Report
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Kiteretsu]
[Proofreader - Kyros]
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Chapter 125
A Question?
"Do you have something to ask?" The white owl revealed its true identity. What awaited them was judgment.
Leaving them alone would only let them further corrupt the world. There was no reason to spare them. Besides, from what he had just witnessed, Ian could already piece together some of the circumstances.
However, the Arbiter seemed intent on confirming things thoroughly. Ian couldn't understand why, but he suppressed the breath that had risen to his throat and nodded.
Eor took a step down the sloping path.
The soles of his feet, descending into the air, were suddenly enveloped in flames. In an instant, the scorching heat drew near, bringing him face-to-face with his target.
"…!"
It was as though he had folded space to move. Ian barely managed to register the faint afterimage of his movement.
Even catching a glimpse of the technique left Ian feeling an itch of curiosity. He wanted to see more.
In the past, he might have simply marveled at it. But not anymore.
Now, just observing gave him the confidence that he could learn something. A part of him even hoped that the opportunity would arise for Eor to take action.
Eor quietly observed the white owl, bound by chains and unable to move.
"Am I that fascinating to you?"
"Yes. The more I see you, the more I’m convinced you’re utterly mad. I never thought there would be fools who would willingly surrender their bodies to the Battle Wraiths. Ah, are you no longer a mercenary now? Should I call you a Battle Wraith instead?"
"Hehehe. What do you think, Priest?"
"A Battle Wraith, of course. It’s obvious. Time passes, but there’s no way to prevent your eyes from turning black, is there? After all, the process of taking over a body leaves its marks. It’s only natural."
"This is our identity. We never intended to change it."
"Accepting the differences and wearing them proudly is admirable. And using a ring as a base for travel… It seems like an imitation of marionette artifacts. Whoever came up with this method, it’s certainly creative. I wonder who dared to come up with such audacious ideas."
"How ruthless. If they were here, you’d burn them alive on the spot with that gaze of yours."
Eor smiled faintly.
"Naturally. I wouldn’t let them die easily. Your kind provides no benefit to humanity. Which brings me to my question—why did you cross the defensive line? If you’d stayed there, you could have fought to your heart’s content."
"Because we desire a world in greater chaos. Here, it’s far too peaceful. Look at this beautiful world. Even if the terrain is rough, it’s filled with green and the skies are high and clear. Unlike that place."
"In short, you’re saying it disgusts you?"
The white owl nodded.
"Precisely."
"I thought you were satisfied as long as you could fight. I assumed your mission was to constantly ascend the hierarchy through relentless battles and life-or-death duels, changing bodies as needed. What’s driving you to carve a new path now?"
Eor’s thoughts shifted to the state of the defensive line.
Though he had taken charge of Fort Gehiel for a long time without updating his information about the outside world, as an Arbiter, he was still privy to plenty. He knew enough to understand the broader situation.
'…The Empire has no plans to expand the defensive line further.'
The El Carda Empire had invested massive resources and manpower into what was now called the Absolute Defensive Line.
Its position was strategically advantageous for both defense and future offensives, allowing ample preparation over years before advancing further. For now, they were committed to maintaining the status quo.
It wasn’t a flawed approach. The newly annexed regions in the eastern Empire were steadily stabilizing over time.
If not for the sporadic appearance of random Outer Portals across various regions, the world would have been much more secure.
The white owl spoke again.
"Hehehe. The defensive line has grown stale. It blinds itself to the ideal duels we seek."
"…Stale, you say?"
"Rumor has it—though I’ve only heard bits and pieces—that there’s a manual detailing how to deal with us. And because of that, everyone reacts the same way when we show up. Predictably and annoyingly so. That’s no fun."
Surprisingly talkative, Ian thought. He’d expected a more reticent response, something like a warning to stop wasting time with idle chatter. Instead, the white owl was offering snippets of information, unprompted.
Of course, Ian wouldn’t take everything at face value. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep these bits in mind for reference.
Eor snapped his fingers. A burst of flame erupted at the center of the white owl's mask.
Boom!
"Ugh!?"
The pristine white mask cracked with a loud, jarring noise, then shattered into pieces.
What was revealed beneath was a menacing, unpleasant face.
"Was my face so intriguing to you?"
"Regrettably, I don’t have a fondness for revolting faces. Neither do I care for handsome ones. If I had a preference, I’d choose beautiful ones."
"You’re quite honest about your desires. Is that acceptable behavior for a priest?"
"One’s personal tastes are beyond reproach, wouldn’t you agree? Now, let’s return to the matter at hand. Don’t bother making excuses, Battle Wraith."
"Excuses?"
"The defensive line is the most ideal ground for your kind, isn’t it?"
The white owl frowned, furrowing its brows deeply.
"A nobleman guarding the frontier. The knight orders under their command. Superhumans with a clear hierarchy. Armies armed with cutting-edge weapons. Fearless mercenaries crossing the lines. And even the priests of the Pantheon."
"……."
"You could pick and choose your battles. Are you saying that’s not entertaining?"
To some extent, the white owl’s claim had merit. The defensive line was equipped to deal with Battle Wraiths. Measures were in place to prevent them from overtaking human bodies.
A strong mental fortitude was a prerequisite, and carrying sacred relics was an additional safeguard.
Higher-grade relics were necessary, but losing key assets like knights to possession was far worse. Thus, most relics produced by the Pantheon were distributed along the frontlines.
Because of these relics, Battle Wraiths faced more complicated procedures to possess a knight’s body.
