I Became a Mythical Hunter After Killing the Golden Goblin - Chapter 112

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 112. Meanwhile, in the Holy Kingdom…
After Shin Ju-ha descended into the Underground Prison, the surface world fell into chaos masked by deceptive quiet. During the frenzy of preparations for the massive Holy Spirit Festival, one of the Holy Kingdom’s pillars crumbled.
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely certain. We’ve obtained intelligence that Cardinal Aoira will travel somewhere alone today. The information comes from a devout believer close to me who serves under Cardinal Aoira, so the likelihood of deception is minimal.”
Cardinal Batroy nodded, accepting the Heresy Inquisitor’s report without hesitation. The man served as his most loyal subordinate, standing directly beneath him as the head of heresy interrogation, leaving no room for doubt.
His relentless activism in rooting out heretics—those possessed by demonic ideology and corruption—only strengthened that trust. A man who had purged such numbers of infidels would face ridicule from his own allies if he were a spy or traitor.
Batroy had even contemplated creating a non-existent vice-commander position to appoint him to, such was his conviction. His faith remained absolute.
Cardinal Batroy rose from his seat. He donned the finest of the countless sacred relics and holy armor hanging upon the walls.
This was resolve. He would not fail—he would purge this accursed traitor.
“So Cardinal Aoira was a traitor who conspired with demons and their ilk. It strikes me as shocking, truly. I championed his rise to cardinal, believing him the most devout and merciful among us. To think he concealed such darkness beneath that facade.”
Batroy, bearing the blood of giants, wore a holy sword across his back—its form that of a colossal greatsword. He issued his command to the Inquisitor.
“Gather the Heresy Inquisitors. Today we shall purge the heretics rotting away at this Holy Kingdom.”
“Understood!”
Swift and decisive. He would act with speed to ensure no information reached the other side. Whatever schemes unfolded beneath the Holy Spirit Festival’s grand spectacle, he would not allow them to proceed unchecked.
Cardinal Batroy steadied his mind, drawing tension through his body as he contemplated.
‘Should I inform the other cardinals of this?’
But he quickly shook his head, dismissing the thought. Nothing was yet confirmed.
Though he had deemed Cardinal Aoira a traitor and heretic, there remained the possibility—however remote—of alternative explanations.
Perhaps Aoira harbored different intentions rather than outright betrayal, or in the worst case, other cardinals might be conspiring alongside him.
It would be prudent to apprehend Aoira or secure concrete evidence before announcing his purge.
‘As for the Pope…’
The Pope was essentially a figurehead—no insult intended. He lived as though he possessed neither voice nor authority nor power, when in truth he lacked none of these.
A man blessed with the mightiest favor of the divine, capable of wielding all such gifts, yet so magnanimous and merciful that he coveted no power at all. Recalling such a man, Batroy shook his head.
Such a person would surely suffer if entangled in this affair. One of his cardinals—his very limbs—had become a traitor conspiring with demons and their kind, endangering the Holy Kingdom itself!
He would certainly be bedridden for months.
Batroy deliberated briefly, deciding to inform the Pope only after all was resolved, yet a small, persistent anxiety within him gave him pause.
“Is anyone out there?”
He summoned one of the believers waiting outside and commanded that should he fail to return, this truth be reported to the Pope. Then he departed the chamber.
There was no need for grand ceremonial language. The Heresy Inquisitors, already prepared, gazed upon Batroy’s countenance with reverence and admiration as he emerged.
What transpired was a covert operation. The entire corps of Heresy Inquisitors had been summoned for a secret assembly, their story aligned to prevent any information from leaking.
Surely others would assume the meeting concerned precautions or contingencies for the grand Holy Spirit Festival.
After all, the Heresy Inquisitors had convened in secret more than once before.
Upon reaching the assembly hall, Batroy announced the truth in a low voice.
“We have detected evidence that Cardinal Aoira has betrayed the Holy Kingdom and conspired with demons and their kind.”
The chamber erupted in chaos. One of the four true rulers of the Holy Kingdom was a heretic?!
The shock and confusion were entirely justified. Had they not reacted with such intensity and fervor, one might have questioned their loyalty.
Batroy raised his hand to quell the tumult and spoke again, his tone unwavering.
“From this moment, cease thinking of Aoira as a cardinal. Forget the merciful, gentle figure dwelling in your memories. He is a traitor and heretic like all those you have purged before. Do not hesitate. We undertake a righteous and honorable task.”
He raised the sword strapped across his back toward the heavens. And he cried out.
“May the blessing of the sacred be with us!”
“Until the day all demons fall!!”
Morale surged. Killing intent streamed from the eyes of the Heresy Inquisitors, and Bartroy was the first to enter the secret passage hidden within the conference chamber.
Nearly a hundred Heresy Inquisitors followed in his wake, and they began moving toward their destination.
None of them knew what awaited them at the end of their path.
***
“It’s over there. The Holy Kingdom Outer Warehouse that Cardinal Aoira has been frequenting recently.”
“With so few people around and this unsettling feeling… he must be doing something there.”
