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It has been several days since the tiger, having left its burrow for a while, returned and mercilessly killed all the presumptuous foxes.

As the entire family gathered, bracing against the cold winter, we awaited the arrival of the new year.

I made my way to the cathedral to speak with the priest.

“It’s been a while.”

“Good to see you, Priest Rebecca.”

In a place facing the chancel and altar, we sat quietly on chairs arranged in a spacious corridor.

The cathedral was grand and imposing. The four massive rectangular stone pillars supporting the ceiling resembled those I had seen at Sacré-Cœur when I was working as an administrative staff member at the Korean Embassy. The religious paintings adorning the ceiling were of such high quality and finesse that they evoked memories of the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City.

The northern metropolis, the second largest city not counting the capital Novo Nikolayevsk, was home to this cathedral, whose very existence strongly represented the power and glory of the cult.

I sat in the front row closest to the chancel and began a conversation with Priest Rebecca, who sat across the aisle from me.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the cathedral. I used to come here often.”

“Were you a believer?”

“Not really. I used to take my unit members here every weekend.”

Due to the nature of religious institutions attracting many people, meeting Priest Rebecca as we did in the cathedral was the best way for us to connect.

However, since there was a chance that the Empire Information Agency might be watching us, we intentionally agreed to sit apart with the aisle in between, not looking directly at each other but instead focusing straight ahead.

With my gaze fixed forward, I cautiously broached the topic.

“Priest Rebecca, about that apostate…”

“Yes.”

“Have you received any news about them?”

Priest Rebecca slightly bowed her head in a moment of contemplation.

“Not yet.”

—

Episode 12 – The Most Powerful Magician in History

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In the northern regions, I was pursuing two projects.

The first was to seize control of the black market through Francesca, while pressing the funding channels to discover the source of the black magic used by Hormoz in acts of terrorism.

The second was to track the apostate in cooperation with Priest Rebecca, uncovering the true culprit behind the series of murders that had recently occurred in the north.

The first operation had been underway for quite some time.

I had coordinated with Commander Mikhail to eliminate the smaller criminal organizations. With the small groups running the black market thoroughly dismantled, the area truly fell into a dark period.

Currently, Francesca was using substantial funds and resources to fill the power vacuum left behind, smoothly monopolizing the black market as other criminals lay low. Consequently, the operation was progressing well.

However, complications arose in the second operation.

“What seems to be the problem, Priest Rebecca? Is the amount of gathered information less than expected?”

“On the contrary. The issue lies in the sheer volume of information.”

Priest Rebecca was tracking the actions of the apostate based on the information network established by the Inquisition in the north. Yet, considering the vast expanse of the north, which was several times larger than an ordinary country, she was overwhelmed by the mountain of intelligence.

“We are sifting through the reports from our informants, trying to weed out any suspicious activities of the apostate, but with reports coming in from all over the north, it’s become quite the challenge to analyze.”

“If you need assistance, please let me know. Our analysts can get results quickly.”

“Thank you for your offer, but I fear that this issue has escalated beyond what a few people can resolve. I will accept your kind intentions.”

Ultimately, the problems stemmed from a lack of personnel, which made it appear to have a simple solution. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy.

Whether through the Inquisition or the Military Intelligence Agency, the Empire’s intelligence activities in the north under martial law restricted the deployment of many operatives.

Analyses require manpower (as with all tasks), and the shortage of personnel led to somewhat dire consequences.

Indeed, with too few people and too many tasks—especially when covert activities were also required—it was no easy feat.

With a significant workload and scarce staff, three people’s work ended up being handled by two. As unofficial underlings, with no international legal protection, we had to conduct ourselves like ordinary clergy to avoid arousing the suspicions of spy agencies.

To manage all of that while analyzing intelligence across the north? Even for an average intelligence officer, it would be a colossal challenge, particularly for a double agent who had to deceive both external adversaries and internal watchers.

I had ample understanding of Priest Rebecca’s position.

Thus, I endeavored to assist her as best as I could.

“If I were the apostate, I would have fled to somewhere out of the Inquisition’s sight. A remote location or an area where the Inquisition doesn’t tread.”

