WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

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A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 583

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The Sect of Abundance honored seven martyrs and passed their names down through the generations. One of those names belonged to the Apostle who oversaw the distribution of the sect's wine, jam, and potions.

His name was Muel.

He was named after a martyr who had cut the flesh from his own legs to feed the starving and died of famine himself.

Muel stroked his plump belly.

It was a habit he had developed from the bloated feeling in his gut whenever he heard something that displeased him.

That belly fat suited the martyr's name poorly, admittedly.

The original martyr Muel had been a gaunt man who starved to death, after all.

But did that make it a problem? Not in the slightest. Carrying on the spirit was what mattered, not one's build.

That was a phrase Muel kept on his lips like a refrain.

Besides, who could say what the previous martyr would think if he rose from the dead to look upon him. Muel considered himself a man of character.

And now something had come along to make a man of character furrow his brow deeply.

Someone had dared to attack the sect's monastery.

"This guy is completely out of his mind."

Muel said it plainly. It was his honest impression.

As far as he could see, what had been done was something no sane person could have done.

It was a reception room with eight sturdy chairs and a long, wide table to match, the kind of room that served for meals and meetings alike when the need arose. The only ones in the wide space were Muel and three men dressed in clerical robes.

The three stood in a row to the left of the table, within Muel's line of sight, their hands folded before them.

The one standing at the front addressed Muel. From his posture to his manner of speech, he was as deferential as could be.

"Abbot Noah has stated that they have found the path they wish to walk, and that they will leave the denomination and pursue their studies on their own terms."

Denomination here referred to the individual factions within the broader community of those who believed in the god of abundance.

Strictly speaking, the sect itself might originally have been defined as a subdivision of a denomination, but in the current era the sect referred to the entire body of believers, while denomination had come to mean the branches that had grown apart according to differing interpretations of the holy texts.

So a denomination meant a group that believed slightly different things, and from a worldly perspective, one could reasonably read it as factions with different centers of power.

That was the reality. So no matter how anyone dressed it up in other words, the fact remained that they had gathered together to hold onto their own power. It would not be wrong to call it a division born more of power than of faith.

Of course, no one would say that out loud.

Muel snorted at his subordinate bishop's words.

Did Muel think his responsibilities were limited to simply distributing the sect's goods?

Abundance had three denominations.

There was the traditionalist faction, which held that the old doctrines must be preserved and kept. There were those who advocated a reformist doctrine, arguing that they must move forward and embrace new things. And there were those who belonged to neither, holding to a middle path.

As a result, those who belonged to no denomination tended to be treated like empty husks. And now some unknown monk, responsible for nothing more than a single small monastery, had dared to announce he would make his own way in the world.

Did he have any idea who had been feeding him all this time?

"We will cut off all support to that monastery. If they change their minds, tell them to cut off the abbot's leg flesh and bring it here."

That much punishment would be deserved.

"Yes, we will do so."

But this was not the end of it. Was there not also the matter of someone picking a fight directly with the god of abundance?

The Iron Wall's Knight? The Knights of Madness? Laughable, all of it.

If anyone dared to stand against the sect, he would make certain they understood what that meant.

Did they think they knew what would happen when the sect withdrew its hand?

On the surface it was Abbot Noah's rebellion, but in reality, it was Enkrid who had caused the mess.

Muel was furious at someone who had come swinging without even a glance at who he was dealing with.

Of course, if that person were standing before him right now, sword in hand and about to swing, Muel might bow his head and beg for his life. But that sword could not reach him here, not yet. And before it ever could, he could make everything that person held dear suffer.

"Border Guard, was it? Sever all dealings with them and pull the sect's personnel who were protecting that city."

Muel lifted his hand from his belly as he spoke.

The displeasure had not entirely left him, but this would make everyone understand their mistake.

Muel then gave immediate orders to recall all priests who had been active within Naurillia suppressing the Cultists.

This was the same as openly handing an opportunity to the Cult.

In the past, he had told them to stir up some trouble within Naurillia's territory, and they had failed every time. But if the sect pulled out, this time they would be able to make something truly spectacular happen.

He would see whether they could still refuse to admit their fault after that.

That was where Muel's mind was.

He did not forget to send a letter of protest as well, one warning that he would not let this matter go.

He would ensure they had no choice but to admit and acknowledge their mistake.

A knight? They might be called a disaster, but those were only two hands. The hands of those who believed in the god numbered in the hundreds, the thousands.

"They're doing something they'll regret."

Muel murmured. They would be striking the ground in regret soon enough.

Acting on impulse, that was what had caused this mess.

So he would discipline them a little, then collect an appropriate price later.

"I'll write to the king as well."

As his thoughts continued, he added that aloud.

The king of Naurillia would have to concede quite a lot to the Holy State over this affair.

All of this happened while Enkrid was on his way back to Border Guard.

* * *

"I am really going to lose my mind. Truly."

At Krais's words, Enkrid offered no particular defense. To be precise, there was no need for one.

The one saving grace, if there was any, was that the monastery had taken a stand of its own accord.

If Abbot Noah hadn't come forward and declared their intentions, saying they would walk their own path, the sect would have moved even more openly.

No, even now it was open enough. If the sect were a person, one could call them brazen without hesitation.

That said, for now they were only issuing a warning.

Why are you sticking your nose into our affairs and getting in the way?

It was no more than that.

Looking at the sect's usual conduct, even this response was fairly mild. If they had done what they normally did, they would have led with their fists.

Well, that was easier said than done.

