Episode 282: Countless Secrets (3)
The Holy Emperor led Damian deeper into the sacred palace.
“In his later years, the first Holy Emperor had a profound revelation,” he said as they walked down the corridor.
“I’m not entirely sure of the details, but it was no ordinary insight. Through it, he managed to split his soul, leaving a part behind for the Order.”
Damian’s curiosity was piqued. Splitting one’s soul and maintaining it for so long? He had never encountered such a feat, not even among the most powerful knights in his past life. Even the Grandmaster, the Empire’s greatest swordsman, and the Blue Flame couldn’t achieve such a thing. Perhaps the rumors were true—that the Order was a gathering of beings who surpassed even the Grandmaster.
“The fragment of the first Holy Emperor’s soul remains with the Order, offering guidance and wisdom to those who seek it. Thanks to this, many holy knights have been able to surpass their limits.”
“Incredible,” Damian replied sincerely.
From a dark mage’s perspective, what the first Holy Emperor left behind was akin to a thought-form. However, thought-forms were typically created at the brink of death, whereas the Holy Emperor had divided his soul while still alive. Moreover, thought-forms were often tainted by the fear of death, rendering them irrational. Yet, the Holy Emperor’s fragment retained a clear mind, capable of teaching others—a truly remarkable feat.
“Why has this been kept a secret until now? A fragment of the first Holy Emperor is practically the man himself.”
Damian had a lingering question. When he had seized the sacred palace under Dorgo’s orders in his past life, he hadn’t encountered the Holy Emperor’s thought-form. Dorgo hadn’t found it either.
“Each encounter weakens the fragment’s power. That’s why we keep it sealed, only awakening it when absolutely necessary.”
A thought-form with such clarity couldn’t last forever, not even one created by the first Holy Emperor. Perhaps it had vanished entirely before the War of Destruction, which would explain why Dorgo never found it.
As the Holy Emperor explained, they reached the end of the corridor.
“Please wait here for a moment.”
The Holy Emperor approached a door at the corridor’s end. He placed the rosary around his neck against the lock, and it clicked open.
“Only one person can enter from here.”
He stepped aside, and Damian approached the door. The prospect of meeting a legendary hero made his heart race. This was someone who might have surpassed even the Grandmaster. Perhaps he could gain invaluable advice.
“I’ll be back,” Damian said, stepping inside.
Instantly, his vision went dark. When the darkness lifted, he found himself on a battlefield. On a vast plain, bipedal lizards and humans clashed. The battle was one-sided; the lizards were overwhelming the humans, thanks to their larger size and superior equipment.
“Hold your ground! We must defend this place!”
“We can’t retreat any further!”
Despite being outmatched, the humans fought with unwavering determination, charging forward with renewed vigor.
“Hold on! The hero will bring us victory!”
A man who seemed to be the leader shouted, and the lizards responded with derisive cries. Then, a shadow swept across the battlefield, halting the fight. Both humans and lizards looked skyward, witnessing a dragon with black wings thrashing in the air. The cause was a human clinging to its body.
The man was not only large but also incredibly muscular. Clinging to the dragon’s back, he swung a mace with relentless force. Each strike shattered scales and burst muscles, eliciting roars of pain from the dragon. Gradually, he climbed toward its head.
Reaching the nape, he secured himself by wrapping his legs around the dragon’s neck and raised his mace high. A blinding light enveloped the weapon, causing it to grow exponentially. With all his might, he brought the massive mace down, shattering the dragon’s head like a ripe melon. The headless body plummeted, skidding to a halt on the ground.
A moment of silence followed on the battlefield, then the humans erupted in cheers, raising their weapons high.
“We did it! We really won!”
“Long live Bartoleo! Long live the Order!”
The humans’ cheers contrasted sharply with the lizards’ bewildered expressions.
“What are you waiting for? Drive those lizards out!”
“Your master is dead, you beasts! Why aren’t you fleeing?”
The humans pressed the attack, and the lizards were slaughtered. Damian watched the scene unfold when a voice spoke beside him.
“Brother, isn’t it a magnificent sight?”
Damian turned to see an enormous man, towering over him by at least half his height, with a body rippling with muscle. Remarkably, he wore nothing but a priest’s robe to cover his massive frame. Damian quickly realized who he was.
The first Holy Emperor, Bartoleo. The warrior who had just crushed the dragon’s skull stood before him.
“I am honored to meet the first Holy Emperor,” Damian said, bowing his head. Bartoleo gave a wry smile.
“Please, don’t call me that. I’m merely a fragment left by the original, not the real thing.”
“Then how should I address you?”
“Just call me ‘Fragment.’”
The Fragment turned its gaze back to the battlefield.
“That was a recreation of a past battle. Thanks to that victory, humanity secured the southern continent.”
“I’ve heard the tales. The first Holy Emperor crushed the dragon’s head with a single mace.”
“Haha, everyone who visits me mentions that story.”
The Fragment laughed heartily, turning to Damian.
“I’ve met many visitors, but you’re the first of your kind.”
“I’m not a holy knight, but I was granted permission to enter.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
The Fragment stroked its chin with a massive hand, pondering.
“Why would someone who doesn’t need my teachings come here?”
