Betrayal Knight's Joyful Faith

Chapter 354

The castle, which had been abandoned for a long time, was practically in ruins.Although security forces stood guard near the castle walls to prevent people from approaching without permission, the interior of the castle had long been deserted.

After the investigation was concluded, even the minimal management staff withdrew, and Count Stadler’s researchers returned a long time ago.

The glory of the past had melted away like melting snow, and only an eerie atmosphere hung over the castle.

“Seriously, it feels like something’s about to jump out.”

Arthur grumbled, kicking away the weeds that had grown haphazardly.

Arendt, who was walking ahead, responded.

“Even if ghosts appear in a place like this, most of them will be people who died by our hands, so it doesn’t really matter, right?”

“…Are you joking right now?”

“I’m not joking. Oh, and there must have been quite a few people who died at the hands of Rebecca and Warren.”

Arendt shrugged his shoulders when Arthur made a look of disgust and strode inside.

Even the once-gorgeous interior was a mess.

Most of the objects that filled the room were scattered on the floor, having been destroyed during the battle. Many were also confiscated during the investigation.

The furniture that had not been broken or stolen was all covered in white dust, and there were still bloodstains here and there that had not yet been erased.

The wallpaper was torn and peeling in most places, and the carpet on the floor was covered in a thick layer of dust.

As the two people stepped into the hallway, the dust that had been hiding began to rise in thick clouds.

Arendt waved his hand to shoo away the dust.

“Ugh, seriously. What is this, a stable or something?”

“Right?”

Having made a similar complaint, Arthur shot him a quick, sidelong glance.

“By the way… it might be a bit strange to ask this now, but is there any guarantee that coming here will solve the problem?”

Arendt pretended not to understand and asked back.

“What does that mean?”

“You said those strange symptoms you’re suffering from are because of the Evil God, didn’t you?”

In fact, Arthur didn’t really understand that part yet, but he decided to force himself to accept it for now.

“Of course, it is true that there is a temple of the Evil God here…”

Arthur, who had been speaking carefully, paused for a moment as if choosing his words.

“Honestly, I still don’t understand how you’re going to solve this. There’s no priest to question, and even if the temple remains, it’s just a ruin.”

“Hmm…”

It was a perfectly reasonable and sensible question.

As Arendt wondered how to respond, he suddenly felt a small hint of mischief rising within him.

After a brief silence, Arendt spoke out half-impulsively.

“What if I told you that I heard the voice of God?”

“What?”

Arthur let out a momentary dumbfounded sound.

“…The voice of God. Are you talking about Lord Luce? Was it when you were badly injured?”

“No.”

Without looking back at Arthur, Arendt responded plainly.

“The one you call the Evil God, senior. It was right here, when we were carrying out the operation to defeat Rebecca.”

“…”

For a moment Arthur seemed speechless. Arendt spoke briefly from within the dusty ruins.

“So if I confront the god directly, I should be able to find out anything. Oh, and by the way, even the captain doesn’t know that.”

“What? Hey, wait a minute. Even the captain doesn’t know. What does that mean?”

Arthur suddenly came to his senses and asked Arendt, but he did not answer.

It was a bit of a recompense for his unnecessary meddling and a touch of youthful mischief to test Arthur.

If a junior who despises God Luce even claimed to have heard the voice of the Evil God, he was a bit curious about what kind of reaction that would provoke.

“Was it this way? There was a hidden space.”

Arendt strode forward, pretending not to notice Arthur, who had frozen in place.

Arthur, who had been standing there frozen for a moment, soon followed suit.

But he didn’t speak to Arendt anymore. He seemed quite upset, staying silent.

“…”

The two of them walked in silence as they approached the entrance to the temple where Rebecca had hidden herself.

In the basement, where the silence was like a tomb in the middle of the night, a door with ornate carvings welcomed the two.

It was the emblem symbolizing the royal guard of God Chernion, the ‘Sword of the Broken Heart’.

Until recently, this place was relatively cleaner than the outside because Count Stadler’s researchers often visited there.

As expected, the spot where Rebecca had fallen after committing suicide was also cleaned up.

“I’m telling you this in advance.”

Arendt spoke and placed his hand on the door.

“Don’t panic if I have a seizure or suddenly collapse.”

This reminded him of the first time he heard Chernion’s voice.

Even though they exchanged just a few words, he felt like all his energy was being drained.

Besides, he was only able to properly confront God Luce after he fell into a coma.

‘This time, I probably won’t get to see a good outcome either.’

Although it bothered him a lot to have Arthur by his side, Arendt decided to just give up.

Since it was something he chose, he couldn’t interfere with it.

Without waiting for Arthur’s answer, Arendt pushed the door open with force.

