Episode 79
─ …(omitted) The day when the Goddess’s realm stands tall on the island of Britannia is not far off.
The letter was indeed penned by Cardinal Nikolai, a respected elder of the White Tower. Yet, it was nothing more than a convincing fabrication by Dale to deceive Charles VII.
From the start, there was no alliance between the White Tower and the Maiden of the Holy.
And if Charles doubted the letter’s contents, Dale was prepared to offer Nikolai’s head as proof of betrayal.
Executing an elder and cardinal of the White Tower is no trivial matter. It would require a grave justification, such as treason against the Empire or collusion with its enemies.
‘Fortunately, it didn’t come to the worst-case scenario where I had to use that insurance.’
A fortunate outcome for both parties involved.
Nikolai, bound by the geas of absolute obedience, was Dale’s puppet within the heart of the Sistine Goddess Church. His value was too great to be discarded.
There were still countless tasks he needed to accomplish while alive.
”…A truce, you say?”
“Indeed.”
At Charles’s words, the Holy Maiden Aurelia was left speechless.
“The Empire will never stop until Britannia is crushed!”
“Haven’t they already paid a heavy price?”
Charles VII spoke in a tone as if soothing a child.
“Too many sons of the kingdom have already shed their blood.”
”…”
“Our Sistine Sister Goddess emphasizes compassion and mercy…”
As if weary of war.
“Why do we defy the Goddess’s will and continue this brutal slaughter?”
“The Empire brought this upon themselves.”
“And yet, they now seek peace.”
Peace.
“The Empire’s commander has proposed an ‘indefinite truce’ and promised to withdraw their troops within weeks.”
“Do you trust the Empire’s word?”
“I simply wish for peace.”
“Peace…”
Aurelia tried to speak.
“Officially, our kingdom will accept the Empire’s ‘truce agreement,’ and there will be no more war.”
But Charles cut her off, leaving no room for objection.
“The war is over, and now a time of peace has come.”
Charles VII’s belief in peace was unwavering.
Indulging in pleasure and luxury, burying his head in the bosoms of courtesans, savoring wine.
To achieve that peace, it was time to put an end to the dreadful war.
Shortly after, as the Empire began preparations for withdrawal over several weeks.
Reports came in of some soldiers deserting and starting to pillage across Britannia’s territories.
Deserters from the Empire’s army, committing looting and arson throughout the kingdom. Bands of outlaws.
The kingdom responded by deploying small strike forces to swiftly deal with the marauders. And the Holy Maiden Aurelia took it upon herself to lead these forces, wielding her sword for the kingdom’s peace.
A few weeks later, less than 20,000 Imperial troops began their withdrawal from the port city of Dover.
As Charles VII had said, it seemed the era of peace was drawing near.
Meanwhile, to eradicate the remnants of the Empire’s forces within the kingdom, the Holy Maiden continued to lead small forces on rapid deployments.
A few weeks later.
News arrived that a group of Imperial deserters had attacked one of the key cities along the Loire River, Orléans. Immediately, the Holy Maiden once again led her strike force into action.
And as soon as Aurelia left the capital of Reims, Archbishop Thomas Becket was arrested in the name of Charles VII.
On charges of treason.
Using the ‘White Tower’s secret letter’ that Dale of Saxony had once handed to Charles as evidence.
Shortly thereafter.
As the Holy Maiden Aurelia and her knights entered Orléans, having annihilated the Imperial deserters surrounding the city and claimed victory.
”…”
Aurelia felt an inexplicable unease, swallowing hard. The eerie silence enveloping the city, like walking through a city of the dead.
“Welcome.”
And from within the silence, a voice she knew all too well. A voice she could never forget.
The Imperial commander, who should have been sailing back to the Empire from Britannia, was there.
”…Lord Dale.”
The very ‘Black Prince’ who had once fought the Holy Maiden to a standstill.
With countless Imperial elites at his back.
The First Sword of the Continent… the Holy Swordsman and the Knights of Saint Magdalene.
The high elder of the Red Tower, the 7th Circle Red Mage ‘Lady Scarlet’ and the Purifier Unit.
And the White Mages led by Cardinal Nikolai of the White Tower.
The Empire’s top forces gathered to face a single ‘unmatched power.’
“King Charles has betrayed you, Lady Aurelia.”
At Dale’s words, the Holy Maiden Aurelia smiled bitterly.
“And by now, Archbishop Thomas has likely been accused of treason in Reims.”
”…!”
Archbishop Thomas. Once a high elder of the White Tower and a 7th Circle White Mage. The thought brought no laughter. To think the kingdom’s greatest powers, each as precious as blood, would vanish so meaninglessly.
“I warned you, didn’t I?”
Dale spoke to the bitterly smiling Holy Maiden.
“You should have considered, Lady Aurelia.”
The true meaning of saving the Kingdom of Britannia.
“By handing the throne to that man, you effectively chose not to save Britannia.”
Dale sneered coldly.
“Is this truly the will of the heavens, as the Goddess desires?”
As the puppet of the heavens, the Holy Maiden Aurelia could say nothing.