“Such as?”

“For instance, a city with a temple of another religion that isn’t under the cult’s influence.”

Priest Rebecca pondered deeply, resting her chin on her hand as she stared into the distance.

“How many religions exist within the Empire? While they may not have as many believers as the cult, several sizable religions do exist. Could the apostate be hiding in a region dominated by one of those?”

Having thought deeply, Priest Rebecca finally spoke.

“If that were the case, it would be even harder to find them. The eyes and ears of the Inquisition are the faithful believers.”

“…The heathens wouldn’t be feeding information to the Inquisition?”

“They don’t intend to stir up trouble, but that is the reality. To those looking through their eyes, the Inquisition is just another group of heathens with different faiths.”

“Very notorious heathens, too.”

Especially from the perspective of ‘that’ Inquisition.

“We’re out of options. Even if we assign remote analysis to the embassy or headquarters, they’ll be in areas where communication is difficult…”

“We’ll have to make full use of the human resources we do have.”

Countless potential solutions were presaged, but none were truly practical. The conversation circled back to square one, and time passed to the point that we had to part ways.

Feigning a prayer while seated, I mimicked drawing the sign of the cross. Priest Rebecca, as befits her status, performed the gesture with far more natural grace than I did.

After completing the ritual, Priest Rebecca cautiously opened her mouth.

“Shall we meet again here at the cathedral?”

“If we frequently meet in the same place, someone may start to have suspicions.”

I stood up from my chair, pausing for a moment.

“How about we meet at a public event? You and I have been crossing paths through the cult, magic tower, and the Empire, so we could just say we’re discussing matters related to Saint Lucia.”

“That could work. The magic tower, then….”

As Priest Rebecca recalled the distant past, her gaze drifted off toward the mountains.

“Speaking of which, I remember the time I assisted the Colonel in Saint Lucia’s charity work at the magic tower. Would you care to follow Saint Lucia’s activities here? That might be a good way to meet.”

“Oh, even so, that seems a bit…”

—

After concluding our information exchange and parting ways with Priest Rebecca, I decided to take a brief break, looking around the cathedral.

The stone cathedral situated in the heart of the northern metropolis, second to none, was not only grand but also steeped in ancient history.

To summarize that legend briefly:

Hundreds of years ago, during the time when the demonic forces threatened all of humanity, the land froze and the skies were filled with ash and sulfur, preventing the sun from shining for over ten days. At that moment, a sickly young shepherd’s youngest son awakened from his feverish dreams.

As he dragged his aching body to the well for a drink, he witnessed starlight dancing across the field and instinctively followed it. There, he saw an exotic figure striking the stone with a branch.

With each strike of the branch, dew condensed on the stone, and after seventeen strikes, a small stream began to flow from the rock. The shepherd’s son drank from that stream of water flowing from the dancing starlight and miraculously recovered from his fever.

This boy, having received a branch as a gift from the exotic figure, later set off on a pilgrimage using a small staff made from that branch, and he eventually became known in history as ‘Saint Basil,’ who took the devil’s sword and slayed the demon in the northern realms.

While it is possible that the historians may have exaggerated the church’s influence during its peak period, the existence of Saint Basil remains a fact.

After all, the very cathedral I stood in was built upon the tomb of that saint.

To be precise, after Saint Basil died, he was buried at his childhood home, and a later Pope ordered that the site be completely cleared to erect a grand cathedral. Hence, the cathedral is named the ‘Cathedral of Saint Basil.’

To raze the home of the saint who struck down the devil and erect a building over his grave—I simply couldn’t comprehend such a decision.

As I admired the Cathedral of Saint Basil, I couldn’t help but think, “Isn’t this a blasphemy?”

Regardless of how much they revered his accomplishments, a Pope, elected by the ‘humans’ of the cardinal and bishops, destroyed the home of a saint, chosen by ‘God’ to work miracles and slay demons, and built a structure over his grave. Could this be considered blasphemy?

Staring at the walls adorned with images of the saint drinking from the bubbling water, I mused, “If the Pope and the saint met in heaven, would the saint have given the Pope, who ordered the construction of the cathedral, a good smack?”

