Chapter 237

“Lady Sepia…?”

Dale called her name, and at the same moment, her body, reeling in agony, lost its balance. Sepia’s hand steadied Dale’s body immediately afterward.

“It was blue magic I never taught you.”

Sepia said, and Dale silently nodded. But Sepia asked no more. After all, as a mage who wielded blue magic herself, Sepia couldn’t possibly have been unaware. The blue magic Dale had displayed was a highly advanced magic, one she herself, as she was now, couldn’t even dare to imagine.

Moreover, it bore a striking resemblance to the realm revealed by the blue-clad figure.

“…Why did you leave Miss Charlotte behind in the Duchy of Lancaster?”

But Sepia, seemingly unconcerned, asked something entirely unexpected.

“Charlotte must fulfill her duties as Duchess of Lancaster.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Sepia nodded quietly.

“Miss Charlotte has every right to be by your side.”

“……”

“Treat her a little more kindly.”

For a moment, Dale opened his mouth to say something, but then quietly closed it.

Sepia was still supporting Dale’s body. As a teacher cherishing his disciple, he seemed to be doing what was right.

At that moment, Sistine Chapel.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

Though the Church had formally resolved to secede from the Empire, it had never truly separated from it.

“It is as you say, Holy Virgin.”

The Celestial Archon, the pinnacle of the White Mage Tower and the Golden Standard, spoke quietly.

“Our enemy remains the enemy of the Goddess—in other words, the Shadow Lord who seeks to cast darkness upon this land.”

“Does this mean you refuse to resolve to secede from the Empire?”

“Ah, that’s exactly what I meant.”

The Heavenly Lord laughed. The expression of the Holy Maiden Aurelia, gripping the Sacred Sword, froze.

“I can never accept that fact…!”

The pure-white Aurelia tried to issue a warning, but it was at that very moment.

“There’s no need for tolerance of fraud, Holy Maiden.”

“……!”

The smile vanished from Heavenly Lord’s face in an instant. Simultaneously, his heart raced, and a swirling light coiled into chains, beginning to bind Aurelia’s flesh.

From the very beginning, when that Saxon upstart claimed he had burned the ‘Virgin Mary’ in his domain, I found the story highly dubious. And sure enough, now you’ve become Saxony’s loyal dog of darkness, fulfilling your role as a spy just as he said.

As he spoke, Heavenly Lord laughed coldly.

“Do I strike you as a fool?”

“I…!”

Wrong. The pure-white Aurelia here was not the real Aurelia who had been defeated by Saxony’s Black Prince that day and had her life spared.

She was nothing more than a fake, given substance through Kangma’s consciousness.

“I am doing this solely to bring the goddess’s realm to this land…!”

“Ah, how tiresome.”

The imposter who denied the pitch-black Aurelia and refused to abandon the goddess’s revelation bestowed upon her until the very end.

But the Heavenly King waved his arm as if he couldn’t bear to listen.

Kwoong!

At that very moment, an unexpected scream echoed.

“Let go! It’s a misunderstanding! I—I—”

Orelia turned her head. Church knights had already captured Cardinal Nikolai, the white mage tower’s elder and ‘Dale’s puppet,’ forcing him to kneel before the Heavenly Lord.

“That day, the maiden accused of witchcraft did not die; she was rescued by Saxony’s ‘Black Prince.’ Yet knowing this, our brother Cardinal Nikolai lied to save his own life.”

“……!”

“That very shadow spy has now infiltrated the heart of our church, disguised as the holy maiden and the holy knight. Ah, as a servant of the goddess and head of the church, I feel a truly heavy and burdensome responsibility.”

“My intentions toward the Church and the Goddess are never false……!”

It’s no lie. Just as she said, the real Aurelia became a spy for the shadows and fell into becoming the Witch of Pitch Black, but the one here is not.

Orelia burst into a hollow laugh, halting her attempt to speak the truth.

What difference does it make now? That man who claims to be the head of the church desires nothing more than to become part of that detestable empire. He wouldn’t have the slightest interest in something like the ‘Land of the Goddess’ she longs for.

From the very beginning, all who dwell here are nothing but puppets, manipulated by the Shadow Lord’s hand.

‘Which virgin was right? The one standing atop the empire’s ruins will find the answer. Wouldn’t you agree?’

She here has failed. But the other Aurelia kneeling before the shadow would not have.

Through her failure, the pitch-black Aurelia would finally realize whose decision was correct. The pure-white Aurelia’s existence had been nothing more than a sacrificial lamb to prove that fact from the start.

Once she grasped the truth, not even a hollow laugh escaped her.

Even now, the blue spiderwebs binding her body must be acting as eyes and ears, informing Saxony’s ‘Black Prince’ of that fact.

‘Because evil has been defeated, are you trying to blame it on the responsibility of good?’

‘A good that cannot be victorious is meaningless.’

That day, Pure White asked, and Jet Black answered. It was true.

He was wrong, and she was right.

“Do not think you will die easily.”

