The Looming Shadows of the Border

“In any case, little Anto is certain to join the support team bound for the border.”

“However, the intelligence we’ve gathered suggests that some within the Council are already plotting against Anto.”

Mula spoke, taking a sip from her beer, her gaze fixed on the swordsman and the elderly mage seated before her in the tavern.

“Eric, what recourse do we have?”

“What’s there to discuss about such matters?” Eric replied, his eyes still on his book.

“The solution is simple: if they come, and we encounter them, it merely signifies that we must adhere to the resolution methods the Otherworld Travelers have always followed.”

“Is it not straightforward?”

“The methods we’ve always followed?” Anto tilted her head, prompting Tikka to respond quite naturally:

“Treat life and death with indifference; if unconvinced, simply fight.”

“Ah, this…” Anto was momentarily stunned.

At the same time, Eric rose to his feet.

“There’s no need for lengthy discussions,” he declared.

“Otherworld Travelers themselves are not a monolithic entity; their values, sexual orientations, and worldviews differ vastly.”

“To still contemplate persuading an opponent at such a juncture, what an immense luxury of leisure that would be?”

“I, for one, possess no such luxury.”

“Therefore, when faced with such situations, one simply acts.”

“Fists, after all, are always more articulate than words in clarifying matters.”

“But… we don’t even know what kind of people are preparing to oppose us, nor what methods they intend to use.”

“Conversely, they also remain unaware of the methods we might employ to resist.”

“Such uncertainty is mutual.”

“In any case, those who can influence the Council’s meetings are naturally one, two, or perhaps even three or four of the Ten Sages.”

“There’s no need to be overly apprehensive.”

“Precisely,” Anto conceded, “they are all Sages, beings of immense power.”

“If they truly intend to coerce me, even if we were to pay the ultimate price, we might not be able to fully resist them, could we?”

“That is not a concern you need to bear,” Eric stated.

“At the very least, I have friends on the other side who are buying us time.”

“As long as nothing too unforeseen transpires, we will find a way to resolve matters before any significant complications arise.”

“And this, Anto, is precisely why we are here,” Eric continued, turning his attention to her.

“We will endeavor to ensure that your monastic life remains undisturbed by the Council and the Transmigrators.”

“Your sole responsibility is to diligently perform your duties.”

“Upon your return to the border this time, many matters warrant your attention.”

“Has Rhys apprised you of everything?”

“Yes, he spoke at great length about many things,” Anto confirmed.

“Among them, the most crucial matter, as expected, pertains to…”

“The Black Church,” Eric finished, as if anticipating her words.

“This faction represents an armed ecclesiastical force operating beyond the human continent.”

“For a long time, numerous church powers have sought to control this formidable strength.”

“After all, with the complete downfall of the three great knight orders, the most potent display of military prowess now rests with the demon hunters of the Black Cross Brotherhood in the borderlands.”

“Yet, they steadfastly adhere to their self-imposed exile, refusing to set foot in any human city.”

“Instead, they guard the ice plains and border villages, tirelessly preventing the spread of the Abyss.”

“On this journey to the border, you will, in all likelihood, or rather, assuredly, encounter these individuals.” Eric’s gaze rested on Anto.

“Have you given careful thought to how you will approach them?”

“Why did they choose self-exile?” Anto inquired of Eric, her voice laced with curiosity.

“And how, in such a desolate place, do they manage to expand and replenish their ranks?”

“Rhys mentioned he, too, is unaware of these answers, as the Black Church has always remained an isolated and independent entity.”

“Even the Council has found itself unable to gain a deep understanding of these individuals.”

“They maintain a certain distance from outsiders, not necessarily being exclusionary, yet proving difficult to approach.”

“Their method of recruitment has always remained an enigma.”

“Despite the Black Church consistently wielding formidable Holy Light power, the origin of their personnel remains unknown.”

“One theory suggests they periodically interact with locals in border villages, selecting children to bring back and raise, though this is merely speculation.”

“The borderlands have always been fraught with unrest, yet the Black Church has endured.”

“We can only observe whether your upcoming contact with them might prompt a slight change in their ways.”

“Most likely not,” Tikka interjected.

“They themselves claim to have forsaken faith and the Holy Light.”

“They do not acknowledge the Church or the Pope, so naturally, their stance on the Holy Light Flame should also be…”

“Perhaps,” Anto conceded, her voice thoughtful.

“However, it would be prudent to reserve judgment until after I’ve made contact.”

“With that in mind, I shall begin my preparations.”

“Teacher Eric, I entrust myself to your care this time as well.”

“Naturally,” Eric affirmed.

After his response, Anto walked back to the monastery alone.

Inside her room, another individual awaited by the door.

“Lady Anto.” The person bowed respectfully.

Anto shook her head.

“There’s no need for such deference here,” she gently admonished.

“I’ve told you this repeatedly, Knight Ilivy: you need not use honorifics with me.”

“My apologies,” Ilivy whispered in response.

Anto said nothing further, simply opening the door and stepping into the room.

“What is it? Is something amiss?” Anto inquired.

“Or perhaps there’s something more you wish to say?”

“Both questions amount to much the same thing.”

“Still, you needn’t stand guard outside my door constantly, need you?”

“My apologies, Lady Anto,” Ilivy began as she stepped inside the room.

“However, I too have received intelligence suggesting that some malevolent individuals intend to harm you.”

Anto, with practiced ease, began preparing tea within the room, speaking as she did so:

“Please, find a comfortable spot and sit,” Anto offered.

“Have some tea; I find myself craving some as well.”

“Knight Ilivy, your dedication in guarding me has always been exemplary, a fact evident to everyone.”

“There’s no need to be overly formal.”

“Therefore…” Anto trailed off, placing the tea on the table with a smile:

“Sometimes, especially within the city, it’s best to relax a little.”

“Lady Anto will be journeying to the border this time,” Ilivy stated.

“That region is exceedingly perilous, and I must accompany you.”

“For not only does the Legion of the Undead at the border pose a threat, but the Black Church also presents a danger to you, my lady.”

“…A threat?” Anto mused, turning her gaze towards Ilivy.

Ilivy now looked up, her expression serious, and began to speak:

“The Black Church may indeed disregard institutions like the conventional Church and the Pope,” Ilivy explained.

“However, there is one thing they hold in profound regard: the Holy Light Flame.”

“While the Black Church has abandoned faith, they have never forsaken power.”

“In the eyes of these self-proclaimed sinners, any force capable of combating the incursions of dark powers is one they deem essential to master.”

“They delve into Holy Light, magic, runes, and even other disciplines beyond these.”

“Consequently, they are a people born for the border wars, existing solely to resist the Demon Lord’s army.”

“Precisely,” Anto acknowledged.

“But what issue does that present?”

“Even if I wield the Holy Light Flame, they wouldn’t simply seize me, would they?”

“Given their creed, which is to protect humanity rather than destroy it, there shouldn’t be any problem, should there?”

As Anto spoke, Ilivy met her gaze and slowly shook her head.

“No,” Ilivy asserted, “you cannot comprehend the depth of their yearning to confront the Abyss.”