Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 200

Chapter 200: I will be crowned as God!
 

Atop a raised platform, the transformed Princess Ariel, now a witch cloaked in mystery, gazed at the demonic fox in the distance. Her eyes flickered with a mix of awe and fear.

Below, in the shadow of the Libra Holy Church, Pope Libra stood with a fanatic gleam in his eyes. He proclaimed loudly, his voice echoing through the chaos:

“Legend speaks of the Demon God of Lipal, sealed here by the Supreme God. This land, Outlying Island, bears witness to that ancient battle. Millennia have passed, and though our faith has wavered, today marks the return of the divine!”

With arms outstretched towards the towering demon, he continued, “This visage of the Demon God proves our Supreme God’s existence beyond doubt. Our faith is not in vain!”

His demeanor shifted suddenly, his face twisting into a manic grin as he declared, “The old gods have faded, and our church exists but in name. To survive, to flourish, it’s time to embrace a new deity. And I shall ascend as this new god!”

On the platform, Princess Ariel watched the pope’s transformation with a cold detachment, her voice low and laced with pity, “Poor man, deluded by power, unaware of his own madness.”

But the pope, now with eyes as black as the depths from which the demon emerged, smirked back at her, “Oh, I am very much aware. And I choose this path willingly.”

In this moment, the lines between faith and folly blurred, as the world stood on the brink of a new and uncertain era.

As the murky haze gathered in the eyes of the distant Demon God of Lipal, it swirled into a pattern resembling an ominous eye. This unsettling sight seemed to resonate with Pope Libra’s ambition to usher in a new deity.

“Welcoming a new god? It’s you…” Water Drop Princess Ariel’s eyes flickered with recognition, betraying a sudden surge of emotion, “Ancient Gods Meeting.”

“You knew?” Pope Libra’s smile carried a trace of admiration mixed with indifference. “No matter. The details of how you came to know are irrelevant.”

“The ascendancy of new gods will elevate our church, heralding a divine empire unlike any before.”

His voice turned probing, “Yet you stand there so composed. What’s left up your sleeve, Princess? Surely you aren’t holding back any tricks now?”

Ariel responded not with words but with a quiet, contemplative gaze towards the ‘Artifact – Sacred Libra’, now slowly succumbing to dark tendrils that marred its golden sheen.

“This is godless faith so fragile, so easily corrupted,” Pope Libra mused, following her gaze. His voice grew solemn, “Faith is a double-edged sword. It empowers when there is belief, yet it becomes a chasm of despair when protection fails. This artifact, tainted by such frail faith, has lost its sanctity and descended into the realm of mortals.”

He chuckled, a sound more bitter than amused. “I should thank you for seizing the holy relic. It spared me the inconvenience of disrupting the sacred ceremony myself.”

Pope Libra’s tone then shifted, becoming expansive, almost confessional, as if he could not restrain the flow of his thoughts. “Imagine, after enduring years of stifling silence, finally gaining control, it’s intoxicating.”

He paused abruptly, his voice steeped in disbelief, “Are you courting death?”

Above, on the elevated platform.

Princess Ariel’s hand swept upwards, gracefully catching the corrupted essence streaming from the artifact, the Sacred Scale, channeling it into her own body. The dark energy swirled around her, etching deeper, more intricate patterns across her skin, reminiscent of a fruit on the verge of ripeness.

“Impossible!” The pope gasped, his understanding shaken to its core. “Contaminated faith is a vile poison, how can you…”

But Ariel continued undeterred, drawing all the dark energy into herself, purifying the artifact until it gleamed pristine and golden once more. The sinister aura around her had thickened, almost tangible.

With deliberate steps, she approached an ice coffin at the center of the platform and gently lifted its lid. A chilly mist escaped, revealing a young girl lying in peaceful repose. She appeared no older than eighteen, her hands crossed over a dress identical to Ariel’s, a stunning, vivid blue.

As the serene visage of the Water Drop Princess Ariel mirrored the peaceful face of the girl in the ice coffin, Ariel lifted her hands to her face and delicately removed a mask, revealing features identical to those of the sleeping girl.

“Ariel, long time no see…” The words flowed from the woman standing before the coffin, laden with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow.

“Who are you really?!” Pope Libra’s voice, tinged with hysteria, echoed from beyond a shimmering golden barrier. In a fit of rage, he swung his arm towards the platform where Ariel stood, a futile gesture as the protective shield held firm. Simultaneously, the Demon God of Lipal, released from ages of bondage, smashed his massive claw down in an earth-shattering crash, yet the shield remained unshaken.

