Demus returned to the Divine Cult. From his perspective, it was quite a profitable business trip.
First on the agenda was the last descendant of the Bacchus Cult. Despite being the only survivor of the cult, she was surprisingly bold and possessed the skills to match her audacity.
When a sudden stranger accused them of being Followers of Superstition in front of a crowd, Demus felt things had taken a serious turn.
His gut instinct told him that there might be casualties here. It was obvious that sacrifices would be required for the priests to escape, isolated among mages.
However, Kine changed that common sense.
It was hard to tell exactly what she did, but the mages’ targets suddenly reversed in an instant. Even Demus himself didn’t realize at first that Divine Power had manifested, it was such an alien method of use.
What allowed him to sense this was the aroma of wine wafting through the air. The unique signature of the Bacchus Cult. An extraordinary trick that captivated the group of mages in an instant while completely concealing the aura of Divine Power.
Demus recalled the questions being posed to Orthes without regard for the priesthood or the papacy. “Isn’t the intention to privatize the Bacchus Cult under the guise of survivor protection?”
Of course, that was not the case. Upon arriving in Algoth City, he himself had taught Kine how to use Holy Power, but such skills could not be attained through several days of special instruction.
Orthes was truly making his utmost effort to train the successor of the Bacchus Cult.
“Perhaps, neither the priestly faction nor the papal faction is the true path for the Divine Cult.”
Through the excavation of the Pluton Great Temple and its internal relics, the Pope’s plan had already made significant progress. Demus fully understood as a cleric the aversion the priestess held towards the Pope’s ambitions.
However, opposing a plan already in motion appeared to be nothing more than opposition for the sake of opposition. While the Great Temple might empower the cult, support could also be received from the Pope’s creations.
If they had already crossed a line, wouldn’t it be acceptable to use both? At least until confronting the pressing worst enemy, the Ten Towers, and the Mage King foretold by Phoibos.
At least, he reasoned as a “War God” leader. Whether it was the path of the priestess or the path of the pope, it was about using every means available to fight.
With satisfaction, Demus returned to report to the cult. The demise of the psychic parasite seemed assured.
Rarely, the Pope requested a private audience. He accepted gladly.
“Is it true? The psychic parasite has perished?”
With a gentle voice, the Pope asked about the ‘fable’ that the psychic parasite had attempted to craft. Although Demus hadn’t participated directly in the final confrontation, he sincerely provided information on the fluctuations of magic and distortions of space.
“Indeed. It ultimately distorted space?”
“To be precise, it wasn’t the ‘final stage.’ It disappeared when it got caught in the explosion before completing the fable.”
“What was the nature of that explosion?”
“According to Orthes, it was the result of the psychic parasite’s space magic and the Hydra Corporation’s president—”
In that moment, a memory sparked in Demus’s mind, recalling the moment he faced the fear of the Ten Commandments. The authority hidden beneath the guise of a human.
“Demus, are you all right?”
The Pope’s calm voice broke through his thoughts. After all, Kine’s identity wasn’t what was important. What mattered was that she was an ally of Orthes, and that Orthes was an ally of the Divine Cult.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just recalling something that seemed a bit too grand for just a reaction between magic and magic. It appears the president of Hydra Corporation used some kind of magic as well. I hypothesize it was a clash of space magic that caused a rampage.”
“I see. Thank you.”
It was uncertain what he was thanking him for. As the Pope rose to leave, Demus unknowingly spoke up.
“How about we stop this now?”
“Stop? What do you mean?”
“The opposition between you and the priestess. As I see it, both of you have merits and flaws. It’s hard to be convinced that following just one path is the right way. So why not take both paths and maximize the benefits?”
The Pope smiled faintly. A smile so faint it seemed it would vanish in an instant.
“If that child wishes for it, I am always willing to end this opposition.”
As the Pope stood and slowly moved away, he suddenly vanished without a trace. He must have moved to his residence.
That power was something not even the heralds of the Divine Cult could fully comprehend.
“If the priestess wishes.”
Wasn’t there a saying from the Smith God Polifron that “Iron must be struck while it’s hot”? Demus moved to meet the priestess.
The meaningless infighting was now in need of an end.
*
In his last moment, Nastion, pierced by Orthes’s High-Frequency Blade and losing around 30% of his total mass, arrived at headquarters and barely managed to finish saying, “The enemy’s name is Orthes…” before collapsing.
When he regained consciousness, he instinctively realized he would incur the wrath and hatred of Halto and the higher-ups of Argyrion.
Nastion considered Halto’s judgment to be all too accurate, yet marked him as irrational, opposing the mobilization of top forces. The blame for the losses from Sprigo rested solely on Nastion.
Argyrion would not forgive him for neglecting initial actions against the enemy’s resurrection.
He had no choice but to acknowledge once again that his expectations were firmly wrong.
The other higher-ups of Argyrion did not blame Nastion.
Rather, if they had declared, “See, the enemy indeed existed!” Nastion might have been able to accept the situation.
There were those who silently patted him on the back or shoulder, and some who quietly murmured “it’s okay” for reasons unclear.
With each semblance of consolation that felt less like consolation, Nastion’s feelings of self-loathing deepened.
“It’s understandable if it’s the enemy.” The higher-ups of Argyrion all seemed vehemently agree with that single proposition.
Nastion was a sowing of seeds for division and delusion, but now his head throbbed. It was Halto who drove his self-loathing to the limits.
In the conference hall where all the possible Argyrion higher-ups gathered, Halto declared boisterously.
“Behold, comrades! Comrade Nastion has failed! