The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 293: Primordial Evil (8)
In most professions, talent and hard work are indispensable.
But there was one field where such abilities were surprisingly unimportant—
the vocation of serving as a follower of the Church.
For theirs was a profession that required an entirely different kind of ability.
Unwavering faith.
That—and nothing more—was the sole qualification required of all believers.
Thus some people ask.
‘Then does that mean anyone can become a priest or a holy knight?’
Half yes, half no.
Anyone could join the Church, but not just anyone could endure within it.
“W-what is that...?”
“Merciful gods...!”
On the rooftop of a cube-shaped building, the priests and holy knights of the El-Terra Church stared at the approaching tsunami of malice, groaning in dread.
Confronting that ocean of negative emotion—large enough to swallow the world—felt like having their spirit crushed.
Those present were the Church’s finest, handpicked for their devotion and unwavering belief in the Earth-Mother Goddess.
Yet even in their steadfast hearts, a seed of doubt sprouted.
‘Holy power may purge evil and the demonic... but can it really stop something like that?’
Even before they could think it through, that conclusion rose instinctively within their minds.
Sometimes, the end of a battle can be seen before the fight even begins.
‘And on top of that, the Archbishop...’
Some of them glanced at the Archbishop, who was kneeling with both hands clasped in deep prayer.
No one knew whether it was a prayer for divine magic—or simply an escape from reality.
“...Brothers and sisters. Do not waver.”
The young holy knight Aine Fenerbahce—hailed as the future of the Church—spoke up.
The snow-white sword he raised gleamed with sacred power, radiating golden light.
“The moment we collapse, everyone behind us collapses as well.”
Deep below, in the depths of the labyrinth, the battle against Belpher raged.
The shockwaves of their clash were so intense that tremors rippled across the entire labyrinth and up through the ground.
“Our task is singular: prevent that tide from reaching them.”
After speaking, even he flicked a glance toward Archbishop Baldwin—
And in his eyes, there was no resentment, nor expectation.
‘The Archbishop... is not like ordinary priests.’
He was indulgent, worldly—fond of luxury, drink, and entertainment.
More a politician than a clergyman.
No one really expected him to turn this situation around with some miraculous intervention.
‘I have to do it.’
As Aine steeled himself, even the swordmasters of the Heavenly Sword Clan drew their blades and gathered their mana.
“We don’t know how much help we’ll be... but we’ll lend a hand.”
They swallowed hard as they watched the black wall of malice draw closer.
It was, to any observer, an act no different from striking a boulder with an egg.
KWAAAAA—!
The sun vanished behind the rising darkness, and complete night fell upon them.
“Here it comes.”
Aine swung his sword in a wide arc.
A wave of golden divinity surged outward, plunging into the tide of malice.
BOOOOOM—!
Behind it, divine spells from the priests and sword-energy from the knights rained down like bombardment.
“It—It worked!”
“Oooh...!”
The towering tidal wave split apart, sunlight flooding back in.
Just as hope began to shine across everyone’s faces—
KWAAAAAAA—!
The severed malice reformed instantly, as if unharmed, and surged forward again.
Aine bit his lip and shouted.
“Second strike!”
Divinity burned even brighter this time, slashing forward—
but the tide of malice split open on its own, avoiding the blow entirely.
“......!”
It behaved like a living organism, slipping past every attack.
Priests and knights unleashed full-force strikes, but each one was effortlessly avoided.
“What kind of nonsense is this!?”
A despair-inducing horror—
the very embodiment of malice.
As the word “defeat” carved itself into everyone’s mind and their eyes trembled—
A faint whisper echoed through the suffocating dark.
“Shield Thy lambs from that which is false.”
FWAAAASH—!
Archbishop Baldwin’s long prayer came to an end.
A massive sacred spell-circle bloomed across the rooftop.
A pillar of divine light descended from the heavens, enveloping the entire labyrinth.
The wave of malice—capable of wiping out the world—
crashed against that barrier and was pushed back.
“O-oh...!”
“Amazing...”
“L-Lord El-Sia...! As expected of the Archbishop!”
The Holy Sword Clan’s knights, and even his fellow clergy—people who knew him well—stared in disbelief.
A man known more for his luxury, frivolity, and worldliness...
now knelt on cold stone, eyes closed in sincere prayer.
‘He was considered the most worldly, materialistic priest of all.’
‘Even within the Church, he had many critics.’
Yet now he proved that his faith ran deeper than anyone had imagined.
