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How a Reincarnated Warlock Lives – Chapter 190

Chapter 190: Cradle and Grave, and Sanctuary (1)

This was my second visit to the Cloud Mountains. That is, if I count only the times since I woke up again.

The appearance of the mountains remained the same.

It seemed that not much had changed from the last time I came to deliver news from the outside and resolved the conflict between the Druids and the Tooth Fairies.

Well, even hundreds of years weren’t considered a long time here.

“……”

The mountain ranges stretched to the horizon, and the peaks seemed to touch the sky. Naturally, their appearance hadn’t changed much.

However, the reason for my visit this time was the complete opposite of the last time, when I came to offer help.

The fourth sanctuary of the Church. The last of the revealed locations.

I moved towards that sanctuary.

🔹🔹🔹

The Cradle of Lactya Sibellia. The fourth sanctuary of the Church.

Excluding the fifth sanctuary, whose location remains unknown and whose existence is even debated, this is the last place that currently functions as a sanctuary.

The interior of this place wasn’t very bright.

This was due to the rugged, unadorned architecture of the building and its location deep within the Cloud Mountains.

Step. The reverent sound of footsteps on the stone floor echoed through the quiet hallway.

Deep within the Cradle. In a place rarely visited even by the monks, an old man appeared.

“……”

A dead end. His gaze briefly rested on the carvings on the wall. The picture, intricately carved using a combination of intaglio and relief, was always full of life.

The thorn bushes and fire, symbolizing the original sin of mankind, were large.

The saints, the Saintess, and the angels, who bear and atone for that sin, were small.

Through the lighting, shadows fell upon the thorn bushes, making them dark and gloomy.

The saviors and sacrifices were bright and white.

The old man, Arictal, slowly raised his hand as he looked at the picture.

A small amount of Holy Power. However, an energy more akin to the mana used by mages slowly spread along the engraved grooves.

Rumble. As blue paint filled the intaglio space, hidden patterns and shapes were revealed, and the mural transformed into a scene with a different feel than before.

A giant eye revealed in the sky of the picture. Gazing at the mystical pattern that symbolized God’s gaze, Arictal slowly moved his hand.

Thud. Then, what appeared to be a dead-end wall began to slowly move.

The grooves split, and the wall parted not sideways, but up and down.

A wall divided between the earth and the heavens. And the passage between them.

The revealed sanctuary,’Angel’s Resting Place’.

Unlike its name, the interior, whose end couldn’t be seen, was dark.

Flicker. A small lantern was lit, driving away some of the darkness.

“……”

Arictal paused for a moment. He was the wisest and most powerful monk in the Cradle, but even he hadn’t dared to venture to the very end of this place.

He only occasionally checked its condition like this.

Originally, this was rarely done. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had entered this place.

But these weren’t normal times. The Holy See, the Grand Temple, and even the Inquisition. Three sanctuaries had lost their light.

Even in an age where the evidence of faith had dimmed, this was a deeply concerning matter.

Of course, as most believers and priests thought, the sanctuaries might just be symbolic places. Perhaps even if they were all destroyed, nothing would change. Just as it had always been.

“……Hmm.”

Arictal reached out with his wrinkled hand into the darkness of the air.

He couldn’t remember the exact date, but he vividly remembered the atmosphere of this place from his last visit.

Something had definitely changed. Just slightly, but something that was difficult to explain.

“Could it be……”

Was it somehow related to the three sanctuaries losing their light?

Perhaps it was just his imagination. After all, the interior was intact, and the energy of the sanctuary, clearly felt from within, remained the same. Holding the lantern, Arictal slowly turned back towards the entrance.

As the small lantern disappeared, the Angel’s Resting Place was once again immersed in silent darkness.

🔹🔹🔹

The courtyard of the Cradle.

Herson put down the broom he was using to sweep the yard and let out a small sigh.

This place wasn’t really suitable for cleaning. Not because of the amount of effort required or the level of dirt, but because of its geographical characteristics.

Surrounded by mountains and open on all sides, the courtyard of the Cradle returned to its original state an hour after sweeping, no matter how diligently he cleaned.

Therefore, Herson’s actions weren’t just simple cleaning, but a kind of training.

Of course, it was extremely annoying.

Herson concluded that the monk who first conceived of this training method must have been a grumpy individual filled with malice, aiming to torment his successors. He leaned the broom against the side and sat down on a decorative stone in the courtyard.

Almost the only advantage of this training method was that it left no trace, even if he slacked off.

After all, once he finished cleaning and a little time passed, the courtyard, open to the forest on all sides, would return to its original state.

“Sigh.”

Putting aside his training for a moment, Herson spent his time thinking about his area of interest, ancient linguistics, when he suddenly looked up, sensing a presence.

Located between gorges, the Cradle’s terrain was slightly elevated, and further enhanced by a special magic that allowed him to see far distances, he could detect visitors approaching.

Between the river and the ridge where the Cradle was located. A figure emerged from the undergrowth in the sunlit gorge.

