Chapter 287: Erasing Power
George’s eyes sank. Holding his sword with both hands, he placed it behind him. On the blade, Holy Light slowly gathered.
“Human… let us talk…” The will of the Explorer on the high platform spoke toward George.
George did not respond. He only strode forward, rushing ahead while the Holy Light behind him kept condensing upon the sword.
“It is meaningless. I was wounded by that terrifying human, I have already lost my chance to ascend. Even if you kill me, it only means another fishman will gain the qualification for ascension.” The Explorer on the high platform continued.
“He will be healthy, he can continue to open the path of ascension. And when our god truly descends, you will never again be able to drive us away.”
George accelerated his charge. The open space ahead stretched before him. He did not use Holy Light to shield himself, but only gathered it on his sword.
“I only need a piece of land. That swamp in the south is enough. Humans, I do not wish to conflict with you. We are only the abandoned ones. We only wish to survive.” The Explorer continued.
George drew near. His steps suddenly halted, and with Holy Light overflowing from his sword, he raised it high. His eyes glowed with a dazzling golden radiance, then he slashed down with all his might.
A surge of Holy Light exploded forth, flooding toward the high platform like a raging torrent.
“…” The Explorer spoke no more, only letting out a sharp, ear-piercing sound before the platform suddenly collapsed. From beneath it emerged a massive bloodstained hand, as if grown out of the earth itself. The Explorer stood upon this giant hand.
His eyes flickered with light. The hand clenched into a fist and crushed him within its palm. Dark purple blood oozed from between the fingers.
The fist-like hand bent inward, as though some existence deep underground had punched upward. Then, it was swallowed by the flood of Holy Light.
Like countless densely packed blades, the torrent carved wounds all over the arm. Red blood spurted out, scales fell, layer after layer of skin was stripped away, the exposed flesh was devoured and dissolved, and finally the bones, covered in countless cracks, disintegrated into powder.
George dropped to one knee, leaning on his sword that now seemed partly melted, and exhaled a white breath.
His body radiated heat, and now, there was no Cup of Life to heal him.
Suddenly, a voice rang out: “Human, you will regret this. The will of this god is eternal. It will find a new vessel, and shall ascend once more—ah~!”
The final scream ended in complete erasure.
George froze at the sudden voice, his expression changing. He looked up, as if sensing a familiar will watching him.
…
The will of Pope Corleon withdrew its gaze from George.
In his hand, he grasped the will of the God of the Fishmen. The part belonging to that Explorer rapidly dissipated, soon revealing the remnants of the will of the God of the Fishmen he had once clashed against.
This will did not dare to speak, only trembling within Corleon’s grip.
Corleon merely observed the traces within this will— a curse born of Original Sin, forcing the fishmen to view the Theocracy as their greatest enemy, one they must destroy at all costs.
But now the Theocracy had fallen, and the curse was slowly dissipating. Perhaps in another half a year, not a single trace would remain.
The Explorer’s inability to ascend had not been because the Patriarch of the Theocracy had wounded his body, but because of this curse.
From the eyes of Corleon’s manifested will shone a faint light. He broke through the defense of the will, seizing the curse that was about to dissipate. Then he infused his own will into it. Slowly, the curse began to radiate with a faint golden glow. Corleon’s will spread outward along the pure divine will, influencing every fishman.
He did not, like Original Sin, impose a fixed goal upon the fishmen, such as returning to the sea.
Instead, he stripped away thirty percent of the power of every fishman.
In the coming half year, the physiques, magic, and wills of these fishmen, who had been tainted by the Morning Star’s power and had surged onto land, would gradually weaken. Only once thirty percent had been erased would the decline stop.
And within that half year, the Oath Knights of the Eastern Expedition would be sung of widely. From once being crushed by Deep Divers, they would reach the point where three to five knights could encircle and slay a single Deep Diver.
…
The nobles of the Principality of Ackerman had been crushed by the fishmen. Yet compared to the Former Principality of Patlin, where only four nobles remained alive, they fared slightly better— over ten nobles, with their surviving knights, had fled back to the Ackerman lands, using border fortresses to resist the fishmen’s advance.
But disorder brewed within. The destruction of the coalition robbed them of immense military might. To recover to their former strength as a coalition would require at least two years.
But recovery was no longer important. What mattered now was survival against the fishmen’s relentless assault.
Soon, these chaotic nobles received news from the former Patlin border.
Under the leadership of the York Territory army and two Earls, the nobles of the former Patlin had secured ground within fishman territory, constructing a fortress town as a line of defense.
With this news came word from the Senate: the reclaimed lands were granted to the two brave Earls, and knights they recommended for their valor in battle were ennobled as independent lords.
Independent lords— not vassals beneath the Earls, but nobles with territories of their own.
Envy burned among the Ackerman nobles.
