Vol 3 Chapter 68: “Emotions”

“The Hero’s party has staged a coup against the Bainte government.”

A mountain of corpses.

Amidst the carnage, Priestess Mistl continues speaking as if this were the most natural topic of conversation.

“Becoming a hero is the most optimal solution, wouldn’t you agree? They are the only beings capable of speaking directly to the gods. One could even inquire about the path to becoming a god.”

Horo understood the meaning behind the words of the person standing before her.

It was the same as Sukui.

Madmen have their own kind of logic.

“However, things didn’t go as smoothly as planned. I climbed my way to a position where I could receive divine revelations and asked the gods how to ascend to divinity myself.”

This raised a question.

“Sugui Keisei, the Kensei. A rare existence that worships death. Could he also be someone who seeks to become a god?”

Sukui’s abnormalities.

His peculiarity of worshiping death.

Could it be because he, too, heard the same divine revelation?

“He is a fascinating individual. Much like myself, he has killed countless people, acquiring the magic of death—the magic of killing. And perhaps, by facing death in situations equivalent to being killed, he even gained immortality magic.”

Such unwavering devotion to death.

And then, their recent conversation.

“Sukui-san is an extraordinary individual. When I mentioned the words ‘meeting God,’ he didn’t even flinch. Not a single trace of recognition appeared in his expression at such an outrageous statement.”

But you were different.

Horo noticed it.

It had shown on her face.

Horo had heard from Sukui about his being transported from another world and his encounter with a mysterious figure within it.

Hearing this, Horo had thought:

Sukui must have been chosen by a god.

And that thought had betrayed her, showing on her face.

“He must have already known. That granting death is the path to becoming a god. That’s why he elevated death to the level of faith and continued to grant it.”

No.

Horo knew the real reason Sukui worshiped death.

It was exactly as he had said.

Because death alone is equal.

“And so, I came to see him as my rival.”

“I was overjoyed,” she said.

She had been disheartened, believing herself to be the only one carrying out the natural act of aspiring to become a god.

And then, a human with the same mission appeared.

“And to think, he even went so far as to create a group that venerates death.”

There was even a sense of defeat.

Sukui had approached the mandate of granting death in a manner vastly different from her own.

Realizing this, she felt she couldn’t afford to lose.

Priestess Mistl simply thought so.

“That’s why I decided to grant death to the villagers and to all of you.”

“After all, this could be a competition,” she added.

As if it were a game.

She spoke not with hatred, but with the refreshing tone of someone playing a match, reveling in victory and defeat.

“Leaving aside the villagers, you all are quite the challenge. Perhaps I should consider alternative methods.”

Calmly, she informed Horo of her intent to kill while continuing her explanation.

Broken.

As broken as Sukui, perhaps even more so.

And wielding the same magic as Sukui.

“Is that all?”

Horo felt her own voice reverberate, cold and detached.

Priestess Mistl smirked.

In the blink of an eye, flames surged, filling the underground chamber to its brim. The fire raced up the staircase they had descended moments before.

“Then, farewell.”

There were no people near the room where they had originally been.

Horo’s reason for making such a loud entrance was simple: to ensure no one would be around.

Mistl ensured the destruction by unleashing an immense torrent of flames.

In truth, everyone in the great cathedral had already fled immediately after hearing the destruction of Horo’s room.

A crude and hasty method—one that Sukui would never have chosen.

“Shall I kill you now?”

Horo had restrained herself.

She thought it necessary to listen. If it meant learning more about Sukui, it was worth it.

If it could be for Sukui’s sake, she believed she needed to hear this out.

But now, it no longer mattered.

With a quiet murmur, Horo unleashed her flames, engulfing the underground in a hellish inferno.

In a world where even sight was obscured by the searing heat, Priestess Mistl watched.

She saw Horo’s genuine anger.

“I believe this is the first time I’ve witnessed such a thing.”