“This shield, forged by the ‘artifact – the Holy Scale,’ possesses a strength beyond your wildest reckoning,” Ariel spoke with a tranquility that belied the chaos around her. “A thousand years have diminished the demon god to nothing but a husk. His soul and divinity are long vanished.”

She continued, her voice cutting through the turmoil with icy clarity, “The Ancient God Society, zealots fixated on reviving the Old Gods. But tell me, even if you wield the demon’s corpse, how can you hope to overcome the true might of the artifact?”

With these words, Ariel reached into her own chest. Her hand passed through flesh without a drop of blood, withdrawing a pulsating heart woven from strands of gold and black. Her face turned ghostly pale, a stark contrast to the vibrant heart in her grasp.

She gazed tenderly at the girl in the coffin, her voice softening. “I hope you’ll forgive me,” she murmured. “Though, it’s pointless to harbor any resentment. When you awaken, I shall be no more.”

Gently, she pressed the dual-toned heart to the chest of the sleeping girl. It melded seamlessly into her, as if it were always meant to be part of her, emitting a radiant glow of pure, vital energy.

Rising from the coffin, Ariel, now revealing herself to be the Fire Witch Miranla, seemed fragile, as though the slightest gust could topple her. She looked up defiantly at Pope Libra, her smile tinged with determination.

“In the name of a true ‘sacred ritual,’ should there not be a judgment?” Miranla’s voice rang out clear and strong. “I, Miranla, the Fire Witch, hereby call forth the trial of Saint Berg Cavendish, Pope of the Holy Libra Church.”

In that moment, the Sacred Scale burst forth with light, illuminating the area as a golden platform materialized mid-air, framed by towering pillars. Beams of golden light enveloped Miranla and the Pope, transporting them onto the pillars at opposite ends of what was now the ‘Sacred Duel Arena’ a place where conflict must resolve through combat, with no escape until a victor is declared.

Landing on the platform, Pope Libra’s face was a mask of dark foreboding, yet his voice betrayed no panic. “I admit, I underestimated you, your ability to purify the corrupted faith and restore the artifact’s brilliance.”

“But even now, as you draw me into this [Sacred Duel Arena], do you truly believe you have the strength to defeat me?” His voice held a grim sort of amusement as he raised his hand, dark energy gathering ominously in his eyes. “This will be but a brief respite.”

As the colossal form of Li Shen, the supergiant fox demon, began to wither and blur in the outside world, Pope Libra stood unfazed, his expression one of calm defiance. Behind him materialized a pair of “mini” godhead remnants, still towering over twenty feet high.

“This,” he declared, gesturing to the impressive vestiges, “is my true power. Not even your ‘divine weapon’ can strip it away. So tell me, how do you plan to defeat me?”

The Fire Witch Miranla responded with a serene whisper, her voice carrying across the charged air: “Who said anything about fighting you myself?”

Pope Libra’s composure wavered, a brief look of surprise crossing his face before he regained his smug demeanor. “Ah, you wish to summon [jurors] to fight on your behalf?” he deduced, referring to the custom in holy duels where combatants could be replaced by proxies.

His smile twisted sardonically as he continued, “On this vast island, you and I are the only entities at the fourth level. Anyone else would be but ants to me easily crushed.”

Miranla turned her gaze away, focusing on the radiant “artifact – the Sacred Libra” overhead, and proclaimed, “I invoke the ultimate sacrifice of my soul to limit the spiritual power within this holy duel to no more than the third level!”

As her declaration echoed, the arena shimmered with a blinding golden light, and the very nature of the duel space began to transform. Pope Libra’s smirk faltered as he felt his spiritual power forcibly confined to the third level, a restriction he hadn’t anticipated.

Regaining his composure, he scoffed, “Such a drastic measure for such little gain? Do you truly believe you can best me now?”

“Even diminished to the third level, I possess the remnants of the God of Departure. Your efforts are futile.”

Stepping off his pillar, Pope Libra descended towards the dueling floor with measured, confident steps.

Meanwhile, Miranla closed her eyes, a fiery red blaze enveloping her figure. Flames danced around her, sketching a complex and majestic magic circle on the ground. From within the fiery runes, a spectral figure wielding a sword began to materialize, ready for the confrontation.