Raising the Princess to Overcome Death

Chapter 129: Childhood Friend – Varik Monarch

Lev’s hand holding the Aura Blade trembled. It was hard to take his eyes off the fallen Lena Einar.

What have I, what have I done?

– Kill that bastard too. Right now!

Just as Lev hesitated in confusion, Leo Dexter, who was stuck in the thornbush, jumped down, not caring if the thorns pricked him.

“Lena! Lena!”

Leo embraced Lena.

Unable to give up hope, he flipped her over to check her condition, clinging to the faint hope that she might still be alive.

But Lena did not move at all. There was no way a person with a pierced heart could be alive.

“Le… argh!! You bastard!!”

Leo Dexter screamed ferociously.

With a face twisted in rage, he looked at Lev and charged through the vines on the ground.

It was only then that Lev came to his senses and raised his Aura Blade. He intended to split the blood-covered man running towards him in half…

– Clang!

A crude long sword, which lacked any sheen or blade guard, blocked Lev’s sword.

[ Achievement: Bound Item, 0/3 ]

[ Sword – Not Destroyed ]

Whether it was supposed to be amazing or not, Leo’s sword was identical to the one Lev was holding. Despite clashing with the giant Aura Blade, it did not break.

“Die!”

Leo Dexter thrust his sword.

With a move akin to fencing, he took a large step forward with his right foot and aimed at Lev’s chest. It was a rare and risky move typically used when one intends to kill the opponent hastily, even at the risk of losing his grip on his two-handed sword.

– Clang!

Lev stepped back and swung his Aura Blade upward. This was also an unusual and violent move, swinging a two-handed sword with just one hand.

{Swordsmanship.3v: Bart Style}.

The two were using the same swordsmanship technique.

As expected, Leo couldn’t withstand the immense sword pressure and lost grip of his two-handed sword. However, he jumped, as if to strangle Lev to death, and his large build overwhelmed the relatively weak-looking Rev.

Leo of Demos Village.

Leo Dexter knew that Lev was a friend stranded in the same bizarre whirlpool of fate as he was. But he couldn’t control his seething anger.

Figuring out what had happened, who was the ‘player,’ and why the Leo in front of him had become an apostle of the evil god was not important.

Revenge for Lena!

He tried to twist the neck of this diminutive fellow, who barely reached his chin…

– Thud!

Lev’s punch flew at lightning speed. Additionally, the Aura Blade, which had somehow become smaller, pierced through his gut.

Although Leo Dexter had superior physique and equal swordsmanship, Lev’s body, enhanced by the divine power of Barbatos, had surpassed human limits by half a step.

Unless he was a Sword Master, Leo Dexter could never face him alone.

“Ugh… you… bastard…”

Leo, whose spine had been severed, fell to his knees and lost sensation in his lower body. Yet, as if unable to fall so easily, he clung to Lev’s hem and vomited blood.

“I’ll… kill you. I will definitely, definitely have my revenge…”

Leo, who had been ruined piercing through the thornbush, talked of revenge even as he knew he was dying, while Lev pushed the corpse away with a complicated expression. His eyes, which had cleared momentarily, were once again dyed red.

He suddenly felt a pang of regret for the ‘mirror.’

* * *

“Huff… huff…”

“Bishop Berg. I believe it would be wise to stop now.”

Priest Ophelia tried to dissuade him, but Bishop Berg blamed his aged body and continued dancing with the sword.

“If I… huff… stop… then, huff, even here will be… covered with… thornbushes.”

“But…”

…It’s pointless.

Ophelia couldn’t finish her sentence. She looked around with a look of despair.

Red and pitch black.

Less than two thousand remaining of the task force were catching their breath on a narrow circular plain. This area had been secured thanks to Bishop Berg’s summoning of Lord Rachar, who repeatedly cut down the constantly growing thornbushes.

However, this small sanctuary was surrounded by a dense forest of dark thornbushes, which occasionally emitted sharp screams.

We have lost.

The apostle of the evil god was an uncontrollable monster.

Despite botching the initial attack, we thought we had a chance when the apostle fell off his horse. But we soon realized how naive we were.

The 1,500 priests, including Priest Ophelia, had long since become dead weight. They had exhausted all their divine power trying to purify the ground from which the thornbushes sprang, leaving them as ordinary, no, powerless civilians.

The ground, which had momentarily regained its original color, was soon stained red again, making the used divine power seem futile.

We realized it was impossible to purify the ground when the task force was already in tatters.

The junior knights who went out to capture the fallen apostle did not return. Although they weren’t far from the main force, only a few of them managed to come back, seemingly unable to break through the dense forest, and only the occasional piercing screams evidenced their demise. Two days passed since then. The hunting party, with tearful eyes, decided to retreat. However, the thorny forest seemed unwilling to allow even that, clinging to their feet. The elderly crusaders, the royal guards escorting the prince, and the priests who had lost all their divine power tried to clear the path through the vines, but the forest seemed endless. It was thanks to the wizards who set fires and poured rain to make a path that they could flee even this far.

