Player Who Became A Constellation [EN]: Chapter 235

235. The Player Who Became a Constellation

The floor was stained with blood, a stark contrast to the corpse lying beside it.

Despite the floor’s somewhat dilapidated appearance, the Saintess knelt without hesitation, bowing her head low.

Even risking defiling herself, she expressed her devotion, paying respect to the being she served.

Lord Arond, curious about the being the Saintess revered so deeply, turned his head.

The question died in his throat.

A figure clad entirely in jet-black armor stood before him.

A heavy footstep crushed the carpet, leaving a distinct imprint.

The curved horns extending from either side of the helmet seemed to symbolize a demon.

Lord Arond was silenced by the sheer presence and pressure emanating from the figure.

It was the antithesis of anything holy.

However, a company of knights in gleaming silver-white armor followed close behind.

The aura radiating from each of them was palpable.

The traces of divine power they emitted filled the air.

They were Holy Knights.

Moreover, they possessed a majesty surpassing even that of angels, unseen within the Holy Order.

One might even mistake them for wingless angels.

The noble Saintess’s reverent prayer and the Holy Knights’ disciplined march.

A demonic figure standing prominently among them.

A truly incongruous and contradictory sight.

Yet, it filled Lord Arond with an inexplicable sense of elation.

His heart swelled with a strange mixture of awe and anticipation.

He recalled Pope Zaus’s words.

The Constellation of the End.

Indeed, the epithet was perfect.

When he came to his senses, he found himself kneeling, staring at the ground.

‘When did this happen…?’

Was it due to being intimidated by the overwhelming presence? Or was his faith stirred without him realizing it?

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause, but he knew his body had moved instinctively.

“It seems you are the captain of the knights. Where is the lord?”

The voice of Loki, the Constellation of the End, echoed through the hall.

He seemed to be surveying the surroundings.

Lord Arond inhaled deeply and spoke, forcing himself to meet the gaze of the armored figure.

“It is an honor to meet the Constellation of the End! My name is Marco Arond, the lord of this Arond territory.”

“Oh ho! The lord himself has come to the front lines?”

“…The territory was in crisis. So, I wanted to hold out as much as possible… But thanks to the grace of the merciful Saintess and the blessing of the Constellation…”

Lord Arond’s tongue seemed to twist in his mouth.

His mind was in turmoil, unsure of what words of praise to utter that would befit the occasion.

At that moment, he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder.

It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

A comforting pat, as if offering encouragement.

“You’ve worked hard.”

Those simple words brought a surge of emotion to Lord Arond, washing over him like a warm wave.

“Thank you!”

“I wish to rest. Prepare a place for me to rest.”

“Of course!”

Still kneeling, Lord Arond shouted to the soldiers behind him.

“Soldiers! Quickly guide these individuals to a suitable place to rest!”

The kneeling soldiers hurriedly rose and rushed towards the lord’s mansion, eager to fulfill the request.

“Wait, I’ll take a look around the streets for a bit. Report to me as soon as things are settled.”

“Y-Yes, I understand!”

Loki glanced at Lord Arond before moving, and Cancun, rising from her spot, dusted off her blood-stained armor and hurried after him.

Lord Arond watched the scene unfold before him.

The Saintess was smiling serenely, following the Constellation without any hint of reservation or fear.

‘…I, I feel like I’ve witnessed something truly extraordinary.’

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to record this event in a journal and share the story with future generations.

Ah! Or perhaps commission a painter to capture the scene that had just transpired.

He would surely reminisce about this day for years to come.

He himself would leave his name etched in the annals of history.

As Lord Arond indulged in such fantasies, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“May I ask you something for a moment, Lord?”

“Yes?”

Lord Arond turned his head.

A woman who had removed her helmet stood before him, revealing her face.

A beautiful woman with striking purple hair and tanned skin.

Behind her, an old man bound in chains, looking utterly out of place, was being dragged along like a common prisoner.

“W-What is the matter?”

Lord Arond glanced at the old man behind her, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

For some reason, he looked vaguely familiar.

However, his appearance was so wretched and degraded that he couldn’t quite place him.

“Could you prepare a prison and a pyre [a structure for burning a body as part of a funeral rite] for the prisoner? I will, of course, cover the expenses.”

“Yes? No, that… payment is not necessary. As for the pyre… what size would you prefer? We have options ranging from small ones… to a larger platform.”

