Chapter 70: Western Fantasy Romance (XII)

Previous Chapter ∇ Table of Content ∇ Next Chapter

Chapter 70: Western Fantasy Romance (XII)

The Holy Church’s divine descent was a momentous event across the entire Kedor Continent. Countless believers journeyed to the Sacred Mountain on pilgrimage. Yet very few knew that the god who had descended was not merely another god, but the Divine King himself. Moreover, after arriving on the Kedor Continent, the god made no dramatic moves, and the Holy Church continued its affairs exactly as before. Nothing seemed to change. Even the Dark Church, which had been the most uneasy, began to wonder whether the so-called divine descent had been nothing more than a fabrication.

For cultivators, a year could pass in the blink of an eye. Yet a year could also feel interminably long. Gradually, fewer and fewer people paid attention to the divine descent, while more and more came to believe it had simply been a spectacle staged by the Holy Church to attract new believers. Even so, the Church’s following had indeed grown because of the incident, and the faith of its existing believers had become ever more steadfast.

More and more people began paying attention to other matters.

For example, the Holy Maiden had enrolled at Lemnos Academy in the Mante Empire.

For example, Minea Griffin, the eldest daughter of Griffin Family and Prince Caelric’s fiancée, was by no means the useless good-for-nothing people had believed her to be. Instead, she was a rare genius who cultivated both magic and swordsmanship. Her breathtaking beauty left countless people in awe, and the young nobles who had once secretly mocked Prince Caelric for having to marry a “worthless” fiancée could not help feeling more than a little jealous.

For example, Miss Minea Griffin seemed particularly dissatisfied with Prince Caelric and instead had become entangled with one of Lemnos Academy’s instructors.

For example, the Holy Church’s Holy Maiden, Areya Green, and Miss Minea Griffin appeared to despise one another. Or rather, it was Minea alone who seemed unable to stand Areya, and the two frequently found themselves quarreling at the academy.

For example, a four- or five-year-old child had suddenly appeared at Prince Caelric’s side, prompting widespread rumors that the boy was the prince’s illegitimate son.

For example, Prince Caelric disliked Miss Minea so much that he had even fled from their engagement, and had now been missing for nearly two months.

Meanwhile, the woman most frequently mentioned in all these rumors, Minea Griffin, sat in a tavern savoring a cup of fruit wine, a rare luxury in this small town bordering the desert. Her usually calm gaze suddenly filled with excitement. Bronte David had rarely seen her look like this. Even during their most intimate moments, he had never witnessed such unconcealed emotion. Following his lover’s line of sight toward the street outside, he did not need to search. A figure in white and another in red immediately entered his vision.

A white-robed mage wore a benevolent smile that made it difficult for others to dislike him, yet just as difficult to approach. Though he radiated a gentle warmth, there remained a faint but unmistakable air of detachment.

Beside him walked a swordsman dressed in red, though he looked more like an assassin than a conventional warrior. The pair of swords strapped across his back were unusually slender, resembling daggers more than blades. They suited his lean frame far better than the heavy weapons carried by most swordsmen. The red-clad swordsman always trailed the mage by half a step, yet anyone with a discerning eye could see that the mage deliberately slowed his pace to match him. Only the two of them seemed unaware, and so they never walked shoulder to shoulder.

“We’re almost at the Foken Desert?” Sathalia narrowed his eyes slightly. The blazing sun might make ordinary people uncomfortable, but it had no effect on him. In fact, a place where light elements were so abundant was ideal for the angelic race. Unfortunately, angels were hedonists by nature. They had nothing in common with the ascetics of the Holy Church, and there was no chance they would abandon the beauty of Eden to cultivate in a desert.

“Yes.” Miao Lichen nodded. “Beyond Rika County lies the outer region of the Foken Desert. Although it lacks the rich biodiversity of Yas Forest, it’s far more dangerous.”

The Foken Desert was the one of the Three Forbidden Lands that humans were least willing to enter. Its endless sea of sand was oppressively monotonous, while the dunes perfectly concealed the dangers lurking beneath them. Not to mention that anyone venturing inside needed a water mage. Compared to swordsmen, mages were far too physically fragile, and few were willing to come to a place like this.

