She Professed Herself The Pupil Of The Wiseman (LN) - Volume 8 - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

NOT LONG AFTER Meimei’s victory over the giant doll, in a flat clearing amid a rocky stretch far from where Isuzu’s main force fought Chimera’s dwindling numbers, a man in a dark robe with a bag slung over his shoulder walked on, furtively searching his surroundings.

A voice rang down from above. “Zell. I knew you’d run this way.” Glad jumped down and landed in front of Zell with a glare.

Zell swiftly put distance between them and whipped around. When he saw Glad, he grinned slightly. “Aha! Glad, my brother… I had a feeling when I saw those flames, but I never thought you had it in you to work alongside others.”

At the far edge of his vision he could still see the small village, burning down in a blue blaze. The embers thrown into the air glowed for an instant before burning out, as if dissolving in the sea of stars.

“Mm. Well, I didn’t; they followed my lead of their own accord.” With his back to the burning buildings, Glad leveled his crossbow at Zell, his voice icy. All emotions except hatred had been wiped from his face. “Not going to run?”

“I’m not the man I used to be, Glad. You alone can’t hope to stand against me anymore.” Zell smirked as he unsheathed a black sword. “But look at yourself. Your eyes, your face… You’ve changed a lot too, haven’t you? Have you spent all this time hating me?”

“Of course I have. You were a priest, but you took Altinea away from us. You left with the village’s own patron god,” Glad replied. Darkness flooded his eyes, like a sea of murderous ire.

But even in the face of such clear malice, Zell grinned with wicked joy. “That’s an awful thing to say. At least call it eloping, brother. We were in love, but a faithful priest and a village’s patron god could never be accepted. So we ran away—together.” There was an affected tone in Zell’s voice, and his motions were as theatrical as an actor’s.

But what infuriated Glad was not his attitude but his words. “Enough lies!”

“Lie? Altinea and I loved each other. How can you call that a lie?” Zell made an exaggerated hugging motion as he grinned fearlessly at Glad.

It was taboo for an Animist villager and a spirit to have a romantic relationship, but in other parts of the world, it was not particularly rare. Yet Glad quietly glared daggers at him. He had ironclad proof in his heart. Glad quietly took out his own sword, either in refutation or as a way of saying that this questioning was pointless. 

“Right, you can’t say it. Then I’ll say it for you!” The warped, gloating grin disappeared from Zell’s face. A crossbow bolt hurtled toward him. He deflected it with his hand, then closed in on Glad with a single long stride.

“Altinea loved you, Glad!” Zell roared. “And you loved her back! Isn’t that right?!” Their blades crossed, sending a shrill screech of metal on metal through the craggy rock. Zell’s voice mixed with the repeated clangs. “No matter how much I opened my heart to her, she wouldn’t return my feelings. Her smile, her tears, her words, her love, they were all for you instead! We’re both priests, we’re brothers; what made you so much better?!”

These were the screams of Zell’s heart. Feelings that had smoldered for years now exploded when faced with their source. Zell’s sword gained momentum thanks to the spiritual power flowing through it, gradually overpowering Glad. Zell wasn’t inferior; he lived like Glad, and he worked just as hard as Glad at the same job. Yet, even knowing it was taboo, he had loved the same spirit and tried to share his feelings in the same way—and that was where the difference was born.

It became an irreconcilable gap between them, creating a deep, black hole in Zell’s heart.

“Answer me! What, do you feel sympathy for me? After you stole everything from me?!” Zell’s sword grazed Glad’s cheek. But even wounded, Glad did not answer; or rather, he couldn’t. Even if he knew about his brother’s feelings of inferiority, Glad’s mind was full of nothing but murderous malice.

The two continued to exchange blows over and over, sending steel screams throughout the mountain range. Zell wielded a black sword stuffed full of negative emotions, but Glad’s well-honed slender sword was dyed with plain hatred.

