Forsaken Priest of the Hero's Party-Chapter 97: The Void Sword in the Dragon Vein

Ardein, like others of her status, had a strict schedule.

She made her way to the dragon vein, hidden within the central plaza of the palace. She hadn’t started training yet, but her chest felt hollow and tight as if something was missing.

She unconsciously gripped her sword tighter, but nothing happened to the dragon vein sword. Its hilt, crafted from resilient dragon leather, felt as heavy and unyielding as a stone.

“Ouch...”

Frustrated, she released the sword and lightly banged her head against the wall. When she grabbed the sword again, mana surged from the dragon vein into it.

It was a massive magical structure created with magical engineering beyond human understanding.

The imperial family’s dragon ancestor was a unique dragon capable of having children with humans.

From its very tooth and skin, it fashioned the dragon sword, even embedding a fragment of its heart within. Because of this, the sword could draw mana from the dragon vein wherever it flowed, just like a dragon could.

Ardein was well aware of this, yet her focus on training wavered. Kyle had left her, and she couldn’t follow him. Though she had come to train, her spirit was far from willing.

I want to sleep.

Even as a Master, doing nothing left Ardein feeling profoundly exhausted.

I want to sleep deeply.

Would he be there when she awoke? Despite knowing it was unlikely, she couldn’t stop wondering.

Their farewell had been abrupt and unexpected. Was she so inconsequential to him? Were they close enough for him to just leave without warning?

A spark of pride flared within her, only to be quickly quashed by self-reproach.

She even felt anger toward the arrogant wolf who had been imprisoning Kyle, though she couldn’t pinpoint the reason.

That fleeting surge of pride dissipated almost as quickly.

What was her relationship with the Saint? They had just traveled together but were strangers before and would be after.

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Nonetheless, a sense of betrayal gnawed at her; she had believed they had forged a connection that transcended mere acquaintance. Was the life of people in the Cidatel Republic, whom he had never met, more important than hers?

People who might never be saved, could they truly be prioritized over her? The very thought ignited her anger.

What had those people ever done for the Saint?

Come to think of it.

As she thought about it, a natural question arose.

I haven’t done anything for the Saint either.

Reluctantly, she acknowledged that perhaps she was no different from those he aided, and a deep sigh escaped her.

“Your Highness, you look like a wife sending her husband off to war.”

“That’s right. Why cling to one man? Try to cheer up.”

She had come here to escape her maids’ attempts to comfort her, but their words only made her feel worse.

Her sword sliced aimlessly through the air, not in training, but in a desperate, purposeless swing.

She knew these futile swings wouldn’t soothe her troubled mind, yet she couldn’t cease. Each fierce arc of the sword might split mountains, but none could cleave through the weight in her heart.

No, there was no need for such pessimism. The Saint would probably realize there’s no solution in the Cidatel Republic and return soon.

While clinging to that thought, she suddenly sensed a presence, more an eerie void than a tangible being.

Almost instantly, she perceived that a pocket of potent mana disrupted the familiar emptiness, like a lone white sheep amid endless darkness.

Who... who could be in this dragon vein?

Alert to the intruder in a space reserved solely for the imperial family, Ardein instinctively aimed her dragon fang sword at the disturbance.

An old man appeared silently. It was Madlen, the Master, who had blocked her path when she reunited with her father.

“Madlen?”

“There’s no need to be on guard. His Majesty sent me.”

Madlen. That was his name.

He seemed different today compared to when Ardein had last seen him. Had he been hiding his power before? Even with the dragon sword, she felt overwhelmed.

“His Majesty was curious about the sword’s power. I was, too. How much can a sword truly make up for its owner’s skill? You seem disheartened. Care for a spar, Princess?”

He was powerful.

Despite his claim of being dispatched by the Emperor, trust was not automatic. Ardein’s grip on the sword tightened, and as it roared in response, it drew mana from the dragon vein.

“Oh, well now.”

Even though the mana flowed powerfully, Madlen remained calm, as if watching fireworks.

“I can see one thing. That level is insufficient.”

“What do you mean?”.

“That sword would be nothing more than a toothpick against the ancient Demon King, a robust one, perhaps, but a toothpick nonetheless.”

Though Grimudo’s fortress was also on a dragon vein, relying on just that for protection would lead to disaster, the old man believed.

The Demon King’s mana is vast and deep, while the Dragon Vein’s mana is much smaller. Even if Ardein used all her skills, it would be like playing with fire in front of lava against Grimudo.

“Then let’s see if it can overcome me,”

Madlen, no.

The Tranquil Rayman opened his arms wide; anyone who had survived an encounter with the Demon King earned every bit of that confidence.

And indeed, he possessed that right.

*******“You say he left? Through the gate?”

“It seems he got help from Rowena, the ambassador of Elvenhome.”

A priest of the Hillai faith bowed before relaying the news that had reached Armata. Among the three main gods, the priests of Hillai, the goddess of healing, maintain close ties with the nobility and those of similar status.

Every influential household welcomed priests of Hillai as honored guests, often under the pretext of an official dispatch.

Despite their efforts, they never matched the popular appeal of Nemi and Elysia; instead, they concentrated on forging bonds with the powerful rather than courting the general public.

At first, they are just guests, but once a young master or miss is injured, they become honored guests.

When the head of a family or his father gets hurt, their status rises to almost like that of a family friend. Over time, these priests of Hillai became close to the powerful.

They served as the faith’s prime resource and information network, yet without intermarriage, they remained outsiders.

Although they never obtained the decisive intelligence to sway entire factions, the information they collected proved sufficient.

Some priests even married into powerful families and became part of them. Despite having fewer followers, the Hillai faith had gained significant power, wealth, and information.

Archbishop Armata thought deeply.

“Should we destroy the gate and leave him to die? This may be our sole opportunity to eliminate the ancient god’s priest.”

He paused. Though ruthless, destroying the Republic’s citizens to eliminate Kyle would have consequences. The backlash would be massive if it became known that the Hillai faith was behind it.

Yet, if Kyle were to perish in the ensuing eruption, the Hillai faith could evade blame, nature itself would claim him.

The silence was agreement. Though Armata didn’t speak, the priest understood his intent and left.

The archbishop’s chambers were dark, with only a golden statue emitting light. It had been a gift to him long ago when he was just a priest. Despite the passing years, it sparkled brilliantly, a testament to the care it received.

“Goddess, I seek your will, should I commit this sin? No matter my position, I am your servant and will follow your will.”

As he knelt in prayer, an eerie light began to swirl above him. In the Cidatel Republic, worshippers of Hillai were few, and none could predict how many might be saved if the gate remained open.

If it remained open, most would be lost; if it were destroyed, all would be lost. After thinking about it, the goddess either agreed or didn’t stop Armata’s plan.

“Only according to the will of the Goddess.”

The archbishop rose calmly, embodying the very hammer and mace of the Goddess.

His resolve was unyielding; if the Goddess had decreed a harsh destiny, he would have embraced it without hesitation, regardless of the price.

This unwavering resolve had brought him to his current position.

Now, the hammer had found its target.

If this is the will of the Goddess, my duty is grave indeed.

He donned a coat and left his chambers. Though it was night, the heat of early summer made a thin shirt enough, but he paid no attention to the warmth, wrapping himself in a brown fur coat.

The time had come to awaken the Hillai faith’s secret weapon.

The moment had arrived to deploy this weapon, a force to end both the princess who defied fate and the priest of the ancient god who had healed her.