Forsaken Priest of the Hero's Party-Chapter 67: Grimudos Climax (4)

“Hero...”

From a corner inside the darkness,  a burst of bright light erupted across the horizon. Aridel and Renheim, their faces weary and on the verge of collapse, had managed to escape, yet they were left speechless as they turned to see the dark mana reinforcement that had formed behind Grimudo.

Despite focusing all their divine power to break through, the hero’s party now stood perilously close to annihilation.

N-no way... How could the holy sword crack...

Aridel gasped.  Her trembling hand flew to cover her mouth when she noticed the fine crack running along the blade.

That fracture alone spoke volumes of the immense suffering the hero had endured.

How could the holy sword—an artifact forged by the three Goddesses themselves—have fallen into such a state?

The sight of the sword’s owner, battered and worn, was no less heartbreaking. The image was enough to draw tears from her eyes unbidden.

“Saint! Archbishop!”

Yurinel tried to cry out, urging them to flee, but before she could finish, Renheim struck her in the chest. A fiery determination blazed in his eyes as he stepped forward, divine energy flaring up around him like a living flame.

Grimudo stopped what he was preparing and watched him with interest.

“A self-sacrifice spell, is it? It seems you do not truly value your life.”

“This foolish servant wishes to offer his life to the Goddess.”

Renheim moved forward with unshaken resolve. The divine power coursing through his body intensified, his form glowing as if an angel had descended from the heavens.

Though his age was evident, the light momentarily reversed its signs. His appearance momentarily shifted to that of a young man in his twenties, radiant and youthful.

But the transformation did not stop there.

Time seemed to catch up in moments—his features aged into his thirties, then forties, and finally beyond. Wrinkles crept across his face, marking the rapid passage of time.

“Archbishop... why... why are you casting that spell...?”

“Saint. Here and now, I offer my life to the Goddess. You must escape from this place—no matter what.”

“I can’t do that! Archbishop, if you stay, then I will too...”

Tears streamed down Aridel’s face as her gaze fell on Renheim. The archbishop now stood as an elderly man, his body frail and withered by the spell’s toll.

Yet, despite his transformation, the wisdom in his eyes burned brighter than ever. Even his glasses, perched neatly on his nose, remained untouched amid the swirling currents of divine power.

“Saint. Do you know why I am willing to sacrifice my life here?”

For the first time, Renheim smiled—a wide, genuine smile.

The wrinkles at the corners of his mouth trembled.

“It is because you possess something that an old man like me does not. That is why I can throw away my life right now, but you must not, Saint.  Do you know what your advantage is?”

“No, I don’t! I’m not as clever as you, Archbishop!”

The saint, no longer a mere girl, clutched the archbishop’s hand and broke into tears.

She wept as she watched that hand gradually lose its strength. In response, Renheim smiled gently and stroked her forehead. She sniffled, her voice shaking with emotion.

“I am not as strong as Sister Arseria, nor can I use the complex divine laws like Sister Sestine. The archbishop said I would surpass my two sisters, but I have never thought that way! So why are you sacrificing yourself for someone so insignificant like me?”

“It is precisely because of that purity, Saint. People live by faith.”

Renheim held the saint in a final embrace. Then, gently freeing himself from Aridel’s desperate grip, he began his final pilgrimage.

Grimudo did not intervene as the archbishop strode resolutely toward Yurinel Lakponcia—or more precisely, toward the holy sword. He merely observed in silence, watching as they prepared for the final strike.

“People like me and the Pope see and touch the filth of the secular world. So, even when we try to think about something, we first consider what is beneficial, rather than what is right or wrong.”

“When we take action, we weigh whether it helps the goddess, whether it is necessary for expanding the church’s influence, or whether it benefits the order—these useless concerns. There is no one in our church who acts purely on what they believe is right like you, Saint.”

“Do you think our faith is pure? You, Saint, are someone who performs good deeds without any thought or consideration of gain. You act according to your heart and never stray from the bounds of righteousness. Lady Aridel, that faith will become the purest power to the goddess.”

At last, as Renheim reached the holy sword, he placed his emaciated hand upon it, the flesh clinging tightly to his bones.

His body was already fractured in several places, yet his gaze was sharper and clearer than ever before. Their eyes met, and Yurinel, unable to endure the sight, shut her eyes tightly.

Her voice trembled.

“Are you leaving?”

“I must leave. Why do you ask? I am merely returning to the Goddess a little earlier.”

As Renheim grasped the sword’s hilt, particles of light emerged from the cracks in his body, flowing into the holy sword.