They were now complete remnants.

Food supplies running low, and no matter how much the avatar of Lord Ratchar tried to protect them, they could not get proper rest because of the thorns suddenly sprouting up.

Among those who remained here, almost no one believed they could somehow exterminate the apostle of the evil god or survive through this forest.

“I wish the apostle of the evil god would just appear. Then we could fight to the death with at least one last person standing…” But the apostle did not appear. He was cold enough not to show his face till the end, and it seemed he hunted down the people who fell behind the hunting party as the forest they had passed through was soon covered with thornbushes and terrible death cries echoed from there.

“Oh God, have you forsaken us? Please save us.” The priests, including the high priest, continuously prayed. They were all cries for salvation and light. Cardinal Mihaer, however, seemed as if he had realized it was all over or as though he had resigned to their predetermined fate, and just sighed with a gaunt face.

“Huff, huff…” Bishop Berg stopped his sword dance. He rubbed his trembling arm, caught his breath for a moment, then shouted at the priests. “Do not beg for your lives from God! Our lives are not of importance to Him!”

It was blasphemous words. If he had said such things before these circumstances, he would definitely have been stripped of his cardinal position and severely punished. But Bishop Berg did not stop his shouting. “God wants us to overcome adversities on our own! What is important to Him is the human spirit! Rather, fight to live! Burn with the will to live! Then God will open a path!”

Bishop Berg knew the secret of divine power. The reason his divine power never ran out even after continuously performing ‘Descent’ rituals for two days was purely because he was burning with his own will. But he sighed, “All of it is futile. This is all a path arranged by God. I understand why God told the Saintess not to move.”

While the priests froze at Bishop Berg’s blasphemous accusations, Cardinal Mihaer muttered softly. He had a completely resigned look on his face, much to Bishop Berg’s dismay. It was the thought that everything was tied to ‘fate,’ that whatever they did, the future was predetermined that made the priests weak and complacent.

Bishop Berg wanted to rebut them even while he understood their sentiments. Because the one who had risen to the highest position of the holy cross church, the cardinal, was a sinner.

+ + +

His real name was ‘Varik Monarch’. Born as an illegitimate son of Baron Monarch of the Conrad Kingdom, he did not even get his own room as the baron’s son. He lived with lowly servants and was often given hard labor when there were insufficient hands, naturally without payment. Such was the life of illegitimate children. They were treated worse than the peasants whose wages had to be provided lest there be revolt; to get education, the low-born mother had to tearfully plead to the father, no, the master.

Still, there were servants who sarcastically remarked that he was blessed since at least he wouldn’t starve to death. Initially, young Varik thought the same. After all, being of Baron Monarch’s blood, he wouldn’t be thrown out of the household. At worst, he might end up a butler, or if lucky, take on a managerial role. But that was too much hope. Though his coming of age was near, Varik hadn’t received the necessary education for a butler.

He showed talent in swordsmanship and occasionally trained with the family knights, but it was merely because a knight, feeling pity for the obviously forsaken Varik, taught him during his personal time. Only a bleak future awaited him. Though he was scorned by his family and ridiculed by the peasants and servants, there was one single line of hope that Varik Monarch held onto. ‘Greinen Monarch’, his half-sister. Only a year apart, Greinen and Varik often played together when they were young, and at that time, even the baron left them alone, probably thinking it wasn’t bad for his late-born daughter to have a peer.

Due to this, Greinen Monarch grew up as a noble who didn’t discriminate against the illegitimate. Despite knowing her father did not particularly like it, she sometimes secretly brought food to Varik.

Varik loved her. Although she was his sister, she wasn’t treated as family in the baron’s household, so she was more like a friend to him. Their relationship slowly developed into that of lovers. When they were out of sight of others, they would sometimes hold hands or embrace each other. Then one day, when the baron went hunting with the family, Greinen, who stayed in the lord’s castle pretending to be ill, kissed Varik. With flushed faces, they climbed into bed and whispered “I love you” to each other.

It was a happy moment but the beginning of disaster. Though they thought no one had found out, just like how a child’s lies can be seen through easily, what happened in the small mansion of the baron’s family reached their father’s ears.

“You vile wretched child! They say blood doesn’t deceive and your deeds are no different from your mother’s!”

Receiving a beating, Varik spat out the blood in his mouth in disbelief. That wretched son is your very child! You who made mother die by refusing to take her to the church to save on her treatment costs, do you deserve to be called a father?