“The light element here is exceptionally abundant. It’s an ideal place for light mages to cultivate.” Sathalia came to a stop and waited for Aesop to catch up, his gaze once again drifting to the twin swords strapped across the other’s back. He admitted that the scenery of the Kedor Continent held no real appeal for him. The only reason he had kept Aesop by his side was to wait for Servius to come looking for him. The Demon King rarely cared about anything, but once something captured his interest, he would stop at nothing to claim it.

Yet as the journey continued, Sathalia found himself growing increasingly reluctant for it to end. The scenery of the Kedor Continent could not compare to the perfection of the Divine Realm. Some places could even be described as harsh, yet they possessed a charm all their own. Still, that was not what truly held his attention. The landscapes would always remain there, waiting to be admired another day. What he cared about was the person accompanying him on this journey.

Aesop Leslie was undoubtedly the only Pope in the Holy Church’s history to cultivate both magic and martial skills. In Sathalia’s eyes, his skill with the sword even surpassed his prowess as a mage. Thinking of the solemn way Aesop would invoke “God Said,” the smile on Sathalia’s lips deepened. The world truly was full of wonders. Who would have imagined that there could exist a Pope whose sacred incantations were nothing but elaborate curses?

Never had he imagined there would come a day when he could not see through a human. Yet the truth was that he genuinely could not fathom Aesop. On the surface, he always wore a gentle smile like a flawless mask, but beneath it lay a coldness no less profound than that of a god. And yet, from time to time, he would reveal unexpected moments of kindness. They were always small, almost imperceptible gestures, but when they came from him, Sathalia found himself unable to ignore them. Perhaps the wisest decision he had made was leaving his attendant angels behind at the Holy Church.

A single year was far too brief for a god, so fleeting it was gone in the blink of an eye. He found himself almost hoping that Servius would never come looking for them. Even so, the demon’s mark upon Aesop could not be erased so easily. Servius’s power was already approaching its complete state.

∇ Capture Target Sathalia Campbell Favorability: 50.

“Minea knows those two?” Bronte withdrew his gaze from the street outside and looked toward the young woman across the table. The person who usually watched him with gentle eyes now seemed completely oblivious to the shift in his emotions. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on his wineglass. Outwardly, however, he maintained the pleasant smile befitting an instructor before his students. Even so, he could hear the bitterness and jealousy creeping into his own voice. How unsightly. Once, he had cared for nothing. Now he was jealous over his own student. Yet she was the first person ever to enter his heart, and she would also be the last.

“I only know the man in red.” Minea drained the fruit wine from her cup, then ran the tip of her tongue across the lingering sweetness at the corner of her lips. Her voice carried a soft, alluring murmur. Having already broken through to the Saint rank, she could naturally tell that Aesop was still only at the peak of the Saint rank. After all, no one had ever surpassed that boundary. Now, however, she finally possessed the qualifications to stand beside him. “Lord Leslie… it’s been a long time.”

Perhaps it was because the more unattainable something was, the more irresistible it became. Throughout the past year, countless men had surrounded her, and not a few had shared her bed. Yet she still could not forget that red-clad figure. If anything, the image had only grown clearer with time. Since his departure, he had never appeared again, leaving an inexplicable sense of emptiness in her heart. Now it seemed that fate had favored her after all, granting them another meeting. Perhaps even if she learned that he was a fellow transmigrator from the same world, she would no longer be willing to kill him. But that could wait until after she had made him hers. After all, some people were cherished only because they could not be obtained.

Minea’s gaze remained fixed on Aesop, the possessiveness in her eyes impossible to ignore.

Suppressing the bitterness in his heart, Bronte forced a smile. “Since Minea knows them, why don’t we invite them upstairs for a drink? Areya, you…”

Before Bronte could finish speaking, the usually dignified and composed Holy Maiden had already hurried downstairs and walked straight toward the two men.

“Your Holiness…” Areya stopped before Miao Lichen and Sathalia. Only then did she realize how improper her behavior had been. She immediately bowed respectfully to Sathalia before lifting her head to look at Miao Lichen. A Divine King could naturally be addressed as “Your Holiness,” though the person Areya truly wished to address by that title was not Sathalia.

