The Hero Becomes the Duke’s Eldest Son

Chapter 143

What the young girl in the mountain village saw that day were three things.

A silent village where all sound had vanished.

A beautiful angel with hands stained with red blood.

And beneath that angel, a figure lying on the ground…

* * *

Aden thought.

‘To prevent the Slaughter Cult from self-destructing, just bringing out the Immortal Lord isn’t enough.’

Just as the Immortal Lord had instantly subdued the Troll Legion, a leader was needed to subdue the priests.

However, it was impossible for the Usurper Saintess, who intended to ruin the cult, to take on that role.

So Aden decided to resurrect the former saintess using the ‘Fruit of the World Tree.’

‘That’s what the Slaughter God wanted as well.’

It was part of the prophecy given to the former saintess by the Slaughter God.

[You shall rise among the dead.]

This meant resurrecting the former saintess who lay in the mausoleum of the previous saintesses.

Aden, who knew of the Immortal Lord’s existence and had obtained the Fruit of the World Tree, could understand this meaning.

Thus,

“I have returned from death. Spica, my beloved disciple.”

Merida Lunius.

She appeared in this place.

Two women in the attire of the Slaughter Cult saintesses faced each other.

“This is… impossible.”

Spica’s voice trembled.

Her composure had completely shattered.

“The real… it can’t be…”

“There’s no use denying it, Spica.”

Merida spoke firmly.

“You already know, don’t you? That I have truly returned. As my disciple and a saintess, you must be aware.”

“…”

It was as she said.

The blessing of the Slaughter God, which was currently flowing away in real-time, was the proof.

The blessing of the Slaughter God, as if responding to its original owner, was returning from Spica to Merida.

The meaning was clear.

The woman before her was neither a fake nor an undead, but the true Saintess of Blind Eyes, and she remained the saintess of the Slaughter God.

“Saintess Merida!”

“Lady Merida has returned!”

“Aha! This is incredible! It really is Lady Merida!”

“Oh, then there are two saintesses? How can that be…?”

The priests of the Slaughter Cult recognized Saintess Merida and greeted her brightly, though they were puzzled about what was happening.

Spica gritted her teeth.

“It really is… Lady Merida.”

“Yes, Spica.”

The Saintess of Blind Eyes, Merida, had her eyes covered with white bandages. But her face was turned precisely toward Spica.

“My disciple, didn’t I tell you? ‘We shall meet again.’”

On the night Spica killed Merida and took the position of saintess, Merida had left a message as she was pierced through the heart by Spica’s demonic sword, Labolas.

“Spica, you will see me again.”

The dead have no words and no power.

Thus, she had dismissed Merida’s last words as mere desperate outcry and ignored them…

“…so that’s what you meant?”

“I said we would meet again, and as I said, here I stand before you. My disciple, I advise you in the name of the Slaughter God and the God of Death.”

There was no anger in her voice, nor any betrayal in her expression.

“Spica Lunius, born chosen by the great Slaughter God, you succumbed to the temptation of a corrupt artifact, usurped the sacred geography, abandoned your duty to check the grey land, and led the cult into a reckless crusade.”

She spoke to the disciple who had killed her in a calm, peaceful tone as if greeting her in the morning.

“Surrender.”

She said.

“The blessing of the Slaughter God acknowledges that I am still the saintess of this generation. As Saintess Merida Lunius of Blind Eyes, I command you. Abandon that demonic sword and surrender. Then I will not blame you for your sins. But…”

Swish!

At that moment, the Usurper Saintess’s body quivered.

Without a word, she darted towards Merida, the blade of her demonic sword Labolas aiming for Merida’s neck.

And.

“Divine enhancement, perception, grip strength, physical strength.”

Merida amplified her perception to sense the blade’s flow, strengthened her grip to hold the blade, and reinforced her arm strength to endure it.

Clang!

The blade of the demonic sword Labolas was caught in Merida’s grip.

Whoosh!

The impact of Labolas swinging caused a gust of wind to ripple through the air.

In an instant, Merida had seamlessly connected her triple divine spells, and while holding the blade, she spoke indifferently.

“…I see you have no intention of surrendering, Spica.”

“Divine enhancement, destruction!”

Wham!

In response, a punch imbued with the power of destruction from her left hand came at Merida.

Merida sidestepped, altering the trajectory of the punch to avoid it.

“You plan to kill me again before all the blessing of the Slaughter God returns to me.”