Despite having plenty to retort, Varik chose to stay silent. He let the beatings and insults be. In the end, to cover up the scandal of a bastard sleeping with a noble daughter, Varik was sent off to a church, outwardly as an excuse of dedicating a child to God.

During the journey to the capital church, Varik was insulted by the knights and squires escorting him, calling him a filthy man who defiled his sister. He didn’t defend himself. He knew that his relationship with Greinen was a wrongful love. Even then, he couldn’t help but be tortured by his growing feelings, leading to that incident.

‘But…’

Although he reflected on his sins, deep inside, a sense of resentment was bubbling. What if I wasn’t a bastard? If I were the rightful heir, would I be chased out like this with insults? If that were the case, our relationship might have been accepted. Although marriage between close relatives might raise eyebrows, it wasn’t unprecedented.

It was because of his illegitimate status that he was cast out without such leniency. Thinking about his sister Greinen, filled with worry, lament, and self-reproach, Varik escaped from the carriage.

Determined to cut ties with his family and live a life of penance at the capital church by his own will, he Lenamed himself Varik.

Years of hardship led Varik to enroll in an educational institution. With his considerable skill in swordsmanship, he aimed to become a paladin rather than a priest, gradually becoming a devout believer in the Lord as he studied theology.

However, even during his education, his past constantly troubled Varik’s mind.

‘Can a sinner like me become a paladin? Can I receive divine power?’

The all-knowing sole deity, the Lord, surely knew of his sins. Probably… I won’t receive it.

He had already given up hope. He thought if he couldn’t become a paladin, he would become a knight instead. But surprisingly, he passed the rite. Not only that, he was evaluated to have a highly efficient reception of divine power.

Varik was puzzled.

Why? Why did the Lord allow someone like me to receive glorious divine power? With my falsified background and status, I am undoubtedly the worst apprentice in terms of qualification…

Though puzzled, he became a paladin and was assigned to the countryside of the Kingdom of Bellita, to the Toddler region, for about two years.

In that place’s church, he enjoyed a peaceful life for the first time while handling miscellaneous tasks.

But that peace was shattered when he discovered an old ancient document while helping clean the church’s library.

Covered in dust and so old it crumbled at a touch, the document recorded the secret history of the first saint, Saint Azra.

The Toddler region, known as the birthplace of the first king and swordmaster Toddler Archion, was also the hometown of Saint Azra, who, surprisingly enough, was an uncontrollable drunkard.

Saint Azra, who had a temper worsened by alcohol, frequently caused trouble when drunk and even disobeyed orders as a soldier of the Akia Kingdom, which was transforming into an empire, leading to imprisonment and dishonorable discharge. Afterward, he lived as a swindler and spent many times in prison.

In old age, he returned to his hometown and became a simple farmer until one day, he suddenly went on a journey.

This marked the beginning of the widely known sacred chronicles of Saint Azra.

Holding a ‘brass cup’ in one hand and a wooden staff in the other, Saint Azra roamed the continent and defeated evil seven times. Having vanquished all evils on the continent, he prayed, “Grant mankind the power to fight against evil,” and the Lord, praising his deeds, bestowed a saintess upon the continent, according to established history.

Berg was shocked to learn about the past of Saint Azra. The behaviors he exhibited in his youth were nothing compared to the sins he had committed. The fact that such a person was still venerated as a saint thousands of years later was astonishing. Moreover, the gods had blessed humanity with divine power, finding his achievements commendable.

Having realized something significant, Berg reapplied to educational institutions. He gave up being a crusader and conducted intense research based on his newfound insight. The resulting thesis was titled “Theory of Universal Priesthood,” arguing that by reinterpreting the “responsibilities of creatures,” everyone in the world could become priests. However, this thesis was filled with Berg’s feelings of inferiority regarding his status. In this hierarchical society, the thesis was unacceptable. Despite support from numerous monks, Berg couldn’t withstand the overwhelming pressure from all sides. He risked losing not only his teaching position but also his priesthood.

Eventually, Berg acknowledged the reality he faced and published several papers defending the status system. His refusal to retract the “Theory of Universal Priesthood” was the best resistance he could muster.

“Indeed… to achieve something, one needs realistic power.”

After experiencing this, Berg endeavored tirelessly to become a cardinal. He believed that by reaching the pinnacle of the Crusader Church, he could implement his ideas. However, at the summit lay Cardinal Mihaer, the greatest theologian in history and of royal blood.

When he first engaged in a debate with him, Berg tried to endure it. But the subtle elitism and superiority complex inherent in Cardinal Mihaer’s logic pricked Berg’s feelings of inadequacy. The debate ultimately escalated into a fierce argument, and Berg, having just been appointed as a cardinal, was assigned to the Kingdom of Conrad. He was effectively expelled from the capital church.

“Perhaps this is for the best.”

Start here.

