Chapter 149: Underground Temple Part 4

"Trust me, Connie."

With those final words, Connie was plunged into complete darkness.

-Thud!

After tumbling several times on the ground, he stood up again, only to find nothing around him. The pitch-black darkness was all that filled his surroundings. But this wasn't just any darkness; it was a tangible and malevolent darkness. One that bore ill intent toward Connie.

"Huff!"

Feeling something suddenly grab his shoulder in the darkness, Connie quickly turned around. But there was only more darkness behind him, with nothing visible that could have grabbed him.

Oh no, oh no, oh no. Connie muttered through chattering teeth. His voice trembled pathetically as well. Oh no. Just as he mumbled it one last time, something once again seized his arm from within the darkness. This time, the feeling was unmistakable. It was cold yet burning hot, a touch that was both intensely powerful and strangely frail like a snake coiling around his arm.

"Aaahhh!!!"

Connie screamed and instinctively started pulling out the mace strapped to his back and swinging it wildly. He felt the strange sensation detach from his arm. He even thought he heard a faint eerie scream.

At that moment, Connie felt something coursing through his body. It was a sensation both familiar and utterly unfamiliar. It was similar to the power he had felt when he and Theodore purified the well in the Altan village. It also resembled the tingling he often felt at the tips of his fingers during his morning and evening prayers to Donar.

"Huff, hah, huff…"

Connie panted heavily while gripping the worn mace tightly. The mace, the only item he had taken with him when leaving the temple, was one of the oldest and most battered objects in the temple. It was typically passed down to apprentice priests from commoner backgrounds who had only recently joined the temple. Most priests came from noble families, wealthy households, or had connections. Especially in the temples of powerful gods like Arzan, the Sun God, or Donar, the God of Rivers and Seas, it was rare to find a priest of common birth. Even if a commoner became a priest, they usually remained in low-ranking positions and rarely ascended to higher ranks unless under exceptional circumstances. For someone like Connie who was not only from Altan but also of beastman descent…

In reality, he was little more than a temple guard in Donar's service. Connie was well aware of his situation, and he had never once complained about the worn priest robes or the old mace that had been given to him.

Even now.

Every time he looked at the old mace, Connie felt nothing but gratitude and reverence. He could not help but feel gratitude and awe for the mercy and grace of the god Donar, who had taken him in after he had been abandoned by his parents. To Connie, the old mace was a symbol of the god's love.

Before he ran away, Connie hadn't spared a glance at the gleaming, expensive maces that belonged to the high-ranking priests. Even though he could have easily stolen one, Connie had grabbed his own worn-out mace that was lying on the floor without even a stand and made his escape. Even then, he had been uneasy, feeling guilty about stealing something from the temple.

But now he felt more gratitude than guilt. Without that old mace, Connie would have been swallowed by the darkness without a chance. Connie looked at the darkness around him with tearful eyes and held his mace high. The tip of the mace flickered with a faint blue light in the dense darkness. Just for a moment, there was a faint flicker.

"There you are, hiding… 'Saint'."

A chilling whisper echoed through the underground temple.

Though it was only a brief and small flicker, in the darkness, that light was like a beacon. It was enough for the "demon" to notice.

"O Great Donar, please watch over your humble servant!"

Connie who was shaking all over at the ominous whisper summoned up all the courage she had and shouted. His shout echoed through the darkness and reached the pillars and the sea stones embedded within them. The stones, which had been losing their light, vibrated at Connie's cry and started to radiate a brighter light as if determined to drive away the blasphemous darkness of the corrupted underground temple.

– Kiiiieek!!!

Perhaps it was a sense of urgency. From the darkness, a rat the size of a human—more precisely, a Ratman dressed in a guard's uniform—charged at Connie. Its two sharp teeth glinted coldly in the blue light of the sea stones.

– Thwack!!!

And then, Connie swung his mace directly at the Ratman's head. The mace that was imbued with a faint blue light at its tip crushed the Ratman's skull completely.

– Kieeek!!!

– Smack!!!

– Kieeek!!!

– Thud!!!

– Kyaaah!!!

– Crash!!!

