Chapter 330

(330)

The second floor was spacious enough for the Infiltrator to move around, and the ceiling was fairly high.

The two of them moved to the side of the table to prepare for their confrontation.

Thud, Thud!

Poll completed his mutation and his eyes gleamed.

His long jaws, split left and right, were lined with fearsome fangs, his long tongue was whip-like, and his entire body was encased in a plating akin to steel armor.

Of his four arms, two were blade-like, and the other two resembled rocks.

As he looked down at Justianus, he said, “Be prepared.”

It was a voice that seemed to reverberate directly in one’s mind.

He was displaying the fact that not only was he a Knight of the Infiltrators but also capable of using telepathic abilities.

“Exemplary,” came a pleased response.

“…”

The priest nodded in approval, while the bishop leaned forward with interest.

Justianus’s golden eyes gleamed coldly.

“Yes. I must be ready to stain my hands with my brother’s blood.”

Wooom.

He wrapped a faint blue mana blade around a thick, narrow one-handed sword.

Poll took a step forward and swung his rock-like arm.

Whoosh!

It sounded like a log being swung.

Thick exoskeleton plates shone as crude spikes emitted a crimson, flame-like aura.

It appeared as if his momentum would crush Justianus’s slender frame in an instant.

But the young noble didn’t flinch—not even a flicker—and calmly stepped back, swinging his sword.

Phew!

A flash of quick thrust lit up the dim second floor.

Huuu!

A fierce gust of sword wind blew out, causing the candles hung on the wall to flicker.

Phew!

His one-handed sword pierced precisely through the inside of Poll’s elbow joint.

“Grgh…”

Poll shuddered; his efforts to fully resist with all his strength seemed futile.

“You’ve received grace from the Unification, but you don’t know how to use it.”

Justianus twisted his wrist and withdrew the sword.

Toxic secretions dripped onto the wooden floor.

Chhisss!

Nasty smoke rose from the wooden planks.

“How dare you insult my faith!” Poll screamed in fury and lunged.

Ggaaak! Gaaak!

His long arms, tipped with blade-like talons, swung repeatedly, and his massive, rock-like limbs launched a heavy blow.

“It’s a matter of how you approach faith.”

Justianus responded with clarity and raised his sword.

Placing the sword in front, he smoothly aimed it forward—effortlessly natural in his stance.

Phooom!

Once again, a fierce thrust flew through the air.

Poll’s blade-like talons were pierced between the fingers, and a scream erupted.

“Khrrgh!”

“Your exoskeleton may be tough but…” Phooom!

“…the gaps between them are soft, and the nerves still remain.”

Phooom!

“Did you never consider that you might face a swordsman as precise as me?”

Phooom!

Elbow, beneath the knee, shoulder, neck, then the opposite elbow.

Justianus wielded his sword like a master butcher.

Thin plating was pierced, fluid spurting out.

Having twisted his wrist upon withdrawal to sever the nerves, even though the wounds weren’t large, the pain was excruciating.

“Khrrrgh!”

Ssshhaaak!

Poll lashed out with his whip-like tongue.

Crash!

Justianus caught the tongue with his gloved left hand and pulled it with force.

“Sck!”

Poll exhaled sharply, and Justianus, seizing the moment, thrust his sword into Poll’s mouth.

Phooom!

“Ghgh… Khrrg.”

Poll’s four eyes trembled as he gasped.

Strength surged through Justianus’s arms.

And then the bishop spoke: “Enough.”

“…” Justianus gritted his teeth for a moment then nodded.

It was time to bow his head—for now.

He retracted his sword and turned to look at Poll.

“Do not let your power swell with arrogance. This power was not given to you for ostentation; rather, ponder on how to use it more efficiently.”

Poll, coughing up blood, quickly nodded his head in agreement.

The bishop said with satisfaction, “Paul, remember what you’ve just heard. These words will help you dedicate yourself more fully.”

“Yes, yes.”

Poll, embarrassed, rose to his feet and returned to his place. The bishop continued speaking.

“The day is near. The Unified One shall soon awaken, and then we will truly obtain eternal life according to Their will.”

“A message has also come from the Southern Continent. They may be using Them, but nonetheless, allies are allies. We’ve received word that we are allowed to participate in the summoning ritual, so we will select among the brothers of the south to send as reinforcements.”