In a pause between their sword clashes, Glad looked at his foe and asked, “Which one of us is the real thief?” His voice remained detached, betraying no compassion or pity. Glad had something stolen from him as well. Zell saw his past self in Glad for a moment. Then he laughed and declared, “Ha ha… You’re right. Altinea’s all mine now, after all!”

The very air around them seemed to darken Glad’s mood, and his sword drew an abnormal arc as it surged toward Zell.

“What in the…?! Kh… Graaaaah!”

The blade moved in complex patterns. Zell managed to deflect and parry for a while, but eventually he couldn’t keep up with the peculiar motions that seemed to defy inertia, and took a barrage of grave wounds. Zell managed to throw out a vial of holy water just in time to put up a barrier and escape fatal injury.

As Zell sprinkled holy water and strengthened the barrier around himself, he laughed, “So this is Saintly Discipline, huh? You’ve dabbled in the Forbidden Arts… Is that a sign of your hatred for me? Heh heh, I’m honored.”

This technique—[Forbidden Art: Saintly Discipline]—was, put simply, the ability to freely control one’s own body. Control of one’s own body might not sound out of the ordinary, but what mattered was just how free this control was. If one wanted to fly, they could fly. They could also cancel inertia at will, just as Glad had.

Within the barrier, Zell fished some medicine from his robe pockets and swallowed it at once. When he saw that his wounds were healing, he smirked. “What a shame, though. That was your chance to kill me. I won’t give you a second one, Glad. Your Forbidden Arts will last a minute at most, and I doubt you can break my reinforced barrier before your time is up.”

Zell was right; the spell would not last long. Worse, Forbidden Arts put a great burden on the body. The more Glad moved, the greater the price he would pay. In short, once the spell wore off, it would have drastic effects on his ability to fight. Zell was familiar with this technique, which is why he calmly strengthened his defenses and planned to wait out the effect. He was still the most skilled mage in his home village thanks to his time as a priest. He knew that this was the ideal way to buy time.

“I swear, I will see you dead,” Glad pronounced coldly as he pointed his sword at Zell. As a fellow priest, Glad naturally knew about Zell’s barrier as well. It was a strong one that could even fend off the power of spirits, and as it protected him from all directions, it truly was an iron defense.

But Glad also knew the barrier’s weakness.

A flash of steel, far too fast to behold with the naked eye. The super high-speed thrust struck the barrier with an audible ripping sound. A shockwave spread through their surroundings, and the earth itself rumbled.

Zell’s barriers were all weak to focused strikes at a single spot. Glad’s slim sword pierced perfectly through it and kept going, digging into Zell’s shoulder. But this was far from a fatal wound; Zell pulled away, escaped the blade, and drank another potion. “Not bad, brother of mine.”

No sooner had the blade left the barrier then it stabbed back in to graze Zell’s cheek. This was Glad’s second strike. “Ooh, close. Very scary.”

Once Zell knew that Glad would use thrusting attacks, even if they were too fast to see, evading them became much easier. While repairing his barrier, Zell watched as the blade exited it once more and held his own black sword with both hands, ready to stop the next thrust.

As soon as Glad assumed his stance once more, the tip of his sword changed direction just slightly, and it easily pierced through the barrier again at nearly sonic speed. This thrust was even sharper than the last, grazing Zell’s side as he twisted away at the last second. Blood sprayed, and he grimaced in pain. Meanwhile, he swung his black sword down, striking the slim sword with a dull, ringing sound.

Glad’s sword broke cleanly in the middle, losing its sharp tip. For the first time in this battle, Glad wavered. “How…?!”

“Aww, you look so shocked to have your sword broken. Was it a keepsake? I’m very sorry, brother.” Zell trod on the fallen sword and smirked. The slender sword was made for thrusting; now that it was broken, it could no longer pierce Zell’s barrier in one blow.

But just then, another impact shuddered through the barrier. It repeated again and again, gradually tearing through it. Glad had taken a crossbow bolt in hand and furiously began smashing it against one point. “Move your damn foot!”