A visitor. It had been a long time. Herson scratched his head and turned his gaze in that direction.

Well, it was rare, but not strange.

Thanks to Inquisitor Luciel, whom he had met last time, successfully resolving the disorientation problem caused by the Druids, visitors to the Church no longer got lost in the mountains.

Of course, despite the problem being solved, no visitors had come since then.

Even in the Cradle, they were aware that the situation outside wasn’t good.

The protective barrier currently surrounding the Cradle was activated because of that. The spell itself was originally inscribed, but it had been a very long time since it had been actively activated.

Woooong.

Beyond the spell, which had both defensive and observational effects, the figure that had just entered the gorge was faintly visible. As he focused, ripples appeared in the air, magnifying the image.

“Oh……?”

He looked with interest at the visitor, clearly a member of the Church, who had visited the Cradle after a long time. He soon tilted his head, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

A familiar figure. A little later. After confirming the visitor who had come a bit closer, Herson’s eyes widened.

“……Inquisitor Luciel-nim?”

There was no mistaking it. He couldn’t forget the figure who had given him quite an intense experience and knowledge during their first encounter.

Herson’s face brightened with welcome. But at the same time, he felt a sense of doubt.

He hadn’t known Inquisitor Luciel for long, but he knew that he wasn’t the sentimental type who would visit just to exchange pleasantries.

And as if to answer his doubts, the man who had entered the entrance of the gorge slowly raised his head.

Whoosh─

A momentary tremor in the air.

“……!”

Their eyes met precisely.

Considering the distance between the entrance of the gorge and the courtyard, it was unbelievable. Not just the physical distance, but there was also the special protective magic currently in effect.

Standing inside the Cradle, he could see far away with the help of that magic, but the visitor outside couldn’t.

In other words, the other person had penetrated the protective magic and pinpointed him, located beyond the telescope, from the opposite side.

And Herson immediately realized what the tremor from earlier meant.

The deciphering of the defensive spell surrounding the Cradle.

“What is this……!”

Penetrating the defensive magic of the place he was visiting was an act close to taboo, something that shouldn’t happen during a normal and peaceful visit.

Of course, putting aside the issue of courtesy, there were hardly any individuals with that level of ability in the first place.

“Ah.”

At the same time, Herson could hear it.

“Greetings, Herson.”

The man’s voice, as if whispering, passed through the long distance and the defensive spell, reaching him.

“Wh, who are you!”

Herson shouted, startled, stumbling back as if forgetting that his voice wouldn’t reach that distance.

That person with the sinister energy couldn’t be Inquisitor Luciel.

“─!”

A sudden chilling sensation. He instinctively knew.

The visitor, or rather, the intruder disguised as Luciel, who he had initially welcomed, hadn’t come to the Cradle with friendly intentions.

Swoosh.

Simultaneously, a thick darkness began to fill the gorge where the Cradle was located.

🔹🔹🔹

The sky suddenly darkened. It wasn’t sunset.

Even the most skilled mage couldn’t make time flow faster.

However, in the sense that it transcended the common sense and understanding of the monks, it wasn’t much different. The magic that unfolded here was so mysterious that it defied conventional standards.

“Wh, what is this……?”

A gorge deep in the mountains, bathed in bright sunlight, engulfed in darkness. Naturally, the monks of the Cradle were the first to react to the sudden and ominous change.

An ominous foreshadowing in broad daylight, a time everyone considered the safest. The monks who rushed outside quickly felt it. The ominous energy that filled the gorge and the overwhelming presence approaching them.

Crack─

The protective barrier surrounding the Cradle shattered like thin glass. The monks’ faces hardened as they felt the ancient spell, inscribed on the stone walls of the Cradle, break as easily as a novice mage’s spell.

“Don’t panic!”

However, they had all undergone considerable training in the Cradle for a long time.

Flash. Bright lights bloomed in various places, fueled by holy power. Although it was far from enough to dispel the darkness that filled the entire gorge, it was enough to illuminate their surroundings, which had been impossible to see even an inch ahead.

“Everyone, prepare for battle!”

A firm shout. The monks, with their exceptional mental fortitude, gathered their strength without hesitation and prepared to face the unknown intruder.

Holy spells and vivid patterns bloomed everywhere. Side by side. The interlocking patterns formed lines and planes, slowly pushing back the darkness.

But it was only for a moment. In the slightly thinned darkness, the monks could see it.

Far away. A red flash approaching them from within the darkness. And they soon realized.

The flashing red energy was emanating from above the intruder’s head, swirling like a crown.

A human form. A vaguely visible silhouette. It was difficult to discern anything other than the fact that it was a human male.

Sweep. A hand slowly rose. At the same time, an ink-like darkness, engulfing everything, spread out from the man.

In the darkness that swallowed light, sound, and everything else. The man passed by the monks, who were stumbling, having momentarily lost their hearing, sight, and sense of direction, and walked towards the interior of the Cradle.

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Translation-(COMPLETED) – How a Reincarnated Warlock Lives

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