Sathalia merely nodded without breaking stride and walked into the rather modest-looking inn. Miao Lichen followed after him, glancing at Areya with a faint smile that quickly soothed her excitement. Behind them, her fingers curled tightly into her palms as she watched Miao Lichen’s retreating figure. A brilliant smile bloomed across the usually reserved Holy Maiden’s face, impossible to overlook.

She hurried a few steps ahead to lead the two of them upstairs. Only then did she realize that, in her excitement, she had completely abandoned her current companions. A blush of embarrassment colored her usually dignified features. Only the Pope could ever make her lose her composure like this.

“That man in red… is the Pope?” Bronte suppressed the bitterness in his heart. The only person capable of making Areya, whose eyes had always been fixed solely upon the Pope, reveal such an expression could only be him.

“That’s right. Lord Leslie is the Pope, Aesop Leslie—the greatest genius since the founding of the Holy Church. No one can surpass him, whether in strength or wisdom.” Minea’s voice carried unmistakable pride, making Bronte feel even more miserable.

But… what could he do? Bronte quietly clenched his fist. Compared to the Pope, who lived bathed in the light and favored by the gods, someone like him, who existed in the darkness, had no advantage whatsoever. Minea Griffin was never someone he could truly keep by his side. Yet if the one she fell in love with was the Pope, then even the chance to remain by her side would disappear. If that was the case, he would rather Minea fall for Caelric instead.

Rather than taking a seat after reaching the second floor, Sathalia turned toward the Foken Desert. Somewhere deep within its endless sands, where the light elements should have been at its strongest, an overwhelming aura of darkness had suddenly emerged—darkness comparable to that of the Demon Realm itself.

“It’s the Dark Marsh,” Miao Lichen said at once. If the Foken Desert was one of the Kedor Continent’s Three Forbidden Lands, then the Dark Marsh was the forbidden zone within the desert itself. Those who entered the marsh would not necessarily die, but they risked becoming corrupted. It was not a transformation into demons, but the loss of reason, leaving behind only the instinct to kill.

The Dark Marsh was inhabited by creatures from the Demon Realm, including beings that had reached the Divine rank. It was saturated with dense dark elements , rivaling that of the Demon Realm itself. For those who hunted within the Foken Desert, nothing was more terrifying than stumbling into the Dark Marsh by accident. Worse still, the marsh itself wandered. No one knew when it would appear or where it would emerge next.

“It seems this isn’t the right time to enter the Foken Desert. Perhaps Your Holiness should remain in Rika County for a few more days?” Areya suggested. When she saw Aesop nod in agreement, she could barely suppress the excitement welling up inside her.

“That would indeed be for the best. You…” Miao Lichen nodded before turning toward the god standing by the window, gazing into the distance.

“You can make the arrangements.” Sathalia turned and casually took a seat at a nearby empty table, placing his scepter beside him, where it emitted a faint golden glow. What he sensed was not only the aura of darkness, but also a trace of power that belonged to the Elf King. ‘Servius… Caelir…’

Caelir Andreas stood amidst the Dark Marsh, where thick vines flourished within a five-meter radius around him despite having no place in such a wasteland. His long, slightly wavy hair flowed like strands of seaweed, while his emerald-green eyes carried the pride of a god, tempered by an even greater indifference toward the world itself. He stood there casually, as though the hostile environment had no effect on him whatsoever.

His gaze shifted to the black-clad figure cultivating nearby. Caelir had never imagined that one day he would stand guard for the Demon King. Life truly was unpredictable. There were only a handful of ancient gods left in existence, and he could hardly abandon Servius here to leave on his own. Of course, there were other reasons as well.

Caelir raised a palm-sized golden shield in his hand. After a full year, he had assumed that Servius had become someone the Pope could easily forget. After all, the two had known each other for little more than a month, and a year was more than enough for feelings to gradually fade. Yet reality proved otherwise. Although the Pope had never returned in person, he always knew where they were. He arranged accommodations for them wherever they traveled and occasionally sent supplies that, while hardly necessary, reflected thoughtful consideration.

Servius truly was fortunate—fortunate enough to make even Caelir feel a trace of envy.

∇ Capture Target Caelir Andreas Favorability: 50.

Previous Chapter ∇ Table of Content ∇ Next Chapter