Chapter 574 - 574 - The Prophet Overdier
Chapter 574 - The Prophet Overdier
Killing them all and leaving?
This statement wasn't impossible in itself.
It was simply a reflection of reality.
Including Enkrid, with Shinar and Audin, the three of them could easily kill the five in front of them.
Enkrid alone could easily dispatch each of them without missing a beat.
At Enkrid's question, Alma's eyebrows twitched.
Kill them all?
Who?
Me?
Wasn't I spared because of the Church's influence?
"What?"
Alma blurted out in surprise but couldn't continue speaking.
The same applied to Schilma.
In her bloodshot eyes, the sense of divine mission burned brightly, but even she was stunned by what was said.
She never imagined those words would come out.
It was completely unexpected, far beyond his assumptions.
To threaten to kill a member of the Church to silence them.
Especially when the person standing before them could kill them all in an instant if they decided to.
Enkrid didn't show any sign of intimidation. He simply spoke in a calm and even tone.
However, the weight of those words was different.
When he spoke, he would deliver on it, and if he couldn't, he wouldn't speak at all.
The way Enkrid conducted himself overwhelmed the room.
Shinar casually placed her right hand on the grip of her sword.
If needed, killing a few people wouldn't be difficult.
In the midst of this tense atmosphere, a distant roar—whether it came from a monster or beast—echoed in the distance.
Audin exhaled and shook his head.
He hadn't fallen for the devil's whisper.
Enkrid probably wasn't serious about his words.
It was just a threat.
A warning of what they were relying on.
Obviously, Schilma, Alma, and the rest of the five trusted the Church.
If you considered the influence on the continent, the Church was more powerful than any bank.
While banks were only in the major cities, the Church's temples and monasteries were spread throughout the continent.
So, what could the Church do now?
That was what Enkrid meant.
Audin knew Enkrid was more resourceful than he appeared.
In doing so, Schilma, with her bloodshot eyes, and Alma, who relied on his strength, had been silenced.
And with this, the atmosphere had almost completely shifted.
The first to react was Shinar.
She moved her pointed ears.
While Audin's ears had twitched earlier due to his mood, Shinar's ears moved for real.
The tips of her ears twitched and turned in one direction.
Enkrid's head turned toward the direction her ears pointed.
A moment later, Audin's gaze followed as well, and everyone's attention turned to the path they had come from.
Someone was approaching from there.
"Plated armor, steady steps, a metal rod at the waist."
The pattern of seven grapes embroidered on the clothing was visible.
Without anyone saying it, they knew.
It must belong to the Temple of the God of Abundance.
And the person wasn't someone easy to deal with either.
Unlike the feeling they got from Alma, an unsettling sensation stirred in Enkrid's mind.
The person approaching had a steady pace, neither too fast nor too slow, walking down the small hill the group had passed.
After watching them take five steps, Enkrid had a strange vision.
That vision of the person suddenly jumping up, grabbing their neck, and slamming them into the ground.
Was it just an illusion?
Enkrid, in that split second, judged that this was some form of Will.
That meant it was a vision of something soon to happen, something his insight had pierced through, and he reacted accordingly.
Bang!
The sound erupted at the same time.
The person in white armor seemed to tear as they zoomed toward Enkrid.
The owner of the plated armor reached Enkrid in an instant, their leg whipsawing toward his calf.
It was a ruthless dash followed by a low strike.
Enkrid observed the entire motion—his exceptional eyesight picking up every detail of the fast-moving leg.
As his thoughts accelerated, he felt time stretch out, as if everything was slowing down.
"Fast."
Should he evade?
No, it was better to endure.
In that brief moment, his will supported his movement.
Enkrid bent his knees, focused his strength in his ankles, and summoned his Will.
His reaction speed had grown significantly compared to before, and with a snap, his leg was struck, but his balance wasn't greatly disturbed.
At the same time, another hand came toward his neck.
Enkrid angled his fist and struck out.
In the style of Valaf's martial arts, he used a short, powerful punch, twisting his waist and rear leg to add weight and power.
Bang!
When the hands collided, the air compressed and exploded with a loud sound.
The sharpness of the impact was followed by the sound of retreat.
Just after the vision, every action took place in the span of one breath.
The opponent was fast and decisive, without hesitation in their movements.
"That was impressive. You really know how to block," the opponent said, seemingly in admiration.
Enkrid wasn't one to accept defeat easily, but there was a strange sensation left in his leg, the one that had been kicked earlier.
