Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 1020 - 61: Vortex (Three)_3
Chapter 1020 -61: Vortex (Three)_3
Kaman took the apple and tossed it back at Winters.
“If you don’t want to eat, why waste it?” Winters caught the apple skillfully and placed it back on the small table.
The wait was always long. Winters leant against the bench and casually asked Kaman, “Father, may I ask you a question?”
“No, you may not.” Kaman rejected bluntly.
“Is there really a Divine Art that can discern lies?”
“What do you think?”
“I think not.” Winters analyzed seriously, “If the Church truly were the lapdog of Oath Breakers and had a Divine Art to discern lies, the Empire would not have rebellions and conspiracies.”
“You’re right, there isn’t one.”
Winters stood up abruptly, “Then what you used on the mountain that day was…”
Kaman laughed coldly, “I lied to you.”
Winters clutched his chest, speechless for a while.
“How does it feel?” Kaman continued to rub salt in the wound, “It’s unpleasant to be deceived, isn’t it?”
Winters sat back down, leaning on the armchair and said gloomily, “Now, I can’t even distinguish between truth and lies.”
After a moment of silence, Kaman half curious, half puzzled, asked, “Winters Montagne, haven’t you ever wondered, what if we really came to blows that day, what would you do?”
“What could I do?” Winters answered honestly, “I would have just hoped that you wouldn’t use a lethal Divine Art; in that case, the worst would be getting a beating from you, or… giving you a beating.”
Kaman snorted with laughter, his attitude full of disdain.
Winters blinked and deliberately spoke in a light-hearted tone, “Thinking back now, the scene from that day is still vivid in my mind. Being able to see Father Kaman lose composure like that makes it worthwhile, even if I did take a beating.”
Kaman’s smile froze on his lips.
“I wonder if you still remember the details of that day.” Winters cleared his throat, “I remember them very well.”
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Kaman suddenly fell silent.
“Who was it that clenched their fists tightly, their eyes bulging as large as bell clappers, looking like a crazed bull.”
Kaman lapsed into complete silence.
“I thought we were friends.” Winters imitated Kaman’s tone seriously, “Is this how you treat your friends?”
Kaman struggled out the words, “Enough, stop it…”
How could he stop? Pursuing the victory was the tactician’s choice.
Winters asked curiously, “How did you manage to say those words at that time? ‘You say these words without shame, truly worthy of you.'”
Kaman’s voice grew weaker and weaker, “I beg you, no more…”
“If this was in a novel, saying such strange lines would get you nailed to a pillar of shame for life.”
“Stop talking!” Kaman exploded unexpectedly, grabbing Winters by the throat, “Stop! Stop!”
The priest’s arms were surprisingly strong; Winters immediately struggled to breathe, desperately pleading, “Alright! I’ll stop!”
It was too late. Kaman let go, aimlessly searching the small parlor.
Winters asked warily, “What are you going to do?”
“There’s no other choice.” Kaman chanted, “I must use a memory erasure spell.”
Winters was shocked, “There’s such a Divine Art?”
Kaman finally found his target, he grabbed the armrest of the bench, exerting force with both knee and arm. With a “crack,” the carved solid wood armrest was forcibly broken by Kaman.
Kaman picked up his newly acquired war hammer, turned his head and glared fiercely at Winters, “It’s not a Divine Art.”
Winters realized something bad was about to happen, “Wait a moment…”
“It’s okay.” Kaman slowly advanced towards Winters, “It won’t hurt at all.”
Winters also reached for the armrest of the bench beside him, trying to apply force up and down in the same way Kaman had.
The armrest did not budge.
Just as Winters was about to use a shattering spell to break the armrest, heavy footsteps halted the duel that was on the brink of erupting.
Kaman paused for a second, then quickly walked to the side of the bench, standing emotionlessly—his war club hidden behind him.
Winters suppressed his breath, returning to a relaxed and casual sitting position.
The door opened, and the imposing figure of the old blacksmith Schmid entered the small parlor somewhat restrained.
Seeing the young man seated on the bench, old man Schmid looked puzzled, “You… are… You…”
Winters was initially extremely surprised, but he reacted swiftly, rising nimbly, hurriedly greeting the old blacksmith and took hold of his rough hand, smiling, “That’s right, Mr. Schmid, it’s me.”