.

The huge door began to slowly open with an unpleasant sound.

“…”

Soon, the two were able to come face to face with the statue of Chernion.

Under a ceiling that seemed to depict the night sky, a statue of a deity with its eyes closed stood alone and silent.

The statue carved from black rock quietly folded its hands over its chest. Its androgynous face looking up at the ceiling bore a striking resemblance to God Luce, upon closer inspection.

“What are you going to do?”

After staying silent for quite a while, Arthur asked with a troubled expression.

“Well, what should I do? You know, I’m an insolent bastard who doesn’t know how to kneel before a god.”

Arendt answered indifferently and walked briskly towards the statue.

“For now, shall we at least try calling him? After all, he summoned someone in such a violent way, there’s no way he’ll pretend he doesn’t know.”

Arendt’s cold voice echoed through the quiet underground temple.

Arendt stopped walking right in front of the statue and looked up at Chernion with cold eyes.

‘I don’t know what you want, but.’

But that was only for a moment, as Arendt closed his eyes as if mimicking the statue.

As his vision became blocked, he felt dizzy, and soon he felt the presence of an unpleasant presence lurking on the other side of the darkness.

Arthur watched Arendt with great tension.

“Hah…”

Arendt exhaled slowly and lifted the hand wearing the Frosty Touch to touch the statue.

“…”

And then, after a while…

.

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Arendt fell to the floor.

He came to his senses again in the darkness.

“…”

Like always in his nightmares, a pair of unfocused eyes stared at him.

The darkness surrounding it was so thick that it seemed as if he would be sucked in if he took a wrong step.

“…Well, I’m just saying, but this place gives me a bad vibe.”

The back of his neck stiffened with instinctive rejection. The longer the pitch-black eyes stared at him, the more his stomach began to turn.

A vague sense of despair and fear began to well up in him, but Arendt suppressed them with ease and opened his mouth.

“Hey.”

He was an actor anyway.

Whether it was God or the devil, they were just stage props or off-stage audience members.

“Is that what you look like?”

Arendt spoke calmly, looking straight into the murky eyes.

“I guess I was mistaken.”

It was something Arendt often said.

But looking at that sight, it seemed like he had guessed wrong.

God Luce that he encountered in a dying state looked very similar to the statue.

His beautiful appearance, which reigned as light itself, still remained in his eyelids like a painting.

But God Chernion before his eyes was different.

“That bastard had a really shiny face… looks like you don’t even have the strength to pretend to be a benevolent being.”

That must have been the price paid for the defeat in the great war of the past.

When Arendt fell silent, a heavy silence settled once again. And after a while…

“That’s what oblivion is.”

An indescribable, bizarre voice was heard.

It sounded as if small noises from the darkness were gathered to mimic language.

“I was cast out of the natural order by my violent brother… now even the form given to me by my followers has lost its meaning.”

The eyes in the darkness blinked slowly.

Arendt wore a faint, bitter smile on his lips.

“Is that appearance just a mere shell?”

Perhaps it was a concept similar to a dragon’s polymorph.

They often transformed into human or elf forms to blend in with beings other than their own kind.

The difference between them and gods was that, unlike dragons who transformed into forms they chose themselves, gods took on forms personified by their followers.

“So, what do you want with me?”

Arendt tilted his head and asked.

“I almost died from lack of sleep thanks to that. And as you already know, I’m a very busy person. Even if I had ten bodies, it wouldn’t be enough to kill all your followers.”

“…”

“So just spit it out quickly and get lost. Don’t make me sick.”

There was no immediate answer.

The swaying darkness simply looked down at him, as if it wanted to test him.

Darkness stirred beneath Arendt’s feet as if it would swallow him up at any moment.

As time passed, the pressure weighing on him grew more and more severe.

But his golden eyes still did not waver an inch. Arendt just stared at the God of Darkness who had come to be called the Evil God.

After a while, an answer came back.

“Don’t you want to set things right?”

A wave of black darkness rippled and approached Arendt. A tendril of shadow, like a hand, brushed past, gently stroking his pale cheek.

“It seems like even my brother’s tyranny is starting to wear me down.”

The strange voice seemed at first to have a hint of affection.

The writhing darkness in front of his eyes began to intertwine, forming a single shape.

Soon, a ray of darkness that touched Arendt’s cheek took on a shape similar to a human hand, the shadow crawling on the floor became long hair, and the darkness filling the space took on beautiful features worthy of the name of God.

“A life that was never meant to be yours anyway…”

The hand of God caressed Arendt’s scarred neck.

He felt an eerie sensation.

“You, a weakling who can be ruined by just one touch of mine, don’t need to bear the burden of the chaos of the world.”