Like repairing a crumbling wall with fallen bricks, Renheim used his life to mend the cracks in the holy sword. Through self-sacrifice, the power born of the most noble faith temporarily restored its strength.

“Hero, please... just give me one chance against Grimudo...!”

The archbishop, now resembling a gaunt mummy, collapsed to the ground. Yurinel clenched her jaw and shut her eyes, unable to bear the sight, fearing that if she kept them open, tears would begin to fall.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Parnell, who had recovered a bit of her magic.

—Really?

Parnell, understanding the hero’s intent with just a glance, moved her lips.

The hero nodded casually. Only after witnessing Renheim’s self-sacrifice did the weight of her mission as a hero fully hit her. Gripping the shining holy sword and aiming it at the enemy, she shouted.

“Parnell. I will create an opening. Take everyone and escape through that opening.”

“Yurinel. If you do that...”

“That’s what it means to be a hero.”

All her desires, yearnings, and burdens—

Yurinel, now finally free of them, smiled brightly.

“Back then, Kyle helped everyone escape. Now it’s my turn.”

Ah, I remember... that time long ago.

When the man-eating monster, the manticore, chased the village children.

Just before they were caught and devoured, someone hurled a stone at the beast, deliberately provoking its anger and drawing its attention. While the manticore toyed with the child, savoring its cruel game before the inevitable, more children managed to escape.

The one who threw the stone was just a child, like her back then, but he hadn’t been fearless. No, he was terrified. His legs had trembled uncontrollably.

Yet that boy feared something even more than being eaten. Even as the manticore’s venomous scorpion tail pricked his cheek, ready to inject its poison, or when the lion’s massive paw batted him around like a toy, he stood his ground.

Fully aware that death was inevitable, the boy continued to draw the manticore’s gaze until the very end, willingly becoming a plaything for the cruel beast that delighted in tormenting its victims.

That boy grew up and once more stood before Grimudo to protect them.There was no coercion or command from anyone, but it felt only natural to step forward before the Ancient Demon King, ensuring everyone else could escape.

That person was no longer here, and she had distanced herself from his memory.

So it was only natural that the one who had been pushed away would now step into that role. The gap between her and Grimudo was far greater than the gap between Kyle and the manticore back then. Even with the holy sword in her hands, there wasn’t the faintest glimmer of hope for victory.

But still, she was a hero.

Now, she could move forward, repeating a single phrase in her heart.

Fully aware that she could never defeat that monster.

Knowing without doubt that she would surely die.

“Alright, let’s burn brightly together in our final moments.”

As she resolved herself, gripping the holy sword, it began to tremble and pulse with life.

Yurinel’s expression hardened as the holy sword resonated with her divine power, suddenly drawing in her mana.

Stigmata etched themselves into her hands and wrists and the blood that flowed from her wounds glimmered in gold as it was absorbed by the holy sword.

The sight of blood flowing from her sturdy body was almost unbelievable, even as she witnessed it. Desperately, she summoned her divine power to heal the wounds, but the sword consumed that energy too.

“What are you trying to do? Are you planning to pour all your power into the sword and trigger its full potential?”

Even Grimudo, for all his knowledge, had never seen such a phenomenon and could only watch in stunned silence. It was a miraculous event that captured everyone’s attention.

Harmael, having regained consciousness, found herself dazed once more. She seriously questioned whether she was still hallucinating from the effects of the earlier mental attack—it was that surreal.

“G-get away! Why is this happening all of a sudden?!”

Panicked, Yurinel instinctively tried to throw the holy sword away, but it clung to her hand as if fused. Her fingers, gripping the hilt, refused to loosen, and the sword continued to drain all the energy from her body.

Could it be that the holy sword was betraying her? Was it planning to drain all her power and then leave her to seek the next hero? Overcome by a deep sense of betrayal, Yurinel trembled—but that was not the case at all.

The holy sword was a sacred weapon, imbued with a sense of self and will.

And that will wanted Yurinel to live. It cherished the hero, who was a perfect match for it, more than even the three divine deities who had created it.

Even if it meant its own destruction.

Even in its final moments, it sought to save this great hero.

Squeak!

The holy sword, now brimming with the full measure of Yurinel’s power, surged with an unstoppable force and launched itself toward Grimudo.

A weapon without a master was just a piece of metal, yet Grimudo did not dismiss it. This sacred weapon, willing to sacrifice itself for its master, was far more worthy than any other human.

“A weapon that sacrifices its life for its master is no longer just a mere tool. My apologies for underestimating you. Very well, I shall respond with my full strength.”