After many ups and downs, Berg returned to his homeland. He decided to gather his strength anew. With a firm resolution, Bishop Berg stopped by the house of Baron Monarch on his way to Rutina, the capital of the Kingdom of Conrad. It was somewhat petty, but he wanted to surprise and awe the family members who had scorned him. The likes of a baron’s house. Berg was no longer a powerless illegitimate child. As a cardinal of the Crusader Church, he could easily ruin such a small, remote family with just a word.

As expected, many members of the baron’s household came out to greet the prestigious cardinal dispatched from the capital church. And many among them recognized Berg and stammered incoherently. But in the moment of what should have been a small, gratifying revenge, Berg also found himself at a loss for words.

There stood Greinen Monarch, his sister.

Thinking she would have married into another family by now, his eyes brimmed with tears as she gazed upon him.

“Varik. You’re alive, after all. I’m glad you came back.”

Berg, no, Varik followed her into the parlor. While his gracefully aged sister calmed her bewildered brother and congratulated him on becoming a cardinal, Varik could only ask about how she had been all this time.

“I’ve been well. Happier than you might think. There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

Greinen called for a maid to bring in a man, and soon a tall young man with silver hair entered the parlor.

“Introduce yourself. He is your father.”

“…Hello, my name is Gustav Monarch.”

It was the moment when a father and son, unaware of each other’s existence, met. Gustav wore a slightly cold expression, while Berg felt as though his heart might stop.

To think I had a son. And my sister… My sister raised him without getting married.

He felt unbearably dizzy. While learning that, due to his legitimate brother Veili Monarch having no children, Gustav was adopted and became the official heir of the Monarch family, Berg, a clergyman, couldn’t help but think of God.

Why would God bestow holy power upon someone like me, who not only committed the sin of relations with my sister but also had a son? Why in the world…

This was a direct defiance of the conventions of the Crusader Church. Could it be that God does not favor the church’s conventions?

Conflicted, Berg postponed his schedule and stayed at the house of Baron Monarch for several days. He wanted to talk more with his sister, and also because Gustav’s wedding was a few days away.

“Who knows where he got it from, but my son broke a plate. Could you perhaps officiate the ceremony?”

The phrase “broke a plate” was a euphemism for getting into an accident before marriage. Varik hesitated and avoided his sister’s eyes as he replied he would consider it.

On the wedding day, Berg ended up officiating the ceremony.

The bride marrying Gustav was the only daughter of Count Peter of the Kingdom of Belita, who had wavy black hair. Although they were from different countries, the Baron Monarch and Count Peter families frequently interacted due to their bordering territories.

“…We declare the birth of a couple before God.”

As he finished officiating, Berg bestowed special blessings upon Gustav Monach. Feeling sorry for his son who grew up without a father…

After the wedding, Gustav coldly left for his new in-laws’ house, and Berg too set off for the capital. Just before departing, he apologized to Sister Greinen, asking her to forgive him for not showing his face even once in over a decade. However, she said, “Don’t say such things. I still love you. I don’t regret anything,” which was enough to bring tears to the middle-aged Berg.

Berg leaving Baron Monach’s household was a very different person. Previously, he had sought to achieve something within the framework of the Church of the Cross, but now it was no longer the case. ‘I will establish a new Church and a new kingdom. I will create a world with free social classes and more flexible rules with my own hands.’

This was the mission bestowed upon me by God.

In that moment of determination, Berg felt the divine energy rooted deep in his chest swell to its full size.

+ + +

Berg’s cry ultimately went unanswered. The discouraged priests only offered prayers for salvation, and Cardinal Mihaer merely shook his head, refusing to heed Berg’s words.

After performing the sword dance for two straight days, Berg was completely exhausted and could no longer continue. Unfortunately, the white letters that had adorned the dance forming Rachar’s image vanished, and the image disappeared with them.

Thickets of thorn bushes sprang up everywhere. The subjugation force was completely disbanded and scattered. The thornwood forest disrupted their cohesion, but the biggest problem was the alluring red fruits growing on the trees.

The fruits appeared so tempting, as if sweet juice would drip when bitten. They were the devil’s temptation for the subjugation force suffering from thirst and starvation.

Anyone who ate the fruit immediately went mad. With wild laughter, they would run into the thorn bushes and vanish, and it was clear what became of them.

In the end, those left around Bishop Berg were just Priest Ophelia and a few young men raised at the ‘Grania Orphanage,’ and brutally, the apostle of the evil god appeared two days later.

For a whole three days without food, water, or proper sleep, Bishop Berg could put up little resistance.

Thus, Berg, who had dreamt of revolution, met his end in the vast thornwood forest, and not a single member of the subjugation force who participated survived to escape the forest.

Only one young man came out of the forest with a complicated expression, riding a slightly limping black horse, heading north.

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