bantayden Chapter 112 : Chapter 112
Chapter 112 : Chapter 112
Chapter 112. Movements of the Holy Church
Remington pushed open the heavy black iron doors.
Creak—
The doors opened.
What he saw inside shook him to the core.
The Throne Hall was filled with people.
On the left stood the commander of the First Legion, the sharpest sword of the Demi-Human Empire, the “Heavenly Blade,” Leonard, the lion demi-human, leaning on his sword as he stared at him coldly.
On the right stood the “Night Tiger” of the Fourth Legion, the tiger demi-human Kagak, along with the mid- and lower-ranking officers who had remained loyal to the late emperor and whom he had thought had long since been purged.
They stood in two neat rows, as if they were waiting for something.
And upon the high throne—
Alectos Huiyin sat there with one leg crossed over the other.
He was no longer that timid little wretch.
He wore a suit of golden armor, a mocking smile hanging on his face, while he idly toyed with a longsword that symbolized imperial authority.
“Uncle, you’re late,” Alectos Huiyin said with a smile.
Remington wanted to roar.
He wanted to rush forward and cut the little bastard down.
But he realized that his legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead, and he could not take a single step.
“You… how are you here?”
“I’ve always been here.”
Alectos Huiyin pointed to the side.
Beside the throne stood a tall figure seen from behind.
The man wore a black imperial robe, and his broad frame was as imposing as a mountain.
Remington’s breathing stopped instantly.
He knew that silhouette too well.
He knew it so well that it woke him from his sleep on countless nights.
“Brother…?” Remington’s voice trembled.
The figure slowly turned around.
It was a stern and majestic face, with two golden dragon horns growing from his head like a crown.
The old emperor, Rengar Huiyin.
He looked at Remington expressionlessly, as if he were looking at a pile of garbage.
“Remington.”
The old emperor spoke, his voice like a gust of wind drifting out of hell.
“My dear little brother, is that seat comfortable?”
Thud.
Remington’s knees buckled, and he fell straight to the floor.
The sword in his hand clanged to the ground.
“Brother! You’re not dead! You’re not dead!”
Remington shouted incoherently, tears and snot smeared all over his face.
“I was wrong! Brother! Those ministers forced me! I really didn’t want to—”
The old emperor said nothing.
He merely walked slowly down the steps.
With each step he took, a bloody footprint was left on the floor.
He bent down and picked up the sword from the ground.
Remington raised his head and met those lifeless eyes, empty of all emotion.
Slash!
The longsword came down.
“AHHHHH!!!!”
Remington jolted upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat as though he had just been pulled out of water.
He gasped for breath in huge gulps, his hands frantically clawing at his neck.
It was intact.
It was a dream.
Just a dream.
Remington collapsed weakly back onto the bed and stared at the pitch-black night sky beyond the window.
His hands were still shaking.
That icy sensation had felt too real, so real that he could still feel the sword hanging above his head.
“Alectos…”
He ground his teeth in the darkness.
“He must die.”
…
At the same time.
Along the border between the Northern Territory and the Demi-Human Empire.
This should have been a meat grinder drenched in war, where both sides fought until their eyes turned red with bloodlust.
But reality was often stranger than fiction.
“Can’t you people stick to the schedule?”
Inside the trenches of the Northern Territory’s defensive line, a veteran with a cigarette hanging from his lips shouted toward the other side, “You missed by two hundred meters to the left! Are you shelling the air over there? Could you at least act professional?”
BOOM!
An explosion sounded in the distance, blasting up a heap of snow and two unlucky snow rabbits.
“Shut up!” a rough voice roared back from the demi-human position opposite them.
“We’ve already met today’s quota! If we fire any more, we’ll have to use the real stockpile! That stuff costs money!”
Although the soldiers on both sides wore armor and carried weapons, their entire demeanor was absurdly relaxed.
Anyone who did not know better might have thought they were at some sort of social gathering.
Behind a large boulder between the two armies.
Kane, commander of the Demi-Human Storm Legion, sat cross-legged on the snow.
Across from him sat a senior commander from the Northern Territory.
“These are this week’s ‘spoils of war.’”
Kane pulled several bottles of throat-burning orc liquor from his coat and tossed them over.
“Thanks.”
The Northern Territory commander caught them and casually threw several bottles of distilled liquor back.
“This stuff packs a real punch. They say Professor Logaris came up with it when he was younger.”
Kane twisted the cap open with practiced ease and took a fierce swig.
A look of intoxicated delight appeared on his face.
“This war really does have its own flavor.”
“Doesn’t it?”
The Northern Territory commander tucked the liquor away.
“The people above us have their schemes, and we have our own way of surviving.”
