Chapter 79

─ ……(omitted) The day when the Goddess’s realm shall stand tall upon the island of Britannia is not far off.

It was indeed the handwriting of the Elder of the White Tower and Cardinal Nikolai. Though it was merely Dale’s plausible lie to deceive Charles VII.

From the very beginning, there had been no cooperation between the White Magic Tower and the Holy Maiden.

And even if Charles refused to believe the contents of the secret letter, Dale was prepared to sacrifice Nikolai’s head as ‘proof of betrayal’ if necessary.

Beheading a cardinal who is also an elder of the White Mage Tower is not something done lightly. It requires something like betraying the empire or colluding with its enemies.

‘Fortunately, it didn’t come to the worst-case scenario where we’d have to break the insurance.’

It was truly a fortunate outcome for both parties.

The geas of absolute obedience engraved upon Cardinal Nikolai’s heart. Dale’s puppet, planted within the heart of the Sistine Goddess Cult. His value is far too great to be discarded here as a discarded card.

He still has a mountain of things he must accomplish while alive.

“……Did you say truce?”

“Yes.”

At Charles’ words, the Holy Maiden Aurelia was left speechless.

“The Empire will never stop until it has crushed the Kingdom of Britannia!”

“Have they not already paid a tremendous price themselves?”

Charles VII spoke in a tone as if soothing a child.

“Too many sons of the kingdom have already shed their blood.”

“……”

“Our Sistine sister has always emphasized such kindness and mercy to us…”

As if war were utterly tiresome.

“Why do we defy the goddess’s will and persist in such brutal slaughter!”

“The Empire brought this upon itself.”

“And aren’t they the very ones who desire peace?”

Peace.

“The commander-in-chief of the Imperial Army proposed an ‘indefinite ceasefire agreement’ and promised to withdraw the troops within weeks.”

“Do you trust the Empire’s word?”

“I simply desire peace.”

“Peace, you say…”

The Holy Maiden opened her mouth to speak.

“Officially, our kingdom accepts the Empire’s ‘ceasefire agreement,’ and there will be no further war.”

But Charles cut her off immediately, as if allowing no room for objection.

“The war is over, and now the era of peace has arrived.”

Charles VII’s conviction in peace was unwavering.

To wallow thoughtlessly in pleasure and luxury, perpetually burying his head in a courtesan’s bosom while savoring wine.

It was precisely to seize that peace, to put an end to the tiresome war.

Shortly thereafter, while the imperial army began preparations for withdrawal lasting several weeks.

Reports came in that some soldiers had deserted their units and begun pillaging across the territories of the Britannian Kingdom.

Deserters from the Imperial Army ran rampant across the Kingdom’s territories, committing pillaging and arson. A band of outlaws.

The kingdom also deployed a small mobile strike force, countering with a mobile campaign that swiftly dispatched raiding parties. And the sacred maiden Aurelia volunteered to lead that very strike force, wielding her sword for the kingdom’s peace.

Several weeks later. An imperial force numbering less than 20,000 began withdrawing from the port city of Dover.

As Charles VII had said, it seemed an era of peace was drawing near.

Furthermore, to root out the remnants of the imperial forces within the kingdom’s borders, the Holy Maiden repeatedly dispatched small forces on urgent missions.

Several weeks later.

News arrived that a band of Imperial Army deserters had attacked Orléans, one of the key cities along the Loire River. Immediately, the Maid once again led a small mobile strike force under her command into battle.

And the moment the Maid of Orleans, Aurelia, departed the royal capital of Reims, Archbishop Thomas Becket was arrested in the name of Charles VII.

On charges of treason.

Using as evidence the ‘White Tower of Magic’s Secret Letter’ that Saxony’s Dale had once handed over to Charles.

Immediately thereafter.

As the holy maiden Aurelia, having crushed the band of deserters from the Empire besieging the city of Orleans and secured victory, entered beyond the drawbridge of Orleans with her knights in tow.

