The battle was about to begin, and Butler, with his bibliomancy, dominated the arena by his very presence.
To practice bibliomancy, the principal element was reading—and visualizing the words as they were read.
Next came the manipulation of intention, distinct from basic intent; here, it was about infusing the words used with specific intentions.
The form of bibliomancy employed by the church is called the Commandments Codex Manifest. It consists of invoking into reality phenomena derived from the codex commandment—the law book of the goddess's religion.
The most famous verse of all came from the Book of the First Saint. It is said that when the world was plunged into eternal darkness and humanity still cowered in ignorance, that saint showed his faith to the goddess Areanas and, having prayed for her grace, was rewarded as his body was filled with light and wisdom.
And when he first stood against the forces of evil, the very first words to leave his mouth were: "May the light purify the impious."
This decree would come to illuminate the world, banishing evil and guiding the righteous.
This passage was highly cherished in the prayer cell; when recited, an intense light enveloped the area, blinding all the enemies and casting a slight confusion over them—as if the light itself manipulated the state of everything bathed in it.
Even though the group of people fighting Butler and Heseh lost their coordination slightly due to the confusion, it did not last long. Of course, it was enough for Butler to once again penetrate the enemy lines and unleash powerful blows with his mace.
Heseh's mace crashed down with titanic force, crushing the ground in a deafening clamor. Chunks of stone flew in every direction, sending a dense cloud of dust into the air.
The debris hurtled toward the enemies; of course, the damage was insignificant given the armor they wore. The Holy Paladin, clad in gold and silver armor, stood like a colossus in the midst of the pathway across the plain, his heavy weapon dripping with intent.
Facing him, the heretics had arranged themselves in a circle, their eyes hidden beneath their helmets; no color or glow could be seen, nor any trace of hatred—their movements were utterly mechanical.
They wore blackened leather armor adorned with blasphemous symbols engraved on their chests. One wielded a curved sword, another a sharpened halberd, while a crossbowman adjusted a bolt imbued with poison.
The first attacked without hesitation. His sword traced a rapid arc, aiming at a gap in Heseh's cuirass. But Heseh pivoted with surprising speed for his stature, deflecting the blow with a swing of his mace.
The impact shattered the heretic's wrist with a sinister crack. He did not scream as he recoiled, as if it were a normal occurrence, yielding ground to his comrade armed with a halberd.
That comrade tried to seize the opening by slashing his blade with powerful force. Heseh raised his left arm, his golden gauntlet bursting into a divine glow.
The halberd struck the blessed shield and broke apart instantly under the shockwave. Before the assailant could react, Heseh's mace rose once more and came crashing down on his breastplate, reducing his ribcage to a bloody pulp.
A whistling bolt split the air, aimed at the neck of Butler, who stood ready. He did nothing, believing his aid was unnecessary at the moment. At the last second, he tilted his head, feeling the projectile graze his helmet.
He snorted, "I pity these guys—what a shame!"
The crossbowman was already reloading mechanically, and Butler wondered what wicked smile might be forming on the man's lips beneath his helmet.
But the title of Holy Paladin was not one bestowed upon just anyone—and Butler proved it. He did not give his ally a moment's pause. Extending his right hand, he pronounced a sacred commandment.
The pages of the Commandments Codex flickered by and lit up.
A blinding light burst from his palms, striking the heretic squarely in the face. The man was thrown backward as his eyes, hidden beneath his helmet, were consumed by the purity of the spell. He fell to his knees, his hands clawing at his charred face.
Yet no sound emerged from him, as if he were a doll robbed of its voice.
Only the final adversary remained—the most formidable of all. A massive warrior clad in spiked plate armor and brandishing an enormous flail advanced. An aura of darkness pulsed around him with every step; the very ground trembled, and black vapor seeped from his weapon like creeping poison.
Heseh tightened his grip on his mace. His heart beat at a steady, normal pace—as if he felt nothing extraordinary during this hunt and battle. The final confrontation had arrived.
The heretic struck first, his flail swirling in the air before descending with terrifying power. Heseh leapt aside, yet the weapon tore a section from his shoulder pad, exposing the dented metal beneath. He could not afford another hit.