Grimudo bowed his head in respect, then spread his arms wide to grasp the holy sword.

The dark power of the mana reinforcement, capable of staining the entire world with just a single drop, was not merely the essence of Grimudo.

A thick, oppressive force of darkness erupted in all directions. Taking advantage of this, Parnell pulled the gem from the necklace around her neck and breathed life into it.

With quick precision, she inscribed a magic circle beneath the exhausted Yurinel, who had collapsed, the demoralized Lucia, and the dazed saint, who had lost her protector. Desperately, she began calculating the warp magic.

“Parnell! The archbishop’s body is over there...”

“Sorry, but if we stop to deal with the dead, we’ll all die.”

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Parnell focused all her energy on the gem in her hand, preparing for long-distance teleportation, bringing her friends close. They had to escape to a distant place, wherever that might be.

Short-range warps wouldn’t be enough to evade Grimudo’s detection. If they didn’t flee far enough, they would be pursued and meet the same fate.

Boom!

The royal treasure, the teleportation stone, began to open a portal as it absorbed enough magical power. Anxiety filled the air as everyone could hear the distant screams of the holy sword.

With a loud crash, fragments of the holy sword, now stripped of sanctity, rained down. Just as the preparations for the teleportation seemed complete, a man standing far away locked eyes with them.

He merely gazed at them before inscribing a mark in the air. No one understood what he was doing, and Parnell had already completely relaxed. After all, as long as he wasn’t attacking, they would soon escape via teleportation, so it didn’t matter.

But Lucia’s expression changed drastically. Horror flashed across her face, which had already lost all will and she covered her head with her hands, overwhelmed by the resurgence of her mental trauma. She shouted loudly.

No, this can’t happen!

That must not happen. It would be better to die than to suffer that.

“Polymorph curse...! No, that’s...”

Turning a person into something that was no longer a person.

Transforming intelligence into ignorance.

It was the most heinous technique developed by Grimudo to destroy his era, created by studying the biological mechanisms of ancient beings. Just before the teleportation activated, the curse that had turned the Western family into an animal farm struck them.

And then, with a flash—

The teleportation stone activated.

—Gurgle.

Only after everything had disappeared did the Immortal Phoenix, the King of Monsters, spread its wings. It approached Grimudo’s side, bowing its head as if offering itself as a throne.

Grimudo chuckled and stroked the giant bird.

The monster bird, through its eyes and actions, seemed to ask if it should pursue, but the Demon King merely shook his head.

“Since I’ve come out for an outing after such a long time, there’s one more thing I need to do.”

He hadn’t met that priest yet, but that wasn’t the only reason he had come out in the first place.

“You can play around for a while and then return.”

The bird let out a burst of laughter and soared toward the distant sky. Grimudo dusted off his hands, then stretched them out, opening something.

The void parted, revealing a passage of darkness. Harmael, still staggering, finally regained her senses and spoke.

“Wait!”

It was instinct, not reason, that made her speak. Afterward, she cringed, fearing another mental attack, but Grimudo simply stared at her blankly.

Finally feeling somewhat at ease, Harmael composed herself and continued.

“Shouldn’t we track them down and eliminate the root of the problem? If they safely return to the Holy Nation, even you might get caught up in troublesome matters. It’s best not to underestimate the strong ones among humans. The truly powerful beings might be hiding in the shadows of the world.”

Even as she spoke, Harmael couldn’t imagine a situation where Grimudo would be in danger, but she was eager to eliminate the hero’s party, seeing them as a troublesome threat that needed to be dealt with at any cost.

Now was the perfect chance to destroy the hero’s party and capture the Saint to force negotiations with the Holy Kingdom, especially since they had lost all of their weapons: the holy sword, the whip, their magic, and the Archbishop.

“If you want to do it, go ahead and do it yourself.”

With a snap of Grimudo’s fingers, the familiar black door appeared behind Harmael.

As the Demon King stared at the door that had appeared behind her with trembling eyes, Grimudo placed his hands behind his back and slowly vanished.

“I tracked where they teleported to, but there’s no need to worry about it further.”

He knew the polymorph curse had worked so why chase and kill those who had already transformed into animals? He didn’t enjoy abusing animals.

“...I can’t miss this opportunity.”

With the Ancient Demon King gone, only Harmael was left. After hesitating, she decided to jump into the passage Grimudo had opened. Moments later, it closed behind her.

Where battle cries once echoed, only a desolate land remained.

The lifeless body of Renheim lay there, his smile still on his face. Whether his wishes would be fulfilled, however, remained uncertain.