Just then, the door opened and people began to enter.

By their outfits, they appeared to be priests.

It wasn’t unusual for priests to be moving in and out of the cathedral, so I turned my gaze back toward the murals when suddenly, I locked eyes with a priest standing at the front row.

“Saint Lucia?”

“Who are you… Ah.”

It was Lucia.

Lucia was entering the cathedral, conversing with some older priests, when she turned at the sound of her name.

I gave a slight bow and offered a casual greeting, and Lucia recognized me and bowed her head in return.

“Good to see you, Saint Lucia.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here. Have you been well?”

“I’m always at peace.”

Lucia flashed a gentle smile.

“That’s good to hear.”

Having been outside for a while, some snow had settled on Lucia’s shoulder.

The northern weather is notoriously capricious, but recently it had been unusually cold due to strange cold waves.

Yet despite the chill, Lucia’s face looked as serene as someone out for a spring stroll. Perhaps she was less susceptible to the cold, but at least compared to the other priests whose cheeks were flushed from the biting wind, Lucia appeared unchanged.

“What brings you to the cathedral? I wasn’t informed that you would be visiting today.”

“I had a brief matter to attend to. How about you, Saint Lucia?”

“I came for a meeting.”

As soon as Lucia finished her sentence, an elderly priest standing beside her chimed in.

“Saint Lucia, who is this brother?”

I quickly surveyed the old man, noting that he donned a black cassock like the other priests.

According to canon law, except for the Pope and saints, no one could wear a pure white garment, so it was clear this was just an ordinary priest.

However, it was hard to call him ordinary with the ornate sash wrapped around his midsection. Unlike the black sashes worn by Priests Rebecca and Lucia, the old man’s sash was a deep crimson, reminiscent of red wine.

I bowed to the man in the scarlet sash.

“I am Colonel Frederick Nostrim from the Embassy of the Kingdom of Abas.”

The elder priest responded to my polite introduction with a warm smile.

“Haha, there’s no need for such formality, brother.”

The old man standing next to Lucia was none other than the cardinal.

Just like Catholic cardinals, those in the cult hold a high priestly office, right after the Pope.

Cardinals have the right to vote, directly electing a Pope, making their ranks significantly fewer compared to regular priests.

While bishops manage the local parishes much like a decentralized government, cardinals hold a position that bishops cannot even compare to. It is the cardinals who are appointed to assist the Pope in his duties.

In other words, the elderly figure before me held a position higher than that of any priest, including bishops.

“How could I not show my respect to your eminence?”

“Please don’t trouble yourself with formality, brother. The Lord watches over us; I am but a humble servant unworthy to lift my face.”

For reference, bishops cannot be taken lightly, even by an autocratic dictator.

Hence, political activities (like protests) in a dictatorial country like the Kien Empire often occur under the protection of clergy.

Even the Imperial Guard HQ wouldn’t dare to directly meddle with bishops; they might name them on a watch list to keep an eye on them but wouldn’t touch them directly.

Though it was a past incident, an ordinary bishop like Raphael grabbing the collar of a cardinal like Raul could have become a significant issue within the cult. However, it was fortunate Raphael was the head of the Inquisition, which allowed him to act without repercussions.

No matter how esteemed the cardinal’s status, it couldn’t eclipse the authority of the Inquisition, the protector of faith.

Traditionally, the head of the Inquisition is held by a bishop-level priest. The current head, Peter, is also a bishop.

“Nostrim… That name rings a bell.”

“The person you are thinking of is likely me.”

“I see.”

A sigh escaped the cardinal’s lips as a smile spread across the elderly man’s face.

“I am honored to meet a colleague of the Lord’s earthly representative. I am Archbishop Theodosius, overseeing the diocese of the Metropolitan Archdiocese.”

“I am Frederick Nostrim. If you are in charge of the Metropolitan Archdiocese…”

“Yes, I have been called to the position of Archbishop now.”

What a big fish he is!

The Archbishop, responsible for managing the Kien Empire’s northern Metropolitan Archdiocese, extended his hands for a handshake.