Lord Arond answered, but a multitude of questions swirled in his mind.

The Holy Knights, led by the enigmatic Constellation, and a prisoner they had brought along?

If it were merely bandits or cultists who had attacked them, they wouldn’t have bothered keeping them alive and dragging them all the way here.

Above all, they certainly wouldn’t go to the trouble of preparing a pyre.

‘That means he’s quite a big shot…’

Is he perhaps the leader of a particularly dangerous cult?

That would certainly explain the need for a pyre.

Driven by a mixture of curiosity and a desire to be thorough, Lord Arond asked.

“Could you perhaps tell me what crime the prisoner committed and who he is? I would like to have that information when determining the appropriate size and design of the pyre.”

“Ah, is that so? Well… as for the crime… it’s already spread across the continent, so I imagine you know to some extent.”

“Yes?”

It’s been spread across the continent for a long time?

Is he an even bigger figure than he initially thought?

Sharin smiled faintly and said.

“It’s Holy King Palis. Loki… the Constellation, said that he will be burned at the stake here.”

Lord Arond stared at the old man with wide, disbelieving eyes.

That’s… Holy King Palis?!

As the lord of a territory often referred to as the second capital, he had met the Holy King on several occasions.

To see that once dignified and powerful man fall so wretchedly was a shocking sight.

“Can you prepare a pyre for this man?”

“Are you Lord Arond!?”

At that moment, Palis shouted, his voice hoarse and desperate.

As he struggled to move his body and approach Lord Arond, the Einherjar [warrior in Norse mythology] guarding him swiftly intervened.

They slammed him to the ground and pinned him down with brutal efficiency.

“Ugh! It hurts! It hurts! You bastards! Do you even know who I am…!”

“Shut up.”

The Einherjar casually broke Palis’s arm, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.

“Aaaagh!”

However, the twisted arm gradually returned to its original position, albeit slowly, a grotesque display of unnatural healing.

Lord Arond’s eyes turned cold at the sight.

That’s not a regenerative ability that any normal human could possess.

The rumors that had been spreading across the continent were indeed true.

The Holy King had fallen from grace, and perhaps from humanity itself.

“Lord Arond! I, I know I’ve met you several times! Don’t you remember how much support I’ve given to your territory!?”

“…Your Majesty, the Holy King.”

“Yes, save me right now…!”

“Do you even know my name?”

Palis looked at Lord Arond with wide, pleading eyes, confusion etched on his face.

“What?”

“…….”

He was a Holy King who regarded his believers as mere pebbles on the street, insignificant and easily discarded.

To have once called such a person Holy King and served him with unwavering loyalty….

He was utterly ashamed of his past self, a wave of regret washing over him.

Lord Arond turned his gaze to Sharin, his decision made.

“I will prepare the pyre.”

“Yes, the Constellation has spoken. We must make an example of him for the other cultists. He said it’s a warning about what happens when you reject Asgard [the realm of the gods in Norse mythology] and the Holy Order and become corrupt.”

“Yes, I understand.”

This event would also hold great significance for Lord Arond himself.

His name might be forever etched in the annals of history or even enshrined in theological scriptures.

He had no intention of approaching such a task carelessly.

“However, it will take some time to prepare everything properly. I ask for your understanding on that point.”

“Yes, please prepare it to the extent that it can be announced throughout the entire continent.”

The end of the Holy King was at hand.

“He said that it will be the signal flare to begin dealing with the fallen Constellations.”

It was also a clear signal to launch a full-scale assault on the remaining fallen Constellations, a declaration of war against the forces of corruption.

“……! I will definitely make it a success!”

Lord Arond bowed his head deeply, his resolve hardened.

***

The announcement of Holy King Palis’s impending execution spread like wildfire.

While overseeing the preparations for the pyre, Lord Arond sent urgent letters to the surrounding territories and kingdoms, requesting support for the Arond territory.

His aim was to bolster his insufficient troops and to expedite the construction of the pyre.

In response, the lords dispatched Holy Knights and priests from their respective jurisdictions, and they began to converge on the Arond territory.

Clang! Clang!

The laborers of the Arond territory worked tirelessly, their hammers ringing out across the land.

They erected a massive steel frame, a skeletal structure that would soon become a monument to the Holy King’s demise.

The buildings surrounding the main plaza were demolished to create more space, ensuring that as many people as possible could witness the spectacle.

