Damn Reincarnation

were among them as well.

Signum Crucis Barrier was a barrier that strictly controlled the flow of mana within a designated space and temporarily amplified divine power, the power of priests.
However, miracles that transcended reason were always accompanied by a corresponding price.

Paladins who fought within the barrier paid a hefty price in exchange for gaining great power — their life.
To the best of Eugene’s knowledge, the only one who could perform such a miracle without much burden was Anise.
The only price she paid was the deepening of the stigmata on her back and the blood that she had to spill in the process.

“…Ha,” scoffed Eugene.
The relic on his left ring finger was throbbing.
Agaroth’s divine power was reacting to the Signum Crucis Barrier and resisting it.
As a result, Eugene’s flames were unwavering even though he was within the barrier, where the flow of mana was tightly restricted.

Giovanni and Atarax came to a conclusion at this sight.
The strange, otherworldly power that allowed Eugene’s flames to remain untouched within the Signum Crucis Barrier was different from the power granted to them by the God of Light.
It was….

“…The power of heretics…!”

As an Inquisitor, Atarax naturally perceived Eugene’s power as belonging to a pagan faith.

How…? How could this be? Atarax jumped into the barrier without hesitation as tears of blood flowed from his eyes.
“Sir Giovanni! Eugene Lionheart is a heretic! He worships the pagan gods!”

“Ohhhhh!” Giovanni was also shedding tears of blood.
How could a heretic be the master of the Holy Sword!? The anger and despondency coursing through his body fueled and reinforced him within the Signum Crucis Barrier.

However, everything looked like nothing more than a rotten, third-rate skit to Eugene.

Giovanni shouted, “Conviction!”

The Holy Sword had returned to its scabbard in the meantime, and as Atarax shouted “Punishment!”, Eugene instantly unsheathed it and held it to the side.

The two attacked him in unison.
Although the two belonged to different organizations, they were united in their unwavering faith in the Light.
They were obligated to punish the terrible pagan who dared to deceive the Light under the pretense of being the Hero.
Even if they were martyred in the process, they were willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the Light.

Atarax rushed in as blood flowed freely from his arms, and Giovanni charged at Eugene after once more adorning himself in the armor of light.

Meanwhile, Eugene’s body appeared to tremble and shimmer.

As all of this unfolded, Sergio watched from a few steps outside the barrier.
As Eugene’s figure started to shimmer, the Holy Sword was divided into dozens of copies.
This was the White Flame Formula, the symbol of the Lionheart family.
After being refined through a unique method, mana would be expressed as a white flame, then worn over one’s entire body once fully mastered.
It gave off an appearance similar to a mane of a lion, befitting the Lionheart name.

Indeed, Eugene’s appearance was precisely as expected.
Petals of fire surrounded his body like the mane of a lion, and he ran rampant.
However, he did not exude the white, beautiful flames that they knew.
Instead, after being condensed several times, the color of his mana was painted dark blue, like the color of the sky right before dawn.

“How…?” Sergio took off his hat with a moan.
“…Could there be such a sinister light?”

Blood rained, but Atarax could not maintain his blood magic for a prolonged period.
Moments later, he found himself staggering backward.
All of his blood had evaporated before he had a chance to use his magic, and his outstretched arms had been cut into dozens of thin slices.
Moreover, the ink-blue flame had carved up his chest and stomach.

Giovanni was in an even worse condition.
He was no longer standing proud, but rather scattered around, everything below the neck chopped into four distinct morsels.
The head fell last, and the only thing that remained behind was the echo of his last word, ‘conviction!’.

“…How in the world…?” Atarax muttered, shuddering.

He had been well aware that Eugene Lionheart was strong.
He also knew that Eugene had been responsible for single-handedly suppressing the rebellion of the Black Lion Castle in just one night.
He had seen Eugene toy with Hemoria as if she were a child while he was still recuperating from his injuries and not in his peak condition.
He knew that Eugene had survived an encounter with the Rakshasa Princess and that Eugene had showcased incredible swordsmanship in the competition against the White Dragon Knights.

However, this was beyond the realm of human understanding.
It was simply absurd.
There had to be a limit as to how strong someone could be.
Moreover, it wasn’t as if he had used magic.
It wasn’t as if he used other treasures of the Lionheart family.
Instead, he had armed the Holy Sword, which was meant to be used only with and for the light, with an impure power and… simply swung it.
That was all.

