Chapter 81: Chapter 81

The Pontiff and Hakon walked ahead, with Ran and Rev following behind.

As they walked, Ran replayed his conversation with the Pontiff in his mind. It had been a series of exceptionally sudden and shocking revelations. Ran quickly cooled his head.

'The Pontiff wasn't acting under anyone's orders.'

What had bothered him the most was the possibility that the Pontiff might be a figure on the Emperor's side. He always kept the pursuit of the Imperial Guard in mind.

For now, he decided to rule out the worst-case scenario.

'But things have gotten even more complicated.'

The Pontiff knew the true nature of the Apocalypse.

He didn't just know about it—he actually followed the prophecy of destruction and considered himself an apostle of ruin.

'An utterly unexpected variable.'

Ran clenched his teeth. He barely knew anything about the Apocalypse. For now, the best option was to keep an eye on the Pontiff.

'No matter what, I will make him pay.'

Ran's cold gaze landed on the Pontiff's back.

The Pontiff had committed countless unspeakable atrocities. He had demoted Lord Asriel to the wife of another god—referring to her with the bizarre and demeaning title of "Mother Goddess."

In addition, his followers, the black Priests, cruelly massacred innocent people simply for refusing to convert.

Greater blasphemy pervaded this land than even on the imperial mainland.

Whether Pontiff, black Priests, the Snow Leopards tribe, or anyone else, all would be enemies to face on the road to Ortega.

The Pontiff let out a small sound of admiration. As Ran collected his thoughts, he looked ahead.

As during worship, people had gathered around the altar.

Dusk was slowly settling in.

The braziers placed around the altar and on each stair landing were sporadically piercing the darkness and fog.

The four of them stopped, pausing for a moment to observe this scene from a distance.

"You have returned, Your Holiness."

Hodin approached. The Pontiff nodded and took a few steps forward. Hodin and Hakon flanked him on either side.

The Pontiff turned just his head to look at Ran.

"I will ask once more. Are there truly no other companions? Did anyone else come to Northland with you from the Empire?"

"No. Just the two of us."

Ran pointed to himself and Rev. The Pontiff covered his mouth with his hand and chuckled quietly.

"Very well. I understand. If you remember anything, please let me know at any time."

Limping, the Pontiff walked toward the altar with two black Priests.

Rev glanced around nervously, then asked in a hurried tone,

"Why does he keep asking if there are more companions?"

Ran swallowed. An ominous premonition struck him. Instead of answering, he quickly surveyed their surroundings. A threatening presence shimmered within the darkness and fog all around. He could vaguely see silhouettes. Follow current novᴇls on NoveIＦire.net

'More black Priests.'

Ran's gaze swept rapidly. What would happen, he did not know. For now, he assumed the worst.

'It's impossible to fight here.'

It would be hard to fight while protecting Rev. Ragna and Sigurd would also be in danger.

"Ran! Look, over there! Aren't those people from before?"

Rev's voice trembled as he pointed. Three people knelt at the foot of the altar.

They were slaves the Pontiff had brought from Aburota.

"Wh-what on earth is he planning to do?"

"Let's get a little closer."

Ran and Rev approached the altar.

The Pontiff walked slowly behind the three slaves and spoke.

"Listen, you who wander. The Lord shall shield you and cast the light of the Holy Spirit, so that a new world shall open."

Several Northmen, watching, answered. The slaves trembled in fear.

"I am a seeker, inheriting the Lord's will, striving to realize it in this land; your beacon, a pilgrim shouldering the burden of this mission."

The Pontiff stopped behind the girl sitting in the center.

Sonia. She was the Sabertooth Tigers tribe girl whom Ragna had recognized.

"Thus it is written in the Apocalypse: the blood of the corrupt will summon ruin, and the sacred blood of the savior will flow to create anew from destruction, is it not?"

The Pontiff placed his hand on Sonia's head. She shook as if convulsing. Tears streamed down from her eyes, uncontrollably.

"? Will you willingly drain your tainted blood?"

In the blink of an eye, the man next to Sonia was beheaded.

Hakon picked up the severed head and held it aloft for all to see.

Rev hid behind Ran and gagged. Though he'd spent a fair bit of time on battlefields, this abrupt slaughter was too much for him.

Ran narrowed his eyes. None of the watching Northmen showed any sign of turmoil. Only the remaining two slaves convulsed.

