Chapter 145: Angel Dust

The scene left the brothers Saga and Aiolos utterly stunned. It was a long while before they recovered, and when Saga looked down at his rejuvenated, even stronger body, he was filled with astonishment, delight, and doubt. He turned toward Link with a mixture of wonder and suspicion.

“Grand Archbishop, what is happening? Why have I...?”

Link gave him a warm, kindly smile. “My child, this is the reward bestowed upon you by the Father God. Only a Gold Saint may receive it. Once one becomes a Gold Saint, the Father God uses supreme divine power to reshape his body, preserving it forever at the peak of an eighteen-year-old’s condition. Though this does not affect one’s lifespan, it allows a Gold Saint to retain his full battle strength forever, without suffering a decline due to age. This, too, is the blessing granted to the Gold Saints by our exalted Father God.”

Indeed, Link had used divine power together with the power of the Gemini Gold Cloth to reconstruct Saga’s body. Since there had been no need to unleash the full power of the Gemini Cloth, the amount of divine power required was far less than what had been used to awaken Asmita and the Virgo Cloth. A mere five points of divine power had been enough.

Though Saga and the others did not know the truth, Link’s words and the miracle they had witnessed with their own eyes were more than enough to shake them to the core. Saga immediately knelt on one knee, facing the monastery, and offered his thanks and praise to the Father God with utmost reverence.

Afterward, Saga thanked Link and explained that the Gemini Gold Cloth had bestowed a vast amount of inherited knowledge upon him. He could hardly wait to enter seclusion and digest it all. Link did not stop him, merely nodding his agreement.

Saga and Aiolos, who had been equally stimulated and were now determined to work even harder, turned and departed. Before leaving, Saga returned the Dragon Cloth to Link. That Cloth, too, would need a new master.

There was no suitable candidate among the trainee Saints at present, but Link was in no hurry. He would wait until the next batch of trainees had matured before deciding.

Come to think of it, if the older generation of trainee Saints worked themselves to the bone yet received no recognition, it would be easy to crush their enthusiasm. But the number of Cloths and Saint positions was limited, and many people would inevitably be unable to become full-fledged Saints.

For that reason, Link planned to have someone forge special Cloths exclusively for the trainee Saints. He would call them Steel Cloths. They would not count toward the quota of official Saints, but their appearance would be impressive enough to give the trainees a sense of belonging.

However, this was no simple undertaking. Since they were still Cloths—even imitations—they could not be shoddy. Their defensive power had to be respectable, and their appearance could not be disgraceful. Accomplishing all that was far from easy.

Although the compensation received from Sylvanas meant that the Church of the Father God would not lack money for quite some time, there was little to be done if its forging technology could not keep up. The greatest smiths were all on the Adimen Continent, where the craft was practically the exclusive domain of the dwarves. Human forging techniques had never managed to catch up.

The shortcoming in question was not the quality of the steel, but its additional properties. In a different world overflowing with magic, one could hardly present a piece of equipment to another person without powerful enchantments upon it. Adding all manner of enhancements while maintaining the equipment’s quality—in other words, creating enchanted steel equipment—was something only master dwarven smiths could accomplish.

Even though Link had already developed assembly lines, they could not make up for the scarcity of top-tier craftsmen. To forge the ideal Steel Cloths and other superior equipment, he would need master smiths of the highest caliber.

This problem had plagued Link for a long time without solution. The dwarves were not particularly friendly toward humans. Even if there happened to be a master smith willing to work with humans, the various powers would have snatched him up long ago. How could such a person ever fall into Link’s hands?

For now, the Steel Cloth project could only be set aside.

That afternoon, Uther sought Link out once again. He wished to recommend one of the Holy Knights under his command as an Inquisitor.

As a senior figure, Uther had the right to know about the Heresy Tribunal, so Link had already instructed Archbishop Zephyr to inform him. He had not expected Uther to immediately propose someone for the position.

This was not an attempt by Uther to seize power. He had made the recommendation because the Holy Knight in question was simply unsuited to team combat—indeed, he barely resembled a Holy Knight at all.

Andruison Alexander was an extremely unusual Holy Knight. He remembered every principle expected of a Holy Knight and knew the doctrines by heart, constantly speaking of both the teachings and the Father God.

Yet whenever Andruison encountered an enemy, he killed with the cruelest methods imaginable. He showed no mercy and never hesitated. Compared to a Holy Knight, he was more like a knight of the Apocalypse.

At the same time, his power of holy light was extraordinarily strong, and his physical combat ability was formidable as well. He had already reached the late fourth tier, making him second among the Holy Knights only to Uther, who had recently advanced to the peak of the fourth tier.

The problem was that Andruison’s methods and fighting style made the other Holy Knights extremely uncomfortable. He loved charging into enemy ranks without a care, slaughtering his foes in a manner that bordered on mutual destruction. He fought like a madman, frequently throwing the entire formation into chaos. As a result, Uther had been forced to keep him in the rear.

That was a waste of his talents, which was why Uther wished to recommend him as an Inquisitor.

After learning about Andruison, Link became interested as well and immediately sent for him.

