studiobondurri Chapter 175 : Chapter 175
Chapter 175 : Chapter 175
Translator: AkazaTL Pr/Ed: Sol IX
***
The Son of Sin and Punishment. One of the Seven Lords. And now, His closest servant—the Great Warrior of Condemnation, Ismael— could not comprehend what had just happened before her eyes.
“Ah…”
She had been cut. Karavan’s sword—had touched her.
That… was impossible.
“……How?”
Her frail human body was no longer her own. It was the vessel of a god— a body into which the Great Lord Himself had descended.
Through the divine right granted only to a god’s Great Warrior— Descent.
A mere mortal blade cannot harm me. Unless… unless Karavan’s sword itself is a holy relic. But no—it bears no divine aura. None at all.
It was incomprehensible. No matter how skilled he was, a being of the Middle Realm could never harm her as she was now. Descent was not a mere enhancement of strength or endurance. It was the literal act of letting a god dwell within one’s flesh. During Descent, the Great Warrior became something akin to a being of the Heavens itself— a fragment of the divine, untouchable by the laws of the world.
And yet— a mortal’s sword had cut her.
“This… defies the law of the world.”
The Heavens are a higher plane than the Middle Realm.
By the world’s design, the Middle cannot interfere with the Above.
It is like a canvas and its painter.
The painter may draw, erase, and remake as he pleases, but the painted image cannot resist the brush, cannot step beyond its canvas, cannot touch the hand that paints it.
The Seven Lords and Nine Goddesses— they are the painters of existence, the weavers of fate. And the Middle Realm—our world—is their canvas. No drawing can pierce the canvas. No creature below can touch the heavens above.
That is the law of creation.
And through Descent, Ismael had become, for a moment, one of those beings— a fragment of Heaven itself. No mortal should have been able to touch her. But.
“What… did you do?”
She had been struck.
A mere sword had wounded her.
A cut that should not exist—yet it did.
“Answer me!”
Ismael glared at the Karavan. He stood there, calm and still, sword in hand— surrounded by a soft, terrifying light, the radiance of a blade so keen that even gazing upon it felt like being sliced.
Could that truly be a human standing before her?
“……”
She looked down at her wound. The sword mark remained. No divine protection, no healing, no blessing could erase it. The flesh was not merely cut—it was missing, as though a piece of the world itself had been carved away. Pain radiated through her body. And in that agony, Ismael remembered the words her god had once spoken to her.
***
“Ismael, my Great Warrior.”
A revelation.
“Someday, a being shall arise—one who will twist the laws of Heaven itself. A being who will scorn the Seven Lords and Nine Goddesses, and whose presence will bring ruin to your world.”
“Its wicked power will corrupt faith, dim our radiance, and pollute even the divine.”
“It is a sin that never should have been born. A hateful darkness, eternally unforgivable.”
Every Great Warrior, she realized now, must have heard the same prophecy.
“We—your gods—once lost our omnipotence to that being’s blade. So remember, my Ismael: if ever it appears again, you must destroy it. Cast it into hell. And when you do, we shall regain the omnipotence of creation, and guide you all to paradise once more.”
***
Now she understood.
Now the words of her god made perfect sense.
A being that bends the laws of the world.
That scorns the gods.
That defiles faith.
That dims divine light.
That being’s name is Karavan.
The Son of Sin and Punishment had not exaggerated. This was real. She could feel it. Karavan’s sword had reached the heavens themselves.
Unstable though it was, one day that blade would be sharp enough to strike even the divine. And when that day came— the heavens would fall.
Ismael looked again at Karavan’s sword. And she finally understood why her god had spoken those words. Why this existence must be erased.
Karavan’s blade reaches the heavens.
Such a being cannot be allowed to exist. It must vanish. Be annihilated— even if she had to burn her very life to do it.
***
The strength drained from my body. A strange sense of déjà vu hit me. It felt like those early days— back when I was weak and useless, running all day through a ruined fief with nothing but a wooden sword. That sweet metallic taste in my mouth. The dimming of my vision. It had been a long time.
‘The recoil’s brutal.’
I gasped for breath. Master Liam’s voice echoed in my mind.
「Magwang focuses everything into a single instant of light.」
“Huff… huff…”
「Exhaustion afterward is inevitable. You have no idea what it means to stand against the power of Heaven itself, child.」
It took all I had just to keep my grip on the sword. Every muscle screamed. Across from me, Ismael stood still, staring daggers at me through her blood-stained eyes. She was still standing. Still alive.
Please… just give up already.
「Don’t lose focus. Not yet.」
“……”
「It won’t end like this. Not with her. Never.」
Damn it.
「The Third Steel, Magwang, proves that Karavan’s blade can reach the heavens. A zealot like her will never accept that. She’ll burn her own soul if she must—to kill you.」
“…Persistent old woman.”
I joked, but it wasn’t funny. Even at full strength, she’d be a nightmare. Now, drained and half-dead? A second round was suicide.
But then again.
“When have I ever done only what’s possible?”
“……!”
A chill crawled up my neck. I rolled aside, and a massive cross crashed down where I’d stood. Despite her wounds, Ismael was still fighting.
Both of us were at our limits. But even on death’s door, she was deadly.
I raised my sword and charged.
“—!”
A cross appeared right before me. Not falling from the sky this time— it manifested in front of my face.
No time to dodge. I braced my sword. Impact. An explosion of force sent me flying, blood spraying from my lips.
‘Too far… the distance gives her the advantage.’
Her fighting style was simple and overwhelming. If she’d had even a handful of paladins backing her up, I’d be dead by now. Biting my lip, I surged forward. Steel Wings flared. I ran—through that hellish landscape, weaving between falling crosses.