She could only continue to smile bitterly, even to the very end.
An unnamed soldier’s sword shattered.
“Ha, ha-ha-ha…!”
A man was laughing maniacally.
──A man with the head of a pig.
His armor strained against the grotesquely swollen flesh beneath, ready to burst at any moment.
A pig in human form. A nauseatingly hideous beast.
Yet the sword in his hand, emitting a ‘pure white brilliance,’ was not. One of the continent’s mightiest artifacts, forged by the first master of the White Tower.
The ‘Holy Sword Durandal.’
In other words, the man clad in armor with a pig’s head was the Empire’s celebrated war hero… the Holy Swordsman, ‘Avatar of the Count of Brandenburg.’
The pinnacle of a knight’s art, projecting one’s ideology onto the sword. The armor of ideology. And the result of overlaying his ideology onto his sword, armor, and body was this.
The true form of the Holy Swordsman. A beast twisted by the desires of life, forsaking the path of humanity. People mockingly and reverently called this form the “King of Pigs.”
And it was this King of Pigs who stood before the Holy Maiden.
His armor’s lower abdomen bulging grotesquely, having abandoned all human decency to become a pig driven by desire.
Crack, crack!
The armor burst, unable to contain the ever-expanding mass of desire. The heavy pink flesh was exposed beneath.
”…”
So hideous and grotesque, a concentration of all the world’s ugliness.
The King of Pigs.
Pig fat dripped from his body like broth. Saliva dribbled from his mouth.
And the King of Pigs, the Holy Swordsman, charged at the Holy Maiden, who resisted to the last.
Six wings of light amplified, striking down a pillar of annihilation, a barrage of destruction in its wake.
The city shattered under the overwhelming force of obliteration.
Yet the pig-headed Holy Swordsman remained.
”…!”
The massive flesh was unscathed.
The ‘unmatched power’ was not the Holy Maiden Aurelia’s alone. Especially without the 7th Circle White Mage… Archbishop Thomas was not here.
With high-ranking Red and White Mages supporting the Holy Swordsman, victory seemed impossible.
Driven by desire, the King of Pigs launched himself forward. Unfazed by his own weight, he accelerated, and the Holy Swordsman’s sword struck down.
The clash of avatars. But the result was overwhelmingly one-sided.
The pig’s sword overwhelmed the angel’s.
A sword combining weight and speed, yet devoid of any nobility.
“Ha, ha-ha-ha-ha!”
With each swing, the wings of light were torn. Wings shredded, armor shattered, the Holy Maiden’s noble body was ripped, blood scattering.
A pig defiling an angel. A grotesque spectacle.
Despite its hideousness, the martial prowess of the pig-headed Holy Swordsman was not to be underestimated. The title of the Continent’s Seven Swords was not easily earned.
“Gah, gah…!”
The holy knight reached out, and the pig’s hand gripped the saintess’s neck, lifting her off the ground.
“You’ll make a fine broodmare,” the pig sneered.
“Gah… ugh…” The saintess struggled for breath, her body writhing in agony. The “King of Pigs” spoke to the angel gasping for air.
“Bear my children, woman.”
His voice was twisted with a grotesque mix of desire and obsession.
“Bear them, and bear them again, and again, and again…!”
The pig let out a deranged laugh.
“Don’t even think about resting until you’ve birthed ten, no, a hundred of them!”
He reveled in his vile, unrestrained lust.
“Oink, oink!”
He slammed the saintess to the ground, his massive body pinning her down.
”…!”
In the suffocating pain, she turned her head. A broken sword lay beside her, the weapon of a nameless soldier who had once fought for her.
She had no strength left to fight her enemy. But to escape this humiliation and disgrace, she might still have the will to drive the blade into her own heart.
So she reached out. Or tried to.
“Stop.”
A voice rang out, and for a moment, Aurelia’s hand froze. But the pig-headed knight did not. He was ready to crush the saintess and unleash his desires.
“By the covenant of divine command—I said stop, you filthy swine.”
Thus, Dale spoke.
The Geas, the binding oath.
Dale’s voice echoed, invoking the very oath they had sworn on the day of the war, a vow etched into their hearts. In all future battles and operations, the knight was to obey Dale’s commands without question.
At that moment, the pig, still pinning the saintess, turned his head toward Dale.
It was a fleeting instant.
The moment the pig turned, the tip of the holy sword Durandal was already at Dale’s chest.
”…!”
It was fast—so fast that even Dale couldn’t have anticipated it. But that was as far as it went.
“You damned pig,” Dale muttered under his breath. The hilt of the holy sword trembled slightly, the Geas gripping the pig’s heart.
Then, a vortex of aura swirled, and the avatar of the holy knight vanished.
A naked man stood there.
His armor and clothes were torn to shreds, leaving him exposed.
“Oh my,” Lady Scarlet remarked with a cold laugh.
“With a plow that feeble, no crops will ever grow.”
She casually mocked the knight’s lifelong insecurity.
“Smaller than mine,” Dale murmured, as if it were someone else’s problem.