Their coalition had been destroyed, while the former Patlin nobles reaped tangible benefits.
As for the fact that the Patlin coalition had never included the York army and the Earls’ forces, they chose to forget it.
The defeated were not worth remembering.
They swiftly ended their infighting, sending envoys and spies south to gather more concrete information.
Meanwhile, some men who had become Wild Knights after the deaths of their lords rallied together, heading south.
The nobles cared little for the Oath Knights’ fame, but these Wild Knights cared greatly.
…
“Sir Damon has already leaked some information as I instructed. Soon, they will desperately covet our weapons.” Puniel said.
Sir Damon was the viscount with whom he had formed kinship ties.
This was inside a hastily built tent.
Gathered were Puniel, Councilor Julian, Bishops Marl, Jeremiah, and Claudy, and Earls Richard and Gregor.
All those with influence in this Eastern Expedition were present.
Yet Richard and Gregor appeared restless, uneasy sitting here.
Jeremiah glared harshly at Gregor, forcing him into silence.
Bishop Marl no longer had the energy to restrain Richard. Having used the Holy Relic once more, white hair now streaked his head. Even though monks had fed him potions of high magic these past days, he had not fully recovered.
Now he also had to plan strategy. As long as Richard remained in the tent with ears to hear, he could not be bothered with the rest.
Councilor Julian, as representative of York Territory, was nominally the commander-in-chief. In truth, he only directed York’s forces, while the overall strategic deployment was left to Marl.
Marl asked, “And the other three? If it is only Sir Damon, it is not enough to make them believe.”
Puniel smiled. “They are quite obedient now, very cooperative.”
Only then did Marl nod. “For the next three months, we shall not advance. Holding here will be enough. We must build a defensive line here. Knight George has already succeeded. Salvador has also divided the fishmen’s territory into two. If we pin ourselves here, we can further split the fishmen apart.”
Julian said, “Three months will be difficult. Without the catapults, and with each fishman assault numbering no less than thirty thousand, lacking strong defenses, sheer numbers will drown us.”
Marl replied, “The fishmen destroyed here formed their largest gathering. The Explorers now number only five. Only where they dwell can a force of over a hundred thousand be gathered. Moreover, the Church will share intelligence on the fishmen.”
White Doves could transmit not only messages, but also serve as eyes.
Yet such intelligence was shared only among the bishops.
When Julian fought his first battle, all he had received was the enemy’s position and numbers.
Now, hearing Marl’s words, his stern expression eased slightly.
With intelligence, he might even strike proactively.
Marl then continued to Puniel, “The Senate’s ennoblement of those knights has tempted many nobles. Even a lowly lordship is welcome if it adds another noble to their house. I expect they will soon hire mercenaries in great numbers. And from this expedition, one of those mercenaries must emerge as a baron.”
He paused, staring intently at Puniel. “The Church cares not for his background. Only that he slay enough fishmen, earn enough merit, and follow the rules.”
Puniel nodded, smiling. “Understood. I will see it done. You may place full trust in me. I am no fool sending warriors to die. I am a devout believer, capable of reciting all the Church’s scriptures.”
Marl gave a nod, his gaze shifting to the dazed Richard. The danger in his eyes made Richard snap back to awareness.
Marl said, “The Oath Knights’ renown has already spread. Councilor Bevan will see merchants continue to spread their deeds. I also hear that many Wild Knights, born of recent turmoil, are gathering here. Perhaps seeking titles, perhaps drawn by the Oath Knights. In this time, you must lead your knights to merit, then recruit them.”
Richard’s face grew troubled. “Crulud still recuperates in the Misty Forest. If we encounter another Explorer, I fear we cannot prevail.”
After his heaven-sent charge, Richard had suffered only a few broken bones. But Crulud’s body was half-destroyed.
Marl said, “Councilor Julian will tell you where you can fight, and where you cannot.”
He looked at Julian, who nodded in reply.
Richard’s expression softened. “Very well. I will do so. But… what if other knights in the army wish to follow me?” He cast a challenging glance at Gregor.
Before Gregor could react, Julian spoke: “Outside of battle, if my knights wish to follow you, I will not stop them.”
Gregor’s face flushed red. He glanced helplessly at Jeremiah.
Jeremiah sighed inwardly. The thought of finding Gregor a wife, to quickly bear him a smarter heir, grew ever stronger. Yet he still said, “The knights of Earl Gregor are bound by the Oath of the Doyle Knights. I do not believe they will waver. As for the other knights, that depends on the will of their lords.”
The knights of Richard’s vassals, through his casual drills and Marl’s careful nudges, had already mingled with Richard’s retinue.
But the same could not be said of other nobles.
Marl, however, felt disappointment. Once his influence over Richard’s knights faded, only two among them had managed to retain the blessings of the Commandments.