Before the self-mocking Aurelia, the Heavenly Lord laughed coldly.

“To the witch who dares to insult the Church and the Empire, a death as simple as that will never come.”

“…….”

“Furthermore, the House of Saxony shall also pay the price for betraying the goddess and the homeland, for conspiring with traitors to the empire and witches.”

Hearing this, the false Aurelia burst into laughter. The sacred sword hanging at her waist emitted a feeble glow.

“Please, forgive me!”

The man knelt and pleaded. He had once been a noble of the newly born Britannian Kingdom, but faced with the tide of battle turning against them, he had volunteered to become a dog of the Empire.

Before him stood a face he could never forget.

Lady Shadow, the Sword of Shadows.

A harbinger of death and a figure of terror among the imperialist nobles of the island. Her true identity was utterly unexpected.

“The Holy Maiden… has risen from death, grasped the Sacred Sword, and become the Sword of the Holy Nation…!”

Why was Aurelia, who should have been there, here instead? Aurelia, pure white and jet black. The man here would have no way of knowing about the fate that crossed theirs.

Clang.

Jet-black Aurelia re-gripped her sword. Its blade was stained crimson.

“Hee, heeek! Please, please, Sister Goddess, have mercy and kindness, and forgive me…!”

“Do not worry.”

Orelia smiled quietly.

“I have neither the intention to blame you nor the right to forgive you.”

“Ah, ahh, as expected!”

At those words, a flicker of relief crossed the noble’s face.

Splash!

His head was severed and rolled away almost simultaneously.

“But there is no reason to show mercy either.”

His voice was cold, devoid of even a trace of emotion.

Bathed in the spattering blood, the jet-black Aurelia wore a smile of pure delight.

And the night of the massacre was not yet over.

For on this island, there were far too many who had to die.

Some time later, an imperial edict arrived in the Duchy of Saxony.

The Imperial Diet was convened, and it was intended to install the Duke of Saxony, the foremost prince of the Empire, and his son within the Diet.

This resolution applied equally to the Duchy of Saxony, which had declared its secession from the Empire, and to the Holy Roman Empire itself. In other words, it meant that the princes of the entire continent would gather in one place.

A war encompassing the entire continent never begins overnight.

Exchanging words before war was an indispensable and unavoidable process.

Therefore, the Shadow Lord accepted the proposal without hesitation.

To see the Golden Lord, who had broken his silence and begun to move, with his own eyes.

It was time to prepare for the greatest war.

“The Imperial Council.”

In the Saxon Duke’s office, the Black Count spoke flatly.

“I’d like to ask if you intend to walk into a death trap of your own accord, but…”

After saying that much, the Black Count fell silent for a moment.

“I suppose I have no choice but to go.”

“Indeed.”

Dale silently nodded.

“Do you think you’re ready to face the Golden Sovereign?”

“The moment I defeated the Immortal, I was already prepared.”

“……Yes, I suppose that could be true.”

The Black Lord nodded quietly. After the nod, a brief silence settled.

“But not yet.”

“……What do you mean?”

After the silence, the Black Ball spoke, and Dale asked in response.

“It means the preparations are not yet complete.”

The Duke of Saxony stated flatly. Just as Dale was about to respond, the Black Duke cut him off.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m waiting for the day when you grow strong enough to surpass me and ascend to the pinnacle of the Black Magic Tower.”

“……!”

Dale quietly swallowed at the Black Duke’s words.

“There should be ample time before the council convenes. There’s no need to rush.”

“But I still…”

“What are you hesitating about?”

At the Black Duke’s question, Dale shook his head immediately. That was right. This wasn’t a contest where one had to die for it to end.

Simply to defeat his master and father, and stand at the pinnacle of the Black Magic Tower.

Proving that fact before everyone would suffice.

“No.”

Shaking his head, Dale, his resolve strengthened, spoke up.

“I am ready at any time.”

“……Yes.”

Hearing those words, his father, the Duke of Saxony, smiled quietly.

“I shall await you at the summit of the Black Magic Tower.”

He rose from his desk, and the sunlight pouring in behind him was blocked, casting a backlight.

The silhouette of his father, hidden in the shadows, was profoundly dark and ominous.

A battle against Duke Saxony to determine the pinnacle of the Black Magic Tower. The new master of the Black Magic Tower.

That phrase meant only one thing.

Defeating my father and inheriting everything he built.

‘Has it come to this already?’

Born and raised within the body of the Saxon Duke’s family, the final destination he sought to reach was drawing near.

Dale finished his thoughts and raised his head.

Necropolis, atop the Black Magic Tower.

──The man was there.

He was the man who now cast the greatest shadow over Dale.

Seated upon a throne of pitch-black jade, the man gazed down upon the challenger who awaited him.

“Dale of Saxon, I humbly greet you at the pinnacle of the Black Magic Tower.”

Dale bowed respectfully, and the continent’s foremost dark mage rose to his feet.

With the final war looming, the curtain rose on the duel to determine the pinnacle of the Black Magic Tower.