The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 188

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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 188. A Dragon in One’s Pocket (2)
A priest burst through the doors of Cappella Celestia.
Yet once the doors of Cappella Celestia—where the Conclave was in session—closed, no one could enter or leave.
“How dare you desecrate this sacred place where God’s will resides!!”
An angry shout echoed through the chapel.
Regardless of denomination, every cardinal frowned in displeasure.
“P-please, I have urgent news to deliver, and I beg your pardon for this rudeness…!”
The priest couldn’t even finish his words, gasping heavily for breath.
“A terrible disaster has befallen Caravana…!”
The priest’s words continued in that vein.
It was an account concerning the catastrophe that had struck Caravana, the trading city.
The priest proceeded with his explanation calmly—
“What…!”
“How could such a thing…!”
The cardinals stirred with great agitation.
It was a horrific disaster and devastation severe enough to overturn an entire city.
Above all, Caravana was far more than a mere Free City to the Holy Kingdom.
With 23% of the Continent’s trade flowing through it, the Holy Kingdom conducted missionary work to other kingdoms via Caravana’s routes.
In other words, Caravana was the very gateway through which the Holy Kingdom expanded its influence outward.
“S-so then!”
“What has become of Caravana?”
The priest’s rudeness was no longer an issue.
Everyone acknowledged that this was a matter important enough to interrupt the Conclave itself.
“The matter is this….”
The priest took a breath and then explained in detail what had transpired in Caravana.
* * *
News from Caravana spread through taverns across the Continent, rapidly taking on a life of its own.
The rumor, having gained such momentum, spread even faster, reaching the intelligence agencies of numerous kingdoms.
Krvil, the chief intelligence officer of the Levent Kingdom.
Krvil swiftly mobilized his intelligence network.
He deployed all his informants to investigate the scale of the disaster in Caravana, the casualties, and the identity of the figure at its center.
“Tell me in detail what happened in Caravana.”
At Krvil’s words, the informant took a breath and began to relay his findings.
“According to our investigation, the cause of the disaster in Caravana has been identified as a Death Knight.”
A Death Knight.
That name alone was sufficient explanation for the word “disaster.”
Krvil swallowed hard and listened to the informant’s continued report.
“The scale of damage is catastrophic across the entire city. Not only the infrastructure but all major administrative facilities have been completely destroyed, leaving the city essentially paralyzed.”
With damage of this magnitude, the city would require at least five years to rebuild.
“The soil throughout the Caravana region has collapsed, making recovery extremely difficult.”
At minimum, it would take over a decade to rebuild.
But the greatest loss was human life.
Broken buildings and damaged infrastructure could be repaired.
The dead, however, would never return.
Even if the city were reconstructed, its name might remain on maps, but Caravana would cease to exist as a trading hub in any meaningful sense.
“The injured have been evacuated in such large numbers that we haven’t yet compiled an accurate count.”
Caravana was essentially entering the final chapter of its existence, fading into the footnotes of history.
“However, the casualty figures appear to be remarkably light.”
“Light?”
“Yes. The confirmed death toll stands at twenty-seven.”
“…What did you say?”
Krvil’s eyes widened in shock.
For a disaster of such magnitude, casualties should have numbered in the thousands—that was the natural expectation.
Yet twenty-seven?
“Moreover, none of those twenty-seven died from direct impact of the disaster itself.”
“What?”
“Asphyxiation, cardiac arrest, exacerbation of pre-existing conditions—all indirect deaths occurring within hours after the disaster.”
In other words, only the buildings and administrative infrastructure had collapsed.
The disaster itself.
That meant the Death Knight had claimed no lives whatsoever.
…How was that even possible?
“You’re certain? This isn’t a statistical error?”
“No. We’ve verified this information multiple times, including the city’s outer districts.”
Krvil fell silent for a moment.
He knew all too well that his informant was neither a fool nor incompetent, which made it all the harder to find words.
“…How was that even possible?”
“The mayor of Caravana’s initial response appears to have been extraordinarily swift.”
The mayor of Caravana.
Levantis Pel Guardian.