Though his muscles and skin were fine, the tendons and ligaments inside were sore.
Even after using the technique called "Iron Plate" to block, it still had an effect.
Even a giant wouldn't cause such a sensation if they kicked with full force.
This meant the opponent had used some skill, something Enkrid couldn't even begin to guess at.
The same skill that had created that strange vision.
Enkrid's leg hurt, but he lowered his hand as if nothing had happened.
The hand hovered near his sword's grip, ready to draw it at any moment.
Despite learning Valah's martial arts, Enkrid's true strength showed when wielding a sword.
Shinar, lowering her leaf-shaped sword, asked,
"What did you just do?"
She too had insight and should have sensed whatever the opponent did beforehand.
Her sensitivity should have caught the movements even if they were a bit slower.
After all, Shinar was sensitive enough to track assassins or play tag.
But she hadn't felt any signs when the opponent approached, kicked, and struck with their hand.
What did this mean?
Did it mean the opponent was superior, far above her own skill?
"No, that can't be. But still, I barely sensed it."
Then what?
The opponent had done something, of course, using Will to pull a trick.
That much could be understood from the brief clash just moments ago.
And as if to confirm this, Alma, the crusader who had just been struck by Enkrid, shouted.
"Lord Overdear!"
Is that name unfamiliar?
It was to Enkrid.
Then, the inquisitor Bert added with a further explanation.
"Prophet!"
Prophet.
That name, Enkrid had heard before.
A person who had lived for such an extended period that his age was hard to guess.
He appeared to be a middle-aged man at first glance, but in reality, he was said to be a monster who had lived for more than a hundred years.
Blessed by the divine, his aging was slow.
His nickname was Prophet.
A prophet.
His prophecy only applied to those who opposed him.
He had the ability to engrave the image of his defeat onto his opponent by using Will, more precisely, the divine.
It was no different from imposing a forced future on his opponent's will.
Since the future had never strayed from its path, the title "Prophet" had stuck.
In his left hand, he held a metal rod, and there was another one at his waist.
His eyes drooped in a soft expression, but with silver pupils, his gaze had a mysterious aura.
Those mysterious silver eyes opened as he spoke.
"I had doubts when the vague vision came to me, but truly, there is no mistake in the will of the Lord."
The Prophet Overdear spoke.
As he spoke, he took the second metal rod from his waist.
With a rod in each hand, these two rods were his engraved weapons.
He crossed them in front of him, clearly signaling his intent to fight.
"They seek to oppress us and take the Saint away!"
Schilma shouted as if she were about to collapse.
"Vision?"
Enkrid suddenly reacted to Overdear's words.
Overdear did not respond to Schilma's words and looked directly at Enkrid.
Perhaps he found Enkrid more interesting than engaging with Schilma.
Or perhaps he simply could not look away.
As he spoke, Enkrid's momentum continued to grow, pushing against Overdear with an increasing pressure of will.
Naturally, it wasn't enough to overpower him, but if he wasn't bothered by it, that would be a lie.
Overdear's gaze also turned toward Enkrid.
"Yes, I received the vision."
Overdear replied calmly, his posture unchanged.
Enkrid thought of the boatman who had appeared in his dreams recently.
"You will face only hardship and trials ahead."
"Is there more to say about swordsmanship?"
"You will wish for nothing more than to be trapped in today."
"How about this? Instead of wave-blocking, how about this?"
"You will become an immortal."
"When your opponent strikes, receive the blow with your blade and close the distance like this."
When the word "immortal" came up, Enkrid, balancing himself on a swaying boat, demonstrated.
It was a memory he had recalled while traveling the continent, learning from Krona, and then explaining it to the boatman.
Surprisingly, the boatman seemed knowledgeable about swordsmanship.
The tips he casually gave often turned out to be surprisingly helpful.
"...I will not curse."
The last time he met the boatman, he had spoken his mind, but that was true for both of them, so there was no one to blame.
Thinking of that boatman, Enkrid now found himself with a strange question.
Looking directly into the prophet's silver eyes, he asked,
"By any chance, did the one who gave you that vision happen to be riding on a boat? With gray skin, cracked skin, maybe even holding a purple lamp?"
It was a completely random question, almost nonsense.
No one could grasp the meaning behind it.
Audin or Shinar were just as puzzled.
Enkrid didn't care about that.
He didn't care what they believed.
Perhaps it could be said that he had no preconceived notions.
