The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 187

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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 187. A Dragon in My Pocket (1)
The time I’d leveled up the most was at the Royal Social Society.
A +24 level increase from creating a variable with Memoria.
It was the result of clearing two Territory Quests simultaneously, both of which offered ‘massive experience’ as rewards.
Of course, in terms of stat increases, the Infinite Labyrinth was unparalleled.
But that was merely a stat increase, not a true ‘level up’—so by pure leveling alone, the Royal Social Society remained my record.
Yet now.
The level-up notifications flooding my vision—
◆Your level has increased.
I’d just surpassed 24.
And then 25 passed.
26, 27….
◆Your level has increased.
◆Your level has increased.
◆Your level has increased.
.
.
.
…It showed no signs of stopping.
As if it had lost its timing, the notifications kept cascading endlessly.
‘Why is this happening…?’
I was bewildered.
Ironically, I knew exactly why I was leveling up.
From defeating the Death Knight—more precisely, The Forgotten One—I’d gained 79.4 million experience points.
But here’s the thing.
‘This is combat experience?’
Until now, combat experience had always been in units of 100.
Even defeating Legion Commanders barely pushed me past 100,000 units.
I’d never once received tens of millions of experience points from combat.
Even Quest experience required ‘massive experience’ rewards to barely exceed 10 million units.
◆What on earth did you do?!
…I have no idea.
Why are you asking me in the first place?
◆Please stop cheating like this!
The notification seemed thoroughly indignant—
◆This is absolutely ridiculous!!!!
…No, genuinely sulking, the notification window inflated like a balloon in the center of my vision, burst, and trembled.
Not that it affected me in any meaningful way.
Well, regardless.
I turned away from the distorted notification and found my answer about the level-ups.
To be precise, I had discovered why I could obtain 79.4 million experience points.
After a brief moment of contemplation.
‘…Ah.’
I found the reason.
It was none other than the effect of the ‘Perk Skill’ I had obtained as a reward for clearing the Calamity Quest beforehand.
◆Growth Acceleration Factor [EX]
: The player’s [combat experience] acquisition rate is amplified by [+10,000%].
The Growth Acceleration Factor [EX] elevates the acquisition rate of combat experience itself.
In other words, the original experience was 794,000.
But with the Growth Acceleration Factor [EX], the ‘acquisition rate’ itself increased by +10,000%.
That is, with a hundredfold increase, it ballooned to 79,400,000.
◆What kind of absurdly broken skill is this?!?!
Truly overpowered….
No, even calling it a Perk Skill wouldn’t be strange—it was an incredibly generous benefit.
Moreover, it wasn’t a one-time effect.
The experience amplification didn’t end with a single application.
From now on, it would amplify the acquisition rate of all combat experience I gained by +10,000%.
◆This is just completely broken!!!
No wonder this broken skill….
No, it was rightfully called a Perk Skill.
‘With this….’
I no longer had to rely solely on Quests for leveling up.
I could fill the experience requirements for leveling through hunting alone.
Through this, I could raise my Anti-Mana stat significantly, and with Mana Predation, I could suppress not only Legion Commanders but even ‘Lords’.
Earlier, Blake’s Anti-Mana stat was too low to suppress him completely, yet I still managed to restrain his power.
In other words, if I raised my Anti-Mana stat sufficiently?
It meant I could even neutralize a Lord’s authority.
‘Come to think of it, Blake….’
My gaze shifted at the sudden thought.
I had sensed it vaguely beforehand—.
‘He fled.’
That seemed to be the case.
I hadn’t felt Blake’s presence since earlier.
There was also the possibility he was dead.
The dead leave no presence to sense.
I searched the place where Blake had been sprawled.
‘…Nothing.’
But I found nothing.
If he were dead, there should have been a corpse, yet despite sifting through the debris in every corner, there was nothing.
It seemed he had regained consciousness and slipped away while I was fighting.
‘He couldn’t have made it far in that condition.’
Walking properly had been difficult enough.
Blake likely hadn’t even escaped Caravana yet.
‘This time, I won’t let him slip away.’
I pursued the traces of the vanished Blake.
* * *
Caravana—the trade city through which twenty-three percent of the entire Continent’s commerce flowed.
With so much merchandise passing through, merchant guilds from countless kingdoms converged here.
And wherever such guilds gathered, one thing inevitably followed.
Rumor.
Stories faster than fact and sweeter than truth always spread from mouth to mouth.
“Have you heard the news?”
“News? What news?”
“Well, you see—”
“Don’t tell me it’s that rumor about earth spirits farming in the south?”
“…What? Earth spirits farming?”
“I’ve only heard secondhand, so I can’t be certain, but they say if you plant seeds, you harvest in a single day.”
“Ha, that’s absurd. How could such a thing be possible?”
“That’s why some say the elves have emerged into the human world.”
“The elves?”
“Haven’t southern grain prices crashed by half recently? When people started investigating the reason, all sorts of rumors began circulating, don’t you think?”
Such varied tales circulated among the merchants.
“But what was the news you wanted to tell me?”
“Ah, that’s the thing. There’s been a major incident in Caravana, they say.”
“A major incident?”
The event that unfolded in Caravana spread across the entire Continent in the blink of an eye.
However.
Just because a rumor spread quickly didn’t mean everyone accepted it at face value.
“Wasn’t that just because Caravana’s defenses were lacking?”
“Caravana may be large as a city, but its security force consists of people who’ve never seen real combat, let alone received proper training.”
“True enough. The mercenaries hired by the merchants essentially serve as the garrison.”
“They’ve only escorted merchants. They’ve never experienced actual warfare.”
“At most, it was probably just a raid by some orc horde.”