A legendary figure who held complete control over all of Caravana’s trade, a man whose mastery of commerce and distribution had shaken the very order of the Continent itself.
That famous thousand-and-four-day trade war.
It was a legendary tale known to all—how he had brought three kingdoms to their knees without spilling a single drop of blood.
It seemed his abilities hadn’t diminished after all.
“However, the primary factor in preventing casualties appears to be that someone single-handedly stopped the Death Knight.”
“Someone stopped the Death Knight alone?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me more.”
“From this point, the information is based on rumors, so I cannot guarantee its accuracy.”
The informant paused briefly before continuing slowly.
“When a man stepped into the disaster, the sky above Caravana split into three, and the sound of celestial bells rang out across the city.”
“…?”
“Then, when wicked specters that obstructed God’s will came rushing forth, a pattern of holy blood manifested beneath his feet and purified them, or so the tale goes.”
“…??”
“And when he raised his hand to point at the sky, the veil of darkness split asunder and holy light descended….”
“…???”
What in the hell is this bastard talking about?
I asked for a situation report, and he’s spouting some founding myth like narrative.
Of course, he did claim the information was based on rumors.
And rumors, by their very nature, tend to be greatly exaggerated.
For instance, a rumor that someone named A stumbled on a hill becomes a tale of falling from a dragon’s back in the next village over.
A rumor that someone named B got lost in the forest becomes a legend of being acknowledged by the World Tree in the village beyond.
A needle transforms into a club—a miraculous metamorphosis.
And rumors were precisely the thing that wrought such miracles.
But then.
“An evil Death Knight raised an army of thousands, yet he dispatched them without so much as blinking an eye, or so they say.”
…Isn’t that a bit much?
A Death Knight is one thing, but where did this “army of thousands” come from?
A force of that magnitude could annihilate a small kingdom.
And he faced it alone?
“He held up the very sky of Caravana with both hands, and even shot lasers from his eyes-.”
…Are you serious?
“After the battle ended, there are even rumors that merely speaking his name could cure illness.”
…What, is he a saint?
“So the entire people of Caravana revere him as a saint, it seems.”
…Bullshit.
Krvil could not continue his train of thought any further.
* * *
The full account of Caravana’s events, as told from the priest’s lips.
The story was less shocking than it was appalling.
“Wh-what…?”
“What are you saying…?”
Bewilderment etched itself across the cardinals’ faces.
Some of them wore expressions of ‘What is this bastard talking about?’
And no wonder—it was precisely like a birth legend of a saint.
“Th-that’s…?”
“Is that really true?”
“Hah…!”
All of them gasped at the incredible miracle, and the chapel fell into a moment of silence.
And after a brief pause.
“Wh-who is this? The heroic figure who averted this catastrophe?”
All the cardinals’ gazes converged on the priest.
Under their scrutiny, the priest swallowed hard and slowly opened his mouth.
“Ah, it is Adrian Whitewolf.”
What?
Who did he say?
“Adrian Whitewolf…?”
The very man they’d been gleefully mocking as a scoundrel just moments ago?
“Indeed.”
The priest’s unwavering confirmation.
The cardinals’ faces drained of color in an instant.
“This is… this is…”
“The situation has become rather complicated, hasn’t it?”
They were all too aware that the situation had completely reversed.
“Who was it that was just mocking him as a scoundrel, again…?”
Flinch!
“Wasn’t it you, Cardinal Caldora?”
“I, I said that…?”
“You certainly declared that Adrian was ‘no different from a heretic.'”
“I never called him a heretic! I only said he was a worthless scoundrel-”
“Ah, so you did call him a scoundrel?”
“No, no! That’s not what I meant-!”
Cold sweat beaded on Cardinal Caldora’s forehead.
The other cardinals watched in silence, hoping the flames wouldn’t spread to them.
“Cardinal Belgrave, why don’t you say something as well?”
“I, why would I…?”
Cardinal Belgrave’s mind raced, trying to recall what he’d said just moments before.
His complexion turned ashen.
And for good reason—he hadn’t merely insulted Adrian.