'It's a familiar ritual for them.'

There were no attempts at conversion or coercion—just execution.

Ran repeated in his mind the words the Pontiff had spoken to the slaves.

"O, Dakir! Watch over me—!!"

The slave beside Sonia suddenly got up. His upper body was tied up, yet he flung himself at the Pontiff.

Thud—the Pontiff toppled over.

The Pontiff's nose bled. The slave, atop the Pontiff, raised his head stiffly to butt him a second time.

The slave's head dropped to the ground. This time, hodin had done the beheading.

"Kuh, kuh-huh?! Kuhuh! Hahaha?"

Still lying down, the Pontiff laughed. His small chuckles gradually became maniacal laughter as his face and robes became smeared with blood.

Hakon and Hodin helped the Pontiff to his feet.

Still bowing his head, shoulders shaking, the Pontiff suddenly snapped his face upward. His mouth, bloody, curled up toward his ears.

"Oh Lord—! Have mercy on me—!"

The Pontiff spread his arms wide, glaring at the pitch-black sky. With a face mingled with scorn and rapture, it was impossible to tell whether he was laughing or crying.

"I, arcangelo—! As your true servant, offer my rightful gratitude, as the seeker of new creation, my rightful devotion—!"

A name he vaguely recalled hearing before.

Pontiff Arcangelo stroked Sonia's face with both hands. Sonia cried endlessly, her face stained with tearful blood.

From behind, the Pontiff covered Sonia's mouth with one hand. His previously excited voice now grew cold and clear.

His gaze was fixed on Ran.

"Until the very end, tirelessly, forever awaiting the coming of the savior, shall I gladly be drenched in the blood of the corrupt?"

The Pontiff calmly extended his arm to the side. Hakon handed him a sword.

The Pontiff closed his eyes. At the same time, Ran's lids grew heavy.

From behind, Rev tugged on Ran's sleeve.

"? Ra-Ran! Even her?!"

Ran thought of the Apocalypse. He tried to see the truth written there. The Pontiff's words covered that truth like a hazy fog.

He recalled what Licica, a demon Priest from the Church in the outer fortress of the capital, had once said.

'To go against Providence is also fate, and it is only the Lord who designed fate.'

He also remembered how he replied.

'? Then I shall prove it.'

'There are too many heretics in this world.'

Perhaps as Quersa's apostle of secret orders, his mission was meant to continue.

All the gazes turned to Ran.

Ran stepped toward the Pontiff.

Hakon and Hodin immediately became alert. But the Pontiff merely lifted a hand to stop them.

"Brother?! Did you remember something?!"

Within the firelight reflected in the Pontiff's dilated pupils, an odd delight twitched.

Ran looked down at him impassively and whispered in the imperial tongue.

"I have the savior with me, so put the sword down for now."

Pontiff Arcangelo withdrew the sword. He too muttered a prayer in the imperial language.

"? Lord, at last the guide has brought forth the savior."

In the residence of Pontiff Arcangelo.

Ran left Rev outside and met privately with Arcangelo.

Arcangelo handed Ran a horn cup.

Ran arched his brow. Arcangelo smiled crookedly from one cheek.

"Did you know? The Priests of the imperial mainland drink red wine, but the wine the Lord originally recommended was white wine."

Ran gazed down at the white wine in the horn cup.

"They say white wine purifies the soul."

"Oh, as expected of you, brother. No—Guide."

The Pontiff clapped softly. It was genuine admiration.

Ran drained the horn cup in a single gulp.

It was astringent and quite tart. The storage had not been great, it seemed.

Ran wrinkled his brow.

"You knew, from the start, that I have the savior with me?"

Arcangelo tipped his chin up and leaned back slowly. He glanced sidelong at Ran's pained expression.

He had longed for this moment—the encounter with the guide, known in scripture as the Saint. He struggled to hold back surging emotions.

"I wasn't able to become a seeker just because of the faith overflowing within me."

Arcangelo pointed to his own eyes.

"Since I was a child, I could see things that others couldn't."

"The 'special abilities' others possessed."

Arcangelo wet his lips with the white wine.

"Guide, do you know what they call the unique powers that devout Priests or famous holy knights possess in the secular world?"

"You mean holy power?"

"Indeed. The holy power that appears as a white glow to ordinary people."

Arcangelo set down the horn cup and leaned close to Ran.

