Chapter 320: Lucerne (1)
Reception room on the first floor of the annex.
Shiron composed himself to greet the guest who had arrived early in the morning. Though he longed for a bath after sweating through the night, the guest’s identity demanded decorum.
Cardinal Deviale.
An elder whom both Hugo and Shiron deeply respected. It was hard to imagine him visiting over something trivial this early in the day.
“I apologize for summoning you at such an early hour.”
As soon as Shiron entered, Deviale gave a brief nod. Shiron, slightly surprised, looked at him carefully. The cardinal’s disheveled state mirrored his own.
His hair stuck up in tufts, and his cassock—likely thrown on in haste—was wrinkled. Stubble dotted his chin, and his breathing was labored, as if he’d rushed here.
“It must be an urgent matter?”
“Embarrassingly so. It’s a rather pressing issue.”
Clink. Deviale drained the glass of water before him in one gulp, exhaling a deep sigh.“It’s about a message from Lucerne.”
“From Lucerne?”
“Yes.”
Shiron’s eyes widened in surprise, and Deviale nodded gravely.
“To my knowledge, the Hero has… received permission from His Holiness to borrow a sacred relic.”
“Yes, the Shield of Hesed. But what about it…?”
“His Holiness has ordered its retrieval.”
“……Understood.”
Without hesitation, Shiron brought out [Hesed’s Shield].
Ten years ago, he had borrowed the legendary relic of Lucerne after a private audience with His Holiness.
The shield can nullify ranged attacks by consuming the user’s mana—a relic so valuable it could be considered game-breaking. Knowing this, Shiron had secured it early and had relied on it to survive countless battles over the past decade.
The most recent occasions were during the Labyrinth of the Sixth Apostle and his battle against future Yoru.
The shield had blocked a pillar of black light steeped in the aura of destruction and had also nullified Yoru ultimate technique, Fog Sword Whale.
For Shiron, who had yet to master defensive martial techniques, the shield was nothing short of a lifeline. Yet, he willingly prepared to return it.
[Hero, isn’t this the relic you mentioned using during the Third Apostle’s fight?]
Even though it was critical for the Third Apostle’s conquest.
‘True, but if the owner demands it back, what choice do I have?’
When he borrowed it, no specific return date had been set. However, the shield ultimately belonged to His Holiness. At the time, Shiron had relied entirely on the pope’s goodwill since he had yet to prove himself as a Hero.
The fact that no one had asked for its return until now was a miracle in itself.
Yet, strangely, Deviale hesitated to take the shield.
“Hero, if I may, there is one more thing I must convey.”
“You don’t look well. Has something happened?”
“Well…”
Deviale’s expression darkened further, as if what he had to say was difficult to articulate. But then, with a resolute gesture, he clenched his fist.
“His Holiness has requested that you return it personally.”
“…What nonsense is this?”
Shiron made no effort to hide his irritation. Deviale let out a pained groan as if expecting this reaction.
“I can’t say for certain, but I suspect it may be related to recent unsettling rumors circulating within the upper ranks.”
“Rumors?”
“Rumors that the world is ending.”
“…I see.”
Shiron exhaled deeply.
“I’m struggling to understand the connection. May I ask something?”
“Of course.”
“What does the world ending have to do with me returning the relic in person? I find it hard to see the link…”
“Frankly, I also find it difficult to grasp.”
Deviale folded his arms and sighed heavily.
“The scriptures teach us to resolve our issues with our own strength. Thus, it might seem logical for the borrower to return the relic personally.”
“That makes sense, but…”
“Lucerne, despite being a theocracy, has never been so rigid. I suspect this is connected to the recent rumors within the upper ranks…”
As his sighs deepened, so did his troubled expression.
“To be honest, I don’t know. It’s not just His Holiness’s decision; the matter was also raised during the Cardinals’ meeting. Perhaps this is some form of retribution for the Hero’s audacity as a mere priest.”
“…Understood.”
Though still suspicious, Shiron reluctantly nodded.
He could manage without Hesed’s Shield. He could take time to learn defensive techniques, and his current strength far exceeded what he had when he borrowed the shield. However, he was at a critical juncture—only one apostle and one demon remained.
In such a situation, he didn’t want lingering doubts clouding his battles. Shiron resolved that incurring the Cardinals’ ire would only complicate matters.
“Then, when should I leave?”
“They should understand that traveling in winter is unreasonable. You can set out in the spring.”
“…Understood.”
With that, Shiron retrieved the shield.
‘Two months left.’
His mind began racing with thoughts of how to maximize the shield’s utility in the remaining time.
Of the Seven Apostles, six had been vanquished.
Two months later, in the mansion’s training yard, Shiron faced a staff prepared to unleash a devastating spell while wielding only a shield.
“Fire.”
Boom! At his signal, a blinding beam shot forth. The earth melted beneath its approach, and the sheer intensity was enough to make one’s eyes feel like they were burning.
A beam so deadly that no one would dare brush against it. Yet, Shiron didn’t move a single step from the target zone.
Instead, he raised the shield calmly, taking a deep breath.
The moment the beam engulfed him, a deafening explosion rang out.
In exchange for a massive amount of mana, the spell was nullified.
“…Not bad.”
Shiron, satisfied, checked the remaining mana in his core.
‘Two-thirds left. My mana capacity has grown. Two months ago, one hit would have left me with only half.’