He’d also insulted The Saint, Isolde, in the same breath.
And he’d done so with vulgar language mixed in.
This was not a matter that could be glossed over.
Perhaps—no, certainly—it was a grave sin worthy of stripping him of his cardinal’s rank.
Cardinal Belgrave thought: to hell with it.
“Surely Isolde the Saint meant ‘The Son,’ not something else!?”
The Son.
It was distinct from Saint.
Saints, classified by gender as Saint or The Saint, are holy ‘humans’ who exemplify faith and virtue.
In other words, they are merely God’s representatives.
But The Son is different.
Not God’s representative, but God Himself.
Simply a god who took on human flesh and appeared in this world.
In other words, if Isolde is the Son, then her choice to designate the ruffian Adrian as an Honorary Saint means her will is the will of God.
And it is only natural that we mere creations cannot fathom the divine wisdom of such a god.
“How could I possibly comprehend the sacred will of God?!”
How could a sparrow understand the will of a phoenix?
“Are you calling that an excuse right now?”
…I deployed such flawed logic, but it was futile.
“Not only are you defaming the Saint, now you’re blaspheming the divine itself?”
I should have just kept my mouth shut.
But it was already too late.
And so.
“I will record all of your statements, starting with that remark, as well as your unauthorized excavation of confidential documents, and immediately forward them to the Heresy Inquisitors.”
The cardinals who had been hounding Isolde and Adrian were all forced to accept suspension from their positions.
That day.
“By unanimous vote, we hereby recognize Adrian Whitewolf as the new beacon of the Holy Kingdom.”
In Cappella Celestia, a ‘White Flame’ sacred fire—purer and cleaner than white paper itself—burned brilliantly as Adrian was officially recognized as an Honorary Saint.
* * *
My consciousness was hazy.
I slowly opened my eyes, sensing something pressing down upon me.
And I could tell.
…It seemed I had lost consciousness while chasing Blake—
◆Aaaaaaahhhhh!!
Suddenly, a message flashed before my eyes.
I briefly wondered why it was acting like this.
◆This is a lie…!! It’s a lie!!
◆Aaaahhh!! Aaaaahhhhh!!
A message throwing a raucous fit.
◆Now it’s clearing even while I’m unconscious?! Seriously?!?!?!?!-!!!!
…It seemed something significant had definitely happened while I was unconscious.
◆Why does the Quest keep clearing on its own?!?!
A message that didn’t just flash—it was in complete chaos.
I genuinely wondered what was wrong with it.
But judging from the situation—
‘A Quest occurred while I was unconscious.’
And seeing that it progressed despite my being unaware, I could tell it was a Quest that was forcibly accepted—
◆Really, I’m about to lose my mind!!
…It seemed to have cleared on its own.
Without me doing anything at all.
The message’s attitude in accepting this situation.
It was like the five stages of grief accepting death itself.
◆Could it be… a glitch?!
The first stage, beginning with denial—
◆A glitch my foot!!
◆No, you have to have some shame about your scams!!
◆This is way too much, even for you!!
The second stage, transitioning into anger, or so I thought—
◆How is the Quest clearing on its own just because I’m closing my eyes?!
…I remained trapped in the anger stage.
◆How can a Quest be cleared when I’m not even conscious?!
◆Tell me! Well?!
And now it couldn’t even be called anger anymore.
◆Stop lying there with that vacant expression like “I have no idea what’s happening,” and say something—anything!!
It was more like she was sulking at me.
‘What kind of Quest was it anyway?’
The curiosity was just beginning to surface when it happened.
-Open it! Open this thing!
A loud shout suddenly pierced through the window.
I slowly pushed myself up.
Looking out the window, I saw a massive crowd gathered at Carabana City Hall, pounding on the doors.
The staff inside were desperately holding them back, and a physical struggle was breaking out—
“If you keep this up, we’ll have no choice but to use force!”
“Ha! You think we’ll back down because of that?!”
“Absolutely not! We can’t retreat!”
“Not until we meet Adrian!!”
…For some reason, my name was being mentioned.

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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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