Audin nodded.
"I heard you've chosen some recruits.
Let's begin 'sincere training' together."
Audin's words made Teresa briefly regret sharing her worries.
The phrase "sincere training" alone gave her a sense of foreboding.
Perhaps imprisonment in an underground dungeon would be preferable to such training.
It was during the process of selecting devout recruits with strong physiques that an incident occurred.
Audin realized that one of the prohibitions binding him had broken.
"Never defy the temple's words, for they are always correct."
Then he would have to return to the temple and adjust that "correctness" slightly.
If necessary, he would have to break the prohibitions.
However, until he received permission, he wouldn't arbitrarily break them.
That was rooted in Audin's belief.
Even if he were to die, he wouldn't release all the prohibitions.
Only after telling the temple what he believed to be right would he consider breaking them.
Even if it meant dying for it.
Thanks to one person's unwavering dream, another's life had changed entirely.
Ragna awoke from sleep and immediately noticed the change.
The cold air.
His breathing as he inhaled and exhaled.
The fallen leaves resting on the ground.
The dust swirling in the air.
Everything felt several times clearer and more vivid than before.
It seemed as though if he stretched out his hand, he could snatch the barbarian's axe from far away.
Even though the axe lay almost twenty paces away, it felt possible.
Ragna extended his hand, clenching the air.
Naturally, without extraordinary abilities or magic, the distant axe didn't leap into his grasp.
However, the moment he mimicked grabbing the air, Rem instinctively gripped the handle of his axe tightly.
It happened almost simultaneously.
Seeing the barbarian react, Ragna smirked.
"Crazy bastard, can't you just stay out of my sight?"
It was as if Rem had read his mind, though it hadn't been realized in action.
This won't work.
Though he felt capable of anything, many things remained impossible.
He had made a breakthrough, surpassed a wall, but there was so much to explore and understand.
Ragna recalled the duel between the Eastern King and Enkrid.
The King had stood firm, resisting the knight's might.
He had held back significantly, not as a mentor but as a sparring partner helping Enkrid unleash his full strength.
Ragna had seen it all.
He had observed the energy flowing from the King's weapon into Enkrid's blade.
No, he had felt it.
Could intent be gathered and realized in reality?
Could he, for example, pull Rem's axe toward him, disregarding physical distance?
Yes, it's possible.
To do so, he would need to close the distance by moving his feet.
He couldn't accomplish it merely by reaching out.
But through this, he naturally understood the principle of oppression.
It wasn't simply about glaring at someone with murderous intent or exuding energy.
It was about manifesting will into reality.
To tell the opponent through sheer willpower:
This blade at my waist, the spear on my back, even this fork I hold can end your life.
Even a hand alone could suffice.
By envisioning an action and subtly conveying it to the opponent, their survival instincts would constrict their limbs, heart, and mind.
That was oppression.
Ragna experimented with a fork in the dining hall.
Once on Rem.
"This lunatic—what's his problem?"
Rem snarled, glaring with a barbarian's ferocity.
"Brother, please restrain yourself," Audin said with a smile, though a vein bulged on his forehead.
Dunbakel hissed and retreated.
Teresa furrowed her brows, reciting a part of the scriptures while subtly pulling her tray to use as a shield.
Ropord, sitting nearby, trembled visibly, cold sweat dripping onto his tray.
"You might give someone a heart attack."
The Shepherd of the Wastes muttered, subtly unsheathing a blade.
Its black edge gleamed faintly—a weapon known as Idol Slayer.
Ragna saw what clung to the blade, something that gnawed at the soul and severed will itself.
Though he sensed its presence, its exact nature eluded him.
To truly understand, he would have to wield it.
Lastly, there was Big Eyes.
Unaware of everything, Krais commented on the chilly air.
For those who react sharply, there are also those who don't.
Could this be a way to gauge skill or talent?
It seemed possible.
Ragna spent every waking moment, apart from eating and sleeping, honing his swordsmanship.
The Eastern King's parting words rang true.
Now was the time to set himself on the right path.
While he felt omnipotent, every accomplishment required a process.
Could his blade split a mountain?
Not in one strike.
But he could slay a mage attempting to rend the mountain with magic.
Distinguishing what was possible and what wasn't, Ragna trained relentlessly.
His body moved tirelessly until it was drenched in sweat, leaving him to sleep soundly at night.
After days of repetition, Enkrid removed the bandages from his hand and asked:
"When will you be ready?"
It was a challenge to fight.
Ragna paused for a moment to reflect, then said:
"Two days."
He felt certain.
Though controlling his strength was still difficult, two days would be enough.
His talent was extraordinary.
For most, crossing a wall and stepping into a knight's realm would take months of readjustment, but Ragna didn't need even half a month.
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