“……”

A sudden, inexplicable sense of unease made Aurelia swallow hard. A deathly silence enveloped the city. An ominous stillness, as if walking through a city of the dead.

“You have arrived.”

And within that silence, a voice rang out—one that was terribly familiar. A voice she could never forget.

The Imperial Commander-in-Chief, who should have left the island of Britannia by now and turned his ship’s bow toward the Empire, was there.

“……Prince Dale.”

That day, it was the very same ‘Black Prince’ who had secured a draw against the Virgin of the Fortress, who fought with all her might.

With countless imperial warriors behind him.

One of the continent’s Seven Swords… the Holy Sword Knights and the Knights of Saint Magdalene.

The high elder of the Crimson Mage Tower, the 7th Circle Crimson Mage ‘Lady Scarlet’ and the Purifier Corps.

Even the White Mages, led by Cardinal Nikolai of the White Magic Tower.

The empire’s ultimate forces had gathered there to confront a single ‘abnormally powerful foe’.

“His Majesty Charles betrayed Lady Aurelia.”

At Dale’s words, the holy maiden Aurelia smiled bitterly.

“Moreover, by now in the royal capital of Reims, Archbishop Thomas must have been branded a traitor.”

“……!”

Archbishop Thomas. Once a high elder of the White Mage Tower, a White Mage of the 7th Circle. The words brought no laughter. Each one, the kingdom’s mightiest warriors, as precious as blood—to vanish so utterly.

“Did I not tell you?”

Dale spoke to the Virgin Saint, who smiled bitterly.

“Lady Aurelia should have considered it.”

The meaning behind the words: to save the Kingdom of Britannia.

“Handing the throne over to that man was, in effect, the same as refusing to save the Kingdom of Britannia.”

Dale sneered coldly.

“Is this truly the will of heaven desired by the goddess?”

Spoken by one who claimed to be heaven’s puppet. The Holy Maiden Aurelia could say nothing.

She could only offer a bitter smile until the very end.

The nameless soldier’s sword snapped.

“Kuh, kuh-kuk-kuk-kuk…!”

The man was laughing like a madman.

──He was a man with a pig’s head.

Beneath his armor, a mass of flesh bulged grotesquely, heavy and bulging as if it might burst at any moment.

A pig in human form. A repulsive beast, hideous enough to make one retch.

Yet the sword in his hand, radiating a ‘purity-white brilliance,’ was not such a beast. One of the continent’s strongest artifacts, forged by the first White Magic Tower Master.

The ‘Holy Sword Durandal’.

In other words, that man clad in armor atop a pig’s head was the empire’s proud war hero… the avatar of the Holy Sword, ‘Count Brandenburg’.

The pinnacle of a knight who projects his ideology onto his sword. The armor of his ideology. And this is the result of him overlaying his ideology onto his sword, his armor, and his very flesh.

The true form of the Holy Swordsman. A beast, twisted by the desire for eugenics, who abandoned the path of humanity. People, with both scorn and awe, called this form the Pig King.

And that very King of Pigs now stood before the Holy Maiden.

Expanding the steel plate in the lower abdomen of the armor until it bulged grotesquely. Having abandoned the duty a human ought to uphold, becoming merely a pig faithful to its desires.

Squish, squish!

And unable to withstand the desire that began to swell and grow increasingly massive, the armor burst open. Beneath it, a heavy, pink mass of flesh was exposed.

“…….”

So hideous, so repulsive, it seemed like the very essence of all the world’s ugliness condensed into one grotesque form.

The King of Pigs.

Pig fat dripped from its body like broth. Saliva streamed from its mouth.

And that very King of Pigs, the Holy Knight, charged toward the Holy Maiden who was resisting to the very end.

Six wings amplified the light, driving down pillars of annihilation, and a hail of concentrated fire rained down amidst the barrage.