He didn't curse the fanatics, nor did he criticize those who, believing in gods, took bribes and walked the path of corruption.
As long as they didn't cross the line he set, he could tolerate it.
He had that mindset.
He just had the thought that perhaps there might be other voices slipping into their faith.
In reality, he might have been unknowingly denying the existence of the god they believed in.
But he hadn't really thought that deeply.
Still, the question remained—if the god they believed in existed and was just, why were certain children trapped in the name of saints, while fallen priests or worshippers were not punished?
For that reason, Enkrid didn't believe in gods.
Not believing allowed him to say such things.
If Overdear had understood this, perhaps even his century-old composure would have been slightly disturbed.
But Enkrid's thoughts were beyond his reach, and Overdear had learned long ago that it was best not to answer meaningless words.
He did just that.
"The vision was given only by my Lord."
In other words, he wouldn't listen to Enkrid's nonsense.
Enkrid wasn't really expecting an answer to his question anyway.
He had asked it half in jest.
The boatman appeared only in dreams or illusions, so he didn't press the issue in this conversation.
Enkrid had also wondered if the boatman had played a trick on him, but after asking, he realized that probably wasn't the case.
And in truth, none of this mattered that much.
The boatman had spoken of hardship and trials, of a life destined to face endless walls.
Would he truly become an immortal trapped in a loop, repeating today?
Enkrid didn't truly consider such things.
Life, by nature, had its trials and challenges, and when a wall came, one simply overcame it—that was all.
It was the same now.
Whether the boatman had summoned him, or if he had truly appeared by divine will, or whether it was just a coincidence—it didn't matter.
All that mattered was that his heart was racing.
"Strong."
Just one exchange, and I could already sense it.
The boldness in the grip and the strength in the physique. It was a fighting style different from Audin's.
The two metal rods in the hands of the so-called prophet caught my attention.
Ting.
He crossed the rods and tapped them together.
Sinar raised her leaf blade at an angle, aiming at the opponent.
"Paladin Alma says, that man there is a heretic and a fugitive!"
Alma pointed a finger at Audin.
Audin casually glanced to the side.
Of course, there was no one.
He tilted his head and, pointing to his chest, asked in return.
"Me?"
His tone was as sly as Enkrid's.
After all, he had learned something over the years.
It was an acting skill worth admiring.
He could easily handle five or more puppets in a puppet show, directing them with great skill.
If a true monk had seen him caring for orphans, they would have thought the same.
At that moment, Alma, who had made the remark, could only curse inwardly at Audin's cheeky response.
"Of course, it's you, who else would it be!"
Alma couldn't hold back and shouted in anger.
It was a relief he didn't add any swear words.
His insides were boiling, ready to explode like a volcano.
The heart was burning as though someone had set a fire in it.
The extreme anger had risen.
He had been beaten and insulted, losing all his dignity, and after that, he couldn't even speak back when Enkrid said he would kill everyone.
What could he say?
He had to shut up.
The self-loathing and wounded pride only fueled his fury.
Of course, he was also angry that things had turned out this way.
And now, hearing what Bert said about Audin being a heretic and fugitive, it only added to his ire.
A sinner, wasn't he?
Prophet Overdir's gaze shifted over to Enkrid, Audin, and the fallen saintess.
"Hmm."
Overdir only let out a short cough.
His face gave no indication of his thoughts.
Enkrid, tired of the little skit, subtly moved to a different spot.
The sun was just setting, and with a small shift in position, the glow of the sunset from the mountain range hit his eyes at an angle.
Perhaps due to the Gigant Mountains, or some other reason, today's sunset was more purple than orange, a mix of pink and purple hues.
Despite the sunlight hitting his eyes, Overdir didn't move from his position.
His gaze simply followed Enkrid.
"I won't kill you. It wouldn't be right, you're not entirely at fault."
Overdir said.
Ah, so that's how it is.
Enkrid responded with a strike instead of words.
Kicking off the ground with one foot, he closed the distance in an instant and swung down at Overdir's head.
It was a fast, heavy strike, almost identical to Ragna's swordsmanship.
Clang!
A loud sound erupted.
The sound came from the collision of the rod and the blade.
Sinar didn't intervene.
This was a duel.
There was no winning by stabbing someone in the back.
That would go against honor and beliefs.
One had to keep their word.
Enkrid would never tolerate interference.
For this reason, Enkrid stepped forward alone, and though he lost, he didn't die.

Comments

Loading...