With a benevolent smile, the elderly man firmly grasped my hand and asked, “Brother, are you a believer?”

It was a standard question for casual introductions.

In the early morning with few people around, I found myself standing alone in the cathedral, certainly resembling a believer here to pray. Perhaps even the Archbishop might have seen me wandering in this vast cathedral and thought I was someone with a devout faith.

It would be more realistic to think I was a believer here for the dawn prayers rather than a spy meeting an Inquisition officer—at least in the eyes of the clergy.

But simply out of curiosity, I inquired, yet the Archbishop’s gaze felt overwhelmingly intense.

He erupted in laughter and firmly grasped my hand.

“To think that the companion of the saint believes in God! How strange this coincidence is, I wonder. Perhaps it is my lack of faith that has led me to pray for decades without receiving enlightenment.”

“Your Grace, I…”

“Do not worry, Brother! Even if you follow another faith, I shall not admonish you. It is surely God’s will. Haha!”

“…….”

While I was admiring the frescoes in the early morning, I abruptly found myself treated like a heretic. Living two lives without ever having a religion, this was quite the shock.

Stunned into silence, I stood still as the clergy following Lucia and Archbishop Theodosius let out troubled sighs.

I may not know the details, but it seems that the Archbishop often poses questions regarding others’ faith.

Fortunately, the middle-aged priest in the front stepped forward, looking visibly awkward, and offered a sheepish smile.

“I apologize. Archbishop Theodosius did not mean to ask with any ill intent…”

“It’s alright. He might just have been curious,” I replied.

In a world where the divine clearly exists, asking someone about their religion is considered a tremendous rudeness. Such questions can be perceived as dismissing other faiths and doubting their beliefs.

Therefore, in our neighborhood, religion tends to refrain from outward evangelism or proselytizing.

If someone were to yell in the streets or subway that those who do not believe in God will go to hell, the clergy of that religion might rush out barefoot and slap the shouting person or even strike them with a belt. Alternatively, another passerby of a different faith might pick up a stone and hit them on the head.

Unless it were the days of burning wizards in the square and waging crusades against heretics, the Inquisition does not carelessly assault heretics nowadays.

Perhaps they are holding back due to international scrutiny, or maybe because they’ve beaten each other so much that the Divine has sent down oracles begging them to stop.

Regardless, the priests offered their apologies on behalf of the Archbishop. Bowing their heads, they repeatedly expressed their sincere apologies and hurriedly pulled the Archbishop inside the cathedral.

“Why is everyone acting like this? I just…”

“Your Grace! Please keep your mouth shut!”

“Haha. Such irreverent folks! If I were just ten years younger, I would have nailed them all to the cross. Hahaha!”

Laughing off such a deadly joke, Archbishop Theodosius was led away by the priests. Despite his words, he seemed to harbor no real dislike for the clergy.

Lucia watched the departing Archbishop and priests with a satisfied smile.

“You’ve calmed down. If it were in your theological college days, you would have beaten them to a pulp. Certainly, you’ve mellowed compared to the old days.”

“…Do you know the Archbishop well?”

“He was my professor during theological college. He taught a course on primitive beliefs and heresy. He has also taught subjects like the history of the Inquisition and Grand Exorcism. I attended all of his classes.”

“I see he was known for a fiery temperament.”

“He was indeed. There was even a controversy when he hung a student who was dozing off in class at the top of the cathedral.”

“…….”

“Ah, and just so you know, that incident was during the history of the Inquisition and Grand Exorcism. He demonstrated how to drive out a demon by tying up the student since they dozed off in such a sacred class.”

I looked at Lucia with a dazed expression.

“Why on earth didn’t you convert?”

“Because I am a cradle believer. My parents were also clergymen.”

“Just convert. You can always repent later….”

*

After the encounter with the mad cardinal who hung a dozing student at the chapel’s peak, Lucia and I remained in the Cathedral of Saint Basil.

Lucia suggested that she could give me a tour of the cathedral if I had time. With a bit of time to spare before work and no messages yet from Francesca or Priest Rebecca, I accepted Lucia’s proposal.

