Alcarte Parish was a sacred precinct on the border of the Holy Empire of Yuras and the Helmuth Empire; it was also the only neutral zone on the continent between the two realms.
The region held significant political importance for both Helmuth and the continent three hundred years ago, just after the war ended. At that time, the people of the continent could not bring themselves to trust the demons or the Demon King of Incarceration of Helmuth.
It was natural to be suspicious of the sudden declaration of peace given that the demons had almost trampled the continent underfoot. After all, who could take the word of a Demon King who, just days before, seemed poised to conquer the continent entirely? As such, when the Demon King of Incarceration declared peace, declared the Devildom as an empire, and declared his intent to compensate for the damages from the war, no one believed him.
If it had not been for Vermouth, who had taken the initiative to convince the people of the continent of the promise of peace, it would have taken much longer for the Devildom of Helmuth to become an empire.
“It brings back memories,” Gavid spoke in an even tone as he walked. “Alcarte Parish. This place was proclaimed a symbol of compromise to the Holy Empire, particularly because of its significant influence regardless of borders. Back then, the idea that demons would worship the Light was nothing more than a joke told in cheap taverns.”
Yet, under the Demon King, Helmuth recognized the Alcarte Parish. The acceptance of the Demon King of Incarceration and the demonfolk’s acquiescence was a form of propaganda to the continent.
“The dawn of the Helmuth Empire. His Majesty, the Demon King of Incarceration, tried to extend various aids to the continent, but nobody would come to the empire. Nor did they want the demons to step onto their lands. During that period, the Alcarte Parish served as a useful trading zone,” Gavid continued.
“I was born in that era.”
The one who responded was Eileen Flor, the Bishop of Alcarte. She was cloaked head-to-toe in a pristine white robe. Gavid smirked as he examined her. Although her face was hidden behind a pale mask, making it impossible to see her expression, her eyes were not hard to read.
“As the duke said, during that time, the notion that demons could be converted to worship the Light was laughable,” Eileen said.
She closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them after settling her emotions.
She continued, “In that era, here, faith was trivialized. Rather than killing humans, the demons mocked them and tormented them. They treated devout priests no better than tavern wenches.”
Eileen Flor was a rare half-demon, half-human. As far as Gavid knew, there weren’t even a hundred like her in the world, including Amelia and Eileen.
“Early on, I despised my very existence. I regretted being born into this world. Had this place not become a parish of Yuras, I might never have been born. I used to think that too,” she continued.
Eileen closed her eyes again and then opened them.
It was a tale from long ago but still crystal clear in her memory. Before embracing the faith in the Light, Eileen had wallowed in such bitter thoughts for a century as she wandered the slums of Helmuth. She had lived off the sympathy of demon nobles, human tourists, and immigrants.
“I consider myself incredibly fortunate. I saw the Light in the darkness, followed it, and walked into the embrace of the Light. I received care, I was taught, and that has made me who I am today,” she confessed.
Eileen turned her head to look at Gavid again.
“I chose to serve as the bishop here in Alcarte to share the grace I have received,” she declared.
“I’ve heard much about the services you conduct,” Gavid replied, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “I’ve always wanted to attend one, but my duties have kept me too occupied to find the time.”
“The demons who come to my services usually do so out of curiosity — to see a half-demon preach or to scoff at the faith. Which camp would you fall into, Your Grace?” asked Eileen.
“I respect you,” Gavid chuckled lightly. “If I were to attend your service, I would do so with all due respect, eager to hear your sermon. However, I won’t be converted. I am incapable of worshiping the Light.”
“That is common among demons,” said Eileen, continuing forward. Her robe swished softly with each step. “Yet, there are some… who start with curiosity and find themselves stepping into faith and of course, there are also the desperate souls seeking solace in religion.”
“Hah, it’s those possibilities that keep this place, the Alcarte Parish, running. No matter how great His Majesty the Demon King of Incarceration is, he can’t look after every demon,” Gavid responded.
“What happens to these demons if war breaks out?” Eileen didn’t stop walking as she posed the question. “What becomes of demons who have embraced the Light, who study the scriptures waiting for the light to seep into them… if war were to erupt?”
“The laws of the empire don’t coerce civilians in wartime,” Gavid stated matter-of-factly. “It’s the same as three hundred years ago. If His Majesty declares war, those demons who wish to fight may do so.”
“That’s a harsh reality to voice,” said Eileen. She sighed deeply, her disappointment evident. “The savagery of demons is innate. It has been curbed so far because of the promise between the Great Vermouth and the Demon King of Incarceration…. If war breaks again, those slowly cultivated to serve the Light and those living among humans on the continent… all will cast off their bridles and muzzles.”
“If they rush to join the battle for such trivial reasons, wouldn’t you say that their faith in Light is too shallow?” Gavid remarked with a smirk. “You say this, Bishop Eileen Flor, but what about you? You might not want to admit it, but half of your blood is demon. Will you remain a priest if war breaks out?”