“One more time!”
Shiron brushed off the soot clinging to the shield before signaling to Seira again.
“Huu…”
Seira exhaled deeply, preparing her new ultimate technique, [White Night]. It wasn’t just Shiron’s mana core that had changed. This training was not only for Shiron but also for Seira.
[I’m ready. Just fire whenever you want.]
In the corner of Seira’s consciousness, another self chirped cheerfully.
Go-oooo… Compared to her first casting of [White Night], the process of constructing the spell was remarkably faster.
Magic typically requires offering a fixed amount of mana and then constructing a formula to distort reality. Yet now, it seemed the latter step had been bypassed as magic formed instantly at the tip of her staff.
This accomplishment came after Seira gained a second self.
Having two selves meant having two minds capable of constructing magic formulas. Unlike before, where she deployed spells sequentially, her future self could now prepare the next spell in advance.
Boom!
The power remained the same. Hesed’s Shield consumed mana equivalent to the force of the blocked attack, leaving Shiron with only one-third of his mana.
“Huu…”
Beads of cold sweat formed on Shiron’s forehead as he endured the rapid mana drain. Lucia, watching with concern, spoke up.
“Shiron, I know time is running out, but aren’t you pushing yourself too hard? What if your mana core shatters, like Father’s?”
“That’s why I leave about one-third remaining.”
Shiron wiped the sweat from his brow as he replied, then handed the shield to Yoru, who stood beside Lucia.
“Here, it’s your turn now. You saw what I did, right? Take the spell head-on. If you feel dizzy, just call it off.”
“…”
Yoru hesitated as she recalled Shiron’s brutal training. The flash that could obliterate an entire mountain and the deathly aura emanating from it were terrifying even to witness. Although this wasn’t her first time, Yoru still found it hard to trust this “relic.”
“P-Please go easy on me…”
In the end, she couldn’t resist and approached Seira in small, hesitant steps.
In the mist, Yoru remembered the terrifying decapitation she had witnessed.
Shiron had once killed Yoru’s future self with mechanical precision, devoid of emotion. Regardless of hostility, Shiron had slain a future Yoru—identical in face, body, and voice—without hesitation.
In a single strike.
Since that day, Yoru had obeyed Shiron without a word of protest. After watching Yoru walk away, Shiron turned his gaze back to Lucia.
“Alright, let’s move on to the next training.”
Shiron drew a long sword from his side. It was not his usual holy sword but an ordinary blade forged from black iron. He sat down with the sword in hand.
“…Aren’t you overdoing it these days?”
Lucia placed her hands on Shiron’s shoulders, murmuring softly. This session focused on manifesting aura through mana control.
“Manifesting aura depends more on talent than effort. Unless you’re a genius, most people only move beyond basic sword energy by the time they’re thirty.”
“Yoru, Siriel, and you have all achieved aura, but I’m still stuck at sword energy. That’s why I have to train harder.”
Muttering to himself, Shiron infused the blade with mana. Thanks to his training, the mana burned brightly, like pure flame.
“Besides, only one Apostle remains now.”
“The Third Apostle, you said?”
“Yeah. That bastard is in the Tower of Despair within the Demon Realm. Even with a holy sword and strong recovery abilities, I won’t feel secure without aura. I want to be fully prepared with the time I have left.”
“Well, if that’s the case…”
Persuaded by Shiron’s reasoning, Lucia fell silent. This was always how it went. Even when she voiced her purest concerns, Shiron’s logic would dismantle them, leaving her with no choice but to concede.
With their lives on the line, she couldn’t oppose his resolve to proceed cautiously.
Having narrowly escaped death during the Fourth Apostle’s schemes, Lucia’s cautious nature had only deepened.
“Protect my brother for me.”
Two months ago, at the imperial palace, Siriel had said those very words.
“Why the serious tone?”
“I wasn’t trying to be serious!”
“Calm down. You’ll startle the baby.”
“I can’t fight anymore, remember?”
Siriel added no further explanations after that. Yet, as someone who had shared half her life with Siriel, Lucia understood the unspoken words.
Siriel, who had always dreamed of fighting alongside Shiron, had trained harder than anyone. Though she bore Shiron’s child out of love, she might never have gotten pregnant were it not for her rivals.
‘It’s hard to breathe…!’
The triangular knot in Lucia’s chest tightened painfully.
Siriel, now heavily pregnant, made her way to the dock to see Shiron off. Even as his departure drew near, her demeanor remained unchanged.
“Brother! Come back safely!”
Her cheerful kiss landed on his cheek. Shiron hugged her, careful not to press against her swollen belly.
“Sorry, Siriel. I’ll return before the baby is born.”
“Mmh, don’t worry about me. I’d be more upset if you got hurt rushing back.”
“I’ll bring ice cream when I come home.”
Shiron chuckled, hugging Siriel tightly once more. Leaving behind a heavily pregnant fiancée weighed heavily on him, but he was grateful for her understanding.
“I didn’t get pregnant to hold you back. I’ll protect our family until you return.”
Siriel watched silently as the others boarded the ship. She wanted to ask them to take care of her brother in her place, but she held back, fearing it might bring bad luck.
As the ship set sail, Siriel caressed her belly until it disappeared from view.
“The spring breeze is cold. Let’s head inside.”
Hugo gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders.