Chapter 815 |
It's time… to say goodbye. (2)
After accepting Lucien as his disciple, Ghislain began with the most basic training.
"Repeat after me. Stamina is!"
"Stamina is...?"
"Mana!"
"Mana...!"
"Louder!"
"Stamina is! Mana!"
Lucien was doing push-ups, his face completely blank.
He had clearly said he wanted to learn magic. And he knew Astion was a famous mage.
Yet here he was, being forced to do push-ups while chanting something bizarre about stamina being mana.
Ghislain was a man who made things clear when teaching someone. Though Astion would teach him magic after he left, Ghislain intended to lay a solid foundation first.
To him, that foundation was a strong body.
"A weak mage can’t survive on the battlefield!"
With that teaching, Lucien was subjected to intense abuse. Ghislain had resorted to unorthodox methods to shorten the training time.
"Quickly, heal him."
There were many high priests in the Imperial Capital. At Ghislain’s request, they would heal Lucien’s exhausted body.
When Deneb happened to stop by, his recovery speed would double.
Lucien’s torn muscles would regenerate in an instant, and he was getting stronger in real time. His frail frame made muscle gain quick.
And then, Lucien would immediately have to resume training.
‘What is this? Does Master not understand the concept of rest?’
Even penal units weren’t pushed this hard. But there was no time to dwell on it.
"Stamina is!"
"Ma...na!"
Lucien was struggling just to keep up with Ghislain’s lessons.
After a few days, Lucien’s body had begun to change—still slim, but now firm and defined.
"Good! Well done! You're doing great! At this rate, you’ll be able to climb cliffs too."
"...What? Why cliffs?"
"Focus is what matters most in magic. You know that much, right?"
"Yes."
"Climbing cliffs forces you to focus."
"Why... does climbing cliffs improve focus?"
"Because those who didn’t concentrate fell and died."
"..."
"Start climbing."
From that day on, Lucien began climbing up and down the cliffs outside the capital.
The Duke of Stauffen occasionally came to watch, puzzled by what he saw, but Ghislain’s explanation convinced him.
"To be a truly great mage, one must know how to use their body well. That way, they can protect themselves."
Having reached the realm of a transcendent, the Duke of Stauffen agreed. A mage without protection was vulnerable.
And secretly, he was pleased.
‘My son’s physique has really improved. He used to hate moving and only read books. Yes, this is what magic truly is.’
Since he was a child, Lucien had been frail from reading books all the time. Even as the son of a transcendent, his weakness had always weighed on Duke Stauffen’s mind.
But now, seeing his body grow stronger by the day, there was no way he could be displeased. As for magic—honestly, he couldn’t care less.
Lucien wasn’t just doing physical training.
He stood holding an iron rod, staring at his opponent with a serious expression.
Kyle drew his sword and spoke.
"Come at me with everything you’ve got. I’ll teach you the techniques one by one."
"...Sir Kyle."
"What?"
"I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. I came here to learn magic."
"I know."
"...Then why am I doing this right now?"
"...I don’t know either."
"..."
"Just... don’t think about it. Don’t question it. Just do as you’re told."
Kyle grinned as he added,
"That way, you’ll definitely get stronger."
Of course, there was no guarantee that this strength had anything to do with magic.
And so Lucien began learning every single combat technique.
From Julien and Kyle, he learned various weapon skills. From Lionel, he learned shield techniques. From Marika, he learned dagger techniques and stealth.
He even trained under different conditions by sparring with Ereneth’s spirits.
Thus, Lucien trained with the overwhelming support of the Julien Mercenary Corps, Duke Stauffen, and high priests.
Spending each day as if it were a year, his skills grew rapidly. He was learning everything—except actual magic.
Lucien could feel himself truly getting stronger. Not just physically—he was also steadily accumulating mana using a top-grade runestone.
Thankfully, Ghislain had taught him how to build mana.
Lucien was confident that in just a few years, he could become the Holy Empire’s most powerful human weapon.
But his dream was to become a mage. And he still hadn’t learned a single spell.
Unable to hold it in any longer, he asked,
"Master…"
"What is it?"
"Magic… When can I learn it?"
"...You’re not ready yet."
Ghislain felt it would be awkward to say he couldn’t teach him right now. But he also couldn’t keep pretending forever.
So a few days later, he decided to teach him a simple spell.
Of course, Ghislain himself couldn’t use magic at the moment. So he called Julien.
With a serious expression, Ghislain said to Lucien,
"You are not yet qualified… but since you wish for it so earnestly, I’ll show you a simple spell."
Lucien smiled with joy and followed him.
Ghislain pointed at a massive tree near the Grand Temple. It was a tree that had been growing for over 300 years.
"Watch closely. Julien will demonstrate the magic in my stead."
Lucien found it all rather puzzling, but he stayed quiet for the moment.
After hearing Ghislain’s whispered instructions, Julien nodded.
Soon after, with a slightly flushed face, he picked up an iron rod. Then, without hesitation, he threw it with all his strength and shouted,
"Magic Missile."
Boom!
The iron rod slammed into the tree with force. Julien had adjusted his strength, which was the only reason it didn’t cause more damage.
To Lucien, who was staring blankly in disbelief, Ghislain spoke.
"This is a basic spell called Magic Missile. It’s a well-known spell, but the one you just saw is a special version exclusive to our Magic Tower."
"...Yes."
"If you can pull it off, I’ll teach you the next spell."
By then, Astion would be able to take over and teach him real magic.
Lucien wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t how Magic Missile was supposed to work.
Just as he was about to protest—
A priest came rushing over, his face flushed with fury.
"What in the world do you think you're doing! How dare you do something like this to the sacred ancient tree of the Grand Temple! Those who serve the Saintess should carry themselves with dignity! And you, Young Lord Lucien—what is the meaning of this!"
Ghislain, Julien, and Lucien immediately bolted from the scene. Lucien lost his chance to confront them.
As they fled, Ghislain called out,
"In any case, don’t neglect your current training until you succeed!"
"...Yes."
And so, Lucien focused solely on building his stamina and mastering various combat techniques.
Around the time Ghislain began teaching Lucien, the papal election came to a close. It had concluded faster than expected.
No one wanted to get entangled with the Julien Mercenary Corps. And besides, the position of Pope didn’t carry the same power it once did.
So they cast all their votes for Borisco, who at least had some familiarity with them.
Borisco’s coronation was simple. What mattered more now was the Anointing Ceremony.
The Anointing Ceremony.
It was the holy ritual by which the Church officially acknowledged the Saintess and announced her presence to the world.
But this time, the ceremony was different. It had always been symbolic in the past, but now, a true Saintess has appeared.
As soon as the papal election ended, the Anointing Ceremony began.
Thud.
As the massive doors of the Great Hall slowly opened, radiant sunlight poured in alongside the choir’s hymn.
Dressed in a pure white ceremonial robe, Deneb walked down the aisle flanked by cardinals and archbishops.
Every step she took drew countless gazes, and even that moment felt like part of a grand and sacred ritual.
The Julien Mercenary Corps stared with their mouths open.
"Wow, she looks divine…"
"It’s like she’s become a completely different person."
"Think we’d get scolded if we called her ‘noona’ now?"
"Man, this is surreal."
Seeing Deneb exude such dignity, the Julien Mercenary Corps whispered nonstop.
Having spent the past days learning all the rituals and proper conduct, Deneb now seemed like an entirely new person.
Watching the whispering mercenaries, the Holy Empire’s high-ranking nobles and priests frowned.
‘Ugh, vulgar brutes.’
‘Why would the Saintess choose to keep such people so close to her?’
‘Tch, I should just ignore it.’
They still looked down on the Julien Mercenary Corps in their hearts. But none of them dared show it openly.
Even if they were mere mercenaries, being part of the Julien Mercenary Corps now carried more clout than most nobles.
All they could do was seethe with jealousy and mutter silently to themselves.
Atop the altar, Borisco spread his arms wide and solemnly proclaimed,
"Today, under the grace of the Goddesses, a new Saintess is born. She shall lead the light, dispel the darkness, and become the beacon that unites the continent."
The Holy Relic of mankind, the Holy Grail, was placed upon the altar. Priests swung censers, offering prayers of devotion, and sacred smoke rose to the ceiling of the Great Hall.
Lifting the sacred oil, Borisco anointed Deneb’s forehead with the sign of the cross.
"I consecrate you. May the light of the divine dwell within you, and may its will shine across the continent through you."
At that moment, every candle on the altar flared brilliantly.
The cardinals, soldiers, and believers kneeling below the altar all bowed their heads.
Then, the choir’s hymn soared majestically through the hall. Deneb raised the Holy Grail in both hands and pledged before all.
"I will follow the will of the divine and dedicate everything for the peace of the continent and the life of all beings."
At the conclusion of the ceremony, Borisco seated her upon the highest throne and declared,
"From this moment forward, Saintess Deneb is the guardian of the Church, the light of the Holy Empire and the continent."
Bells rang throughout the Great Hall. Priests blew trumpets, and knights and soldiers raised their swords in salute.
The hall overflowed with hymns, cheers, tears, and prayers.
And when Deneb, having completed the Anointing Ceremony, stepped outside with Borisco—
The tens of thousands gathered in the plaza erupted in a deafening roar.
"Long live the Saintess!"
"O Saintess of Salvation!"
"Save us!"
Countless people fell to their knees, clasping their hands in prayer. Some wept as they prostrated themselves on the ground.
They believed that this time, the war with the Demonic Abyss could truly come to an end.
After all, Deneb was the very first true Saintess in history.
She raised both hands to the sky.
In an instant, radiant beams of light burst forth, flooding the surroundings.
The light descended upon the people, washing away their exhaustion and fear, and filling them with courage and strength.
"The blessings of the Goddesses shall be with you all."