Unlike Sukui, who has gone mad believing death is equality.

Unlike Martiel, the deacon, who has gone mad valuing self-sacrifice.

Unlike Mistl herself, who has gone mad with a warped longing to transform into a god.

This was an entirely different kind of madness.

“Purely, without logic—madness born solely from raw emotion.”

Perhaps that is the most terrifying kind.

Amidst a heat so intense it threatened to vaporize her body, Priestess Mistl cloaked herself in a black miasma and spoke in admiration.

“My master would never say such things.”

Caught in the grip of fury, Horo let her voice escape.

“He couldn’t say anything. He’s too kind for that. He’s always been someone who lives for the sake of others.”

Even if I’m the only one who believes so.

Horo continued.

“How dare you.”

So, I’ll say it in his stead.

“How dare you do this to the villagers.”

The flames roared higher, shaking the cathedral to its foundations.

“How dare you harm the children.”

The cathedral—the most solid and massive structure in this city.

“How dare you harm those who wished for happiness.”

With just the strength of one person, the cathedral began to collapse, its destruction accompanied by the tolling of its colossal bell.

“How dare you. How dare you. How dare you.”

My first true friends.

“How dare you take Mei-san, and Mei-san’s father.”

And finally…

“How dare you steal life itself from my master!”

A deafening roar. The two below glanced up to see that the ground above had become visible.

The cathedral had collapsed, its largest bell fallen, and Horo’s flames erupted like a volcanic explosion.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to my master!”

Fueled by rage.

“Magnificent.”

Even in the midst of this, Priestess Mistl remained unfazed, using her death magic solely to nullify its effects on herself.

“Such large-scale magic rivals that of an A-rank mage. No doubt aided by divine blessings that enhance her magic, but even so…”

To achieve this level of power.

As she mused aloud, Horo shouted back.

“I don’t care if you use the same magic as my master!”

No matter what magic you use, I will continue to expand my spells, leaving you with no escape.

Horo’s fighting style was exceedingly straightforward.

When Mistl’s mana is depleted, she won’t be able to protect herself.

In contrast, Horo could keep casting spells endlessly, using the countless weapons she had gathered on her way here.

Now, without a doubt, she would kill her.

She couldn’t forgive the atrocities this person had committed.

And she would settle this before Sukui returned.

“Never again will I let my master lose anything.”

“A splendid strategy,” Mistl said, still smiling.

Even with her death magic, the odds of victory seemed increasingly slim as the situation dragged on.

“But Sukui-san would have thought this through more carefully.”

As she spoke, the black miasma surrounding her began to expand dramatically.

A focused, all-out breakthrough to compensate for the difference in mana reserves.

Horo immediately conjured wing-like rocks to fix herself midair, taking flight.

From above, she observed the crumbling cathedral. It seemed the townspeople had fled far enough away.

Relieved that no one else would be caught in the destruction, Horo analyzed the situation.

The expansion of the black miasma—it could only mean that the output of Mistl’s death magic had increased.

Horo surmised that touching it would mean instant death. Even so, she hadn’t considered Mistl to be a significant threat.

Until she saw the black miasma slowly rise, like smoke, erasing all her magic as it climbed.

“Why…?”

The inferno that had engulfed the underground, the flames raging aboveground—all of it was overwhelmed by the black miasma that reached even Horo’s position midair.

The rubble of the cathedral touched the miasma and was instantly reduced to ash.

“No matter the magic, I can overwhelm it with sheer mana. And by flying, I prevent a close-range breakthrough.”

Her lack of caution was astounding.

“Did you think I wouldn’t have the blessing of the God of Love?”

The torrent of death magic clearly exceeded the output of Horo’s flames.

And yet, Mistl didn’t glare at her.

“May the death I grant you serve as a stepping stone toward godhood.”

With a prayer-like bow, Mistl consumed even Horo’s newly formed spells.

And Horo disappeared into the black miasma.