However, Atarax had failed to even see the strikes clearly.
The same was true for Giovanni — the man had been struck down before he could even think to dodge or block the attacks.

The trials and challenges they had experienced, the countless battles they had fought to become the captain of the Blood Cross Knights, to become a top Inquisitor… all of it had been for nothing.
None of it had meant anything in the face of Eugene’s swordplay.

He was on a different level, plain and simple.
But how could this be? How could devout servants of the Light be humiliated and teased by a corrupt man with an unknown, pagan faith…?

“The devil….”

Even if Eugene was on a different level, the two had clearly felt terrible hatred and killing intent from Eugene’s strikes.
The flames of the Holy Sword had evaporated Atarax’s blood magic all too easily, and the blade had split his flesh and bones.
The eeriness they felt stemmed from the murder and hatred unknown to the Light that Atarax had served all his life.

How could this be? Why was the Holy Sword not burning the hands of the pagan? The Holy Sword Altair was a treasure that had been lying dormant in the treasure vault of the Lionheart family since the time of the Great Vermouth three hundred years ago.
Since then, none of the heads of the Lionheart family had ever succeeded in drawing light from the Holy Sword.

However, those bearing the Lionheart name were qualified to hold the Holy Sword, which was why the Holy Empire had failed to retrieve the blade from the Lionheart family for more than three hundred years.
Nobody had taken it because it was simply impossible for any priests of the Light to even grasp the Holy Sword.

But why?

Atarax felt useless thoughts littering his head.
He gasped for air while retreating.
Why wasn’t the Holy Sword burning the devil’s hand? Why was the Holy Sword allowing itself to be used to slaughter the believers of Light in the hands of a devil? Why?

Atarax’s pupils quivered as questions continued flooding his head.

He recalled the many things he had done until now.
For the Light, for God, for the sake of being a more faithful servant, for the purpose of hunting heretics more efficiently and effectively… he had hunted apostates, heretics, and put an end to the study of ancient magic and black magic….
He remembered the cultivation room in the basement of the Inquisitors’ headquarters….

‘Divine retribution?’

The words remained in his head, but he could no longer feel the same anger as before.
Instead, Atarax felt immense fear.
He feared that his entire existence and life were being denied.
Had he been unfaithful? How? He had never missed a single service.
He had bled for the sake of the Light.

Everything he had done was right.
God had always looked after him and granted him the warmth of the sun.
The sun always paved the way for a clear, blue sky in the capital Yurasia, and that itself was proof of God’s existence and care….

That should have been the case, but right now, the sky was much too dark….

“Do not deny it.”

A voice brought him back to reality.
Cardinal Sergio Rogeris no longer had a gentle expression.
He walked into the barrier with unhesitating steps and cold eyes, his expression overlapping with his past self, the Inquisitor known as the Annihilator.

“The Light will open the door to heaven to reward your martyrdom.
Both you, Sir Giovanni, and all the believers who perished while resisting the devil — everyone will be led to the place of Light.”

“…Your Holiness…” Atarax called out.

“The names of everyone here will be etched into the memorial in Yuras.
You will be remembered as the saint who attempted to stop the devil until the very end,” Sergio responded.

“…Ah…!”

“So please,” said Sergio, raising his hand.
The stigmata on his exposed right arm was glowing softly.
Atarax closed his eyes and rejoiced as divine heat started to spread from behind his back and throughout his entire body.

Bang!

His fall caused a storm of light, a huge explosion of divine power.
The explosion was generated using Atarax as a conduit, and vaporized his body without a trace as it tore through the darkness toward Eugene.

Eugene called upon the Empty Sword, and the Holy Sword once again swirled with flames.
He stopped the storm of light in its tracks with a single powerful strike.

Beyond the intense burst of light stood Sergio.
He extended his arm toward Eugene under the backdrop of the brilliant light.

The stigmata on Sergio’s forearm was rather familiar.
Although thinner and consisting of fewer characters, the stigmata on Sergio’s right forearm was similar to the scar on Anise’s back.

“You guys…” said Eugene.

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Sergio opened the palm of his right hand.
The Signum Crucis Barrier was amplified, and all the divine power scattered by the explosion was absorbed into his hand.
Blood dripped down from his scar as it absorbed all the divine power.

“…What are you?” asked Eugene.
Instead of answering, Sergio wrapped his left arm in the red cloth draped over his shoulder.
Then, he curled his right hand into a fist and glared at Eugene.

“You are the devil,” said Sergio dryly.

Eugene laughed silently upon hearing the remark.