This side was the rising sun of the continent, a force that shone like the sun itself and had grown by consuming every faction around it.

At the center of it were Enkrid and the Knights of Madness.

Force of arms was the core of Border Guard.

So a clumsy show of force could easily blow back on the sect.

There were still those who were not so sure, but anyone with a head on their shoulders, anyone who could read the state of the continent, no longer doubted Enkrid's strength.

What lay hidden inside that man was another matter entirely, and even Abnaier could not say.

But who could dare to openly interfere with a temple ceremony?

'Properly unhinged.'

Had Azpen truly been so powerless that it had been dragged around by the sect? Force of arms? The full combined strength might not have matched up, but they had certainly been capable of eliminating the sect's influence on their own. Azpen had held that much power.

And yet they never did it. Why? Because of the disadvantages that came with rejecting the sect.

'They'll hear complaints about trade first thing.'

Wine, soap, and jam had been monastery-made goods for generations.

Some of that was now produced by private merchant houses too, but the majority of the volume was still handled by the monasteries.

Right, and even if they could scrape by on trade because their merchant guilds were active enough, what about everything that came after?

The nations that would turn away under pressure from the Holy State?

Trading partners and the southern great powers alike would all be scrambling to side with the Holy State.

Every last one of them would throw obstacles in the way at every turn. It was obvious without even having to look.

It was no different from running into a Ghoul in the dead of night. Ghouls had no reason in them, so they attacked without distinction, whether the target was human, Frog, or Giant.

'There are already mountains of problems to solve right now. This is just stupidity.'

Rather than helping solve problems, this had brought more of them piling in.

The immediate problems? Abnaier knew the Apostle of Abundance and the reach they had across the continent, and could guess at what they would do.

Back when Azpen was at its height, hadn't he imagined countless times what would happen if they just swept out all those rotten priests and everything that clung to them?

Pressure through trade routes.

Those who used the trade routes the sect controlled were not few in number, so that would be where it started.

One of the sect's greatest sources of power was the monasteries themselves. They were not cities, yet they held off Demon Creatures and Magic Beasts on their own. Merchant guilds used those monasteries as staging posts along the road.

Setting that aside, what came next? Among the many problems, the biggest stood out clearly.

'They'll pull the priest corps.'

The priest corps that kept the Cult's activities in check answered to the sect.

That was true of the Justice Priest Corps, and equally true of the Cult Extermination Priest Corps.

The Cult Extermination Priest Corps even included Holy Knights under the sect's authority.

The two corps crossed national borders to hunt down and kill Cultists.

Masters of tracking and killing, they could rightly be called the continent's recognized anti-Cult extermination force.

Even Cultists trembled and gnashed their teeth at the mere mention of those two corps' names.

Their numbers were not large, but every one of them had made the Cult their enemy and spent their entire lives dedicated to wiping them out. That was what the priest corps were.

If they pulled out?

There was a phrase: balance of power. The reason the Cult found it difficult to operate freely was because the priest corps were active.

The Cult could never be wiped out completely, but because that balance of power roughly held, the Cultists at least could not rampage openly.

It was one of the achievements the sect had made since the day the Cursed Ground Holy Sect had pulled off that insane feat of summoning a Salamander.

Even when Naurillia had looked like a ripe fruit in the eyes of the surrounding nations, the Cult had already been quite active within the kingdom. The reason that had been possible was likely that whoever was pulling the strings had turned the priest corps active within the kingdom to look elsewhere.

The sect would now use every means at its disposal to pull the priest corps out of the kingdom entirely, and the Cult would run wild like fish finally given water.

"She's a Holy Maiden?"

"Hi, I'm Seiki."

When Krais noticed the girl Enkrid had brought back and asked, Seiki answered herself. For reasons unknown, the Holy Maiden had dark circles under her eyes and looked deeply exhausted, her legs trembling slightly. Her voice was bright despite it all.

'And you brought the Holy Maiden here too?'

Abnaier had no such habit, but he nearly smacked his own forehead out loud.

Why would anyone bring that girl here?

Saving the Holy Maiden was already a problem. Attacking the monastery was another. And now the very child who had been at the center of it all had been brought along.

The Sect of Abundance's primary focus was the potion business.

And yet their core resource had simply been walked right out from under them?

'A madman.'

It was not as though that word had attached itself to him for no reason. Abnaier felt the full weight of it only now, completely and for the first time.

Even so, what Abnaier felt was something different from simple bewilderment.

All of this was something that should not have been done, something absurd, genuinely idiotic by any measure. And yet he still felt it.

There were emotions the mind could not fully explain.

That was exactly where Abnaier found himself.

"Ha. Ha ha ha."

Back in his Azpen days, how many times had he wanted to throw a wrench into everything the sect was doing?

More than once he had wanted to tear the whole thing apart in the most disastrous way possible.

And even he had never imagined anything like this.

Stealing a Holy Maiden. Attacking a monastery.

And on top of that, whatever had happened in between, the sight of someone who could not be bothered to give the sect a second thought kept drawing laughter out of him.

When the laughter reached his ears, Enkrid glanced over at Abnaier, then leaned toward Krais and murmured something Abnaier could not make out.

He only understood why the word hero fit that man.

What was difficult and hard for others was simply ordinary to him.

What others thought about and then stopped short of, that man carried through.

And for everyone who followed him, it had already become something ordinary without anyone noticing.

"Let's talk for a moment."

Krais walked over to Abnaier. Abnaier stopped laughing and nodded.

Right now, he was fully prepared to hear anything.

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