Ceramite (5)

“Yes. They dare to damage the statues of angels. They drive cursed nails into them to make them bleed! And it doesn’t end there—they are now trying to create angels directly. What do you suppose those angels are made from?”

The artificial angels Sir Sork spoke of likely referred to Celestials such as Izmilla.

“W-what? If that’s true… those bastards truly can’t be forgiven!”

Selim could not restrain himself and spoke aloud. Sedrin and Niselda quickly shook their heads and gestured for silence, and Selim startled and clamped his own mouth shut.

“Sir Azadine. Do you understand? The Order is not a place worthy of your devotion. Especially if Sir Plank invested you….”

Azadine bit his lip at Sir Sork’s words.

Though a member of the Messenger Clan, he had joined the Rescue Knights Order because its faith had supported him in childhood.

But after growing up and seeing it in reality, the Order was merely an organization of ordinary people.

Gone was the devotion of old tales—only a shell sustained by bureaucracy and ugly human ambition remained.

Even that alone was enough to cause despair. But if what Sir Sork said was true?

‘It must be….’

Azadine felt Sir Sork was not lying.

Sir Sork was a great mage who participated in the creation of ceramite. His words carried weight.

The Order desecrating the remains of angels to produce ceramite—clearly fact.

An intolerable blasphemy.

“Then how about joining hands with me? Let us overthrow the Order together. Though I am undead, I truly worry for its future.”

Sir Sork desperately tried to persuade Azadine.

“Didn’t the Shade Hags promise you a reward if you captured me?”

“Of course, the reward would be fine. But not worth abandoning a talent like you.”

Sir Sork smiled.

“I value you enough to risk severing ties with the Shade Hags. As the saying goes, one lives for the one who recognizes them. None could value you more than I do.”

“Thanks… but what then? Do you have a plan?”

At Azadine’s question, Sir Sork explained.

“I will capture Saint Mallory with my forces. You are currently the Fire Guard commander of Fireglyph, are you not? If you grant approval, we can pass Fireglyph without loss and swiftly seize Saint Mallory before the Order reacts. We will grant proper rest to the angels who sacrificed for humanity—including the Three Archangels—eliminate the corrupted knights, and you will set the Order right. As for me… once that mission ends, I may die content. Swear it, and I will entrust you with the source of my life. Kill me once my duty is done.”

It was a shocking proposal. To Azadine, still only a squire, he proposed conquering the Order’s headquarters and standing at its peak.

Even offering his life. Was Sir Sork truly acting to purge corruption?

“Ha….”

Azadine sighed deeply.

“H-hey, Sir Azadine. You’re not actually considering it, right?”

Selim feared Azadine might accept.

“No, Azadine. First extract the source of his life. Then we can kill Sork. If you kill him, I will serve you forever. I-I mean loyalty as a retainer!”

Sedrin grew excited at the chance to slay her kin’s enemy.

But Azadine had no intention of killing Sork by deception.

‘Funny… the minotaur Selim and the orc undead Sir Sork are the only true Hospitallers.’

Among all knights he had seen, only those two truly cared for the Order.

That fact troubled him.

After contemplation, Azadine shouted.

“Sir Sork! I propose the opposite! Free all who did not willingly become undead in the Fimbulhorde, and I will accept you under my command!”

“Hahaha. Are you sane? What could surpass my offer? Ah—Sedrin’s wish? To free her kin? Then you should accept mine. We have no time. How long do you think they will leave Fireglyph to you? Unless Saint Mallory falls immediately while you control Fireglyph….”

“I’m not joking. Last chance, Sir Sork.”

“…….”

Sir Sork’s breathing grew rough; he realized Azadine was serious.

“You would spit on my goodwill and insult me—for those who defile angelic devotion?”

His fury shook the Black Soil Forest, and undead troops entered.

Sedrin immediately moved the forest, blocking them with trees—but fire bombardment fell from the sky and burned the barricades.

—Boom!

Flames erupted across the forest.

“Fine. I only need safe passage through Fireglyph. Sir Azadine, regrettably I will turn you into a wight.”

Sir Sork intended to enslave him and use him to pass Fireglyph.

Seeing his resolve, Azadine sighed.

“Sedrin!”

“Hm?!”

“Open the way. I’m going out.”

“Are you insane? Your condition—”

“Sork left Biar Marsh. That makes us even.”

“F-fine. Damn it… how did it come to this?”

Sedrin moved the trees to open the clearing.

Azadine stepped into it, revealing himself.

“Hahaha. Azadine. You finally show yourself.”

Sir Sork descended from his wyvern.

Wights gathered from the forest as well.

“Ugh… Dilia!”

Sedrin frowned seeing her sister beside Sork.

“Sedrin. We were guardians of this forest too. Blocking paths won’t work.”

“Shut up. You’re not my sister—just a soul tainted by dark magic.”

“Hehe. Then why did you call me Dilia?”

Sir Sork stepped forward.

“Stop.”

Azadine raised Aurelia Dawn overhead.

“You need my body to pass Fireglyph, don’t you? One more step and I ignite the ceramite and burn my body to bone dust!”

“Haha. Will you truly self-immolate?”

No sane human could burn themselves alive—but everyone knew Azadine was serious.

Sork halted. The wights froze.

Silence filled the air.

Then Azadine lowered the sword.

“Of course, a joke. No need for suicide when victory is possible.”

“Then…?”

“Sadly, you too defile angelic devotion.”

“What?”

“Sir Sork. What must be protected is virtue, not angels themselves.”

“An excuse for those who crave power?”

“They lack virtue. But they are helpless, trembling in fear.”

The Chadra Plateau’s darkness was real—the power of ancient god blood from Netherstrom.

The Order knew this terror and clung to angels.

“Azadine… I was Sir Plank’s peer. I know this! The Order fears and sins!”

Sork mourned. These were once his own beliefs.

“Compassion is the right of the strong. Only one who can punish may pity.”

“Then you are not strong.”

“…Yes. It took long to learn. I won’t let you repeat my mistakes.”

He flicked his blade.

Black aura rose. Cold spread outward.

“You’ve lost your way, Sir Sork.”

Azadine looked at him bitterly.

Once Sork’s voice had saved him.

But now—his words only caused pain.