Episode 183
Philemon, clutching the dagger, ascended the spire.
She wasn’t physically strong, and the long climb was exhausting, her lungs burning, her legs aching.
But she had to deliver this holy relic.
“Please…!”
The relic had been temporarily revived by the dense concentration of Holy Power in Ravanta.
If she didn’t hurry, it would die again.
She had to use it to defeat Tristan.
A faint humming sound emanated from the dagger. It was an erratic, unsettling sound. Philemon stopped, her body trembling.
“No, I can’t die yet…!”
But her wishes rarely came true.
And this relic was weaker than the others.
‘But it’s our only hope…!’
There was a way to prolong its lifespan, but it was a gamble.
‘Lucius awakened his power, they said.’
Ricardo had told her. There was someone who could oppose Tristan, even without Philemon.
‘But he must be struggling as well.’
She had to choose between a risky plan with a potentially high reward and a safe plan with a limited reward.
She gripped the dagger tightly, pressing its dull purple gem against her forehead.
“Please protect Elonia.”
Just like 26 years ago, she prayed for the relic to protect her daughter, taking her first gamble.
“Elonia!”
Artius, opening the spire door, stared in horror at the scene before him. Elonia was bowing her head before Tristan.
“Elonia, why are you…?”
“D-Dad…”
Elonia, ashamed of her actions, was flustered by Artius’s shocked expression.
She didn’t want him to see her like this.
She was the princess of Ravanta, just like him. She shouldn’t be bowing her head before anyone.
But Artius was horrified for a different reason.
‘How could I raise her like this…?!’
He had tried to give her the best of everything, even though he had neglected her in her early years. She was his only daughter, his princess.
He had tried to protect her from hardship after realizing her worth.
And yet, she was bowing her head like this, her posture filled with humiliation.
Artius’s heart shattered. He cried out, his voice filled with anguish,
“Lift your head! Your head isn’t meant to be bowed before the likes of him!”
He took a step towards Elonia, but Dolores, her face filled with annoyance, snapped her fingers. A cage of black mist materialized around Artius.
“…!”
“Don’t come any closer. We’re in the middle of an important negotiation.”
Dolores smiled sweetly, her eyes crinkling. Artius swung his sword at the mist, trying to cut through it.
But unlike the phantoms, it didn’t dissipate.
“Damn it!”
He continued to attack the cage, and Elonia, shaking her head, shouted,
“Dad, stop! Dolores is a god now! You can’t defeat her!”
“…Dolores?”
Artius, his brow furrowing at the unfamiliar name, stopped attacking. Who was Dolores?
‘There’s only Tristan.’
And Felix.
‘Wait a minute.’
He looked at Tristan more closely. Elonia’s subservient posture had been so shocking that he hadn’t noticed it before, but something was different.
‘Didn’t Tristan look different earlier?’
He hadn’t been mistaken. Tristan’s appearance had changed. Not just smaller, but also… more feminine. And Felix wasn’t here.
‘What’s going on?’
If Felix was gone, Tristan should have lost his power. So why was he, or rather, she, a god now?
‘Where’s Lucius?’
He suddenly realized why he hadn’t been able to find Lucius earlier. He was lying at Tristan’s feet, unconscious. Lucius, the only one who could supposedly defeat Tristan, had been defeated.
‘Was he that weak?’
Artius, his face filled with confusion, looked at Tristan. Dolores chuckled and answered his unspoken question.
“Your Majesty, allow me to introduce myself properly. My true name is Dolores. Dolores, the god who ascended by sacrificing Felix.”
“What…?”
Dolores wasn’t going to explain the details.
But she would allow him to hear the rest of the story.
“Ravanta and I will become good partners.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
“Hehe, Your Highness, it seems your father isn’t accepting the situation very well.”
Dolores looked down at Elonia, who was trembling, her gaze fixed on the floor. Dolores, her voice filled with mock pity, said to Artius,
“Your daughter here offered me the position of Ravanta’s patron god in exchange for Lucius’s life.”
“…What?!”
“I’d like to hear Your Majesty’s opinion on this matter.”
Artius couldn’t believe his ears. Elonia wouldn’t do that.
“Elonia.”
He called out her name, but Elonia, her face filled with shame, avoided his gaze.
‘Impossible.’
Elonia sacrificing her nation for Lucius?
Artius, for the first time in a long time, felt a sense of helplessness. He looked at Dolores, who was smiling triumphantly, her hand outstretched.