An overwhelming annihilation powerful enough to shatter an entire city to pieces.

Yet the Pig-Headed Holy Knight stood there.

“……!”

The massive mass of flesh was clean, without a single wound.

‘Strength beyond measure’ was not the exclusive domain of the Holy Maiden Aurelia. And certainly not the 7th Circle White Mage who could amplify that power severalfold… Archbishop Thomas was not here.

With crimson-and-white high mages assisting the holy knight, any notion of odds was meaningless.

Driven by desire, the Pig King charged forward. Unfazed by his own weight, he accelerated through it as the holy knight’s sword plunged down.

A clash of avatars. Yet the outcome was overwhelmingly one-sided.

The pig’s sword overwhelmed the angel’s blade.

The Pig’s holy sword, possessing both weight and speed, yet lacking even a speck of nobility.

“Kuhh, kuhhuhuhuh!”

The wings of light were torn apart by the swinging sword. Wings were torn, armor shattered, and the sacred maiden’s noble flesh was ripped open, blood spattering everywhere.

A pig violating an angel. A sight of unparalleled grotesqueness.

Regardless of its grotesque appearance, the martial might wielded by the Pig-Headed Holy Swordmaster was no laughing matter. The title of one of the Seven Swords of the Continent is never earned lightly.

“Gah, gah…!”

The Sacred Sword Knight stretched out his arm. The pig’s hand seized the sacred maiden’s throat and lifted her up.

“You seem like you’ll make a fine female.”

The pig opened its mouth.

“Gah, keh…!”

The Pig King spoke to the angel struggling in suffocating agony.

“Bear my child, bitch.”

His voice was twisted by eugenic desire and obsession.

“I’ll bear my child, bear it, bear it, bear it, bear it, and bear it again…!”

The pig let out a maniacal laugh.

“You’d better not even think about resting until you’ve given birth to ten—no, a hundred!”

Revealing its pig-like, ugly desire without restraint.

“Oink, oink-oink-oink!”

The virgin was slammed to the floor, crushed beneath the pig’s body.

“……!”

In agony, as if crushed, the virgin turned her head. A broken sword lay beside her head.

The sword of the nameless soldier who had once fought and died for her.

She no longer possesses the strength to confront her enemy. Yet to escape this further shame and humiliation, she must still have enough strength left to thrust a blade into her own heart.

And so the maiden reached out her hand. Or rather, she tried to reach out.

“Stop.”

The voice sounded again. For a moment, Aurelia’s hand froze. But the pig-headed holy knight did not. He was poised to crush the Holy Maiden right here, to unleash his lust upon her.

“Before the Oath of Divine Command, I say—stop, you piglet.”

That was why Dale spoke up.

Gias (Oath of Confinement).

Dale’s voice, appealing to that very oath, echoed throughout the land.

That day, the contents of the oath engraved upon the hearts of Dale and the Holy Knight, determining the course of the war. In all future battles and operations, absolute obedience to Dale’s commands.

At that very moment, the pig crushing the Holy Maiden turned its head toward Dale.

──It was an instant.

From the moment it turned its head to the instant the tip of the Holy Sword Durandal touched Dale’s chest.

“…!”

It was fast. Swiftness beyond even Dale could dare to anticipate. But ultimately, that was all it could do.

“……This damn piglet.”

Dale muttered the curse under his breath. The hilt of the holy sword trembled faintly. The bonds of Geas were gripping the pig’s heart.

Immediately after, a whirlwind of aura swept through, and the Avatar of the Holy Sword vanished.

A naked man stood there.

A naked man, his armor and clothes completely torn and shattered.

“Oh my.”

Lady Scarlet sneered coldly at the sight.

“If a farmer’s plow is that shoddy, how could the crops possibly grow properly?”

She casually voiced the lifelong complex of the holy knight.

“He’s smaller than me.”

Dale too muttered as if it were someone else’s business.