Knowing that Constellation Loki was watching, Lord Arond was determined to present a territory that was anything but shabby, focusing intently on the overall presentation and landscaping.

The frame of a platform resembling a towering spire was completed, and carts laden with high-quality wood for the execution were transported to the plaza.

Loki, who was observing the scene from the mansion overlooking the plaza from a high vantage point, sipped his tea and watched the flurry of activity below.

“…Impressive.”

“Y-Yes, you’re right. I can’t help but wonder if it’s all a bit too extravagant.”

“How long will it take to complete the preparations?”

“According to Lord Arond, approximately one month.”

“A month? They’re certainly preparing in grand style.”

“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

Cancun wore a slightly distressed expression.

The way the Holy Knights, priests, servants, and maids here treated her was excessively cautious, bordering on obsequious.

Once, when she casually mentioned that she was feeling hungry, the entire mansion erupted into a state of near-panic, as if a major emergency had been declared, and the chef stared intently at Cancun’s every bite, sweating profusely.

When she attempted to wash herself, a group of nuns insisted on doing it for her, and the constant attention and pressure were becoming increasingly burdensome.

She longed to execute Holy King Palis as quickly as possible and return to the relative normalcy of her home country.

“But he assures me that he’ll finish it as quickly as possible.”

“A month… No, it’s perfectly fine if it takes a little longer.”

“Yes?”

“It’s good to prepare everything leisurely and thoroughly.”

“…I’ll be sure to relay that message to him.”

“But what exactly are they doing over there?”

Loki pointed towards the laborers working diligently in the plaza.

Some soldiers were making small, superficial cuts on the laborers’ fingers.

They then dripped blood from other individuals next to the wounds, and if there were no noticeable reactions, they simply sent the laborers away.

“They say they’re conducting a check.”

“Checking for what, exactly?”

“They say it’s an examination to see if any Black Judges [individuals corrupted by dark magic] have infiltrated the workforce.”

“I see.”

They’re likely looking for signs of the Worm Fests’ regenerative abilities, a telltale sign of corruption.

If a wound was present, it would regenerate at an accelerated rate. Also, the Worm Fest would be drawn to the scent of blood and attempt to crawl out of the wound to feed.

It’s a prudent response, befitting the Holy Order, which has a long history of dealing with plagues and insidious threats.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t particularly enjoy events like this?”

Loki chuckled softly at Cancun’s words.

“Yes, what I’m truly looking forward to is something else entirely.”

“……?”

“The Black Judges themselves.”

“…….”

“Will they simply stand by and watch Holy King Palis meet his end? Or… will they risk everything and struggle to rescue him?”

It didn’t truly matter which path they chose.

The Holy King was, in essence, like a Constellation to them, a figure of immense importance and symbolic power.

If they ignored him and allowed him to die, their faith would be exposed as a hollow sham, and their carefully constructed solidarity would crumble.

They would scatter and lose all the influence and power they had painstakingly built up over time.

But conversely, if they attempted to save the Holy King, they would be forced to prepare an unprecedented counterattack, revealing their hand and exposing themselves to retaliation.

‘They’ll probably prepare an army.’

An army dedicated to rescuing the Holy King from his impending doom.

The moment they reveal themselves, they will be swiftly and decisively wiped out.

***

Loki’s predictions proved to be remarkably accurate.

The rumor of Holy King Palis’s imminent execution spread like wildfire across the continent, reaching the ears of cult leaders far and wide.

The cult leaders who heard the rumor found themselves at a critical crossroads, forced to make a difficult choice.

Whether to risk everything to save the Holy King, their figurehead and symbol of their faith.

Or to abandon him to his fate, effectively sacrificing him for the sake of self-preservation.

It was painfully obvious that it was a carefully laid trap by Asgard, designed to expose and eliminate them.

If they ignored the Holy King, internal division would inevitably occur, leading to infighting and, ultimately, self-destruction.

Conversely, if they attempted to rescue him, they could potentially reaffirm their faith and inspire their followers, but at a tremendous cost.

‘Damn it all.’

In the end, there was only one viable path for them to take.

“Gather the army.”

They had no choice but to launch a desperate invasion of the Arond territory and attempt to rescue Holy King Palis from his captors.

The cult leaders issued a summons order, calling upon their followers to arms. The fate of their movement hung in the balance.