Eileen did not respond right away. This was the question she pondered every night.
“Yes, I would like to,” she said after a moment of contemplation.
“That sounds less than certain,” Gavid observed.
“I, too, carry the innate nature of a demon, but being half-human, I trust that the faith I have nurtured for over a century and the Light that resides within me will suppress my base instincts,” confessed Eileen.
“Faith, indeed. That’s what belief is all about, isn’t it?” said Gavid.
“A duel,” Eileen said suddenly as she stopped. “If Lord Lindman wins, does war immediately follow?”
“That would most likely be the case. His Majesty is holding off on war, hoping that the Hero will ascend Babel. If the Hero falls, then His Majesty no longer has a reason to wait,” answered Gavid.
“And if the Hero prevails?” inquired Eileen.
“If I were to lose, I would die… and the onset of war would be delayed… at least until the Hero can climb Babel,” answered Gavid. “But it can only be postponed for so long before it breaks out.”
Gavid stopped as well. He stared at Eileen’s back and the shut door in front of her.
“Even if the Hero does not ascend Babel, the end of the Oath approaches. His Majesty has foretold this. Sooner or later, the Oath will conclude. I believe that His Majesty’s declaration to wait at the throne of Babel is his final act of mercy to the world,” said Gavid.
He continued in a lower tone, “So, the difference lies in who invades. If the Hero ascends Babel, it will be the Hero who invades. But if the Hero does not, and the Oath concludes… then Helmuth will invade the continent. Which horror seems greater?”
“Forgive my impertinence,” Eileen said with a long sigh as she grasped the doorknob. “I shall pray, fervently and sincerely, for the defeat of Your Grace.”
“Hahaha.”
Gavid burst out laughing at her response.
“I forgive you, Bishop Eileen Flor. As a priest, you will have no choice but to pray for my defeat.”
The door opened. Eileen did not speak any further, instead, she bowed before withdrawing. Gavid entered with a calm smile.
“Am I late?” he asked. fгeewebnovёl.com
“No,” came the answer.
Inside the door was a spacious room with a wide sofa at the center, upon which Eugene sat in a relaxed pose.
“I was just early, that’s all,” said Eugene.
Despite the passage of time, three centuries to be exact, the Alcarte Parish remained a profoundly symbolic neutral zone. Thus, Eugene and Gavid had agreed to discuss the duel here.
“I didn’t expect you to be alone,” Gavid said while taking his seat opposite Eugene.
“Many people wanted to come with me, but I told them not to. I didn’t want to make a fuss,” responded Eugene.
When the meeting at Alcarte was set, not just the people of the Lionheart clan but all the formidable allies Eugene knew had offered to come. Even Prince Honein and King Aman had proposed sending royal troops, and the Pope spoke of dispatching all the paladins. In this particular instance, the emperor of Kiehl had been the voice of reason.
“And what about Saint Kristina Rogeris?” asked Gavid.
“I sent her away. She worries too much about me,” responded Eugene.
“Haha, sending her away doesn’t mean much, though. It’s quite blatant,” confessed Gavid.
From the moment the door had opened, and Gavid stepped in, the air tingled with holy power. As soon as he entered, the Alcarte Cathedral had been enveloped in a powerful holy barrier.
“She really does worry too much,” Eugene said with a helpless smile.
There was no way he could not feel this blatant, potent power. His face contorted as he tugged at his cloak. Unlike usual, Mer and Raimira weren’t with him. He placed his hand into the awkward silence of the cloak and drew the Holy Sword.
Fzzt.
The Holy Sword gleamed with light — and that was the end of it. The holy power emanated by the Saints in the room was now fully absorbed by the Holy Sword, Altair. However, Eugene did not place the sword back inside his cloak. Instead, he carelessly slotted it behind him.
Gavid’s eyes sparkled at the appearance of the Holy Sword. It was different from how he remembered it to be.
Altair. The unforgettable sword had changed its appearance from three hundred years ago when its blade had shattered during a fight with the specter in Hauria. The imprisoned orb of light had been released from within the metallic blade.
“How intriguing,” Gavid commented as he stared at the sword.
The current blade of the Holy Sword was covered as if with a layer of transparent glass. But it wasn’t sealing the light within. Rather, this transparent glass showcased the light and illuminated the world. It looked so fragile that a slight tap might shatter it.
But it would not break. Gavid instinctively came to this realization, even without having to use the Demoneye of Divine Glory. This glass-like blade would never shatter.
“The Moonlight Sword, and even the Holy Sword…. All of Vermouth’s beloved swords seem to change in your hands,” commented Gavid.
“That bastard must have used it in a weird way,” Eugene replied with a disinterested expression.
He expected a scolding from the Saints later for dismissing their concerns, but as he had admitted himself, Eugene did not want to make a fuss at this venue. After all, hadn’t Gavid come alone without his accompaniment of the Black Mist?
“Did you call this meeting because you’re curious why I declared a duel?” asked Gavid.
