Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 390: It Didn’t Fall From the Sky - 9

The most dangerous moment isn’t when the path ahead is unclear, when one is paralyzed by the weight of countless choices, or when doubt fills the heart. No, the truly perilous time comes when everything feels crystal clear, when one is certain that only a single path remains, and when the heart is brimming with unwavering conviction. That is when humans become more dangerous than ever—both to themselves and to the world around them.

The Thunder Overseer, at the end of her deliberation, chose her belief.

Unable to kill him with lightning alone, she drew the sword she rarely used. Exploiting the dense mist, she ambushed him from behind. Filled with faith, she acted as a heavenly messenger of the Sky’s will, and the King of Humanity—caught off guard—was incapacitated without resistance. Lightning coursed down the blade, violently shaking his body.

For a moment, the lightning faded into nothingness. His ability to dissipate lightning had neutralized it. All that remained was the blade itself. To ensure the job was finished, the Thunder Overseer gripped the hilt tighter, intending to end him completely.

Then the blade snapped like a brittle reed. The sharp steel that had been poised on the sword’s edge crumbled and disappeared.

It didn’t end there. A chilling aura surged in, devouring the space around them. It was a power dangerous to anyone, but particularly fatal to the perfectly forged body of the Thunder Overseer—a corrosive energy of rust and decay that began with the sword and advanced toward her.

Forced to protect herself, the Thunder Overseer summoned the power of thunder to shield her body. But because the energy discharged lightning upon contact, she had no choice but to step back from him. As the blade that had pierced his abdomen vanished, his body, unbalanced, slumped forward and collapsed.

The attack had been critical, yet he was still alive. If she intended to finish him, she would need to act quickly. Turning toward Peru, the Thunder Overseer spoke.

[Withdraw your power, Overseer of Rust.]

Peru stared at her in disbelief, her expression reflecting clear distrust of the Thunder Overseer’s actions.

"...Why? Why, Overseer, would you do this to him?"

[He is dangerous. For the city’s future, he must be eliminated.]

"...How could killing someone ever be for the future? That doesn’t make any sense!"

Her guarded stance was justified. She had just witnessed the Overseer stab a man—what else could she feel but doubt? The Thunder Overseer, exhibiting uncharacteristic patience, tried to reason with her.

[You must understand this as a ruler. Certain secrets have the power to shatter the world easily. Take the chime of the Golden Mirror you hold. Revealing its every detail wouldn’t make this nation safer—it would make it more vulnerable.]

"...But is that enough reason to kill him?"

[He is the King of Humanity. A representative of all mankind. The secrets he uncovers will inevitably become the knowledge of all humans. Just as a king represents his people, humanity will follow their king.]

The Thunder Overseer extended her hand. From her fingers, sparks leapt, reaching into the earth and pulling forth fragments of buried alchemical steel.

Claudia, the greatest city of the allied nations, was littered with remnants of discarded alchemical iron buried in its soil. The Thunder Overseer brushed her hand over the summoned metal, infusing it with the power of lightning. The rust and grime were stripped away, reshaping it into a sharp blade.

As an angel of thunder, she once again raised a lightning-imbued sword, pointing it at the fallen King of Humanity who lay bleeding.

[I can overlook the already-exposed secrets of the Golden Mirror. But I cannot allow him to learn the truth of the Lightning Thief. It would drive humanity into doubt and despair.]

Peru was flustered.

The King of Humanity? She had heard of vampire progenitors, saints, and even kings of beasts, but a king of humans? She had never considered such a thing. Perhaps such a figure existed, though it was a question that only seemed relevant after solving all her own problems.

And yet, perhaps it was precisely because of this identity that he traveled with the progenitor.

Peru, having reached an understanding, quietly nodded. Mistaking her response for agreement, the Thunder Overseer brightened.

[So you understand. That’s a relief. Then—]

But the light dissipating from the blade was extinguished once more. The Thunder Overseer tried to wield her lightning, but the shattered blade couldn’t channel it effectively—it crumbled in the middle with a dull snap.