People dismissed Caravana’s disaster as greatly exaggerated.
After all, rumors had always been that way.
Rumor was the art of transforming a needle into a club.
“Bah, enough of that.”
“Making a fuss over such trifles, tsk.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
In the end, the rumor died without taking root.
“Listen up, everyone!! A Death Knight has appeared in Caravana!!”
Before the name Death Knight reached my ears.
“What, what?!”
“A Death Knight?!!”
A Death Knight—a knight of death, a once-legendary warrior reborn in undeath.
The strength of a Death Knight could be found not in legend or myth, but in ‘historical records’.
A kingdom’s capital burned to ash.
A legendary order of knights annihilated.
The name Death Knight always accompanied such historical accounts.
“Such a monster appeared?!”
“And the city remains unharmed?!”
The rumors spread uncontrollably.
From some point onward.
“Say, did you hear the news?!”
“There’s a Death Knight in Caravana right now!!”
In every tavern across the Continent, tales of Caravana never ceased to be heard.
* * *
Holy Kingdom of Cordelia.
The Holy Kingdom of Cordelia derives all its authority and legitimacy of governance from the Papal Palace.
Thus, the Papal Palace was the most solemn and austere place of all.
Yet even within such a Papal Palace, there existed one sanctuary uniquely surrounded by towering walls and formidable iron gates.
Cappella Celestia.
Named after the 121st Saint, Celestia, all the cardinals of the Papal Palace had gathered in this chapel.
“We now commence the Conclave to seek the will of the Most High.”
A Conclave—typically convened when a Pope passed away or resigned, to elect a new Pope.
“This Conclave has been assembled to determine whether to ratify the canonization of a saint.”
Yet it was also held regarding matters related to canonization ceremonies.
However, in such cases, it was not an election but a ratification.
In other words, a meeting for approval.
“We shall now determine whether Adrian Whitewolf can be elevated to the rank of Honorary Saint.”
An Honorary Saint unilaterally elevated not long ago by Isolde the Saint.
An Honorary Saint is not recorded in the official register of sainthood.
One who moves in secrecy beneath the Saint’s authority, acting in place of divine will.
Therefore, even the cardinals must ensure that their identity never be revealed to the outside world—
“This is unacceptable!”
—yet they had crossed that line.
Cardinals from the faction that upheld traditional doctrine and valued long-standing precedent.
But from some point onward.
Cardinals of a sect that adheres to traditional doctrine and values long-standing conventions.
But from some point on.
They spoke of divine will, yet all that emerged from their lips was sophistry defending their own vested interests.
Isolde’s reformist endeavors were a thorn in their side.
So they watched and waited, vultures circling for any opportunity to bring her down.
They scrutinized her every move, every gesture, their eyes bloodshot with desperation to seize upon a single flaw, a single misstep.
And thus, inevitably.
They reached even for the unofficial proposal Isolde had submitted, and Adrian became their target.
“Cardinal Isolde herself has not yet been canonized as a saint, and yet you would establish an honorary saint?”
“There is no precedent for such a thing!”
“Moreover, is he not the one notorious as a ruffian?”
“To elevate such a worthless wretch to the rank of saint!”
“If his name is inscribed among the saints, we shall all surely be damned to perdition!”
The cardinals raised their voices in unison, one after another.
Having seized what they believed to be their opportunity, they showed no restraint.
“We wondered where he had gone, abandoning the sacred rites.”
“To think he was gallivanting about with a ruffian. Tsk, tsk.
“It seems Cardinal Isolde finds the relics of a ruffian more sacred than those of God.”
They spewed forth their accusations without hesitation.
“Are your words not excessive?”
Other cardinals, unable to bear it any longer, stepped forward.
But those men paid them no heed.
“Have we spoken falsely?”
“It is a fact that Cardinal Isolde abandoned the sacred rites.”
“It is a fact that she elevated a ruffian to honorary sainthood.”
“We have merely reasoned piously upon these facts.”
“God himself calls this ‘reasonable doubt.'”
I should have offered some rebuttal….
“Ugh….”
…but I had nothing to say.
Separate from their insulting conduct, the fact remained that Adrian was indeed a ruffian.
And it was undeniable that Isolde had elevated such a man to honorary sainthood.
Honorary saint or not, his influence would be far from negligible.
To elevate one notorious as a ruffian to honorary sainthood was, in every respect, a reckless handling of God’s name.
Perhaps that was why.
“I submit that Cardinal Isolde’s canonization as a saint should be revoked!”
They had begun to turn their fangs upon Isolde herself.
“How can you…!”
“How could we possibly elevate a woman who consorts with ruffians to sainthood?”
“To canonize such a base woman as a saint is itself blasphemy!”
Heated voices filled the interior of Cappella Celestia.
“At this rate, would it not be unremarkable if tomorrow she brought another man and proclaimed him a saint?”
“How utterly vile and sacrilegious!”
“I cannot stand idly by while the will of God is mocked any longer!”
In an instant, Isolde tumbled from saint to witch.
And yet.
There was only one way to overturn this situation.
No—there was precisely one.
Adrian would have to boldly prove himself worthy as a saint.
Not as some mere ruffian.
By demonstrating a sainthood that no one could deny, he alone could justify Isolde’s decision and restore her honor.
But such a thing… it couldn’t possibly be done, could it?
Proving one’s worthiness while alive—without martyrdom—required miracles that could only be called ‘divine intervention’.
Adrian would need to perform a miracle like the one Isolde had performed when she purified Violess.
But what were the odds such a miracle would actually—
Boom!
“Oh no, disaster! Right now in Caravana—!”
…Perhaps it might happen after all?

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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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