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[Is the story over?]

Everyone trembled at the voice that emerged from the darkness.

The voice held no emotion. It was as if it was already aware of everything that was to unfold—there was no rage, no sorrow, nothing. As I turned my head towards where the sound originated, I saw something that had seamlessly merged with the darkness, having been there who knows how long.

The crimson glare showcased one of humanity’s most primal emotions—fear. It was something buried deep within that had long transcended humanity, but now it returned to infest their minds once again.

The moment they thought they needed to act, all thoughts were consumed by the immense weight of fear. The seated Cardinals froze in place, drooling like those losing their bearings.

Bang—!

The elderly man seated at the head of the table kicked the round table towards the Archbishop, creating a thunderous noise that matched the weight of the kick.

Only then did the Cardinals regain their senses and rise from their seats, each pulling out their weapons.

There was no signal for an attack. The oldest among them was the first to dash forward with his sword, prompting the others to follow suit.

Amidst the wreckage of the shattered round table stood the Archbishop, looking completely unharmed. Previously devoid of any emotion, he now smiled at the five Cardinals charging toward him.

The Cardinals felt chills run down their spines as they swung their weapons in a frenzy.

It was hard to say their attacks were even successful; they were indiscriminate and poured forth toward the Archbishop.

Even for Superhumans, these were formidable foes, and their full-strength assaults materialized into sheer destruction. The fact that their collective target was singular was enough to signify their resolve.

However, what stood before the Cardinals was a presence that could hardly be compared to mankind.

Boom—!!!

With the deafening noise that felt like it would shake the very heavens, the shockwave from their powerful clash swept through the Archbishop’s Temple.

The wave of power swallowed the very space around it, rendering its previous existence unrecognizable. The site that had been revered as a sanctum of the order for a millennium vanished just like that.

Except for the spot where the Archbishop stood.

What remained was a bizarrely spherical void in the ground, unmistakable to anyone who laid eyes on it. Yet, what mattered to them was not the change in terrain. The Archbishop, still pristine despite having absorbed all the Cardinals’ attacks, stood unwavering.

The sight of dust-covered Cardinals gazing up at the Archbishop was reminiscent of a master and a slave. This wasn’t merely a feeling; it was a stark reminder that their situation mirrored that of slaves rebelling against their master.

They grimaced at the realization that their full-force attacks had come to naught and readied themselves for another attempt.

It was already spilled water, a done deal. The rebellious slave had no choice but to succeed in the uprising lest he perish.

Unlike before, the Cardinals were not governed by fear. Their will to survive triumphed over their terror.

[Clap.]

Pop—

[Huh?]

Yet, their newfound resolve faltered as one Cardinal’s body suddenly exploded.

With no warning preceding it, there was not even time for fear, let alone questions. Before his mind could accept the fact that a comrade had just been blown apart before him, his own body shared the same fate, spraying blood everywhere.

[Clap.]

The sound they heard wasn’t from the Archbishop’s hands. It was as if he was happily mimicking the sound effects like a child playing a game. Yet, the consequence of this jovial act was shocking.

As the Archbishop clapped his hands towards the air as if swatting a bug, the Cardinals fell to the ground like insects.

[Clap. Clap. Tch…]

[Stop!!!!]

With no one left around the old man, his plea held no significance. Did it imply he was asking for mercy? Perhaps not, as he lunged at the Archbishop with a war cry.

To prove he wasn’t merely the most devoted Cardinal to the order, he shone brighter than anyone else as he closed in on the Archbishop while the others met their buggy demise. A sword aura that sliced through space itself erupted from his blade.

The old man’s sword had surely reached the pinnacle of his swordsmanship.

The intangible barriers surrounding the Archbishop shredded under the force of his sword.

[Excellent work, Cain.]

The Archbishop, with the sword lodged in his swinging neck, directed his clear voice and praise at the elderly man before him.

But what significance does such praise hold now? The old man looked on with a vacant expression, muttering to himself.