“This painting depicts the moment when Saint Basil meets the Wise Men as they strike the rock in the field where the starlight dances.”

An exotic-looking man full of Arabic vibes strikes a rock with a twig, while a pale-faced child climbs a low hill in astonishment.

Behind them spreads an expansive meadow and a sky tinged with ominous colors. Only the field where light dances and around the Wise Men is painted in bright colors.

Lucia pointed at the Wise Men in the fresco.

“There are two interpretations of the identity of the Wise Men. One is that he is the archangel sent by God to reveal to the shepherd’s son. The other is that he is the high priest who wandered the world to defeat evil.”

The term “high priest” refers to the greatest common priest in the cult.

At first glance, it may seem like “high priest” is a title akin to an Archmage of the Magic Tower or Priestess in Mauritania (also referred to as priest), but in fact, “high priest” designates a single person.

The most devout clergyman in the cult’s history.

The priest who has conducted the most Inquisitions and Grand Exorcisms throughout the cult’s history.

The teacher of all Inquisition officers and exorcists.

That’s who Lucia referred to as the high priest.

“I’ve heard of him, but I don’t know much about him….”

It’s not that I’m embarrassed by my ignorance, but it’s hard to express it outright, so I coaxed my way into asking.

Sensing my unspoken feelings, Lucia smiled gently and continued.

“The high priest holds a unique position within the cult. He is both an Inquisition officer and an exorcist and is also the Archbishop closest to the cult.”

“A high-ranking clergyman, I see.”

“Of course, he hardly ever sits in his position, so the other priests of the diocese often carry out his duties.”

It’s hard to call such a busy person irresponsible.

Though I had no right to scold him as what he does is extraordinarily significant.

After all, one of the reasons he is often absent is due to Grand Exorcisms. It’s a well-known fact that for centuries, he has been jam-packing demons rising from hell and their summoned demons back to hell.

I nodded as if I just realized this.

“I’m intrigued. Grand Exorcisms, huh? I’ve only heard rumors, and few have actually witnessed it.”

“Generally, it is taboo to disclose an exorcism to others. Even among clergymen, very few have witnessed a Grand Exorcism.”

Living in a world where religious authority is high, I had not taken much interest in this local religion.

Perhaps having lived surrounded by too much negativity to nurture faith, or having succumbed to the idea that there is no God after falling into a realm that is neither heaven nor hell, I had never once harbored the thought of wanting to believe in a religion.

Thus, I asked Lucia this question with genuine curiosity.

“Do you believe in God, Saint Lucia?”

Though it may have been an inappropriate question to ask a clergyman, Lucia showed no signs of anger.

She simply laughed, as if it were an interesting question.

“Well, if you mean to ask whether I believe in the existence of God, my answer would be ‘yes.’ However, if you ask whether the one I believe in and follow is the ruler of this world, I would have to respond, ‘perhaps not.'”

It was a rather strange answer.

“Why do you think so?”

“Though the Divine created the world, it was fashioned in an imperfect form. Isn’t it the reality that even mankind, which he invested the most effort into creating, is not perfect?”

Lucia’s gaze drifted toward the distant altar, where the image of the Divine reaching out to humanity and the altar was depicted.

“Some may think that faith should be devoid of doubt, but I believe otherwise. The very notion that faith must not waver, love must never face a crisis, certainty must exist without unease, and hope must be unshakeable is, in itself, arrogant.”

“Why is that?”

“Humans are incomplete beings; how could their faith be perfect?”

Lucia’s gaze shifted back to the fresco.

Her azure eyes rested upon the very painting that she had just described.

“And so, the Divine always presents us with trials and tribulations. This is a kind of test. In religion, it is often spoken of as the greatest blessing bestowed by God.”

“…….”

“Even if one may wander and despair, uncertain of which measure they are placed against or what part of the road they find themselves on, there is always only one path to follow. And just like how God sent a messenger to Saint Basil in times of crisis, he always illuminates the path in moments of dire need.”

Suddenly, a verse came to mind. I recited it out loud.

“In the beginning, the Great Father created the heavens and the earth, but the earth had not yet become what it should be, and darkness was over the surface of the deep.”