“Your Majesty, all that’s left is your decision. What will it be?”
Meanwhile, at the Temple,
Valerian, anxious since the dark clouds engulfed the Imperial Palace, had been working tirelessly on Elonia’s request.
‘Please, please…!’
He knelt before the altar, drenched in holy water, chanting prayers.
He wasn’t alone.
All the High Priests, the closest servants of Madicte, were there, kneeling beside him, their bodies soaked, their voices hoarse.
One of the older High Priests finally collapsed.
“High Priest Gallion!”
His collapse triggered a chain reaction, the other High Priests falling one by one.
Thud, thud. The sounds of their bodies hitting the floor echoed through the temple, and High Priest Julius, Valerian’s senior, finally snapped.
“High Priest Valerian! I still don’t understand! Do you really think this will work?!”
“…”
Valerian couldn’t answer. He didn’t believe it either.
Even Elonia, who had made the request, had admitted it was a long shot.
“If the worst comes to pass, this is our only option. I’ll try my best to avoid it, but if it happens, I’ll be counting on you, Valerian.”
It had been a desperate, almost unreasonable request.
So Valerian had initially prayed alone.
But after the incident at the Imperial Palace, he had gathered the other High Priests, performing a ritual not unlike the Resurrectionists’.
Valerian, his hands still clasped together, his body trembling from the cold, his clothes soaked, said, his voice strained,
“This is the only thing we can do for Ravanta.”
He didn’t want to do this. He was cold, his teeth chattering, his legs numb, his mind exhausted.
But Elonia was his benefactor.
“So you’re willing to sacrifice your fellow clerics? What if they’re seriously injured?!”
High Priest Julius exclaimed, his hand striking his chest in frustration. Valerian finally looked at the other High Priests, their faces pale with exhaustion.
The younger ones were still holding on.
But most of them were elderly. This ritual could be fatal for them, unlike Valerian, who was unusually resilient.
Valerian’s resolve wavered slightly, and Julius, seeing his hesitation, tried to persuade him.
“High Priest Valerian, clerics are valuable assets. We can’t waste our energy on this.”
“…I apologize.”
“Then stop this immediately—”
“No. I will carry out Her Highness’s orders.”
“What?”
Julius frowned again, his face filled with exasperation. But Valerian couldn’t back down.
“The Holy Power surrounding the Imperial Palace is growing stronger. We might be able to use it to end this war.”
“High Priest Valerian!”
“I apologize for pushing the other High Priests. I’ll accept any punishment later.”
Valerian bowed deeply to Julius, then closed his eyes, straightened his posture, and resumed his prayers.
“Haah…”
Julius and the other High Priests were speechless.
His sister, Julietta, was stubborn, but her younger brother was even more so.
“…Let’s let the others rest first.”
Julius summoned the clerics waiting outside and had them carry the exhausted High Priests away. Most of them were too weak to continue, leaving only Julius and Valerian.
“…Aren’t you leaving?”
Valerian opened his eyes and looked at Julius, who was still standing by the door. Julius clicked his tongue.
‘His lips are blue, and yet he’s pretending to be strong.’
But he was Valerian’s senior.
He couldn’t abandon him. He quickly dismissed the other clerics, then walked over and sat down beside Valerian.
“…If I collapse, you’re writing the apology letter.”
“Even if it’s a direct order from Her Highness?”
“…Tsk.”
Julius clicked his tongue again, then closed his eyes and began praying. Valerian felt a pang of guilt and gratitude.
They resumed their prayers.
Valerian prayed desperately,
‘Please… answer our call.’
Ravanta’s faith was weak, unlike Heilan, where apostles heard the voice of their god every hundred years.
He knew it was a long shot.
But he had to try his best, for his benefactor.
‘Please, Madicte. Hear your servant’s plea.’
Just as he prayed, his voice filled with desperation and a hint of resentment,
A bright light erupted from the sacred flame on the altar.
“…!”
Both Julius and Valerian opened their eyes, startled by the sudden burst of light.
“High Priest Valerian!”
“I-I saw it too.”
Could it be…?
But the flame quickly died down, returning to its normal state.
“Ah…”
A sigh of disappointment escaped their lips. Just then,
Flash!
A blinding light filled the temple.
“Valerian…!”
Julius, trying to shield Valerian, collapsed. Valerian also felt his consciousness fading.
The light swirled around the temple, then shot out, disappearing into the sky.