[Ha ha… what madness…]

[Clap.]

*

The sun was already high in the sky.

I sat alone in the Training Grounds, sorting through the tales it had shared with me.

In truth, the stories it imparted weren’t so complex that they required much organization. I merely needed time to accept and understand them.

It referred to itself as Polaris.

In the novel, it had always been called the Archbishop, so hearing its name was probably for the first time. Well, whether its name was Polaris or Polyester didn’t matter much.

It might be deemed irreverent if overheard, but personally, for dialogue, I found Polaris far more agreeable than Altair, whom I met at the Archbishop’s Temple.

Both communicated their intentions to me, but Polaris, although evasive in answering, allowed questions to be asked; and that single difference highlighted the fact that mutual communication is vital in conversations. It didn’t force me to do anything.

“The order is about to fall apart…”

It conveyed two things to me.

One was the shocking revelation that the cult of heretics, which I’d deemed my primary enemy, would soon vanish.

Why would the Archbishop, who ought to be the master of the order, share such information with me?

It’s as if the boss of a company announced it was going bankrupt. It felt like an advertisement of defeat coming from someone I considered an enemy.

I pondered if it was lying, but realized conversely, it had no reason to do so.

I’m neither the Emperor of the Empire nor from a prestigious noble family—merely the Count’s Lesser House—so I held no influence over the relationship between the order and the Empire. Why would it waste its breath lying to me?

Strangely, it felt like the Archbishop’s words suggested no further worry for the order was necessary. Was that just my imagination?

I found myself thinking that the Archbishop might very well disband the order of his own volition. I knew it sounded absurd, yet that was the feeling.

Of course, verifying whether the order actually dissolving was warranted, I was at least convinced that the Archbishop would, indeed, abolish it.

“The second issue is troubling.”

While it was shocking to hear about the order’s downfall, that was the more favorable news.

The order had always felt like a troublesome homework assignment I’d have to tackle someday. If that task is now resolved, it would be a lie not to feel relieved. That being conveyed by the order’s Archbishop is the crux of the problem…

The second piece of information the Archbishop relayed to me was about the descent of the gods.

While it didn’t specify which god, it indicated that the timing was on the day of the Sacred Festival. Given that the one telling me was the Archbishop of heretics, the answer was likely implied.

He stated that foreign beliefs and Altair would face off during the Sacred Festival.

Thus, it made sense why the Archbishop might wish to disband the order. The order existed to welcome the descent of foreign beliefs, so if that had already come to pass, it wouldn’t need to perpetuate its existence.

Thereby, I thought perhaps they meant that foreign beliefs referred to me, but quickly dismissed that assumption. After all, Altair had already confirmed my status as a hero at the Imperial Palace’s temple, and the Archbishop had referred to me as coming from outside, distinctly separating me from foreign beliefs.

Regardless, the fact that the Archbishop disclosed this to me and that Altair descended before me certainly hinted at some differing yet similar reasons between the two. Altair wished for me to become a hero. So, what did the Archbishop want me to become?

As I contemplated this, I sensed my thoughts gravitating toward a particular direction—one I had never considered until now.

‘Perhaps the foreign beliefs are…’

I shook my head at the thought that suddenly entered my mind.

Don’t jump to conclusions. Even if possibilities exist, they remain merely that—possibilities.

Yet, I couldn’t wholly dismiss that possibility.

Despite my attempts to think beyond this preposterous premise, I understood that this very possibility was crucial in unearthing the truth.

Sure enough, as I filled the vacant space in my mind, previous guesses and clues clicked together, leading me toward one singular truth. Sure, a few spots remained shaky, but it was the most plausible conclusion thus far.

Having concluded my thoughts, I turned my head towards the mansion where she resided. Was she there to play tricks on me? I found her standing on the balcony, puffing her cheeks as she stared at me with displeasure. I smiled at her while erasing my previous thoughts.

“… If that’s the case, there’s nothing I can do.”

Regardless of the truth, my course of action had long been predetermined.

 

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