One after another it was the same. Connie swung his mace at the charging Ratmen and crushed their heads, shoulders, and chests. One blow. Just one was enough. The Ratmen struck by the mace had their flesh pulverized and their bones shattered as they were thrown to the ground and rolled across the floor. Each time Connie swung his mace, the flickering light grew brighter and larger.

"Come, as many as you want…!"

"..."

"Come at me! I stand with the great Donar!"

"..."

When the pile of Ratmen corpses around him had grown, Connie shouted into the now-quiet darkness. Then, along with a low chuckle…

– Clap, clap, clap, clap.

The sound of clapping echoed.

"As expected, the skill of a saint is different."

From the darkness where the blue light of the sea stones couldn't reach, a chilling whisper echoed once more.

"I am not… a saint… no…"

"I-I-I am not… n-not a s-s-saint…"

"..."

"Hahaha! For someone chosen by Donar, you're pitifully weak!"

The cold voice mocked Connie, mimicking his words before bursting into loud laughter as it slowly revealed itself from the darkness. The figure was…

Barbason.

His body seemed to radiate light of its own accord. To an unknowing observer, he might have looked like a god. But Connie realized that the light emanating from Barbason was evil. With trembling hands, Connie gripped his mace once more and stood firm despite the overwhelming presence that surrounded him.

"A saint… a saint… It's been a long time since I've heard that term."

"..."

"To think saints still exist."

"..."

Barbason smirked as he looked at Connie who was sweating profusely. Though Connie's mace still glowed with a blue light, it was insufficient against Barbason. Both Connie and Barbason knew this. That's why Barbason found it curious, or even amusing, that Connie refused to back down.

"Donar. That old man still hasn't given up on the underground temple, has he?"

"This place is dedicated to the great god Donar! It's not a place for the likes of you!"

"But already…"

Barbason chuckled as he glanced around. In the darkness, dozens—no, hundreds—of eerie, glowing eyes from rats were watching the two of them. Connie gripped his mace even tighter. Blood which had pooled at the tip dripped onto the floor.

"Yes, I do admire your courage."

"..."

"Young saint."

Connie flinched at those words. He was startled.

Does this demon truly believe I'm a saint? But I'm no saint. I'm just a worthless…

Did Barbason notice the unease flickering in Connie's eyes? He took another step and then another, moving closer to Connie. With each step, the suffocating pressure grew. It was something no human could stand. Anyone else would have collapsed by now. Connie was barely holding on; he was relying solely on the mace in his hands.

-Drip…

Just by Barbasson's approach, dark red blood began to trickle from Connie's nose.

Is this how I die…

Connie who felt the impending doom closed his eyes tightly. Still, the thought of being with his god in his final moments brought him great comfort.

"Just give up already."

Barbason said in a gentle voice as he reached out to snatch Connie's mace.

-Swishhhhhh!!!

A single arrow, shining like a meteor, tore through the darkness and cut sharply across Barbason's hand. The arrow embedded itself in the ground between them, emitting a soft glow.

"..."

Had Barbason reacted even a moment later, his entire arm would have been severed. He didn't bother hiding his displeasure as he looked in the direction from which the arrow had come. Like all demons, Barbason had the ability to see through any darkness, but for some reason, he couldn't pierce the darkness from which the arrow had been fired. There was only one kind of darkness that a demon couldn't see through. It was the darkness of another demon.

…A kin?

Sensing something unusual, Barbason took a step back. The seething darkness from the other side wasn't his. It was deeper, more vicious, and more destructive. This kind of darkness…

Demarcushel?

No, it couldn't be. Demarcushel had been sealed and buried deep in the ocean long ago. How could he have been freed? And who would dare make a contract with him? Such a thing was impossible.

As Barbason mulled over these thoughts, the darkness slowly dispersed and someone's figure came into view. Fortunately, it wasn't the "kin" Barbason had feared.

"The one I've been waiting for…"

The figure looked more like an ordinary human. The idea that such a trivial being would dare to imitate a demon enraged Barbason, who bared his sharp fangs in disdain. At that, the "trivial being" chuckled and spoke in an arrogantly mocking tone.

"The young saint has arrived, you bastard."