‘She’s not trying to bind me anymore. Guess she figured out that won’t work after I used the power of Liberation.’
Another impact shook the ground. I dodged— and suddenly, her position shifted.
She had swapped places with her own cross.
‘Shit—’
In mid-dodge, off-balance— her hand shot toward me.
I dropped my sword. Drew the dagger at my thigh— and drove it for her throat. Like a beast sinking its fangs in.
But.
“That power… you can’t keep using it forever, can you?”
The dagger passed straight through her. Like stabbing mist.
No impact. No resistance. Just emptiness.
“Good.”
Her hand clamped around my neck and lifted me off the ground. An impossible strength for that frail frame. I slashed at her wrist— but my blade cut only air.
She could touch me. I couldn’t touch her.
“Because you’re still beneath me.”
The Flame of Doubt did nothing. Master Liam had been right— it burned through her like smoke through air.
The pressure on my throat increased.
「Did I not tell you? It won’t work.」
“Ugh—”
「Still doubting. You never believe until you see for yourself, foolish child.」
My vision darkened. But then— I saw it.
The wound I’d carved into her earlier— around it, her body was melting.
The cut was spreading, devouring her like mold.
I rasped out my words between strangled breaths.
“Maybe… you should… get that looked at. You're valuable… Great Warrior, aren’t you? If you die, your Order will—”
“If I die, another will be chosen. The Lord will love another in my place. As long as the Order of the Cross endures, a Great Warrior will always rise again.”
“……”
“If I can cut your line here, Karavan, that’s enough.”
Her grip tightened. My neck creaked. Death pressed close—I glanced down.
My sword— still embedded in the ground.
“You’ll come with me, sinner.”
Like hell I will.
“Go alone.”
I kicked downward, slamming my heel on the hilt.
The instant my foot touched it, the blade flared with Gaia’s power. The earth erupted.
“……?!”
The ground split apart beneath us. Her balance shattered. Her grip slipped—Always have a contingency plan.
If no blade could cut her— then the world itself would.
As she fell, eyes wide, she whispered.
“The proud Karavan… resorting to tricks?”
Maybe she’d thought the Karavan line was made of noble, knightly fools. Maybe that was true once. But not for me.
“Karavan’s way? No…”
I met her gaze.
“…this is my way.”
The world collapsed. The hellish realm of crosses shattered. The sky returned to its original color.
As Ismael fell into the chasm, I spread my Wings and drew breath until my chest ached. My heart thundered, pumping molten fire through my veins.
Light the lantern.
『How blessed were those who could read the map of the stars, who could see the road lit by starlight and know the way forward.』
I forced out the last of my Mana. The sky turned to starlight. I dove. Caught my sword mid-fall. The Mana I had left exploded within it.
“Sin and punishment… are important.”
My hand ran along the blade— and light flared.
“A world where sinners go unpunished is wrong. If the wicked thrive while the good suffer, no one will ever choose to be good. Only lamentation will remain. Just like that abandoned boy, crying alone in a ruined fief on the Iron Kingdom’s border.”
“……”
“But what are sin and punishment for? Punishment exists to remove sin. And we remove sin to protect the weak. To keep the helpless from dying unjustly. To let small seeds grow before they’re crushed. To stop the world from twisting beyond reason. That’s what it means to protect the lowest among us.”
Blinding radiance burst from my sword.
“Sin and punishment are important. But so is doubt. If you stop doubting yourself, you’ll lose sight of why you are punished at all. You’ll forget the purpose—and become like you. Like the Order that tramples the South in the name of righteousness.”
Once more, Magwang—the Polished Light—was complete.
“So go on, old woman. Go to the next world—alone.”
I bent my knees midair. The collapsing earth rose beneath me, step by step. I took the drawing stance. Compressed Mana rippled through the air, and beyond the distortion, I saw it— a single line.
A perfect, brilliant line dividing the ruined world in two. Like a comet’s tail, blazing.
I knew its name.
“…The Hero’s Path.”
With a breath, I sprinted through the frozen world— and when I reached the end of that path, Ismael’s body was split clean in two.
From the waist down.
My sword dimmed. Darkness closed in. And I fell— into the depths below.
***
“Arrived, sir!”
The Port City of Visente. Famed for its beautiful beaches.
Waves crashed along the docks as a large ship came to port. There weren’t many passengers aboard. Among them was an elderly blind man, walking alone without a guide or cane— as though he could see.
A sailor approached.
“Can you walk on your own, sir? Need a hand?”
“I appreciate your kindness. But I’ll manage.”
“It’s dangerous out here—”
“The world is always dangerous, young man. Instead of holding me, could you simply tell me— which way is the city center?”
“North. Just head straight north.”
The old man smiled. His tone was calm, his bearing serene—like one who had transcended earthly fear.
“Thank you.”
He pressed his palms together and bowed slightly. Then, in a gentle voice, he said:
“May the Eternal Day be with you.”
The sailor froze. That phrase— the greeting of the Monks.
As the old man walked away, several figures followed him. Men wrapped in plain cloth robes, their torsos bare beneath. Their bodies were like sculpted steel, their eyes clear and tranquil as spring water.
“May the Eternal Day be with you.”
“May the Eternal Day be with you.”
Each of them bowed politely before leaving.
The sailor stood there, dazed, watching them go. Every one of them—Monks. And the one leading them— the blind old man.
A thought struck him, chilling and awe-inspiring.
“...May the Eternal Day be with you.”
Beneath the bloodstained cross— the Great Warrior of the Sun had returned.
The greatest Monk of all—The Buddha.