The sudden break left the Thunder Overseer stunned. Peru, exhaling deeply, spoke with quiet determination.

"I am an alchemist. What I follow is the law of value. Killing him holds no value—none at all."

[Not even to protect the allied nations, to secure the future?]

"...Death is the loss of value. No matter the method, no matter the circumstances."

[It’s merely a retreat, a step back for the greater good.]

"...It’s different. It’s not retreat. Once value is lost, it doesn’t transform into something else. It never comes back."

As someone whose very powers revolved around eliminating value, Peru’s words carried immense weight. Certain now that Peru would not move aside, the Thunder Overseer shook her head in regret.

[I see there’s no other choice. I had hoped to make you the Overseer of Gold and entrust you with this nation’s order.]

The Thunder Overseer discarded the broken sword, its rusted fragments falling without a sound. Empty-handed, she raised her palm toward the sky.

In Claudia, the Thunder Overseer was unmatched. As long as her lightning was not discharged prematurely, all the city’s latent forces were at her disposal. Using her hand as a lightning rod, she summoned seeds of thunder hidden within the clouds, pulling their energy toward her.

[I won’t kill you. Survive, if you can. I wonder how long you’ll last with that broken body.]

She grasped the thunder, lowering her hand. A bolt of lightning erupted, bridging the heavens and the earth. A torrent of energy surged, ripping through the ground and shaking the skies.

As the deafening roar echoed and the displaced soil settled, the aftermath of the lightning strike was revealed. The Thunder Overseer frowned as she examined the result.

Sharp steel stakes had risen to encircle the targets like a protective barrier. Peru had hastily crafted a defense with alchemy. It was an admirable response, but such crude lightning rods couldn’t fully shield against the strike’s aftermath.

And yet, it wasn’t Peru’s improvised alchemy that had stopped the lightning.

"Aha-ha! Father, so your reckless behavior finally earned you a stab to the gut from a woman? I knew this day would come!"

Hilde had appeared suddenly, holding radiant light in her hands.

Casually blocking the lightning, she inspected Hughes’ fallen form. His abdomen was pierced and bleeding, and he seemed unconscious. While the injury was severe, was it enough to render him completely unresponsive?

Her eyes drifted to the direction of his outstretched hand. Clutched tightly was the kite dangling from the Lightning God’s back. Letting out a small chuckle, Hilde sighed and placed her hand over his wound.

"Ah, honestly. No reply? That’s no fun. Father, you were always more flavorful inside than out. Seeing you like this, you’re just pitiful and pathetic."

As white light enveloped his wound, the injury began to rewind, returning to its unscathed state.

The Thunder Overseer immediately recognized what it was. Though she had never seen it before, she knew—this was divine power. Without needing to be told, she instinctively understood the nature of the technique.

[Holy power?]

Healing took time. To buy herself a moment, Hilde explained cheerfully.

"That’s right~. Even if I look like this, I’m a devout believer! I can recite the scriptures cover to cover, you know? When the first Saint anointed the sick with oil and prayed sincerely, their wounds healed, and their ailments disappeared. All you have to do is put your heart into it, and—voilà!—the universe performs miracles!"

[I know! But why are you healing him? Surely you must realize this goes against the will of the Sky God—]

Muttering to herself, the Thunder Overseer froze as another realization dawned on her.

[A White-Faced One! A heretic!]

"A heretic? What nonsense. How could someone who abandoned faith wield holy power?"

It was common sense. Only those with unshakable faith could wield divine power. As a gift from the Sky God to humanity, divine power could not be used by those lacking devotion or failing to follow the deity’s teachings.

And that’s precisely why Hilde had become a taboo in the Holy Crown Church.

Before Hilde joined the Sacred Sword Order, she was an actor—a performer who immersed herself so deeply in her roles that she could portray the real thing. Even faith, and with it, the holy power wielded by the Sacred Sword Order.