Zell lifted his foot theatrically. “Whoops. Now that I’m looking at it, that seems like a spirit’s treasured sword. Isn’t that the treasure meant to be given to Altinea’s chosen guardian of the village?” He then swung his black sword down onto it again. The broken tip shattered like glass. “Wow, that’s so fragile. Was it a fake?”

Zell brushed away the shards with his foot and proudly showed off his own black sword.

“Zell, you little…!” Glad roared in sorrowful rage and stabbed the bolt into the barrier again, but despite the Forbidden Arts bolstering his abilities, this attack was nowhere near as strong as the spirit blade. He was unable to break through the barrier again.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you? Still, it should be about time for that spell of yours to wear off…”

The barrier, bolstered by the power of spirits, could not be pierced with ease. It was only made possible through the combination of [Forbidden Arts: Saintly Discipline] and the spirit’s treasured sword. No matter how Glad tried, a crossbow bolt would not be enough to break it. Yet he continued to strike it over and over, using strength and mental acuity beyond his normal limit to hit one spot until the barrier began to flicker just slightly.

Finally, the bolt pierced the barrier. But its tip could not reach Zell; it was caught by the repairing barrier until it no longer moved.

“Even with Forbidden Arts, damaging my barriers without your sword is a hell of a feat. You’re not bad, Glad. But it looks like you’re out of tricks.”

The mana around Glad began to disperse all at once. Zell watched with a grin from inside the barrier, fiddling with the bent tip of the crossbow bolt. It seemed the Forbidden Arts had finally run out.

But then, something happened.

“Graaaaah!” With a battle cry, Glad wrung out the last of his mana to force his body to move. He twisted his upper body around, clenched the hilt of his broken sword tight, and dug the nock of a crossbow bolt into it.

He struck with all of his strength. With an intense ripping sound, the crossbow bolt pierced through the barrier almost as fast as a bullet.

It was so close. Zell managed to pull away from the line of fire, evading the attack at the last second.

“Phew, that was a close one. Can’t let my guard down for a second around you, huh?”

The crossbow bolt struck the barrier behind Zell, bounced off, and clattered to the ground. After looking down and seeing that it was no longer a threat, Zell warily watched as his brother curled up powerlessly. He looked as though his Forbidden Arts had run out, leaving him without the strength to fight. But Zell knew Glad well; he kept his mind sharp and his barrier up in case Glad tried to pull anything else.

“Aren’t you…going to attack me?” Glad said. He slowly looked up and stood again. He then sheathed the dagger he’d pulled out at some point and retrieved a silver pocket watch engraved with a religious symbol of the sun. When Zell saw it, his face turned pale. He knew exactly what that silver pocket watch was.

But his shock lasted only an instant. Zell retrieved a mana potion from his bag, chugged it, and reinforced his barrier even more. “An argent stigmata… Why bother bringing that out now? You’ve felt just how strong this barrier is for yourself. What’s the point of using a catalyst for advanced exorcism when your superior Forbidden Arts have already failed?”

No matter how powerful advanced exorcist magic was, it could not break through a fully powered barrier backed by the strength of spirits. If nothing else, Zell was confident in that. But he knew Glad never acted without reason, even if the actions themselves seemed meaningless. So he remained cautious as he readied his black sword again.

“Zell, you’ve always relied too much on your barriers. You lack knowledge of other magic.” Glad pressed the pocket watch against the barrier and stared directly into Zell’s eyes. 

A warped grin crept across Zell’s face again. “That’s where you’re wrong, brother. I’ve read every book on our field of magic because I knew it would eventually come to this. I know exactly what spells you can use with that catalyst, and I know that none of them can break this barrier.”

Glad had extraordinary talent as an exorcist, to the point that it had made Zell feel inferior. But Zell had one thing over him: barrier magic. Now that Glad was essentially unable to fight thanks to the effects of his Forbidden Arts, Zell was certain of his victory. His confidence was the result of his all-encompassing knowledge regarding exorcists.

