Betrayal Knight's Joyful Faith

Chapter 215

The basement storage was also quite sparse.Old books were neatly arranged on a few bookshelves in a small space.

On one side of the wall was a pile of books, placed separately.

It was something that Zakar and Polaris had put separately.

Beside it there was a quill and plenty of paper.

It was something Arendt had specifically requested.

“What else do you need?”

“Hmm…”

Arendt opened the book he could reach.

Although there were some differences in language, for the most part they had similar writing systems.

He thought this would be enough to read.

“No, I’ll look around on my own, so you should go first. The captain will be here soon anyway. Are these all the documents?”

“This is all there is in the temple.”

“Yes. Thanks.”

Arendt nodded, completely ungrateful.

Polaris, who had now lost even the will to point out anything, simply left the library without saying anything.

Arthur, who had just checked the pile of books, let out a tired voice.

“Do we have to read all of this?”

“We have to read it all. We went through all that trouble because of this.”

Arendt sat down quite naturally next to the pile of books.

Seeing him start reading the book without saying anything, Arthur also had no choice but to get started on his work.

The inside of the library became quiet.

Arendt skimmed through the contents, flipping through the pages.

The first thing that came to mind were tales of the sea god Nereid.

Nereid was portrayed as being friendly to nature and gentle, as in the case of giving a gift of fish to an elf suffering from famine, or saving someone who was about to drown in the sea.

Fairy tales portrayed Nereid as a being who cared for people from a close distance rather than an object of worship.

‘It’s a different story from the absolute being, Luce.’

The one standing at the top of the gods was Luce, and the one at the opposite end was Chernion.

If so, it was not strange that factions were divided among the gods.

‘I think most of them took Luce’s side.’

So, was there anyone who took the side of the god Chernion?

However, in the records left by the Caerleon Empire, the great war was depicted as a fight between the gods Luce and Chernion alone.

Arendt frowned.

‘Everyone actively participated in the suppression of the evil cult…’

If not, he thought they might have just waited quietly for the fight to end.

‘It seems certain that the god Nereid did not intervene in the war.’

Before the war began, Nereid settled here on the coast to rest.

As if trying to avoid karma.

‘Then all these tales must have been made before the war.’

Arendt flipped through the book again.

These books were probably written anew after the war ended and the elven kingdom was established, collecting all the remaining records.

The authors were elves from the generation before Grand Elder Altair.

To borrow Cheltan’s words, they were all probably dead now, having been punished by heaven.

‘It’s divine punishment.’

As soon as he thought about it, his hand that was turning the page naturally stopped.

It sounded like God had directly intervened and stopped them.

Does the Grand Elder know the true nature of divine punishment?

‘But I don’t think I’ll get a straight answer even if I ask…’

If that was the source of the Grand Elder’s fear, it wouldn’t be easy to get the answer he wanted.

Even the mention of a dragon being involved made him faint right away.

Of course, he couldn’t just stay still just because the Grand Elder was holding back his words.

He was going to keep asking until he got the answers he wanted.

Once the thoughts started, they just wouldn’t stop.

‘I haven’t found any records of punishments yet.’

Punishment was a penalty imposed on those who committed wrongdoing.

So then, what were the crimes of the elves who survived the war?

Then Arthur’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“…I can kind of guess why he tried to hide it.”

“Did you find anything?”

When Arendt turned his head, Arthur handed him the book he had been reading.

This time it was a story about Nereid.

However, what was a little different from other books was that the God of Darkness appeared as a character.

‘…The part where the name of the God of Darkness was written had been completely erased with black ink.’

Arendt flipped through the first part of the book.

Chapter 1 began with God Luce opening the light and releasing Nereid into the deep sea.

“It’s a creation myth.”

“Yes, it’s a bit more fleshy than I heard from the Empire.”

Arthur nodded.

The Empire’s creation myth was thoroughly narrated with a focus on the god of light.

It was a common story about opening the heavens and the earth and placing appropriate gods in each place to create the world.

Of course, other gods were occasionally mentioned in the records of the Luce temple.

However, they were either not very present or were only portrayed as assisting the god of light.

Arendt flipped through the book a bit more.

There was quite a bit of mention of the God of Darkness.

However, the name Chernion was deleted from each and every one.

“It says that the god Nereid was close to the evil god… this is quite problematic.”

“I think the former His Excellency Theodore would have done just that.”

Arendt also agreed with Arthur’s words.

“In the situation where Jin joined the Evil Cult, he must have thought that if this was discovered as well, it would be the end.”

“Isn’t that a bit strange? The book was written after the war. If you were going to erase all the names of the Evil God, why did you leave these records?”

“There’s only one thing I can think of right now.”

It was unknown whether Luce was a god or an evil god, but the god himself came forward and controlled the information.

In such a situation, the elves of the past took risks and left behind these documents.

Just like Khan, the first emperor of the Caerleon Empire.

“…” ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novel_fіre.net

Arthur pursed his lips at Arendt’s indifferent answer.

It was because he remembered the uncomfortable topic that that damn junior brought up in front of the Crown Prince one day.

“…I said this back then. If there are any records from before the war in the Elf Kingdom, then that story is non-existent. Isn’t it wrong to say that God may have intervened?”