Merida’s calm voice.

“Indeed, knowing of that demonic sword, you know that you won’t be able to defeat me even with a surprise attack once the blessing is gone.”

Spica’s punch, carrying the essence of destruction, clawed at the wasteland, leaving marks on the ground.

Boom!

The earth was wounded.

Even though the blessing was dissipating in real-time, the grand phenomenon was created because she still held the rank of saintess.

Slither.

The demonic sword Labolas twisted like a snake, coiling up Spica’s arm, transforming into a grotesque bracelet-like shape.

It was a unique function of the demonic sword of slaughter, and also the reason Merida had let her guard down and got killed before.

Spica’s actions were solely focused on ending Merida’s life.

Just from that, Merida could tell Spica’s answer.

“Spica, if that is your intention, then I shall comply. Try to defeat me.”

The Saintess of Blind Eyes adopted a stance similar to Spica’s.

Merida and Spica’s voices overlapped.

“Blood Heaven.”

“Blood Heaven.”

Two crimson heavens overlapped.

Flash!

The two’s momentum surged sharply.

An unprecedented and never-to-be-repeated clash between two saintesses began.

* * *

As Merida and Spica began their full-scale battle, Aden, Lunia, and the priests of the Slaughter Cult retreated, and under the leadership of the Immortal Lord and the High Troll leaders, the Troll Legion also withdrew to a distance.

The blessing of the Slaughter God, Blood Wings.

It was a power that only a saintess blessed by the Slaughter God could use, a symbol of the Slaughter Cult.

Aden had witnessed the Iron-Blooded Saintess unfold her Blood Wings countless times in his previous life.

But this scene was new to him.

“Two users of Blood Wings, ha…”

He couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.

“This is truly no joke.”

Whoosh!

From behind each of the two, crimson blood wings unfurled like butterfly wings.

An overwhelming momentum surged like a storm.

Two saintesses of the Slaughter Cult, who should exist only as one, were fighting with their Blood Wings unfurled.

From behind each of the two, a raging storm of crimson blood wings spread, as if to tear everything apart.

Boom!

The true blood wings unleashed by the saint chosen by the God of Slaughter were on a different level than what Aden had seen when the guardian of the labyrinth used them.

Each time the two saints clashed, the ground was clawed and crumbled.

The impact of their aura spread hundreds of meters, leaving faint scratch marks on the wilderness as if it had been gouged by claws.

The blood-red aura that spread like a gust of wind mingled with the blood-soaked battlefield, creating an intense stench of blood.

Red, and even redder blood.

Merida and Spica’s hair, influenced by the blood wings, absorbed the crimson light, turning into radiant red hair.

Every time they collided, feathers made of the blood-red holy power scattered like petals.

Both the followers of the Slaughter Cult and the immortal Grey Army were mesmerized by the fierce yet beautiful sight.

The only ones who kept their composure and watched the battle were the Immortal Lord and Aden.

Curse asked.

-Dragon Slayer King, will you really let the former saint fight alone?

‘Because the Maiden of the Sealed Eye herself wished for it.’

Merida, revived by the World Tree’s fruit, had requested to subdue the Usurper Saint alone. Her plea was so earnest that Aden decided to just observe for now.

‘Honestly, I don’t have the strength to deal with her right now.’

He had overexerted himself against the guardian of the labyrinth.

Although he had recovered significantly thanks to Unknown’s potion, it was impossible for Aden to face Spica, who wielded the power of the slaughtering demon sword, directly.

It was more efficient for the former saint to take the lead rather than him.

‘Now I understand why Border Count Tiried said that.’

Currently, Spica was fighting using a combination of two combat techniques.

The unique martial art of the Slaughter Cult, Blood Heaven, and attacks using the slaughtering demon sword, Lavolas.

She alternated between transforming Lavolas into a bracelet and a sword, with completely different movements depending on whether she was armed or unarmed. It was probably due to the assistance of the demon sword.

At first glance, the battle between the Maiden of the Sealed Eye and the Usurper Saint seemed evenly matched.

But Aden could read the current flow. His black eyes turned cold.

‘Spica is losing.’

As time passed, the blessing of the God of Slaughter was returning to its original owner, Merida.

Even the deadly power of the slaughtering demon sword, “Pursuing Death,” was meaningless before the Maiden of the Sealed Eye.