It was certainly suspicious. The warehouse stood atop what could be mistaken for a small mountain, and its actual size was larger than expected. It was spacious enough to accommodate hundreds of people, so Bartroy remained vigilant.
He quickly issued orders to his subordinates.
“Encircle the area. Ten of you stay behind and surround the mountain—don’t let a single rat escape. The rest follow me as we advance and investigate.”
They moved swiftly according to his commands and began their slow ascent up the mountain. All to eliminate the traitor lurking within.
Lower slopes. Middle slopes. By the summit, a hundred Heresy Inquisitors had formed a complete encirclement. Cardinal Bartroy and the Heresy Inquisitors who reached the peak caught their breath, then—
“Charge!!!”
They immediately smashed through the warehouse door and entered. And they saw it.
The grotesque, horrifying, and nauseating interior of the warehouse. Meat hung suspended. Like slaughtered cattle and pigs, carcasses dangled from hooks, swaying in the empty air.
Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.
The floor was drenched in blood. The metallic stench of gore rapidly invaded their nostrils, and the putrid reek of corpses vibrated through the air.
Retch! Gag!
“What in the world is this…?”
Cardinal Bartroy, the commander of heresy inquisition, believed he had witnessed every conceivable heretic and endured countless horrific scenes—nothing should shake him.
Yet this transcended all reason. A world composed entirely of blood, flesh, and corpses.
“So you’ve finally come.”
From the center of that nightmarish realm, an elderly man clad in pristine white cardinal vestments—so incongruous with his surroundings—greeted him with a smile that now seemed utterly repugnant, warm and benevolent.
“Cardinal Aoira. Were you truly… a traitor?”
“Hehehehe. A traitor? I infiltrated the Holy Kingdom as a spy from the very beginning—surely that title doesn’t suit me? Call me a heretic instead, like my brethren whom you and your subordinates have been exterminating.”
Bartroy closed his mouth and slowly surveyed this vile, repugnant world. Then he drew the holy sword strapped to his back.
“Heretic and traitor, Aoira. As commander of heresy inquisition, I, Bartroy, shall strike you down! All Heresy Inquisitors, draw your blades!”
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Blades gleaming with radiance. Swords infused with sanctity. Weapons that granted superiority against heretics!
The holy swords materialized. They were blessed with the covenant between the Pope and the Divine Seat, known as the Archangel.
Holy power, antithetical to demonic energy, flowed through these blades called holy swords. Those Heresy Inquisitors who wielded them no longer gazed upon this world with revulsion or fear.
“Advance!!! Strike down the heretic!”
Forward only. Thinking solely of severing the heretic, the traitor. Onward. Ever onward.
That was why they wielded their blades, why they bore the title of Heresy Inquisitor.
And leading them all, wielding a greatsword, was Bartroy himself.
No matter how vast the warehouse, the moment this superhuman began to run, within mere steps he was already swinging his blade toward Aoira.
The most powerful cardinal in the Holy Kingdom save for the Pope—such was the epithet bestowed upon Bartroy.
Therefore, he had never once imagined defeat in a confrontation with Cardinal Aoira.
No, he believed he could easily slay Cardinal Aoira, who possessed only buffing and healing magic. He believed he could strike him down in a single blow without even testing their strength.
And yet.
“Kehehehe! Cardinal Bartroy, you foolish and arrogant old man. Do you know why I’ve only been using recovery and buff-type abilities?”
A chalice emerged from his embrace. It was impossibly sacred, impossibly beautiful, and impossibly magnificent.
“Because that alone is sufficient. After all, the offense is….”
It inverts. What lay within spills to the floor. Inside that sacred, beautiful, and magnificent holy relic was blood far too profane.
“One of my true powers is all I need.”
The divine power vanishes. The holy relic is sucked into subspace, and the spilled blood, the blood scattered across the floor, rises to form a body.
Demonic energy awakens. Possible only because I am a puppet. Possible because the divine power I wielded was a loophole using the holy relic.
It was the same principle as how the Fallen Angels channel divine power and demonic energy through each wing, switching between them as needed.
Divine power when holding the holy relic. Demonic energy drawn from my true form when not holding it.
Blood Phantom Technique. The second specialty of the puppet master manifests.
Before the sacred blade that flew mere inches away, a veil woven from blood materialized.
Kwaaang!!
The sacred blade could not pierce the veil. Yet it did manage to crack it.
“Truly remarkable power. To leave a scar upon a veil crafted from the blood of a higher race, purified and blessed by the Holy Grail.”
But that is all. The veil cracked, yes—but a full-power strike yielded only a crack.
“Hmph! This is not over! How long do you think you can endure within that veil! If we Inquisitors cooperate with me, your fate is sealed! I will capture you and dissect every secret of this power!”
Cardinal Bartroy did not yield. And Aoyra offered him a cryptic smile in return.
Then I moved my hand once more and began to weave the Blood Phantom Technique anew.
A battle unknown to anyone in the Holy Kingdom—too busy and too chaotic with festival preparations—had begun.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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