As Deneb’s voice rang out, her words echoed like thunder, engraving themselves into the hearts of all who heard them.
"Waaaaaah!"
With the cheers, white doves soared into the sky, scattering like petals in the wind. The waves of people’s cries rumbled beyond the city walls, shaking the very ground.
Now, no one could deny it.
Saintess Deneb was no longer a mere symbol—she had become a being at the pinnacle of real authority and faith.
Ghislain watched the majestic ceremony unfold with a pleased smile.
It was something he had longed and worked so hard for. Seeing it with his own eyes, his heart swelled with emotion.
And he had come to understand something else as well.
‘The Holy Grail.’
The Holy Grail he had seen during the Anointing Ceremony was the same one he would come to possess in the future.
Thanks to it, he could confirm that the Saintess’s sacred relic was genuine. As expected, it was no ordinary object.
But to Ghislain, the Holy Grail held an even deeper significance.
If he ever returned to his original time...
It could serve as a connection to reminisce about his old comrades.
* * *
The Anointing Ceremony ended in great success. The Holy Empire, with Duke Stauffen at the forefront, organized the vanguard forces first.
From now on, the allied armies gathering around Deneb would be reorganized under her leadership.
During this time, Ghislain never neglected his own duties while training Lucien.
Each night, he compiled various forms of knowledge to pass on to his comrades. More importantly, he dedicated himself to documenting every aspect of the wars he had experienced.
Since strategy and tactics are rooted in information, the records Ghislain left behind would prove immensely valuable to the Julien Mercenary Corps.
"Cough! Cough!"
But his body was growing weaker by the day.
Or more accurately, his physical vessel was rejecting Ghislain’s soul.
Ghislain frequently coughed up blood and looked more and more like a terminally ill patient.
"...Is this as far as I go?"
Had Astion reached the realm of the 9th Circle, he might have lasted longer.
But even he knew that was an unreasonable expectation. Astion was already a genius among geniuses, having reached the 8th Circle at such a young age.
Yes, Ghislain had helped, and many fortuitous encounters had aided him but still, greatness was greatness.
Even if Astion had reached the 9th Circle, it was doubtful he could’ve fully sustained Ghislain.
That was how advanced Ghislain’s consciousness had become—elevated to an extraordinary realm thanks to new realizations and magic learned after returning to the past.
"I wonder… what would happen if I returned to my original body?"
He still had some Dragon Heart powder left. With his now stronger consciousness, his body would likely strengthen in response.
But perhaps even his original body wouldn’t be able to withstand him anymore. Not even he could fully grasp the extent of his current state.
His comrades visited him every day, overflowing with concern.
"Are you really okay?"
"Why haven’t you recovered yet?"
"Is something seriously wrong?"
Even Deneb, despite how busy she was, came by and poured a tremendous amount of divine power into Ghislain.
Each time, Ghislain would wave his hand and simply insist that he was fine. So his comrades, though worried, had no choice but to wait.
But Ereneth stayed stubbornly by Ghislain’s side, caring for him with relentless determination.
She constantly summoned spirits, trying to examine his body and help him recover.
Seeing her like that, Ghislain gave a weary smile.
"I’m okay. You don’t have to do all that."
"Stay still. Leave it to me."
"No matter what you do, my body won’t recover."
"I said I’ll handle it!"
Ereneth refused to back down. Lately, she had been gripped by an unexplainable sense of unease.
The others believed Ghislain would bounce back soon, just like he always had.
But she couldn’t bring herself to believe that.
‘It’s strange… I don’t know why, but something just feels off.’
It felt like... Ghislain was about to leave for somewhere far away.
She didn’t know where that feeling came from, but it only grew stronger with each passing day.
Seeing her like that, Ghislain gave a bitter smile.
‘So you’ve sensed something too… just like I have.’
Ghislain had felt a great flow of fate during the battle against the Adversary. He thought it was something only he could perceive—coming from a thousand years in the future.
But Ereneth also existed a thousand years in the future.
‘Because of me, many events of the past have changed.’
His future self had altered the past. And those past events, in turn, influenced the future.
Since they influenced each other, it wasn’t strange for Ereneth to sense something as well.
"Cough!"
Ghislain spat out blood again, breathing heavily.
He couldn’t hold out any longer. If he pushed it further, his body would suffer irreversible damage.
‘It’s hard to let go…’
If he went back, he would never see the friends he had grown so close to here again. That thought brought pain and sorrow, even to him.
Had he never returned to the past, he never would have felt this way.
But he had no regrets. It was only the parting that pained him—not the effort he gave. He had done everything he could.
He fought desperately to change the predetermined future. And in truth, he had changed many things.
Now, all he could do was hope his friends would overcome the coming crisis together.
So he would take with him only the happy memories...
Ghislain gently took Ereneth’s hand and smiled softly.
Seeing that smile, Ereneth’s expression twisted with fear.
"Why… Why are you looking at me like that?"
Ghislain spoke in a calm voice, as if he had prepared for this moment long ago.
"It’s time… to say goodbye."
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