"I can see even dormant holy power. Its amount and degree, too."

"You mean you see others' latent holy power?"

Immediate thought of someone surfaced.

Someone else with such a power.

He had instantly spotted that Emma was a false vessel.

Because Emma had no holy power.

"That's not all. The warriors said to bear Dakir's mark?"

"Yes, barbarian. Them as well as those known for their outstanding martial talent?"

Arcangelo tapped his temple.

"I see everything. In all different colors. What does this mean? With this power, specially given by the Lord, I was able to revive the crumbling Snow Leopards and sanctify this land."

Ube, whom he'd met at an Aburota tavern, had said the black Priests bore the Pontiff's stigmata.

'His ability to discern people's gifts must have been exaggerated into that rumor.'

Ran nodded without emotion. Arcangelo's excitement did not subside.

"Look. I've proven it. They are now the Lord's faithful servants, ready to endure any sacrifice for the world about to be newly created."

"? Well, fine. So what? You've never seen the savior, have you? How did you decide I was the guide?"

Only then did Arcangelo pause to catch his breath.

His expression changed. His mouth, eyes, cheeks twitched here and there. Overwhelmed, his facial muscles trembled uncontrollably.

"Guide. You've never seen the Apocalypse, have you?"

"The one who appears in the holy land with the savior. The Lord called him the Saint in scripture. Why?"

Just then, a faint breeze slipped inside, making the lamp flicker.

Arcangelo's murky eyes flickered peculiarly as well.

"He is the purest and most noble person. You possess no 'special ability' at all. In other words, you are the purest person, and—"

Ran stayed calm. He focused only on whether Arcangelo was telling the truth.

The next words were short.

"A human noble enough to endure sacrifice."

"Yes. With your sacrifice, the ruin achieved by me, the seeker, will appear on earth. Only through the savior's sacrifice will destruction be reborn as creation, and at last a new world shall open—the paradise for all of us."

A chain of cause and effect, omitted before, raced through Ran's mind.

In the Empire, what they call the 'vessel', Arcangelo calls the 'savior'—in short, the sacrificial lamb who will prevent destruction.

If the key condition for the sacrificial lamb is being a demon-human half-blood with holy power, then Arcangelo would have reasoned as much when seeing the Imperial people.

"I understand, arcangelo. Let's speak plainly now."

"Please, speak freely."

"So what will you do with me? I'm curious about what kind of ritual is described in the Apocalypse."

"Your sacrifice will be hastened."

Arcangelo tapped the table with his finger.

"Right here in Quersa, your life will end."

He didn't bat an eye as he continued.

"To aid your peaceful rest, we'll conduct a crucifixion. I'll give you a period of grace before the ritual. More importantly, if you were to be executed right at the ceremony, I'm concerned it could shock the savior."

"You say scary things so easily."

"I'd be grateful if you would accept my consideration."

Both wet their throats with wine.

'He means to let me die slowly.'

It was a little different from what he'd expected, but it didn't derail his plans much.

"As I said, I've never seen the Apocalypse. But honestly, I can't believe the Lord would decree such a cruel thing for us."

"It's all our karma. We've already had many chances to repent and reflect. But the foolish human always wakes up too late."

"? Your faith is truly astonishing."

"As a seeker who received the Lord's revelation, I am simply doing my duty. That is my all, and nothing else."

His instincts as both Priest and inquisitor told him—

This man's faith was not false.

Faith, when mingled with madness, does not bend; it breaks.

"Fine. Let me ask one last favor."

"There are Imperial refugees. They all came with the savior."

Arcangelo's eyes widened.

"Please shelter them. In Quersa, please ensure the Empire's people, northmen, and demons can live together as one. Then I will accept crucifixion willingly."

The people from the safe zone who had come to Northland needed a place to live.

There hadn't been any specific moment when he'd decided to take responsibility for them.

Was it when he first brought them from the safe zone to the bear beast's den? Because of the new life Sigurd was carrying? Out of atonement to the demons? Out of duty as a Priest?

Ran had simply wanted to save people.

"Of course, guide. You have my word. I swear before the Lord, I will welcome them with love."

"Then Quersa truly will become a holy land. Amen."

In Northland's Quersa, the gentle-natured Northmen had gathered.

If only a few were removed, it would be perfect.

The two clinked their horn cups together.

Ran covered his twisted smile behind his cup.