"You want to point your sword at an old man who might die tomorrow? Hey, I'm 110 years old this year. One hundred and ten. My blood pressure will spike just from swinging a sword, and I could die. Eh, you're a bad guy. I didn't know you would use such despicable means."
"..."
Pagma, who had drawn his sword, showed no particular reaction. He listened to Chreshler's unusual words and replied quietly,
"If you might die tomorrow anyway, does it matter if you die today?"
"W-What?"
"Your Holiness, please be prepared to die and teach me."
"Hah! I have never seen such a shameless fellow! The stew didn't taste right, so you added politeness and boiled it again? This is the first time in my life that I've met someone like you!"
"Your Holiness, the current peace isn't eternal. If you die after the first pope, the power to suppress hell will disappear. An age of grief will come again as the forces of the Yatan Church rise and the great demons run wild without fear."
"You know this, yet you still sealed our church's three treasures?"
"It was a friend's request."
"A friend's request? Huhu, what ludicrous words. An insane person like you has friends? You don't know what loyalty is."
"I will become stronger."
"...?"
"I will grow strong enough to defend the world without relying on the Rebecca Church or Franz. I was prepared for this, so I fulfilled my friend's request. Please cooperate with me."
Pagma raised his sword.
Chreshler clicked his tongue.
"Protecting the peace of the world alone? As the descendant of a fallen god, you are arrogant. Tsk, you yangban."
"I'm ignorant of the history of the yangbans. I've never considered myself the descendant of a god. I just want to save humanity—as a human."
"Then are you going to kill this old man right now? Is that truly the duty of a human?"
"..."
"Your sacrifice will become an opportunity to save tens of millions of people. Therefore, it is righteous and justified."
"Kuk, kukukuk! You are arrogant and selfish!"
Chreshler's anger was transmitted to Alan, who was assimilated with him. Chreshler felt deep disgust toward Pagma.
"From a human's perspective, you are out of line. Don't you feel it yourself?"
"I am prepared to take the blame."
"Shut up! Your thoughts aren't as noble as you think they are! You don't know—because you're a yangban! You aren't in a position to speak for humans!"
"What is the difference between a yangban and a human? A yangban lives longer and possesses greater power, but we are no different from humans. Our minds, our aversion to evil, and even our appearances are the same. We bleed like humans. Every human is equal, so I will fight for humans."
"Crazy bastard. You're insane. A maniac who doesn't even know he's crazy. Fine. It's better for you to die here. Keeping you alive is too dangerous."
It was close to a miracle.
Chreshler's faith was like an ocean, generating infinite holy power. That power manifested according to his will. Hundreds of thousands of spears of light poured down.
Pagma's limbs were pierced, and it looked as if he would die instantly.
But the opposite happened.
Pagma had already completed two linked sword dances. It was a readable move because Alan currently shared Chreshler's vision.
"Flower Revolve."
'…!'
Alan was shocked.
Hundreds of petals containing sword energy bloomed and revolved. Every spear of light aimed at Pagma rebounded toward Chreshler. Chreshler erected a barrier of light to absorb them and couldn't hide his amazement.
"It's a fascinating swordsmanship. You are the greatest after Muller and the Undefeated King."
"I can't compare to them in swordsmanship. That's why I must continue to develop."
"Even if it means selling your soul to a great demon?"
"..."
"Kukuk, you're not denying it."
This man was dangerous. He couldn't be allowed to live.
Chreshler's intuition screamed it at him. He believed that his final mission was to kill the distorted man standing before him.
"The pope once said this: he wouldn't have chosen me as a successor if it weren't for the crisis. My martial arts were always too weak for his approval. But you are worse than me. You sympathize with no one. You are indifferent to the suffering of those sacrificed for your goals. I don't know whether you were always like this or changed along the way, but you are already evil."
Chreshler's body shone with twelve colors of light. The sword and armor hanging on the wall were wrapped in five colors of light and flew toward him. More than seventeen buffs were applied to his body and equipment.
The overwhelming power shattered the ground and shook the building.
As Chreshler's strength overflowed, Alan felt naked.
He could see the world that transcendents saw.
—!
Time stopped.
In a world where only light refraction existed, Chreshler advanced, breaking through frozen fragments of air. As he closed the distance, Pagma's eyes never blinked.
A sword followed the light.
Only after it pierced Pagma's shoulder three times did sound finally follow. Blood splashed out, forming countless droplets.
Alan clearly saw it.
'He avoided it?'
' It was an great technique '
The strike should have pierced Pagma's heart, but the damage was minimized to a single shoulder.
"..."
Pagma's body began to strengthen.
There were over fiver different color lights now pouring on him most likely Five different buffs.
—!
The swords continued colliding midair, yet no sound followed. The world resembled a paused film. Blood froze into thousands of droplets as Pagma and Chreshler moved freely, exchanging dozens of blows between each sound.
"Transcendent Kill Flower."
"Transcended Linked Kill Wave Pinnacle."
"Linked Revolve Pinnacle."
"Linked Kill Revolve Pinnacle Chop."
"Linked Kill Flower."
"Transcended Pinnacle Kill Chop."
The sword dances never ceased.
Alan never thought much of Pagma sword dance as from the description it was clear it an ceremonial dance but now what he is seeing is true thing.
This was Pagma's true swordsmanship.
"Cough!"
Pagma, covered in wounds, struggled to remain standing.
Meanwhile, Chreshler had suffered only a single hit—but he staggered. He healed himself, yet the seventeen buffs began to fade.
"Damn rotten thing," the pope's disbelieving voice escaped from Chreshler's mouth. He grumbled like a child.
"Ah, I don't know! No! I quit!"
"Pant… Pant…"
Pagma couldn't even speak.
His magic and swordsmanship had reached their limits.
Chreshler removed his armor.
"This is exhausting. My body feels heavy."
"Pant… Pant…"
"You really tried to kill me. Shit. It's sad to be old."
"Pant… Pant… Thank… Thank you…"
Pagma finally collapsed. His fingertips trembled.
"Thank you for Your Holiness' teachings… More sword dances are possible…"