Noticing this, Butler decided it was time to finally employ his bibliomancy to protect Heseh—even though, in truth, he didn't really need it.
Codex of Commandment – Book from another world.
As if obeying his will, the pages turned and he read the verse:
"Stand firm: fasten the truth around your loins like a belt; don the breastplate of justice."
With deadly precision, Heseh lunged forward, his mace striking directly into his enemy's abdomen. The impact made the giant stagger, yet he did not fall. On the contrary, he exhaled a hoarse breath and expelled a black gust that enveloped Heseh. For a moment, the world seemed to grow cold—the light dimming around Heseh, his body feeling heavier, his muscles weakening under the assault of that unholy curse. But the verse unleashed by Butler countered it all.
Heseh would not yield. Gritting his teeth, he invoked the power of light. His armor began to glow intensely, dispelling the darkness in a blinding burst. His opponent grimaced, recoiling under the purifying effect.
It was the decisive moment.
In a roar of faith, Butler raised his mace high above his head. Sacred light enveloped the weapon, transforming it into an incandescent star. Then, in an unyielding motion, he brought the mace crashing down onto the heretic's skull. The impact was so powerful that the shockwave cracked the very earth beneath their feet.
The giant collapsed—his armor disintegrating, his body dissolving into ashes under the destructive blessing. A deathly silence fell over the plain, broken only by the Paladin's ragged breath.
Sheathing his mace, he lifted his eyes toward the burning horizon. The battle was over—but the war was only just beginning.
Butler approached Heseh.
"Are we done here!?"
"I believe so. Thank you for your support—I'm sorry to have disturbed you for such a trivial matter."
Butler gave a slight shake before removing his helmet as a sign of respect. "Don't worry; it's our duty. Those of us in the prayer cell are more than happy to help. It's rare for a Saint Paladin to be mobilized under such conditions—it's almost like a day off. So I don't mind working a little!"
"You exude such youthful energy—ah, the vigor of youth."
"Forgive me, but aren't we the same? Even if we aren't the same age, the difference isn't great—which means you're young as well!"
Heseh chuckled softly.
"You overthink things, though that can be a good thing. Now, what do you think?" he said, pointing to the corpses of those they had defeated.
Butler moved closer as he watched Heseh examine the remains. "I see Jan Ken Pon."
"Yeah. Under their helmets, their eyes and mouths were sewn shut, and they were under the effect of some strange power."
"Is that why I didn't sense anything peculiar from them? They aren't undead—but it's hard to say if they were even human."
"True, but that isn't really our problem; they'll be studied and taken care of. As for us, we drew straws—in the end, we got the small fry."
"So, what now?"
"By the time we get there, I suppose it'll be over. But let's go anyway, hoping that someone else will handle it."
The two looked in the direction where the hero had disappeared before setting off that way.
Capture the Experimenter
Reward: Church Favor
Effect: Increases your favorability during negotiations with the church.
As the hero moved swiftly toward his mission, his face was set in a slight scowl, as if he were undertaking an unpleasant chore.
It was within reach now. Grasping his sword as though it were a spear, the hero tightened his grip, feeling the rough texture of the metal against his palm. The weapon—long and razor-sharp—seemed to vibrate with a contained thirst for battle, fueled by the hero's intent. Its steel shimmered under the flickering light of the setting sun, a fleeting glimmer heralding the impending storm.
He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air and calming his mind. Every muscle in his arm tensed as he raised the sword to shoulder height, his piercing gaze fixed on a distant target. The wind rose, caressing his face, but he paid it no heed. His mind and body were no longer anything but a precision machine—a spear ready to slice through the horizon.
Stepping back slightly to find the perfect footing, he anchored his weight to the ground with the stability of a rock. His muscles contracted, his arm bent as he gathered raw power, ready to be unleashed. For one suspended moment, his entire being focused on that singular throw.
Then, with an explosion of power, he hurled the sword forward. His arm extended fully in a fluid and relentless motion, his fingers releasing the weapon in perfect synchrony. The sword sliced through the air with a piercing whistle, like a flaming javelin streaking across the sky. The shockwave of the throw raised a cloud of dust around him as the blade traced its fatal trajectory.
Straight and swift, the sword flew, piercing the distance as if the wind could offer no resistance.
Then, silence fell.