30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue
chapter-216

Chapter: 216

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The darkness receded and dawn arrived. The sun cast long rays through the highest spires of Orbis, illuminating the magnificent stained glass.

Shadows from the stained glass fell over the sanctum. The lives of saints and holy figures within the church’s long history were illuminated in different forms depending on the sun’s direction.

The elderly man, who had been kneeling with his hands clasped throughout the long night, suddenly lifted his head at the sound of a knock.

“Your Majesty… I apologize. I have been unable to track the sinner.”

“Is that so….”

The old man responded with a long sigh and nodded. The monk who had come to visit had dark circles under his eyes, revealing how many had suffered during the previous night.

“You should go and rest. We will announce the results of the council tomorrow, and today we will pray for the sins of the sinner. You have worked hard.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The monk deeply bowed and retreated. As the door closed, the prayer room fell silent once again. The old man bit his sunken cheeks and rolled the rosary with his dry fingers.

Clatter, clatter. With each roll of the rosary and the sacred relics beneath his hands, he recited a line of the Lord’s Prayer. The rosewood rosary had dulled over the years, with little of its engraving remaining.

“Lord….”

This rosary had been with him since the days when he first began his clerical life as a lowly priest. He had offered prayers with the same heart from the time when the peace of the Lord filled all creation until now.

Yet, now the Lord no longer answered him.

“Did you call for me, Lucius?”

“Shut up.”

The shadow stirred and spoke to him. A strong scent of musk filled the air, and the sunlight beneath the stained glass flickered violet for a moment.

The hand gripping the rosary felt soft, as though it held the hand of a beautiful woman, and his heart began to race, pumping blood toward his fingertips.

Even amid the dense fragrance, Lucius III, the Pope, still bore a heavy gaze.

“You missed the Saint. Oh, this has become complicated. Lucius. Didn’t I tell you to kill her in advance?”

“Shut your mouth, harlot.”

“Oh, now you intend to deny wanting to kill her? Isn’t that a bit too shameless?”

The shadow writhed and licked the Pope’s ear. Humid, hot breath seeped inside. As a gentle hand wrapped around his shoulder, he almost involuntarily stood up.

Yet, the Pope remained with his eyes closed, rolling the rosary.

“Just say it… Just one word is enough. ‘Do it.’ No need for honorifics. It’s not a request, just a demand. If you simply say that… I will lift the curtain and fulfill all your dreams.”

“Almighty Lord, guide our thoughts, words, and deeds with Your peace today.”

“You can’t forget the joy and praise of eternal life either! Don’t worry, I can give you that.”

“To our Lord belongs power and glory, wisdom and strength. May gratitude and honor be forever yours.”

“Oh, with all the blessings and joys on this earth, why do you seek compassion from the silent dictator?”

The shadow’s whispers pierced his heart like a needle. Now that the divine power had vanished, humans had to withstand the devil’s whispers with only their own beliefs.

The Pope moved his trembling hand to roll the rosary. Click, click. The sound, lewd like the heels of a woman’s shoes, echoed in his ears.

“You may simply wish, and I will make it happen for you. Lucius. I will give you eternal youth, joy, and glory. If you wish, I will grant the same blessing to your ‘priests.’ Just say it. Speak my name and tell me what you desire.”

“Harlot. You cannot gain faith from me.”

“Ah, you are such a boring old man.”

Whoosh, The shadow extinguished. A purple curtain was draped over the distant sanctum. Beneath the curtain, the silhouette of a slender woman emerged, crossing her legs.

Soon, a pair of red eyes opened below.

“So what’s the plan now? According to the original plan, you should have executed the Saint by now and negotiated with Krasilov.”

“Why are you so fixated on Krasilov?”

“Because the only ones who can draw their swords against me in this land are in that country.”

The shadow chuckled.

“Regardless, our goals are the same. We must stop the Demon King.”

“Lord.”

“It’s too late to regret now. Little one. If that were the case, you should not have grasped my hand.”

“My sins are mine alone. I will atone before the heavenly Lord alone, so do not tempt the priests any further.”

“Really? Did I lure you? They got entangled by themselves.”

With a cheeky voice, Lucius gritted his teeth and glared at the shadow. After staring at it for a while, the Pope lowered his gaze weakly.

“The Demon King was a dull madman. A quietly insane one. Honestly, what fun is there in killing all humans?”

The shadow continued to chatter joyfully, waving its hands.