“That would be true if it were still intact. But here, Chernion’s name has been completely erased.”

As always, Arendt answered coolly.

“Of course, nothing is certain. What my senior said could be right. Originally, it was a complete record, but Chernion’s name might have been erased later.”

“…Well.”

Arthur muttered, a little skeptically.

He glanced at the spot painted over Chernion’s name.

The degree of ink discoloration was almost identical to that of the surrounding writing.

That meant the deletion process took place immediately after the book was written.

At the same time, it was evidence that increased the persuasiveness of Arendt’s argument that God may have directly intervened.

Now that the conversation had paused, Arendt was back to thinking.

Arthur felt uneasy for no reason as he watched Arendt, lost in thought, fiddling with the end of the book.

He was an arrogant and irreverent man who sometimes even put God on the chopping block.

He wondered what complicated things were going on in his head right now.

Arthur asked deliberately more rudely.

“By the way, what have you been thinking about all this time? You stopped investigating and were staring blankly for a long while.”

“If I tell you, will you understand?”

“Do you really want to die?”

As expected, an angry retort came right back.

Arthur flared up, but Arendt ignored him as usual.

His golden eyes turned back to the book.

‘It’s not at the stage to discuss it yet.’

There was a phenomenon called divine punishment, and it was possible that all the elves who survived the war died because of it.

A possibility suddenly occurred to him during his conversation with Arthur just now.

Perhaps these records were the sins of the elves of old.

‘Then the one who gave the punishment was… God Luce.’

Although Chernion’s name was erased to leave at least a minimal safety net, the records were not destroyed in the end.

As a result, the elves were punished by the gods.

This story also made quite a bit of sense.

It was unknown how Luce’s fellow believers would accept it.

‘If not, then it would be Chernion taking revenge on the elves who sided with the god Luce.’

That interpretation was also possible.

From the perspective of Cheltan, who believed in Chernion, that would have been a refreshing revenge and a fitting punishment.

‘Anyway, it’ll be hard to come to a conclusion now.’

At this stage, it was up to interpretation, so it was premature to draw any conclusions.

However, neither one was welcome at the moment.

If that was the case in the past, it means that they could still interfere now.

Arthur became annoyed when Arendt fell silent again.

“Oh, what are you thinking about!”

“You’re really persistent. It’s nothing special. I just have a question, so I thought I’d go see the Grand Elder later,” Arendt replied calmly, closing the book.

Arthur glanced at him and took out the next book.

“I think the Grand Elder will get excited just by looking at you now?”

“Is that my concern? It’s your issue.”

“Tsk. That’s true.”

Arthur clicked his tongue and nodded, then turned his gaze back to the book.

He was satisfied with getting an answer, even if it was vague.

But after a while, he had no choice but to raise his head again as he was stared at with piercing eyes.

“What? Why are you looking at me?”

“…No. I’ll just let it go since it seems like you don’t realize it.”

Arendt, who had been staring blankly for a while, shrugged his shoulders and returned his gaze to the book.

This time Arthur looked at Arendt with bewildered eyes.

But Arendt pretended not to know.

‘That’s broken.’

A few months ago, Arthur would have snapped back at him, saying, “Is that something you should say to an elder?” But now he didn’t even know what he was saying.

Richt too, and Arthur.

It was Arendt’s small amusement to see a person who was once respectable slowly fall apart.

Just as he was about to open the bookshelf again, smiling.

Suddenly the back of his neck felt cold.

A moist hand wrapped around his shoulder, and the sound of waves, as if from far away, whispered past his ears.

“…!”

Without even having time to think about the consequences, he jumped up and looked back.

But that strange feeling disappeared as if it had been an illusion.

All that could be seen was a dark, underground storage room.

Arthur called out to Arendt, who was standing there blankly, in a puzzled manner.

“What, why are you like that?”

“…”

Arendt blinked several times and looked back at Arthur.

Arthur, looking this way with his eyebrows arched, seemed to have neither heard nor felt anything.

After a moment’s hesitation, Arendt frowned and responded nonchalantly.

“…Nothing. Because there was a bug.”

“Are you so scared because of a bug? Who would call you a young master?”

Arthur grumbled and turned back to his book.

But Arendt couldn’t sit still for a while.

‘A mistake… that can’t be true.’

Arendt looked back and touched the nape of his neck again where he had felt a hand.

It felt like they were either pushing him forward or, on the contrary, holding him back.

However, there was no sense of hostility in the presence that seemed to be wrapping around his back.

Why did it happen right after that topic was brought up?

Given how perfectly the timing was, he wondered if they were just trying to make their presence known.

‘Is this your residence?’

The eerie feeling, dull pressure, and discomfort he had felt before all at once raised their heads.

“…Tsk, this is annoying.”

“What? Are you saying that to me?”

“I’m just talking to myself.”

In response to Arthur’s question, Arendt responded nervously and sat down on the floor again.

Somehow, it felt like countless gazes were upon him.

But he just ignored it.

‘As I said before, it’s none of your business.’

If you were a self-proclaimed audience member, it would have been polite to remain quiet.

Whether it be the Creator, God, or nature itself.

Arendt’s hands turned the pages of the book, becoming somewhat rough.