Damian was puzzled by the question.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said. I see no shortcomings in you. I can’t speak for your true abilities, but at least to my eyes, there’s nothing lacking. It means I’m not qualified to teach you.”
The Fragment scrutinized Damian, continuing.
“Your physique is well-developed, your control over magic is exceptional, and though I haven’t tested your skills, my instincts tell me you’re quite formidable.”
While it was flattering to receive such praise from a legendary hero, Damian felt a twinge of dissatisfaction. He had come here hoping to gain something.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t offer you any teachings. If I gave you advice, it might do more harm than good… Hmm?”
Suddenly, the Fragment’s gaze fixed on Damian’s wrist. Bartoleo asked, astonished.
“Who are you? How did you come to possess Erebus? It’s an item no one should have.”
Bartoleo’s shock mirrored Damian’s own. Information about Erebus was nonexistent in this world. Even the Order only knew it was dangerous, without understanding its true nature. Yet, the Fragment seemed to know about Erebus in detail.
“Do you know about Erebus?”
“No, I don’t.”
The Fragment immediately denied it. Damian pressed further.
“Please, don’t hide it from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything. I truly don’t know.”
“Then how did you recognize it?”
“Because the original knows.”
It felt like a riddle. As Damian’s expression darkened, Bartoleo hurried to explain.
“The original created me to advise future holy knights. That’s why I only possess memories related to combat skills.”
In the end, the Fragment was just that—a fragment. Damian couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of disappointment.
“Still, if I examine it closely, something might come to mind. Would you mind showing me Erebus?”
Damian manifested Erebus and handed it over. The Fragment inspected it closely.
“This is different from the Erebus I know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I only have fragmented memories, so it’s hard to explain. But while the appearance is the same, the power within is entirely different.”
The Fragment ran a hand along the blade of Erebus, then suddenly stopped.
“You’ve already met the original.”
At those words, Damian’s mind drifted back to past memories.
When Demian first visited the main temple of the Sacred Order, he stumbled upon a hidden chamber where a mummy embedded with a shard of Erebus lay.
The shard seemed to be speaking of that very encounter.
“Do you hold any resentment?” it asked.
“I don’t have such feelings. I’m merely a fragment,” the shard replied, returning Erebus to Demian.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. You should leave now,” it added.
Demian hesitated, reluctant to leave empty-handed.
Suddenly, he recalled the scene of Bartoleo shattering the head of an evil dragon. It was a strike of immense power, far beyond Demian’s current abilities.
Determined, Demian drew his sword, Dawn, from his dimensional space. The shard was taken aback.
“What are you doing?” it questioned.
“You said you remember combat techniques well,” Demian replied.
He had the ability to absorb and replicate the skills and prowess of any opponent he faced. Although there was no guarantee he could replicate the level of a master like Bartoleo, it was worth a try.
“Let’s have a match. I’ll learn on my own,” Demian declared, resting Dawn on his shoulder. The shard chuckled at his audacity.
“You’re quite the unusual guest,” it said, its eyes alight with determination. It conjured a mace with divine power and said, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
A full day passed before the battle reached its conclusion.
After the fight, Demian stayed at the temple to reflect on the combat.
“So much for having nothing to learn… what a blatant lie,” he mused.
Through the battle with the shard, Demian gained invaluable insights. He spent the following days absorbing what he had learned and delving into the temple’s library to study ancient texts, filling in the gaps in his knowledge. For ten days, he focused solely on training.
Finally, Demian prepared to leave the temple, but he wasn’t alone.
“Agnes, are you sure about this?” Demian asked, concern etched on his face.
Two days prior, the Holy Sovereign had ordered Agnes to be dispatched to the Kingdom of Apple, so she was to accompany Demian.
Being sent from the main temple to a provincial area was akin to a demotion, and Demian couldn’t help but worry.
“It’s fine. It’s all part of the Great One’s plan,” Agnes replied calmly. Demian clicked his tongue in sympathy.
In truth, Agnes wasn’t bothered at all. It wasn’t a demotion.
“Sir Agnes, Demian Haxen is a valuable asset to our temple,” the Holy Sovereign had told her days before.
“But many places desire Demian’s talents. We can’t just stand by.”
“So, we’re sending you to the Kingdom of Apple, near the Haxen estate.”
“Maintain a close relationship with Demian Haxen there.”
It was a seemingly trivial task for a promising knight, but Agnes accepted the order gratefully. It was what she had hoped for.
“Agnes, this is just between us… if you do form a close bond with Demian Haxen, we’ll appoint you as a secular knight.”
Knights of the temple were forbidden to marry, but secular knights had the freedom to wed. The Holy Sovereign’s implication was clear.
Thud.
Agnes walked straight into a tree, not seeing it in front of her.
She quickly pulled her face away and tried to act as if nothing had happened.
“Are you alright? That sounded painful,” Demian asked.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Agnes replied, hastily smoothing her hair.
With that, the two set off for the Kingdom of Apple.
The journey was smooth, and they arrived sooner than expected.
However, as they reached the kingdom’s border, they were met with a shocking sight.
The border fortress lay in ruins, engulfed in flames.
“Ha ha ha!” A monstrous figure with bat-like wings laughed maniacally atop the burning fortress.