She perfectly dodged and deflected each of the sword’s thrusts without a scratch.

‘The only reason Spica could kill the Maiden of the Sealed Eye was because she was unaware of the demon sword. But she wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice.’

The Maiden of the Sealed Eye was a supreme master comparable to Grand Duke Sias.

Expecting a shortcut to work again against such a strong opponent was impossible.

Aden was convinced.

Spica would be defeated here.

As the battle continued, just as Aden predicted, Spica became increasingly disadvantaged.

Kang, Kang, Kaang, Tsupaaat……!

She wielded the demon sword Lavolas, which could slowly lead an opponent to death with just a scratch. However, Merida’s body, enveloped in the blood-red holy power of Blood Heaven, did not allow even minor injuries.

Puuuuuuck!

Merida’s martial arts, tinged with crimson light, were fatal with every strike.

Her attacks were ruthless.

Thunk, the bones in Spica’s arm cracked as she blocked the Maiden of the Sealed Eye’s spinning kick.

Puck, as soon as she blocked it, a stronger kick turned and struck Spica’s side, causing her to gasp for breath.

Puck! Without stopping at the leg attack, Merida’s fist slammed into Spica’s face.

Spica’s head snapped back, and she staggered momentarily.

Tuwek, Spica spat out blood mixed with white fragments. They were pieces of her broken teeth.

Kuluck!

Covered in wounds, she coughed up blood from her mouth.

She had already fought the high troll chieftains once.

Using Blood Heaven excessively in the battle with Merida had caused internal injuries.

She was now experiencing excruciating, indescribable pain throughout her body.

Despite this, Spica did not stop fighting Merida.

Aden frowned and muttered at the sight.

“……Different.”

-What do you mean, Dragon Slayer King?

“That Spica…… is very different from the Iron-Blooded Saint I knew.”

It wasn’t just a matter of the different timelines.

The Spica Aden knew was a woman who had transcended all joys and sorrows, as if her emotions had worn away and disappeared, like a doll.

But Spica, who had made a pact with the demon sword and usurped the saint’s throne, was showing a completely different side.

Hatred, anger, sorrow, and desperation.

She was expressing intensely dark and human emotions.

Desperately, like a beast…

‘A beast with a thorn.’

At that moment, Aden recalled the expression from the revelation of the God of Slaughter.

A beast with a thorn suffers because of the thorn stuck in its throat.

He had once seen a stray dog with a thorn in its throat during his childhood in the slums.

The stray dog, writhing in pain from the thorn in its mouth, couldn’t spit it out, nor would it allow anyone to approach and help; it growled and drove them away.

‘And that stray dog died.’

The wound from the thorn festered, and it eventually succumbed to the illness, effectively bringing about its own death.

Somehow, Spica seemed like that stray dog with a thorn.

‘What the hell?’

Aden clenched his fist so tightly that it bled. His face contorted endlessly.

‘Why are you making such a painful expression? What are you so filled with hatred for? What kind of thorn is embedded in you…?’

What drives you to crave ‘revenge’ so desperately?

Aden swallowed those questions, as a revenger would.

* * *

The mountain village was quiet, always the same, and perpetually boring.

‘I’m bored.’

The young girl was bored.

All she could do was play with clay dolls or chase butterflies and mountain rabbits.

She knew little.

So she played with the things she knew.

She chased a mountain rabbit she stumbled upon.

And she was ‘too good’ at it.

“You’re really good at hunting, my daughter. Catching three rabbits in a day!”

“You’re still so young, but you’re amazing. Shall we have roasted rabbit for dinner tonight?”

The young girl in the mountain village was good at hunting.

Her parents and the village elders praised her, and she was happy.

People were happy.

The little girl, who knew little, realized that people liked it when she caught animals.

‘I want them to like me more.’

The more and bigger animals she caught, the more they liked her.

So she gradually caught more mountain animals and brought home bigger animals to boast to her parents.

From small baby rabbits to adult rabbits.

From rabbits to foxes.

From foxes to small deer.

Each time, the gazes of the village people looking at her changed little by little, but the young girl didn’t notice.

She simply enjoyed hunting and being praised by the adults.

There were no children her age in her village, so she didn’t know.

She didn’t know that most children her age found it hard to catch even a mountain rabbit.

The girl knew little.

It was only when she returned alone after catching a huge bear that she understood the emotion in the eyes of her mother, father, and the village people.

It was the fear of a monster.