Kane exhaled a ring of smoke and watched the pale haze rise slowly into the air, a sly glint in his eyes.
“I heard the Regent hasn’t been sleeping well lately.”
“It’s worse than that.”
Kane bared his sharp canine teeth in a grin.
“I’d say his throne is getting too hot to sit on..”
The two men exchanged a glance and burst into laughter.
……
The Holy Land, Avalon.
This white city bathed year-round in eternal holy light.
There was no night here, no shadows, and even the air carried a sandalwood fragrance that made people want to kneel and bow.
The Papal Hall.
Its dome was so high it was almost frightening, covered in murals depicting the creation of the world by the gods.
Sunlight passed through the stained glass and filled the hall with dazzling colors, yet it could not dispel the chill surrounding the lofty Holy See.
Gregory VII, the old man known as the “voice of God in the mortal world,” sat upon that rigid chair, holding a report in his hand.
The edge of the paper had been crushed into wrinkles by his grip.
“The Skeleton King… suspected divine power fluctuations…”
The Pope murmured to himself.
The white-gold scepter in his hand, the symbol of supreme authority, tapped unconsciously against the armrest.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound was light, but in the vast empty hall, it was like nails being hammered one after another into his taut nerves.
Divine power.
It was a forbidden term.
In this world, aside from the Holy Church, how could divine power possibly appear anywhere else?
And not only had it appeared in the Northern Territory, a place regarded as barbaric wilderness, it had even appeared on an undead monster summoned by a cult.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
If it was true, then it meant the Holy Church’s monopoly over divine authority had been broken.
That was ten thousand times more terrifying than Logaris West himself.
“Your Holiness.”
A gentle voice broke the silence.
At the center of the hall, beneath the towering statue of the goddess, a white figure knelt.
It was a woman.
She wore a pure white robe with no decorative patterns whatsoever, yet it gave off a sanctity that made every luxurious gown seem dull by comparison.
Her golden hair fell loosely over her shoulders like flowing sunlight.
Aurora.
The Saintess of the Holy Church, the nominal supreme leader of the Tribunal, and the perfect goddess of countless believers’ dreams.
She rose slowly to her feet and turned around.
It was a face with no flaw to be found, so beautiful that it discouraged even the thought of blasphemy.
The slight smile on her lips was so perfect it seemed measured with a ruler—warm, merciful, and yet carrying a distant coldness that kept everyone far away.
“Your heart is troubled.”
Aurora spoke softly.
The Pope stopped tapping his scepter and narrowed his clouded old eyes.
“Something has happened in the Northern Territory. The intelligence Helena sent back… is troublesome.”
“Is it because of that heretical church?”
Aurora tilted her head, her tone as casual as if she were discussing dinner.
“Or is it because of Professor Logaris?”
“Both.”
The Pope sighed.
“Helena is still too inexperienced. She can only see the fighting on the surface. She cannot see how deep these waters truly run. If the divine power fluctuation on that monster is real, then the situation may be even more terrifying than we imagined.”
“In that case, let me go take a look.”
Aurora stepped forward and folded her hands over her chest in a standard Church salute.
“You will go?” The Pope frowned.
“Helena cannot handle Sylvia.”
Aurora blinked, and a trace of slyness flashed through her golden eyes.
“But I can.”
“Sylvia is an old friend of mine.”
Aurora smiled, though there was very little nostalgia in that smile.
“If I go to the Northern Territory, my presence will be entirely justified. Even if it is only to reminisce, she cannot shut me out.”
The Pope fell silent.
It was true.
The relationship between the Holy Church and the Northern Territory was extremely delicate right now.
Although Helena’s report claimed that the two sides were cooperating against the cult, that cooperation was as fragile as a paper window, ready to tear through at a single poke.
If they sent the Tribunal Knights to forcefully intervene in the investigation, it would only intensify the conflict.
“And besides,” Aurora added, “I am also very curious. What exactly has become of Professor Logaris, the man who always ranked first in school back then, yet somehow still insisted on conducting explosive experiments?”
The Pope stared at Aurora for a long time.
He was weighing his options.
Aurora might appear to be nothing more than a smiling ornamental vase, but Gregory VII knew better than anyone that among all the Saintesses throughout history, Aurora possessed the highest talent—and the most inscrutable temperament.
“Granted.”
At last, the Pope relented.
“You may bring the Tribunal Knights of the Sixth Diocese as your escort.”
“Thank you, Your Holiness.”
Aurora saluted once more and turned to leave.
Only after stepping through the heavy doors and bathing once more in Avalon’s warm sunlight did the standard “Saintess smile” on her face loosen slightly.
This journey to the Northern Territory would likely be very interesting.