Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 477

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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 477
Fire. A Remaining Opportunity
A new religious sect that flourished with Tooluun as its origin.
Though its beginning was humble, its end became magnificent—a force that brought religious war to Gaia and severed a great branch from the unified faith in God.
Ian realized that every entity called heretical, save the Underworld Deity, was a “Shadow.” Thus he understood precisely why it was the Shadow of God.
Had God not existed, it would not have existed either; yet by existing, it proved God’s existence—a paradoxical relationship. And so, audaciously, the Shadow called itself God.
“…One name among many?”
Ian slowly raised his mana blade. Now he was beginning to understand. The wheel of fate in which he stood.
“To possess demonic attributes yet bear the name of God. How presumptuous.”
All the circumstances surrounding the earthquake became clear. With its heart buried beneath the earth, this was the only path to expand its influence beyond Gaia.
Threatening Bariel was a natural course of action. The Empire was a nation that received God’s blessing in full—one of the vital foundations that comprised God.
Seeing this, it seemed natural that God had created Idgal. The existing mana sealing stones were too rare to hold back the flooding demons.
Idgal was a threat to mages, but simultaneously a new means to suppress demons. Unlike mana sealing stones, Idgal could be created and destroyed as needed. Perfect for orchestrating history.
“Do you raise your blade to cut me down?”
The Underworld Deity laughed mockingly as it looked down at Ian. To it, Ian was nothing more than a single insignificant ant. A creature it could crush underfoot at any moment.
“…I know. That I cannot cut you down.”
So long as God existed, it too would exist. So long as humans with false faith did not all perish, its power would not diminish. Ian knew this. With his current strength, he could never defeat the Underworld Deity.
“But now that I face you, I have no choice but to do everything in my power to cut you down. It is the calling God has bestowed upon me, the reason I exist in this place. Whether you are cut down or not is irrelevant. I simply do what must be done.”
“How foolish. Do you believe in God? Look at Bandor! Once thought a mage close to God, yet thoroughly abandoned. You too shall meet the same fate. You will live in delusion.”
“I believe in God.”
Zing! Zing!
Whoooosh!
Ian’s sword energy exploded.
The mana blade, resembling golden eyes, rippled greatly and revealed its presence. A beacon that did not belong in the abyss. Small but certain, and even if submerged, it would not extinguish.
“Yes. The deeper the faith, the deeper the pain.”
“I am not afraid. God stands with me.”
Since all he did was God’s will, there was no reason to fear. Only regret for what remained unresolved.
The Underworld Deity noticed the fragment that remained in one corner of Ian’s heart and laughed.
“Do not worry. Everything you have given your heart to shall be buried beneath the earth.”
“Your delusion amuses me. My colleagues, had they been here, would have cut you down with me. They would not have hesitated and would have made their decision before I made mine. Thus, we would stand beneath God’s blessing—”
‘and laughed together.’
Ian smiled bitterly and lowered his stance.
Target Rutherford first. If he could not cut down the Underworld Deity, then by eliminating Rutherford, its plaything, he would fulfill his part. All work above Gaia centered on Rutherford; with him gone, the world would naturally continue. And he too would flow within the righteous current.
Whoosh!
As Ian rushed toward the Underworld Deity, the Gypsy simultaneously tried to flee in the opposite direction. She feared being caught in the battle.
But at that moment—
“Eek!”
Someone seized her by the nape of her neck and waist. The Gypsy spun around in surprise to find two unfamiliar faces staring at her desperately. It was Melania and Clark. The two held her as though she were a messenger sent by God himself, and asked urgently.
“Is this the rift? We saw Count Ian moving with you earlier and followed. It’s a long story, but Count Ian, we can help. Really.”
“Why are you telling me that? If you can help, tell him over there! Must be nice having all that energy.”
“…Are you not on Count Ian’s side?”
“I am not on anyone’s side—”
A sharp sound cut through the air.
As the Gypsy struggled to wrench Melania’s hand away, Clark pressed his dagger against her neck.
The blade hovered close enough to draw blood at any moment. The Gypsy froze, her eyes darting sideways.
“…What are you doing?”
“You witnessed everything. Not aiding Count Ian now means conspiring with that demon. I intend to eliminate the threat preemptively.”
“How absurd! You people really are something else!”
The Gypsy was no mere mage, nor was she defenseless against criminals. The problem was her belly—far too full. She opened her gills wide in a threatening display, simultaneously emitting all manner of horrific and damp sounds.
While Melania recoiled in shock, Clark pressed forward with calm determination. He dismissed it as mere noise, yet among the cacophony, he caught fragments of a familiar language.
‘…Toolunic?’
“And you two—isn’t it laughable that you debate helping or abandoning that man when you wear the same robes as the dead mages?”
When they infiltrated the imperial palace, they had donned identical cloaks to avoid detection.
The Gypsy twisted her body repeatedly, demanding they release her, while Melania gathered her courage anew and seized the Gypsy’s lower half.
“There were circumstances!”