“Very well. I have no need to break it.”

When those words left Glad’s mouth, an unspeakable chill ran down Zell’s spine. Had he overlooked something? Was there still something that exorcists could do to break through in this situation? Zell began to think as hard as he could—but when he looked forward again, he froze.

Glad’s expression was dark, his eyes overtaken by single-minded madness that sought only the death of his brother. Despite being safely behind his barrier, Zell stepped back from the incomprehensible malice.

“Ack!” Just then, something slid out from beneath his feet. He lost his balance and fell on his backside. The object rattled to a stop in front of him: it was the crossbow bolt, made all the easier to slip on thanks to its short, thick form. “Damn you!”

That he’d felt fear despite having the advantage, that he’d fallen over so pathetically—Zell screamed from shame, kicked the crossbow bolt away, and glowered at Glad.

The rage suddenly faded from Glad’s face. In its place, complete serenity rose as he began chanting in a low, calm tone: 

In the name of the abominable envoy, lead this lost sinner to the blessed land.

Zell tensed up; he recognized this incantation. It did not use the holy symbol as a catalyst; it used holy water. Glad’s silver pocket watch was a ruse to hide something else. Although he realized at once that he’d been tricked, Zell managed to regain his calm. The catalyst may have been powerful, but he still knew that exorcism could not break through his barrier.

Eternal black stain upon the world, flames of condemnation that sever the chains upon the earth, surrendering judgment to the distant skies.

However, Glad showed no sign of caring. Zell was assailed by a sense of panic. Zell began to rush, searching his surroundings frantically. “Is this actually…”

He finally realized what Glad had meant when he said he didn’t need to break the barrier. For he’d noticed a certain something inside the barrier. His face erupted with terror, while Glad’s became ever calmer.

Let thy final mercy be this trial by fire.

[Banished Commandment: Ceaseless Azure Dirge]

Glad manipulated his heightened mana to cast the spell. The crossbow bolt at Zell’s feet bounced, and blue flames erupted from the holy water within. The barrier was instantly filled with flames and hellish screaming. The barrier contained the raging fire, swirling and blazing brighter and brighter. But it didn’t last long; the barrier was released, and the fire whipped up a gust of wind, swelled violently, and dispersed all at once. The holy water catalyst had been cast away.

“I didn’t…think you’d go for that…” The wind magic tool Zell had used to dispel the holy water shattered to bits, and Zell fell to one knee and curled up in pain. He was hideously burned, and his spirit gear and robes had half turned to ash.

“Still alive?” After the undoing of his Forbidden Arts, Glad’s whole body felt like it was breaking. He looked as though he was dying. But life still burned in his eyes as he gazed at his brother. He silently took the dagger from its sheath on his hip and dragged his weak body over to deal the finishing blow. Zell’s agility from before was nowhere to be seen now. To the heavily wounded Chimera, Glad’s footfalls were a countdown to death.

“Damn…you…” Zell desperately tried to do what he could, bringing a recovery potion to his lips. But it was not strong enough to match the severity of his wounds. It took all of his energy just to stand up. He forced himself to move, retrieving a package that poked out of his burned bag.

It was exactly the size of a human head.

“Didn’t think I’d have to use this…” He put a hand on the package. “But I don’t mind using it on you, of all people.” He grinned maniacally. “Let me show you…the strength of our love!” With that, Zell revealed the contents of the package.

When Glad saw it, he screamed. “Damn you, Zell!” His rage shook the air. Zell had revealed a transparent container, but the contents…were very familiar to Glad. It contained the head of his beloved.

Glad fixed his fury-filled eyes on Zell and forced his nigh-useless legs to charge toward him.

“Heh heh heh heh! It’s all over, Glad!” Zell tauntingly took a silver tube from his belt, grinned evilly, and threw it into the container. Explosive flames shot through the night sky, smothering the world around them in quakes and booms.