His abruptness matched Eugene’s. When he was told to arrange a meeting to discuss the duel, he chose the cathedral of the neutral zone, Alcarte Parish.
“No. I’m not particularly curious,” responded Eugene while shaking his head.
He had already reached a conclusion of his own on why Gavid might have called for a duel. Perhaps Gavid’s reasons differed from his speculation, but that was no longer Eugene’s concern.
He wanted to fight against the Blade of Incarceration, Gavid Lindman. Right now, that was the most important thing for Eugene.
“I’ll set the date. But that’s enough for me. I don’t care about picking the venue, too,” said Eugene.
“Huh. Why so? I was willing to give you the freedom to choose,” responded Gavid.
“I don’t want any home-ground advantage.[1] If I chose the place for the duel and won, I wouldn’t be satisfied with the victory. It would feel a bit tainted,” said Eugene.
“Haha!” Gavid was genuinely amused by his answer.
Who would have thought Eugene had such a reason? It was an unexpected answer, but hearing it now sounded very much like something Hamel would say.
“Then where would be a suitable location?” Gavid asked.
“Somewhere uninhabited would be best. We could evacuate the area, but if you and I fight, that place might just be wiped out,” Eugene cautioned.
“No need to worry about that,” Gavid said with a shake of his head. “For this duel, I have secured a guarantee from His Majesty the Demon King of Incarceration. His Majesty has promised to personally use his authority at the location to ensure our duel does not wreak havoc on the surroundings.”
“His authority?” questioned Eugene.
“A duel between the two of us. It will need a fitting stage.”
Gavid’s cheek twitched, then his lips curved into a smile.
It was a duel he had been anticipating for three hundred years. Simply having a discussion regarding it with Hamel, with Eugene, was enough to dizzy him with pleasure.
“There is a grand coliseum in Shimuin. It is renowned for duels and tournaments between knights. If you and I were to duel there, His Majesty the Demon King of Incarceration would wrap the coliseum in chains with his power. That would prevent any casualties or destruction of the area you’re worried about,” Gavid explained.
“Hmm.”
This time, Eugene let out a sound of surprise. He did not expect the Demon King of Incarceration to go to such lengths. It meant that Gavid’s defiance had indeed been sanctioned by the Demon King.
“I’d rather not use Shimuin’s coliseum. Might as well build a new one,” said Eugene.
“Then we must decide on the place first, excluding the Helmuth Empire’s territories, of course. Hmm, how about here, the Alcarte Parish?” Gavid suggested.
“No, it’s right in the middle of a city,” Eugene bluntly rejected the suggestion.
“I told you that we don’t need to worry about casualties,” said Gavid.
“The Demon King of Incarceration’s power isn’t absolute,” Eugene said with a crooked smile.
Gavid stared at him blankly for a moment, not quite comprehending Eugene’s words. Then, he burst into a hearty laugh and nodded.
“Quite arrogant, aren’t you, Hamel? But I won’t chastise your pride,” said Gavid.
“Somewhere uninhabited,” said Eugene.
“How about the sea? It might be good to set it in the southern seas, where that pitiful, lamentable dark elf, Iris, drowned,” Gavid suggested once more.
“Building a dueling stage in the middle of the sea sounds tedious,” Eugene said.
“Then what about a mountain or forest? Uklas Mountain. It’s wide and uninhabited,” Gavid asked.
“That’s within Lionheart’s territory. And the Black Lion Castle and Vermouth’s tomb are there. I don’t want to invite you and the Demon King of Incarceration there,” retorted Eugene.
“Hmm, I see your point. Well then…. How about the northernmost end? Lehainjar. Having it there would also allow Molon to watch our duel,” Gavid proposed.
Eugene paused, thinking over the suggestion. Soon, he nodded.
“Beyond Lehainjar. Let’s have it in Raguyaran,” Eugene said.
“Hmm.”
Gavid’s face showed surprise as well.
“I am aware of that strange land too — a distant sea linked to the end of the world. Yet no one has ever confirmed the connection between one end to the other,” Gavid remarked.
“It would be fine for us to go rampant in that place,” said Eugene.
“The location is set then… what about the date?” asked Gavid.
“By the end of next year? Let’s push it as close to the deadline as we can,” said Eugene.
“That’s fine. You’ll need time as well,” said Gavid.
His response carried an unmistakable air of leisure. Eugene couldn’t help but feel it deeply.
“Two months in seclusion, huh? Did you sneak in some secret training?” questioned Eugene.
He tilted his head slightly as his tone betrayed his emotions. From the moment he saw Gavid in this room, he had felt uneasy.
It had turned sour. It couldn’t have turned out any other way.
He felt an uncomfortable truth he didn’t want to accept.
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‘If we fight now, I’ll die.’
Eugene inwardly clicked his tongue.
“I came across a good sparring partner,” Gavid said with a laugh.
1. The original idiom used here is even a stray dog eats a bit in its own yard, basically talking about a home-ground advantage. ☜