"So, what is it that drove you to slip beyond the defensive line with such effort? Was it to slaughter the weak and prove your dominance over them?"
"That’s correct."
"To offer sacrifices to the Outer Gods you serve?"
"That’s also correct."
"To build altars and diminish the influence of the Lords?"
For a moment, the white owl seemed startled. He hesitated to answer, letting out a dry chuckle.
"…You know about that? Someone among us must have failed spectacularly. Made a real mess of things, didn’t they? Foolishly so."
"Ah, so that’s just a secondary motive. I imagine there’s a more fundamental reason behind your actions."
"……."
Battle Wraiths appeared on battlefields. Though not fully understood, the prevailing theory suggested that their emergence was tied to the souls of soldiers who had died under mental corruption, accepting the power of Outer Gods.
Once formed, a Battle Wraith instinctively sought the most suitable body to inhabit.
"A lack of bodies isn’t the issue, I take it."
How many lives were lost along the defensive line each year?
Corpses near the fortresses could be retrieved, but those beyond the defensive line often had to be abandoned.
Some who ventured into the transformed lands of the Outer World never returned.
If the corpses were burned, it was fortunate. But often, they were left exposed to the wilds, unable to be recovered.
These abandoned bodies became vessels for wandering Battle Wraiths. Importantly, humans weren’t the only suitable vessels for them.
There were those who, enthralled by the Outer Gods' immense power, turned to the Outer Seas. Their bodies, too, could become homes for Battle Wraiths.
So, then—what was their true purpose?
"This must be a matter directly tied to survival."
The White Owl’s face hardened, but then he let out a faint chuckle.
"Is there a particular reason you think so?"
"Of course. Hear me out. This issue isn’t limited to individual Battle Wraiths. It’s likely a matter concerning the survival of the entire force you’ve built. Why else would a force like yours abandon such an ideal stronghold?"
There was no reason. At least, that’s how Eor saw it.
"Why would beings who once rampaged instinctively compress themselves into something as small as a ring, only to latch onto a mercenary’s body and flow into enemy territory? This approach doesn’t suit you at all."
"……."
"In that case, it means you have an ally. But there aren’t many forces in the Outer World with the magical prowess and forging techniques necessary for this. Among those, the only place that would align with the Battle Wraiths is Pandemonium, the Abyssal Legion."
Eor spread his hand, and flames sparked between his fingers, gradually coalescing into a material form.
The flames, intricately woven like a spider spinning its web, soon took the shape of a dagger. At the same time, the chains restraining the man tightened, pulling his arms upward. Eor didn’t hesitate to swing the dagger in his hand.
With no further warning, the abrupt motion unfolded.
Slash!
The flaming dagger severed the White Owl’s wrist cleanly, the intense heat instantly cauterizing the wound.
Eor nonchalantly caught the severed wrist as it flew through the air.
"Argh!"
The delayed pain brought a scream from the White Owl, his body instinctively curling in on itself. But the chains didn’t relent. Instead, they tightened further, burning into his flesh with searing heat. The smell of cooking flesh wasn’t exactly pleasant.
Eor examined the severed wrist and slipped the ring off, continuing his words.
"After all, only they could craft something like this. Right? Does this symbol on the inside represent your kind? It looks like a crescent moon."
"Hah… hahahaha. That’s no crescent moon. It’s a full moon, eclipsed by the sun."
"An eclipse?"
"…Eclipse. That’s our name."
Eor let out a dry chuckle.
"Arrogant. Blasphemous. But then again, those who ally with Outer Gods are always like this. Ah, now I see. This ring is imbued with the power of an Outer God. For your kind, it might as well be a sacred relic."
For an Outer God to bestow such a relic—it meant there was a reason even the gods themselves couldn’t ignore.
Would a Battle Wraith withdraw without a fight?
"The Imperial Army stationed at the defensive line wouldn’t bother to mobilize just to subdue a single Battle Wraith. The monsters aren’t the issue either. If there’s a root cause, there’s only one possibility."
"……."
"Could it be because of the Fallen Emperor?"
"……!"
"So it is."
A Level 6 individual, someone who possesses a spiritual star and achieves a unique spiritual position, is often called a Luminary.
A Level 7 individual surpasses merely holding a star. They fully solidify their existence and can temporarily project their mental image within a defined radius, earning the title of Master.
At Level 8, they wield immense influence over the world—heroes often ascend to this stage. They not only complete their being but also transcend foresight to achieve prescience. Known as Heaven’s Seer,they possess unparalleled clarity.
Level 9 represents beings who defy natural laws and common sense. Little is known about them, and they are called Ascendants as they are said to have finally reached the heavens.
Among these levels, the Fallen Emperor, a calamity to the Outer World’s forces, was an 8th-level Heaven’s Seer rumored to be approaching Level 9—a true monster.
If such a being were heading toward the Battle Wraiths’ forces—or if they were being pursued by it?
"Priest, you have no idea how terrifying the Fallen Emperor truly is."
Eor smirked.
"There’s no reason for me to fear him. Nor any reason to care. That man is dedicating himself to humanity’s survival."
"……."
"No matter how madly Battle Wraiths lust for battle, it seems even they regain reason and desperately seek escape routes in the face of the Fallen Emperor."
Watching the exchange in silence, Ian suddenly turned his head.
It wasn’t because he sensed anything unusual. It was a reflex to the faint, lingering feeling of being watched.
There, leaning against a tree with arms crossed, was another White Owl, silently observing them.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Kiteretsu]
[Proofreader - Kyros]
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