Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
The angels were to descend tomorrow, ‘when the light was at its brightest’, according to the revelation received by the Pope. In Isthyre, that was nine in the morning, and this left the Church and the Voidwalkers little time to make last-minute preparations.
The Church had decided not to attack anymore; instead, it focused on the angel-summoning rituals. What remained of its army was two-thousand crusaders; one thousand paladins; two thousand men, who were tasted with supplying ammunition and guarding outposts; and one thousand templars, some of whom were newly-ordained templars. The Pope had ordered his underlings to lessen the requirements for becoming a templar, making a lot more people eligible to be ordained. There was also a group of five hundred clerics on standby to support the army.
Although this army had been greatly downsized, they were not to be looked down on, as those still alive were the experts. These experts were powerful and experienced, and they were greatly admired by the Church for their valiance and unwavering faith. If the Voidwalkers had not planned to create chaos by attacking the less experienced soldiers, these experts would have dealt them a significant amount of damage.
The angels would arrive soon, though, giving these experts the opportunity they need to shine.
The Voidwalkers had switched tactics, as well. They were split into smaller teams. The team led by the Thane Walker contained the Hitman Walker, the Explorer Walker, five thousand infantrymen, and a three thousand strong cavalry of nomads. This team was headed to the Holy City for an unknown reason.
Another team consisted of the Incubus Walker, the Charlatan Walker, the Merchant Walker, and the Painter Walker. Without a soldier in its ranks, this team left Arfin City and disappeared.
There was another team that contained only the Lich Walker and the Devil Walker, who Tisdale had just summoned. This team discreetly left for somewhere close to the Templar Fort. Its plan was obvious, but that did not make it less terrifying.
Some Voidwalkers had still not been summoned, though: the third Voidwalker, the Dragon; the fourth Voidwalker, the Oracle; the eight Voidwalker, the Tree; the twenty-eight Voidwalker, the Monster; and the thirty-first Voidwalker, who did not have an alias yet. The other Voidwalkers had been summoned and had had roles to play in the defense of Arfin City. Even the Astrologer Walker — who was not proficient in battle — and the Shadow Walker, who had not pseudo-descended before had been summoned.
These two were the only Voidwalkers that stayed behind with the Archmage.
“The importance of this war does not need any explanations. To people as esteemed as you, I know that my words will not do much,” the Archmage had said before the teams had set off. “Although the outcome of this war cannot yet be determined — even though I believe that we will win — we cannot afford to be complacent!
“I know we have had disagreements in the past, but I implore you all to put that behind you for the sake of our freedom and the future. We must put aside our differences and work hand-in-hand with our allies; that’s how we will win!” The Archmage looked around with fiery eyes. However, his words were met with silence. These Voidwalkers had experienced a lot, so a motivational speech like this was not enough to move them.
Although they were no cheers in the room, these Voidwalkers were no fools. They did not need a motivational speech to know what needed to be done.
“Remember: after taking care of the Church, we’ll have one less obstacle in our way!” The Archmage said.
“Yea, yea. I get the feeling that the old man has forgotten about an obstacle we will never be rid of: that tyrannical bastard of a moderator, Hope,” the Cleric Walker muttered to the Astrologer Walker.
The Cleric Walker was holding an anime figurine that greatly resembled. It had a jet-black armor on and was grinning maniacally. The Cleric Walker had yet to find the person that made the figurine.
“Oi, better hide that resentment. The tyrant will be able to hear you whenever he wants to. Furthermore, keep that thing hidden from them. The goody-two-shoes Voidwalkers will definitely tell on me if they saw it.” the Astrologer Walker hissed, pointing at the figurine.
The Cleric Walker nodded and replied, “I understand your concerns, friend. I can assure you that I will handle this with the utmost care.”
Suddenly, the Cleric Walker squeezed his hand hard, crushing the figurine to powder.
“F***!!! What the f***?! ” The Astrologer Walker bellowed. “You’ll pay for this!”
“N-no, stop! I don’t know what came over me; I swear! It wasn’t me! It was something beyond my —”
The Cleric Walker’s fist came flying all of a sudden, punching a hole through the Astrologer Walker’s chest plate. The Voidwalker did not stop there; he kept twisting his arm, widening the hole. The Astrologer Walker shouted in pain.
“What the hell are you two doing?!” The Archmage bellowed.
The First Walker was about to step in, but a voice suddenly rang out in the mind of the three Voidwalkers. “That was me.
“That being said, you all must fight with everything you have. Leave your worries to me; I’ll help however I can. Good luck, and never forget: the Voidwalkers will never fear!” With that, the voice faded, and the stunned Cleric Walker regained control of his arm.
With an apologetic smile, the Cleric Walker pulled his arm out of the Astrologer Walker’s chest plate and muttered, “Since when can that bastard control our bodies?”
“He always could; he just didn’t,” the Archmage said, after which he kicked at the Astrologer Walker, who was howling and rolling on the ground. “Shut up. Stop acting like that is enough to kill you!”
“B-b-but it was just so scary!” The Astrologer Walker whimpered, shakily covering the hole in his chest plate.
“Aww, you poor thing. I’ll patch you up,” the Blacksmith said, walking over.