“We’ve also sent priests to the southern seas. Merfolk are not slaves of Sirens but rather the children of Dagon. Let’s pray for their liberation and joining, and ultimately for the Day of Unification.”

The Infiltrators held up a pinch of the remaining offerings.

“To that end!”

At that moment, even Justianus joined in the cry.

Of course, what he truly hoped for was not the Day of Unification…

‘May you all perish while fighting Jeilliris.’

* * *

For the citizens, Sunday was not a day to play but a day to go and pray.

And for the royal family, Sunday was not a day to pray but to engage in intrigue.

Jeilliris wore a neatly embroidered white dress with gold threads, and on top of the white veil, she placed the crown bestowed by the Saint.

Her silver hair and yellow crown exuded a warm, mysterious aura, the elegant dress symbolized restraint, and her prominent red lips stood in stark contrast. She possessed an inherent grace that inspired awe befitting the name of the Holy Emperor.

“Oh! Your Majesty’s features are sharper than my future could ever be.”

“Because of Your Majesty’s presence, a week is reduced to six days. ‘Sunday’ is lost!”

“Your Majesty. They say gazing upon beauty so great causes one to lose memory.” “Your Majesty. They say gazing upon beauty so great causes one to lose memory. Your Majesty—”

Maidens were all astounded, exclaiming in unison, while Jeilliris smiled contentedly looking into the full-length mirror.

“Let us go.”

She showed herself attending Mass to the nobles and common folk, listening to Matheos’s sermon in front of the cathedral.

“The Holy Emperor!”

“The guardian of the Light Church!”

“Your Majesty! May you reign forever!”

“May the grace of the God of Radiance be with the 47th Solletarass!”

Devotees and the criers I had planted all cheered at the sight of the Holy Emperor’s beauty.

Hearing the cheers, it seemed I could now gradually phase out the criers.

Jeilliris seated herself at the closest chair to the podium during the sermon, prayed silently with clasped hands the whole time, and didn’t lower her veil even during this summer weather.

And the moment the sermon ended, she quickly retired to a vacant room to change her clothes.

“Clothes that wrap my body are stifling. All the cloth binding my arms can be substituted with a mere pair of gloves, and all that cover my back can be simply replaced by strings. How in heaven do you wear such a uniform in the middle of summer?”

I was standing with my back turned as I carefully received the sacred crown, wrapped it in paper, placed it inside a box, and had the maidens take it back to the imperial palace.

“Even if one consumes the heart of a dragon and the essence of a high-tier fire spirit and yet feels the heat, that would be something truly laughable. Moreover, this servant feels good in clothing that firmly supports the body.”

It was both a matter of preference and habit.

During the 40 years before the return, I lived with a body that was internally rotting, never knowing when it would collapse, so I wanted to bind the exterior as tightly as possible.

Besides, since I had eaten so many relics and oddities, my hands kept gravitating towards the angular uniforms that symbolized human restraint.

“Hmm. Is that so? While cold and heat are others’ stories, constriction truly is insufferable.”

“Are there no lighter dresses?”

“There are many light dresses, but few that are dignified and lightweight. Hmm. That should be researched. Surely there are many matrons who think the same as me.”

Surely there are many matrons who think the same as I do.

Hearing such words made me realize how much she had truly begun to act like an emperor.

Before the return, neither she nor I could even attempt to understand and gauge the needs and minds of people.

“Why are you smiling?”

“It’s nothing. Let us ascend. The Saint awaits.”

* * *

Recently, the atmosphere between the Imperial Court and the cathedral was excellent.

The Brightness Church no longer criticized the Imperial Court unnecessarily to court the populace’s favor.

“The balance between the secular and faith has been perfectly achieved.”

“If it continues like this, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Part of the reason was that Jeilliris attended the cathedral every Sunday, upholding the church’s dignity, and part of it was because I had stirred up Langsoo and Doroysen, giving the cathedral a reason to expand its influence.

Moreover, Saint Matheos has one more reason for celebration.

Recently, Cariosa conquered Nayt Archipelago and claimed herself as its queen.

Since she also acknowledged the Light Church, she would need priests and bishops to administer over her newly acquired lands, and selecting these individuals delighted the Saint and the Pope immensely.