“That’s why we must stop the Demon King. From my friends, who are indulging in the merry game of their arrival to my world. How pitiful, calling themselves gods and vainly trying to create a god to pray to.”

The shadow’s hand emerged, piercing through the curtain. A snow-white fingertip rested on the Pope’s chest. Thump, thump. It moved gently, keeping rhythm with his heartbeat.

“Find and kill the Saint, negotiate with Krasilov, tear apart my brothers. Destroy Tylesse and behead the Demon King. Subjugate all nations of this land under the name of the church… and then you will become the greatest Saint of this land, forever praised.”

“Then I will lay down my burdens and go to the Lord as a sinner.”

The old man removed his hand and opened his eyes. A sharp light glimmered under his aged gaze.

“Harlot. I have never once dared to consider this position my glory. Finding and killing that poor child is my wickedness, and all the corruption of this land is my failure. Do not speak wickedly anymore. You cannot gain anything from me with your deceit.”

The woman who had smirked soon turned to shadows and dispersed. She whispered into the Pope’s ear, her breath still lingering.

“Let’s see about that.”

After the woman’s presence completely vanished, the prayer room was left with the dry scent of paper once again. The Pope knelt before the sanctum, rolling the rosary once more.

“Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners….”

Patricia. The day she first took her vows of purity came to mind. The memory of her grasping his hand with her frail fingers, tearfully receiving baptism.

“Nor sits in the seat of the scornful….”

He dressed the naked and cultivated fields for the hungry. He never put rich food in his mouth or laid down in comfort.

He lived solely revering the Lord’s law. Thus, he became a bishop, then a cardinal, and finally a Pope. Yet he viewed this not as glory, but as responsibility.

“Delighting in the law of the Lord and meditating on His law day and night.”

When the Demon King rampaged, he stopped Patricia. How could a mere twenty-year-old girl venture so far? Knowing what kind of trials she would face in the land of death and oblivion.

Yet she chose that path. Having received unprecedented grace, she finally became a Saint and stood beside the hero.

Ten years later, the Demon King was slain. During those ten years, he offered prayers 3,650 times. Please let that child return safely. Please watch over to ensure the Lord’s peace may accompany this land.

Have mercy on us.

“He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that brings forth its fruit in its season….”

The Demon King was slain. Peace returned. The child promised to teach what she had learned in those times and departed for the far northern land.

May there be praise for his faithfulness and purity. He smiled, promising that regardless of what decisions the conclave made, he would nominate her as the next Pope.

“Whose leaf also shall not wither….”

Divine power vanished.

The church fell, and the multitude hurled stones at the priests.

Your corruption has defiled this land, and the Lord has forsaken us!

Thus, there was discord within the church. Priests doubted priests, and believers turned daggers against one another. The church was no longer universal, unique, or pure.

As the Father of all churches, he prayed to the Lord. There was no answer.

In the midst of this, a demon whispered to him.

– There are those seeking to resurrect the Demon King. Prepare yourself. Make a decision for the world. Join hands with me. I will grant you divine power. With this strength, persuade all who stand against your will and counter fiercely with united strength.

– I also do not wish for the Demon King to be resurrected. I do not desire the destruction of the world. So, are we not comrades with a shared will?

The Saint canonized a theologian as ‘Saint.’ The vanishing divine power was blamed on the corruption of the world, foretelling the calamities that would arise.

That prophecy… foretelling that Drovian would fall, the church would split, and the Demon King would return, bore too much resemblance to the future whispered by the demon.

– Kill the Saint. Place her on the gallows and brand her as a sinner. When there is discord, the one who carries the original sin appears, and the masses will become one. To gather strength, hang your most beloved disciple.

“All that he does shall prosper….”

The hand that had been rolling the rosary suddenly stopped. A splinter from the rosewood rosary had burrowed deep into his thumb.

A drop of blood fell.

“Lord, use me as Your tool.

Love in hatred

Forgiveness in strife

Unity in division

Faith in doubt

Truth in falsehood

Hope in despair

Light in darkness….”

The prayer continued endlessly, but God did not answer him.

“Excommunicate Equitania, and summon the crusaders.”

It is only right that the peace necessary for mankind must be won by man.

“Capture the witch and burn her at the stake, kill the false prophet. Let all worldly kings know. There is no truth outside the will of the Lord, and all believers of this land must unite as one.”

At the end, he vowed to bear alone the remaining sins and atone for them.

“Only what the Lord desires (Deus Vult).”

At the conclusion of his final prayer, the sharp laughter of a demon echoed in his ears.

*

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