“Does anybody here not sense an eerie change in that man? I felt as though a god was speaking to me,” the Shadow said, visibly alarmed. As a former papal candidate of the Church — which made her the Voidwalker more experienced than the others in affairs pertaining to gods — she was more sensitive to the suggestion of the divine. “I’m sure I’m not the only that had the sensation of being seen through, right? It felt like he could see everything; my private thoughts, every inch of my skin—”
“Grrrrr…” A growl and a glare cut the Shadow Walker off.
“Sorry; I didn’t mean it that way. I was just speaking figuratively, okay?” The Shadow Walker explained. After sneaking a glance at the Assassin Walker, who was behind her, she muttered, “Sheesh. Why am I apologizing?”
The Soul Armature Practitioner silently pondered. “I think he stops short of doing it because he respects our autonomy. A lot of us remember him only as ‘the Fifth Walker’ and our ‘Void Emissary’ because we’re allowed to mingle with him on equal terms. The truth is far from that, though, isn’t it? When you really think about the things he could do, don’t you think he’s no different from a god to us?”
“Nip that thought in the bud, pal, and quit defying that fella. He’s never an actual tyrant with the lust to control everything anyway; that alone disqualifies him from being a god,” the Archmage said in a serious tone. “I bet he just did what he did because that was the only way he has to communicate with us at this moment! To me, that fella would always be nothing more than my protégé whose only bad habit is expanding his harem with every young and beautiful woman he could pick up.”
‘And one hell of a bad habit that is,’ The other Voidwalkers silently sneered.
The day before the angels’ arrival came to an end.
As the sun rose in the Holy City of Canningham, airy melodies serenaded the spaces in between. They drifted through the air and away into the sky, as though they were part of a universal song — one that was sung in every land where a God’s Grace church could be found.
The people of the faith had eschewed every other clothes other than the purest white robe, its long, soft fabric cascading downward on hands clasp around fresh bouquets of flowers. On other days, they were farmers, nobles, warriors, or more; but today, they unite in their devotion and anticipation of gods’ loving light in the flesh.
Even Laeticia had donned a set of gleaming white armor as stark as snow and a pair of white stockings instead of her usual black. Clutched a little too tightly in her hand was a battle-flag billowing in the cold, morning breeze.
She stared in the direction of Canningham, her heart greatly troubled.
Behind her was Noirciel, whose recovery process was approaching its crux. She was the Angel who had acknowledged her as an equal; rubbed her cheeks, licked her face, prayed for Laeticia’s happiness. She considered Saintess a friend, not a mere mortal, and Laeticia had sworn to protect the angel to the best of her abilities. Noirciel was more human than she was an angel.
Beyond her eyes, however, was the city symbolic of what she had always believed, the one place that had forged her ideals. Now, it was the land she may have to raise her sword against.
The conflict playing out in poor Laeticia’s head was far more turbulent than any conflicts between Baiyi and the Church. The Saintess had always dodged the brunt of her spiritual struggle by convincing herself she was following an alternative interpretation different from the Church’s canon, but now that the Messengers themselves were coming, the implication of her God’s true allegiance cast a light on every gaping hole her excuse always had.
Above all else, Laeticia just wanted to protect Noirciel. She would never want to point her sword towards heaven.
The Cleric and the Archmage understood the girl’s inner struggle, which was why no one had required her presence in any of the Voidwalkers’ battle preparation meetings. No one assigned any offensive role to her. It was agreed without words that Laeticia’s only duty was to stand by Noirciel’s side.
“Mr.Hope… Father Joel… My Merciful Lord… What should I do? How do I fulfil my oath without clashing with those that had raised and shaped me?” Laeticia whispered to no one in particular, her hands clenching tightly around the Scripture necklace suspended around her neck.
She heard a soft greeting. “Cia?”
It was the Cleric Walker and the Paladin Walker. Instead of their usual sinister black robe, the two ex-Church members had donned the same white robes as other believers across the continent. However, judging by how ill-fitting the robes were as they stretched tautly against the two Soul Armatures’ bulky armor body, one wondered if the two only haphazardly put these own just for the occasion of seeing Norciel. From a distance, those two looked like two metallic barrels wrapped tightly by white sheets.
“Good morning, Father Joel. Professor Hantai.”
“We’re, uh, worried about you. So here we are, paying you a visit,” the Paladin Walker said, opting for honesty. He patted the girl’s head softly and added, “I know how painful it must be to you right now. I’ve been through it.”
“Then, please, professor, tell me what to do. I don’t know what to choose — what if my choice isn’t right?” Laeticia asked, flashing him a mirthless smile.
“The answer is simple: follow your heart and trust it,” the Cleric Walker replied somberly, tapping on his metallic chest plate.
“It’s easy to understand what faith truly means, but you’ll need to get there yourself. Even the two of us had spent much time just to reach our conclusion,” the Paladin Walker said.
Laeticia watched her two teachers left without pausing for a minute to admire the sleeping angel’s tranquil beauty. She noticed that at this moment, the two did not look like the horny gentlemen that they usually were; they looked like enlightened beings.
The Saintess’ dilemma was not solved, but she did realize one thing: for all of the angst in her mind over the clash with the Angels, the pain in the hearts of her teachers — two of the staunchest believer she knew — must be even greater than the one she was experiencing.