A bishop may serve tea or water at the cathedral, but once dispatched to another territory, they become leaders who preside over the prayers of tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of devotees.

“Your Holiness!”

“Your Holiness!”

“Please, send me!”

“God of Light!”

Therefore, every bishop was desperate to be sent east, and their subordinate priests were equally desperate to ensure their bishops got chosen.

Given this scenario, it would be unthinkable for “No” to be a word ever spoken by the Saint and the Pope, who have the authority to appoint these positions.

Thanks to this, the mass production of combat-blessed artifacts such as divine lanterns and cleansing flasks was proceeding smoothly.

And on this bright summer day…

It seemed that our harmonious relationship might develop a small crack.

“Noble Lord. Recently, I’ve heard unusual rumors coming from the Ivory Tower.”

Saint Matheos was dressed in purple and black ceremonial robes.

The youthful theological student’s air of suffering from the chasm between reality and ideals was no longer present.

His slightly wavy black hair lightly covered his mysterious yet sharp eyes, and his pitch-black irises, which seemed to absorb all light, pierced straight through my wicked intentions and schemes.

“Your Grace—”

I began to attempt an explanation—rather, clarification—but Black Saint Matheos firmly cut me off.

“The God of Radiance has bestowed a vision upon me. It seems that those mad magicians have finally opened a gate through the world’s seams.”

“—It was—”

He interrupted my words again.

“And in the process, some reagents and grimoires were used. The reagents originated from the imperial palace, and it seems the forbidden grimoire came from the hated heterogeneous races.”

“But actually—”

He interrupted me yet again.

“Stop making excuses. I won’t ask what fingers these reagents were made of. Nor will I question why you didn’t purify that dangerous item and tried to exploit it instead.”

“Thank you—”

“You don’t need to thank me. This time, I will send the Inquisition to the Ivory Tower. Yes, absolutely, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Matheos’s teeth ground together.

I was taken aback by the image in my mind of the Brightness Church’s purification brigade advancing through downtown while the Ivory Tower’s mages fought back on brooms and flying carpets.

It’s absolutely unacceptable.

“Please reconsider, Your Grace—”

Matheos slammed his fist on the table.

Bang!

The teacups trembled violently.

“And what exactly is that temple of Cornél’s?” Jeilliris sighed, and Argos bowed deeply in apology.

I hurriedly clarified, “It’s a countermeasure against merfolk unrest. I’m sure Rudi sent you a document about it…”

Matheos slammed the table again.

Bang! Bang!

“Regardless, is it appropriate to establish a temple of the God Amon in the capital?”

“But, that’s a perfectly fine deity, right? It’s already a faith recognized by the church!”

“I have my own standing to consider! Do you know how much sweat I’ve shed to prevent the bishops from unleashing the Inquisition, all in their fervor to meet certain quotas?”

Quotas?

Until now, I had stayed silent, without a retort because I lacked words.

But now, since he’s talking about quotas, that changes everything.

I couldn’t allow Jeilliris to witness him undermining me.

I brazenly lifted my chin.

“Not so! It was your Grace who held the strings of authority, wasn’t it? If you squeeze too tight, it’s only natural that people will jump in unexpected ways. Have you forgotten what being a Saint entails?”

“What did you just say?”

And I let the words flow freely from my mouth.

“If you know everything, why are you making a fuss over one temple of Amon’s? How petty.”

Matheos’ expression was like he’d been slapped in the face.

“Petty? That’s blasphemy against the divine! Then let’s see you prove your point!”

When acquaintances fight, the closer their relationship, the more intense their words tend to be.

That was the situation we were in.

Matheos dipped his fingers into his teacup and threw it at my face.

During all this, it was thoughtful of him to check the temperature of the tea.

The white droplets seemed to float slowly as they flew towards me.

“Repent!”

Since the tea from the saint’s hands turns even decaying swamps into holy water, there was no issue of hygiene to consider.

I figured I’d take the hit, then address the concern, intending to end this argument.

Ssshhhaaaak!

“Ah?”

The problem was that where the tea hit my face, it sizzled as if on fire.

“Kaaaahh!”

I fell off my chair and rolled around on the floor.

Ssssshhiiikkk!

White smoke and red steam rose in abundance.