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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The black-robed man’s words lingered in the air, followed by a surge of dark energy, magi.
The Pope felt it instantly, and the massive arms of holy power he’d conjured recoiled, as if repulsed by the very presence of the magi.
“…Are you a demon?”
“Haha, a demon? She would be disappointed to hear you say that.”
He casually deflected the Pope’s attack, batting away the immense arms of holy power as if they were mere toys.
The Pope clicked his tongue, then attacked again, reinforcing the arms with an even greater concentration of holy power, increasing their density, their weight, their speed.
The augmented arms descended with devastating force, threatening to shatter the very foundations of the cathedral. The Pope channeled additional holy power into the floor, reinforcing it against the impending impact.
“Hmm, this might be dangerous…”
“I didn’t expect the Pope to be this powerful.”
“Ha… haha… but still, Lord Hercal…”
The black-robed man and the old man seemed unfazed, but Antonio looked visibly shaken.
As someone who’d once studied holy magic, he understood the impossibility of what the Pope was doing.
Increasing the density of holy power to such a degree was already beyond human capabilities. And to do so while simultaneously accelerating its manipulation speed?
Anyone familiar with holy magic knew the immense concentration required for even basic manipulation.
And concentration alone wasn’t enough. Just as a human couldn’t consciously increase the speed of their blood flow, manipulating holy power at such a speed was thought to be impossible.
The Pope, however, was pushing his limits, the strain evident on his face. He felt like his body was tearing apart, like needles were piercing every nerve ending.
‘I have to end this quickly… The Saintess might be in danger…’
“For the peace of the empire, you must die now.”
“Haha… I wasn’t planning on using this power yet—”
The black-robed man’s words were cut short as the Pope’s attack landed.
–BOOM!
The impact shattered the floor, sending debris flying. But that wasn’t all.
The Pope had detonated the highly concentrated holy power within the arms. The resulting explosion was immense.
The stained-glass windows shattered, the remaining furniture obliterated by the shockwave. Dust and smoke filled the cathedral, slowly drifting out through the cracks in the walls.
The Pope clutched his hat, preventing it from being blown away, then dusted off his white robes and offered a brief, silent prayer.
“May you find no peace in Her name. May you rot in hell…”
He hadn’t offered them solace, only damnation.
He was severely injured, barely able to stand, but satisfied. He’d eliminated the leaders of this attack. He could finally avenge the fallen priests and protect the Saintess.
He stumbled, turning to leave, to find her, when a flicker of movement caught his eye.
Something flew through the smoke towards him.
He didn’t turn, instead reinforcing his holy defenses. A metallic ting echoed through the chamber as the projectile bounced off his shield.
“Hmm… Impressive.”
“…How are you still alive?”
The smoke parted again, not from an attack, but as if cut by an unseen blade.
And there they stood, unharmed, the black-robed man and his companions.
“Answer me. How did you survive?”
“Oh? Are you radiating killing intent now?”
“Enough nonsense. Answer me…!”
The Pope’s holy power surged, and the black-robed man responded in kind, a dark mist swirling around his hand.
But this wasn’t ordinary magi. It seemed to… consume holy power.
Tendrils of darkness reached out, drawing in the surrounding holy energy, extinguishing it, leaving nothing behind.
“Truly impressive. To think I needed Hercal’s help even after using this.”
“What is that?”
“A blessing bestowed upon us. Are you interested?”
“Get lost.”
The Pope was surprised, but not deterred. If one attack wasn’t enough, he’d simply attack again.
He conjured the massive arms of holy power once more. He couldn’t manipulate them with the same precision as before, but they were still powerful enough.
Then, he froze.
Behind the black-robed man, identical arms, formed from pure darkness, materialized, blocking his attack.
The radiant, holy arms clashed with the unsettling, corrupting darkness.
The Pope stared, dumbfounded, and the black-robed man chuckled.
He looked genuinely happy, despite the carnage he’d caused.
The Pope’s anger flared.
“What’s so funny…?”
“Heh heh… Ah, my apologies. Did I offend you?”
“I’ve been offended since you arrived. Now, answer me.”
The Pope struggled to maintain his composure, his voice tight with suppressed rage. The black-robed man laughed again.
The Pope’s face contorted further.
The black-robed man finally stopped laughing, his smile widening.
“Isn’t it amusing? You thought you were the only one capable of such power. And now, you see me mirroring your technique. Your face… it’s priceless.”
It was shocking. The Pope’s techniques were based on holy power and faith. Only priests could wield holy power, and even then, manipulating it required deep faith.
How could this man, who clearly lacked any faith, replicate his techniques?
Unless…
“…Tell me your name, and the church you serve.”
“Hmm? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb. I’ve never seen you in this church before. You must be a priest of a different god.”
That was the only explanation. He pressed the man, demanding answers, but the man just smiled brightly.
“Hmm, you’re right. We haven’t introduced ourselves. My apologies.”
A faint breeze stirred the air, and the old man, Hercal, and Antonio appeared beside him.
The black-robed man gestured, and they bowed slightly, introducing themselves.
“Antonio, believer of the Lunar Church, Order of the White Island.”
“Call me Hercal, priest of the Lunar Church, Order of the Half Moon…”
“…What?”
The Pope was stunned. He knew the names and titles of countless gods, but he’d never heard of a “Lunar Church.”
He assumed they were lying, trying to mislead him, and prepared to resume the fight, when the black-robed man stepped forward.
His confident stride made the Pope hesitate.
“A church I’ve never heard of, orders I don’t recognize… Are you one of the Seven Deadly Sins now?”
“Hmm? How did you know?”
“…?”
That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. The man’s casual confirmation made the Pope’s frown deepen.
The man ignored the Pope’s growing suspicion and continued his introduction, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“I am Greed, Apostle of the Lunar Church, Order of the Full Moon, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pope.”
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“Saintess, bandages and medicine here, please!”
“Saintess, me… too… ugh…!”
“Yes! I’ll be right there!”
Chaos reigned.
The church was a battlefield, filled with the sounds of fighting and the cries of the injured.
And in the midst of it all, the Saintess moved tirelessly, tending to the wounded.
For some reason, the number of black-robed attackers had dwindled, and the tide had turned in favor of the church. They finally had a chance to tend to their wounded.
But the number of injured was still overwhelming, the air thick with the stench of blood and the sound of screams.
Everyone capable of healing focused on the task at hand, including the Saintess.
The bracelet she wore seemed to suppress her holy power, preventing her from performing miracles or direct healing. And for some reason, she couldn’t remove it.
But she still helped, fetching water, cleaning wounds, offering comfort—doing whatever she could.
Her tireless efforts, her unwavering compassion despite her own limitations, inspired the priests and paladins, boosting their morale.
“The Saintess… even without her holy power, she works so hard…”
“If the Saintess can persevere, then so can we!”
“Yes!”
Their fighting spirit renewed, they pushed back the remaining attackers.
A moment of fragile peace settled over the church, shattered by a distant explosion.
From the direction of the grand cathedral.
“Ugh, they’ve reached the cathedral?!”
“Do they have no fear of the Goddess?!”
The priests and paladins raged against the attackers’ blasphemy, when the sound of falling bandages and medicine echoed through the hall.
“The Pope…?”
Hildegarde whispered, her eyes wide with fear.
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