And more importantly—the Earth-Mother Goddess herself answered him with a brilliance stronger than ever before.
It could only mean one thing.
“......”
Baldwin smiled faintly.
He was well aware of the rumors about him.
After all, no one cared more about public perception than he did.
A priest was expected to be humble, ascetic, restrained, devout...
Yet he possessed none of these things.
‘Luxury, spectacle, indulgence, worldliness...’
He lived exactly as people accused him of living.
But he hadn’t done so to exploit the Church’s power for personal gain.
‘The world has changed.’
The ancient Mage Tower, the traditional sword clans, even the proud Imperial Family—
all had undergone change over the centuries.
Some called it decline.
Others called it progress.
But everything, without exception, changes.
Except the Church.
‘An institution unchanged for a thousand years.’
In one sense, its steadfastness was admirable—like a great tree with deep roots.
But in another sense, it was stagnant, rigid, and closed off.
Priests still memorized scripture written a millennium ago,
and risked their lives to obey doctrines older than the Empire itself.
Even as a child, Baldwin could not understand it.
‘There is no such thing as a single correct answer.
And any organization that refuses to change will eventually be left behind.’
The Church was no exception.
Once, he had feared these thoughts were blasphemy.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
But the Earth-Mother Goddess had never—not once—failed to answer his faith or grant him divinity.
Even now, in this very moment, she was proving that again.
‘This settles it.’
He had not been wrong.
His convictions deepened.
The sacred radiance around him flared even brighter, dazzling to behold.
“The evil... it’s receding...”
Aine Fenerbahce stared in awe.
He had never once respected Baldwin as a believer—
but the miracle unfolding before him demanded respect.
“We’ve practically won!”
He finally smiled and approached the Archbishop—
but the moment he saw Baldwin’s face, his smile vanished.
“Archbishop...?”
“......”
Blood streamed from every opening in Baldwin’s face.
The price of invoking divine might—
the might of a god—
with a mortal body.
Yet Baldwin simply wiped the blood away with his sleeve.
“Focus. The battle isn’t over.”
“But... it’s clearly—”
Aine turned toward the edge of the island.
The tide of malice had retreated far, unable to overcome the divine light.
To him, it seemed over.
But Baldwin’s eyes never left that distant tide.
“Tell me, lad. When do you think evil is most dangerous?”
“When you first meet it? Since you never know what it’ll do?”
“Heh. Wrong. The most dangerous moment is after you think you’ve already beaten it—once your guard is down.”
Because evil does not care about methods or honor.
It does anything to win.
And this tide of malice was no different.
“...It’s coming.”
As Baldwin whispered, the sea of darkness condensed—
folding into itself, thicker and thicker—
until it formed a single, monstrous spear of pure malice.
It shot upward, piercing the clouds, reaching an unfathomable height.
Then—
BOOOOOM—!
The spear burst through the clouds, aiming directly at the airship circling overhead.
“N-No!”
Aine screamed, swinging his sword in desperation—
but his light fell short.
Baldwin sighed softly.
“As expected. Nothing is ever simple.”
Cunning thing.
With a dry laugh, Baldwin dispersed the divine barrier around the labyrinth and instead wrapped it around the airship.
KWAAAAA—!
The airship was blasted backward by the impact, violently shaken—
but protected.
It soon regained balance and fled to the far side of the island.
‘The real problem... is now.’
The spear of malice no longer chased the airship.
Instead, as if waiting for this exact moment—
it hurled itself toward the now-unguarded labyrinth.
‘Earth-Mother Goddess... grant this old servant strength and courage, just once more...’
His desperate prayer flared into a final divine barrier around the entire labyrinth.
Like a candle burning brightest before it dies,
it shone even more fiercely than before—
But when the spear struck—
“—Khff!”
An indescribable pain ripped through Baldwin.
He coughed blood, but did not faint.
“Archbishop!”
Aine slashed desperately at the malice, but it was meaningless.
This was no longer an attack that humans could stop.
It was a natural disaster given form.
‘Perhaps... lasting this long was already a miracle.’
A bittersweet mix of regret and relief welled up in him.
Then—
snap.
Something inside his mind broke, like a taut thread finally severed.
Baldwin collapsed unconscious.
Without his divinity, the weakening barrier dissolved.
The wave of malice surged forward, pouring over the rooftop.
“Everyone—get down!”
Aine pulled Baldwin close and threw himself low to the ground.
KWAAAAA—!
The black tide smashed through the rooftop,
devouring everything as it crashed downward.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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