It was because of this exceptional talent that she, once the most promising member of the Sacred Sword Order, was sent somewhere no one could ever find her. A place so remote that it left no room for anyone to question the implications of such a decision.

[A heretic, stealing divine power from the gods!]

"Isn’t it fascinating?" Hilde smiled. "A heretic, you say? How does someone steal divine power? Can the omnipotent gods really have their strength stolen? Is that how it works?"

As she finished administering first aid, Hilde’s voice was light, almost teasing. But above her, another thunderbolt from the Thunder Overseer came crashing down. Realizing Hilde’s true nature, the Overseer unleashed her full power without hesitation.

However—

"Neither rain nor wind, nor thunder nor storm, could stand in the way of the Saint’s grace."

Placing a hand over her chest, Hilde recited a prayer, and the thunderbolt veered off course. It wasn’t merely a miss. The lightning sharply redirected itself, as if deliberately avoiding Hilde, and struck the ground instead.

It was a miracle that had occurred once, long ago, when the first Saint crossed continents, parting storms and lightning with divine protection. Now, that legend transcended time, manifesting through faith.

[The Blessing of the Heavenly Order...!]

"See?" Hilde laughed, her voice almost singsong. "I can wield divine power! Better than you, even. So, doesn’t that mean what I’m doing is permitted by the gods?"

[Heretic!]

Even without divine blessings, a martial artist of Hilde’s caliber wouldn’t be easily threatened by lightning. Those who had mastered their craft could manipulate their internal energy to redirect lightning strikes to the ground beneath their feet.

Confrontation could only come through direct combat. Abandoning her ranged assault, the Thunder Overseer gathered her lightning back into her body, intending to eliminate the heretic with her own hands.

Facing the advancing angel of thunder, Hilde chuckled.

"Oh, by the way, I can do this too!"

Crossing her arms, she caressed her shoulders in an exaggerated gesture, her face taking on a sorrowful, pitiful expression—like an actor perfectly embodying a lonely soul.

"My faith is a sword. A blade of light to cut through evil and illuminate the path. Oh, first Saint, bless me with your gaze."

With those words, Hilde drew two blades of light from her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she spun the blades in her hands and murmured.

"Sacred swords, unsheathed."

The reason the Sacred Sword Order bears its name: those who forge their faith into blades are granted weapons blessed by divine power. They carry swords imbued with transcendent abilities, proof of their unwavering belief.

Hilde’s faith, manifested as radiant blades, was undeniable proof of her piety.

"Impressive, isn’t it? Look! Even with my faith, I can summon sacred swords!"

[You wretch!]

The Thunder Overseer’s lightning-clad fist came crashing down. Wielding a force greater than a thunderbolt, the punch carried immense destructive power. Hilde countered by gently guiding the blow with her daggers, deflecting the force along the crossed blades.

Seizing the opening, Hilde imbued her strikes with energy, driving a blow into the Overseer’s side. Thrown off balance, the Overseer couldn’t counter in time. Instead, she shifted her body to resist the strike, and their clashing energies rippled outward, forcing both to skid apart.

Hilde dusted off her feet, her tone mocking.

"Knocking my leg with your side? What, no need for strategy or technique as long as your body’s tough enough? Barbaric."

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[This too must be the will of the heavens. Here, I’ll uproot all future threats—you, the heretic, and all this savagery.]

"Think you can manage that? I’ve already drawn my sacred swords, and there’s a vampire nearby!"

On this journey, Hilde had rarely revealed her holy power. The progenitor, ever-watchful and relentless in her hatred of anything related to the Holy Crown Church, had been a constant presence. Sharp, insomniac, and utterly deadly, the progenitor could sense and hunt down the faintest trace of holy energy.

No matter how skilled she was, even Hilde couldn’t afford to reveal her abilities in front of such a being. Yet here she was, throwing caution to the wind.

It was almost as if she wanted the progenitor to come storming in and erase everything related to the Church.

The Thunder Overseer, however, seemed entirely unfazed, as if she had already anticipated this.

[If you mean the progenitor, she won’t be coming.]