Chapter 100: The City Saved by an Evil God
January 15th, 838 in the Common Era.
Kingdom of Savia, Plant District, City of Alova, City Center.
Polished leather boots and neatly hemmed trousers stepped over the collapsed ruins, stopping before a book with a gray cover.
A hand with well-defined joints reached down, picked it up, and brushed off the dust to reveal a line of bright green text at the top:
“Book of Truth.”
Reading it aloud softly, Buolanke smiled, then returned to where he had stood before and picked up his briefcase.
At the same time, his gaze shifted to the young man dressed in a robe of blue, red, and white—clerical garb.
“You’re late.”
“Even if I came early, it would’ve been useless.”
Aksia shook his head, though his expression remained completely unchanged.
“I didn’t expect that the savior of this human city would be an Outer God we label as an evil god.”
“And yet, the True Gods we worship didn’t care at all about these hundreds of thousands of lives.”
“Mind your words.”
Aksia shook his head again, then looked at the black box in Buolanke’s hand.
“Bayeleth?”
That was once the codename of one of the seventy-two war golems.
“No.”
Buolanke shook his head and then looked up at the sky, which was as blue as if freshly washed.
“This is Simonlith.”
Also one of the seventy-two war golems.
“Mm.”
Aksia replied indifferently, then continued:
“I heard your Phlororos played a significant role just now.”
“Yes.”
Buolanke smiled.
“I just returned from over there.”
“Tch. Passing through the Gate of the Divinity Realm under the gaze of the gods isn’t exactly a pleasant experience.”
“Hmm... did you know? Hethorik has fallen.”
“Just found out.”
The Angel of the Sword answered succinctly.
“This means the Kingdom of Savia can enjoy a period of peace now.”
Buolanke’s tone lightened noticeably.
At that moment, Aksia furrowed his brows.
“I’m curious—how exactly did Hethorik discover those secrets?”
To that, the Reformer of the Church of Machinery raised the book in his hand.
“I think it was probably this.”
“This book was once kept by our church, but it disappeared centuries ago. It wasn’t until today that I found it again.”
“Hethorik probably drew inspiration from what was recorded inside.”
“As for that Guteland—he was probably its test subject.”
“After all, without practical testing, there’s no way to determine whether the ritual it designed can actually be triggered—or if there might be any side effects.”
As he listened to the explanation, Aksia’s brows remained tightly furrowed.
“This was your arrangement?”
“It wasn’t. I didn’t know about any of this beforehand either.”
“Alright, let’s change the subject—”
“How are things in Ulpus?”
“Not optimistic.”
Aksia shook his head.
“The object anchoring fate has loosened, and the path of certainty has begun to shift because of it.”
“I see.”
Buolanke nodded thoughtfully.
“What does the Church of Order in the south have to say?”
“They said they don’t know—but an Apostle is already on the way.”
At that moment, Aksia let his expression return to one of indifference as he responded.
“That’s something, at least.”
Buolanke smiled.
Then he took out his pocket watch, pressed it open to check the time, and made a motion of farewell.
“Then I’ll be going first.”
“Mm.”
The Angel of the Sword, Aksia, replied indifferently, then also turned and began walking toward St. Ruls Cathedral.
Suddenly, he halted and frowned, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Why are you following me?”
“Just on the way.”
Buolanke shrugged, carrying his briefcase in one hand and the book in the other.
…
Ruls District, in front of St. Ruls Cathedral.
At that moment, accompanied by hurried footsteps, a noble girl with golden hair burst in without the slightest decorum.
“Where is Her Grace?”
The moment she saw Loruze, she blurted out her question.
“Her Grace…”
At that moment, the Radiant Bishop hesitated but ultimately said nothing—he simply shook his head.
“Uncle Loruze, where is Her Grace?”
Isabella asked again, her face now brimming with barely contained anxiety.
“Caw!”
“Loruze, where is the Master?”
At that moment, a fat crow flew in through the door.
Adela followed behind it and entered as well.
But her face showed not only worry and anxiety—but also a trace of pained frustration.
All her spiritual materials and the nearly completed puppet were in the other party’s hands!
Faced with everyone’s pressing questions, Loruze sighed. His expression turned somber as he finally spoke.
“I… don’t know.”
“When Her Grace sent us out of the Manifest Realm, she herself didn’t leave it.”
“At that time, she was confronting the King of Loathing and Hatred.”
“Above, in midair, there was a massive gate—nine different colors and a profound aura converged upon it, making it impossible and unbearable to look at directly.”
In that moment, everyone fell silent.
But in the very next second, a gentle voice rose beside them:
“Are you all really this pessimistic?”
“Who’s there?!”
Everyone turned around instantly and saw a brown-haired, brown-eyed young man standing at the entrance of St. Ruls Cathedral, leaning casually against the half-open door, looking at those inside.
“It’s you?”
The moment Lakdevo saw him, one of his eyes shimmered with a deep purple glow, while the other radiated brilliant starlight.
“Whoa, whoa, I mean no harm.”
Buolanke instantly raised both of his empty hands and waved them a bit to show he meant no harm.
“Who is he…”
Isabella glanced toward Lakdevo with a questioning look in her eyes, expressing her confusion.
“Buolanke Latos, Reformer of the Church of Industry and Machinery—in other words, an Apostle.”
“What?”
In that instant, everyone present widened their eyes in shock, staring at the young man before them—who looked more like a friendly neighbor’s older brother—in utter disbelief.
“What are you doing?”
Suddenly, a cold voice came from the doorway, tinged with a trace of inquiry.
“Nothing much. They just seemed surprised by my identity.”
“I see.”
As the words fell, Aksia entered from the other side and looked toward the bishop and priests within the cathedral.
This time, not only Lakdevo but even Loruze’s face showed a flicker of panic.
“Your Grace…”
Loruze was just about to bow, but Aksia interrupted him.
“No need.”
“You may leave at any time. This is the will of the Church… the Sanctuary.”
At that moment, Loruze and the other priests fell silent for a few seconds before bowing to Aksia in unison.
The Angel of the Sword stood motionless, his expression neither joyful nor sorrowful, quietly accepting the group’s respectful gesture.
Then, Buolanke tapped the door with his fingers. After drawing everyone’s attention, he cleared his throat and spoke:
“You might want to try your luck at the ruins in the city center. But you better hurry—otherwise, your ‘Her Grace’ might just be picked up by someone else.”
He had noticeably stressed the words “Her Grace.”
Isabella and the others clearly froze for a moment—then their expressions instantly turned to excitement.
But Buolanke waved his hand, stopping the group who looked ready to rush outside, and handed the book in his hand to Lakdevo:
“Give this to your master.”
“And while you’re at it, ask her—if she doesn’t mind—she can mount her head on this Simonlith for now, as a temporary body.”
“Caw?”
“…Alright.”
Lakdevo looked a bit dazed but still accepted the item.
Watching the group gradually disappear into the distance, and the clergy of St. Ruls Cathedral heading toward the underground area to gather their belongings, Buolanke gave a helpless smile.
“They’re just surprised—but lack the necessary reverence.”
“Mm, that’s normal.”
Aksia nodded expressionlessly.
“After all, they’ve been living alongside Her.”
“From their mannerisms and behavior, it’s not hard to tell—she’s rather… ‘approachable.’”