During the annihilation of Haimanga, Ian had spared her life. Though his intention was to track Rutherford, it amounted to giving Melania a second chance. She had planned to use Rutherford to return to the empire, never intending to exist in defiance of divine will.
Clark felt the same. He had met Rutherford in Toolunic and been taken in by him—his benefactor. Yet before that, there was Ian, the man who had brought peace to Lady Lien.
“I don’t care about such things!”
“If you desire compensation, please take this. Imperial jewels!”
A single gem they had carried from the imperial palace’s exhibition hall.
The Gypsy hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. She was one who fed on secrets. Glittering stones mattered little; what mattered was the mystery and story woven into them.
“I know the terms of the contract between Count Ian and Rutherford!”
When the Gypsy showed indifference, Melania squeezed her eyes shut and cried out. It seemed Ian was not truly Ian—something else entirely. If that were so, only Melania herself and Rutherford would know the exact terms of the contract.
The Gypsy’s eyebrows twitched slightly, as if something had finally caught her interest.
“May I consume it?”
“Pardon? Well, shouldn’t you ask Count Ian first?”
She spoke thus, yet her heart felt light. It was a secret, yes—but one already past. The contract had shattered when Ian underwent the death of the abyss. There was no reason not to offer it as sustenance.
The Gypsy nodded as if in agreement.
“I shall show you the way out. However, you must navigate it yourselves. If you survive, promise me you will give me that secret later.”
“If Count Ian permits it.”
“I promise to persuade him. That is the posture of one who wishes to survive.”
Melania bit her lip and carefully acknowledged, while Clark withdrew his dagger. He muttered toward Ian.
“Can we retrieve Count Ian?”
“Are you mad? I’m already burdened carrying you two. And who should worry about whom?”
Behold. How high that small human leaps in defiance of the Underworld Deity. How radiant is the trace of Gaia that God left behind.
The Gypsy drew her hood tight and moved her lower body with vigor. Slow though it was, she was certainly escaping the danger zone. Melania and Clark clung to her back, looking behind them.
A deafening roar erupted!
Boom! Boom!
Ian wielded his mana blade with calm intensity—like a warrior charging into battle knowing death awaited, like a prophet accepting fate itself.
With each arc of the mana blade, golden flames burst forth. Methodically, fulfilling sacred duty with each strike, Ian pressed forward, teeth clenched.
“How pathetic.”
Tap, tap, tap!
Whoooosh!
The wave released by the Underworld Deity shook my body violently.
But that was all. I staggered but did not retreat. As I pushed off into the void, a magical circle materialized beneath my feet, drawing concentric rings.
Upward, ever upward, I surged toward Rutherford cradled within the Underworld Deity. My trajectory was traced by mana and flowing hair.
Crack!
Perhaps sensing the tremendous surge of power, Rutherford, who had lost consciousness, furrowed his brow. The world warped as though submerged in water. What is that?
“Rutherford!”
It was him. The roaring voice reached Rutherford even within the Underworld Deity.
What was happening? Hadn’t he been killed by Ian? As the bewildered Rutherford tried to move, a familiar voice resonated.
“Do not fear. I am with you.”
…God!
God had saved him once more.
He felt his physical form growing increasingly faint. He was being returned without death. Indeed, God had not abandoned him.
“Ru—therford!”
Ian cried out again with fierce determination. Gripping Idgal, which God had granted me, I drove the blade down with crushing force, and the surroundings fractured like a spider’s web.
Then Rutherford’s form within the Underworld Deity became far more distinct.
Whoooosh!
“…!”
I would not let him slip away. I would seize at least this one life in my grasp. Even as the Underworld Deity’s waves engulfed me, my eyes burned with unwavering resolve.
The mana blade approached Rutherford’s eyes with blinding speed.
Crack!
Raising his hand to block was reflexive. As God’s wave constricted my breath, brilliant light poured forth from behind. Everything faded to pure white. My mana, the radiance of Idgal, and Rutherford himself—all consumed by an intense light that erased everything.
As though time had stopped, Rutherford stared at my face bearing down upon him. I was saying something.
“This is __God. The one you believe in ___….”
“…What?”
Perhaps the light had even erased sound itself. The latter half dissolved into a buzzing hum, and Rutherford soon sank into darkness.
A madman. To dare challenge the power of God. A hollow laugh escaped him. What was his identity? Platinum hair and blue eyes. A dignified presence. And….
‘…Imperial.’
* * *
“So what became of it?”
As Rutherford’s account ended, the Burgos Retainer pressed him to continue. He merely shrugged while holding a pipe to his lips.
“…There is a part where I lost consciousness, so that is all I remember.”
He did not mention that Ian’s true identity was ‘Imperial’—he didn’t even know it had already been consumed by the Gypsy.
“So Minister Ian will certainly return, yes? Hmm, that is troublesome. We’ve already heard news that the Prince is ascending the throne in Bariel.”
“I told you. It’s fine. This is our opportunity.”
“Could it be that you mean….”
The Burgos Retainers asked carefully, hope kindling in their eyes.
Such certainty could only mean….
“Yes. The Divine told me so. There will be an opportunity before this year passes.”

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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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