A dark warehouse. Thick darkness.

“But the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters, and the light departed from darkness by His command.”

Bright lights chased away the darkness, illuminating the inside of the warehouse. A neatly dressed orc raises his arms high.

“Let there be light in this place.”

Lucia nodded.

“It expresses the moment when God created the world. It is quite a famous passage.”

“It’s a line my friend likes. He is also a cradle believer.”

“Ah.”

In truth, it’s something I often recite whenever I turn on the lights or light a match, but Viktor’s favorite line is indeed this. He says it playfully all the time.

But since Lucia was unaware of this, she could only smile and speak.

“I too like that passage. However, my absolute favorite is a different one.”

Lucia began to recite her most cherished verse in her lovely voice.

“O son of man, do not fear them, nor be afraid of their words. Though thorns surround you and you live among scorpions, do not fear their words or be dismayed at their faces.”

“…….”

“When I was a child, my parents would often recite this verse to me during stormy nights. Usually, it was my mother who said it.”

I focused with interest on Lucia’s words.

Very little is known about Lucia’s background, excluding a few details. Even the Military Intelligence Agency, which has placed a spy at the top of the Inquisition, ended up issuing materials so scanty on Lucia that they ordered me to gather as much information as possible to enrich the documents.

Thus, Lucia is a mysterious person. Even within the intelligence agency dealing with the utmost confidential matters.

Her parents were clergymen, and Lucia is a cradle believer. Her mother imparted specific verses to her as she grew up, and she attended lectures by the Archbishop of the Northern District during theological college.

That’s new information.

As I stored it in my head, I expressed my surprise to Lucia.

“I never expected to hear about your family background here.”

“Well, I’ve never shared about it…”

Lucia, smiling as if flattered, took a moment to gather her thoughts and began.

“About what you’re currently doing.”

“Me?”

“Yes. The investigation you mentioned last time.”

“Ah, that.”

Lucia’s smile became infinitely kind.

“I don’t know the details of what you’re involved in, as you haven’t shared. But I sincerely pray that you remain unharmed. Please take care of yourself.”

With a promise to pray for me, Lucia clasped her hands together and bowed her head. The prayer of a saint—something the emperor of the empire could not acquire even for a hefty sum.

I wasn’t really sure if prayers would have any effect, but I was truly grateful that she was willing to take time out of her busy schedule to offer one for me. I bowed my head to Lucia in appreciation.

“Thank you, Saint Lucia.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“By the way, you seem to be dodging my earlier question rather gracefully.”

Lucia responded gently with a smile.

“You must be mistaken.”

“No, it’s not a misunderstanding; you really didn’t answer—”

“It is a misunderstanding.”

“…….”

Lucia dismissed my inquiry with a cheeky attitude.

Are the religious folks around here the most brazen? What if a saint were caught gambling by the Pope? They seem to lack all sense of shame. Strange characters indeed populate this place.

Just as I was momentarily taken aback by her audacity, a clear bell rang, cutting through the silence.

“What is that sound?”

“Oh, it’s a phone.”

I quickly pulled out my phone to check. The number for Francesca’s communication network glowed on the screen.

“I’m sorry; I thought it was on vibrate, but it wasn’t.”

“That’s fine. Just please ensure it’s on silent or vibrate during service. The professor—no, I mean, Archbishop—greatly dislikes it when the phone rings during services.”

“I’ll be careful. Just a moment while I take this call….”

“Take your time.”

I excused myself from Lucia and left to take the call in a more private place where others wouldn’t hear.

As soon as I pressed the call button, Francesca’s voice began to come through, greeting me from across the encrypted line.

-‘Colonel, can you hear me?’

“I hear you well. What’s going on?”

-‘Good news has come in.’

Francesca continued.

-‘Today, a message came from a magician. There’s someone who wants to meet you and me.’

“Who is it? Please tell me their name.”

-‘Hormoz.’

Francesca murmured under her breath.

-‘Hormoz from the Palm Tree Trade Guild.’

“…….”

-‘Finally, bait has been taken.’

“Let me know the time and place. I’ll be ready.”

The break was over.

It was time to get to work.

 

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