Return of The Unrivaled Spear Knight

There was a temple in Reinhardt dedicated to the god Hermes.
A portion of the temple was set aside for emergencies.

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On a rather large bed was a lifeless young man in his twenties.
Christian, paladin of the Hubalt Empire, had yet to awaken since being relocated.

“Hoooohhh.” Herald let out a deep breath.
He’d spent a long time by Christian’s bedside silently channeling his divine power into the man.
Expelling the magic that had penetrated his body was harder than he thought.

To a priest, reliant on divine power, magic was poison.
If his body’s energy was misdirected, the whole body could be infected by the magic, putting his life in serious danger.
Thus, the High Priest had to handle Christian with extreme care.

“High Priest.” An impatient voice sounded from behind him.

“Sir Modrian?”

“I apologize for bothering you at this crucial moment.” Modrian, clad in white armor, ducked his head.

“Please don’t say that.” The High Priest gently shook his head.

“Are you… going to be okay?”

“I successfully drove out most of the magic… but the problem is in his head.
It’s a delicate organ, you see, so he’s yet unable to wake up.”

“Hmm… It’s probably too much to hope that he’s going to wake up soon, right?”

“Most likely.”

“Ah…” Modrian heaved a sorrowful sigh.

Christian health was obviously worrying, given that he had not yet regained his consciousness, but that was not the only reason for his impatience.

The Master Battle’s slots would be drawn tomorrow.
Three days after that, the much-anticipated opening match would take place.
Therefore, the powerful participants of the Master Battle were converging even now.
Christian, however, was still unconscious.
Modrian could not help but be concerned.

“I’m… thinking about resigning.”

The High Priest’s expression fell to match Modrian’s.

“It seemed like His Majesty was placing a lot of hope in this.”

“Yes.
He revealed our secret weapon, Sir Christian, to the world.”

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“The Master Battle is important, but Lord Christian’s recuperation is more so.”

“That’s right.” Modrian bowed.

He seemed to battle with himself for a moment and looked to reach a resolution.

“I’m sorry to question you now, High Priest,” he ventured with an agonized expression, “but may I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“That day at Rev Castle, we felt magic so powerful it made our skin tingle.
These are just my thoughts, but… if that much power was contained inside his body, even Sir Christian wouldn’t have bee—”

“You still distrust him.”

“Honestly, yes.
There are a lot of suspicious factors—plus he was the only one with Sir Christian.”

“I can say with confidence that the energy that crushed your spirit was divine power.
If you can’t even identify that power, you need to relinquish your priesthood.”

“I… felt it too.” Modrian shook his head.

“I have nothing more to say, then.” The High Priest smiled.

“Mm?”

“The quantity of magic that penetrated Sir Christian’s divine power and entered his body is miniscule.
If we say the magic we felt was like an ocean, the magic assaulting Sir Christian is a few fistfuls.

“Don’t you understand? Magic and divine power cannot coexist.
Sir Christian’s condition is a perfect illustration of this.”

“Ah!”

“If he’s one in a million, someone who can control both magic and divine power…” The High Priest stared into space.
“He may be already beyond humanity.
We should treat him as a divine entity, since he has the ability to create matter from nothing—the ability to make the unthinkable possible.”

“G-God! Even though—”

“That’s what I mean.” Herald smiled.
“Thus, it’s impossible for Baron Sanders to also be the source of the magic.”

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“I understand… I apologize for showing you the ugly side of my personality again…”

“No.” The High Priest smiled warmly.
“In fact, he did not strike me as particularly human.”

“I’m sorry?”

“That aside, can I have a moment alone with Sir Christian?”

“Yes? Does he still need something?”

Herald nodded.
“Instead, I have a different report to make.”

“If you’re talking to him—”

“It’s something else.” The High Priest shook his head.

Herald’s face hardened.
If he’d really seen Michael’s wings at Rev Castle, it could dramatically change the course of the Great War.

Where the demonic realm has a demon king and eight evils, the heavenly realm had the archangels and seven divine spirits.
Michael was the strongest of them in terms of combat power, and was often known as the patron of war.

The Great Temple was built around the accomplishments of the Archangel Gabriel—this incident could shake the Great Temple to its roots.

The world is changing fast.
Our priority can no longer be the Master Battle.

“Just give me a minute,” Herald told Modrian.

“Well, absolutely.”

Reinhardt’s sky had been decorated with colorful magic since the early hours.
Today was the day the slots would be drawn for the Master Battle.
All the influential people of the continent were gathered.

“It’s beautiful,” Akshuler muttered.
Beside him stood a stoic Iceline, concealed by a robe.

The amount of people entering Reinhardt was severely restricted during the Master Battle, but Iceline had little issue entering as “the Great Akshuler’s companion.”

“I really didn’t mean to follow you here.
Am I troubling you?”

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“You’re doing it again.” Akshuler shook his head.
“Shouldn’t you be looking for him?”

Akshuler’s words managed to make Iceline stop for once.

“The wizards from Rev Castle should no longer be there, since they either belonged to the Imperial family of Avalon or the Magic Tower, so why not question the Hermas1 who returned after their investigation? They are, strictly speaking, foreigners.”

Though a mercenary, Akshuler was a native of Avalon.

“In the end, Joshua Sanders is the only one who can explain what occurred there.

“I will help you…” Iceline mumbled.

“What?” Akshuler cocked his head.“

“I will help you as much as you helped me, mister!”

Akshuler blinked and then burst out laughing.

“I will have to do my best.
The prettiest lady in Avalon is cheering for me.
Look forward to it.”

While they chattered, they’d made their way to the enormous building where the drawing was held.

“The great Akshuler!”

“Oh, oh, oh, oh! The penultimate mercenary!”

“Look at those forearms! Are those for real?”

Akshuler grinned at the rowdy crowd.

“Even with limited entrance, we still have to deal with Reinhardt’s residents.
There’s no room to walk in this crowd.”

Akshuler was no longer using Laypone, the disguising artifact.
His thus revealed appearance was quite manly.
With two plate-sized hands, sunken eyes, a pointed chin, and an aquiline nose, he was masculinity exemplified.
It was no wonder the crowd had recognized him immediately with a physique as enormous as his.

“Let’s move.” Akshuler casually strolled through the crowd with a grin and Iceline silently trailed behind him.

Fortunately, Reinhardt’s representatives were rigorously monitoring the way in.

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“The Iron Knight Babylon of the Heart Kingdom and the Seven Magicians of the Magic Tower I saw earlier were impressive, but the dread you get from seeing Akshuler in person is no laughing matter, huh?”

“I’m looking forward to it! I’ve heard that Akshuler’s fists are made of rocks—!”

“This battle only has people with a reputation behind them.
This is going to be one of the greatest Master Battles ever.”

Iceline levitated herself slightly and leaned towards Akshuler’s ear.

“You’re popular,” she murmured.

“If you took off your robe, I’d lose all my popularity immediately.”

“You think so?”

They eventually made their way to the front door.

“It’s Ulabis!”

“The Knight of the Red Flame!”

“The Prince! Prince! Prince!”

“Waaaaaaahhh!”

The crowd roared even louder from behind them.

“Prince?” Akshuler and Iceline both turned around.

They discovered a young man strolling towards them.
His long red hair and red armor fit him perfectly.

Akshuler and Iceline came to a halt.
Ulabis, Prince of Thran, continued moving without hesitation.

On this long road, the two men came face to face.

If you don’t remember, “Hermas” is a slang the mercenaries use for priests of Hermes. ↩️