The man who arrived was in his thirties, nearing forty. He had short golden hair, a scar across his right cheek, and a scruffy beard. Standing over six feet three inches tall, he was an imposing figure.

Unlike ordinary Holy Knights, however, he wore a gray trench coat. Around his neck hung a pendant of the Father God—a taiji-cross designed by Link, shaped like the female symbol. Every member of the Church now wore one. It was the emblem of the Church of the Father God.

The moment he met Link, Andruison grasped the taiji-cross in one hand and knelt before him with devout reverence.

“Father God above, great, merciful, and perfect Grand Archbishop, it is the supreme glory of your servant to stand before you. May the glory of the Father God remain with you forever!”

His exaggerated reaction made Link pause for a moment, but he had seen countless fanatical believers before and was not surprised. He nodded, then revealed the smile of a holy charlatan.

“Andruison, I am pleased to meet you. Uther has already told me of your deeds. You are not suited to remain with the Knights of the Silver Hand, but your talents are exceedingly rare. So I ask you this: are you willing to become an Inquisitor, the Father God’s blade of judgment?”

As he spoke, Link explained the duties of an Inquisitor.

When Andruison finished listening, he became even more agitated. His massive frame trembled without pause, and a savage, fanatical grin twisted across his face.

“Of course I am willing, great Grand Archbishop! I am willing—no, I beg you to make me an Inquisitor! Let me cleanse every last heretic from this world. So long as I can serve the exalted Father God, I am willing to become a blade of terror and bring death and fear to those despicable heretics. The glory of the Father God is eternal and undying!”

Fanatical. Mad. Twisted.

Andruison embodied everything that defined the most extreme zealot. Even Link felt a chill run down his spine as he watched him. Yet he was also deeply satisfied. A man like this seemed born for the profession of Inquisitor. All it would take was a single command—“The Father God has spoken”—and he would carry out anything without hesitation.

Link nodded at once. “Very good. Andruison Alexander, your devotion and understanding have greatly pleased me. They are precisely what the Father God requires. From this moment onward, you are an Inquisitor. Your codename is Angel’s Dust.

“Go and make your preparations. If you require any weapons, report directly to the weapons department. I will give you a token of authority. Tonight, I will issue the Inquisitors their first mission. At seven o’clock, go to Ezio Auditore, leader of the Assassins’ Creed. He will be waiting for you at River Section Thirteen, east of the city, and will tell you what to do. You will also meet another Inquisitor there.”

“Yes, great, merciful, and perfect Grand Archbishop. May the glory of the Father God shine upon you forever.”

After saying this in a fanatical tone, Andruison left the study with a savage smile, clutching the token Link had given him.

Before long, night fell.

Andruison arrived at River Section Thirteen. The moment he reached the place, he heard a somewhat insolent voice.

“So you’re the other Inquisitor? You don’t look like much!”

Andruison paused and followed the voice. A young man wearing a cocky grin was staring at him provocatively.

Andruison responded with a savage smile and spoke in a reverent voice. “The glory of the Father God is everywhere. All things exist beneath His gaze. Are you the other Inquisitor? My name is Andruison Alexander. My codename is Angel’s Dust, and I am a Holy Knight.”

“Angel’s Dust?” Manigold raised an eyebrow. “That’s a remarkably girlish codename. Remember this: I’m Manigold. I have no surname. My codename is Raging Shadow, and I am a Saint of the Unicorn.”

“A Saint?” Andruison’s smile grew even broader, and his voice began to tremble. “I have heard that Saints are the Church’s strongest defenders. Their fists can shatter stone, and their feet can split the earth. Is that really true?”

“Oh? You know quite a bit. But those are only the most basic abilities of a Saint. I haven’t been a Saint for very long, yet I can already do all that.”

Manigold spoke with a swaggering smile, but a dangerous, wary gleam had appeared in his eyes.

“Is that so? Heh heh heh...”

Amid his low, chilling laughter, Andruison suddenly moved, his face contorted by a ferocious grin. He drew two short blades from his waist. Their shape somewhat resembled machetes, though they were larger—about half a meter long—with sharper points and edges that gleamed coldly. Decapitating a man with them would probably be no more difficult than slicing open a watermelon.

Faced with Andruison’s sudden attack, Manigold did not panic. In fact, this was exactly what he had wanted.

Although they were both Inquisitors, neither held a clearly established position of superiority. Competition was therefore inevitable. Moreover, both were elite figures within the Church. Since they would be carrying out missions together, it was only natural that they should first measure each other’s abilities.

In an instant, silver-gray light blazed forth. Manigold donned the Unicorn Cloth and burned his cosmos as he threw a punch.

When fist and blade collided, a crisp metallic clang rang out. Cosmos and holy-light power crashed against each other, forcing both Manigold and Andruison to retreat seven or eight steps.

Both men were startled. What astonishing strength!

It seemed that, as Inquisitors, they truly were far more capable than ordinary people.

Their attitudes changed at once. Each watched the other with grave caution.

(Postscript: Andruison Alexander is portrayed by the reader “wgerryw.”)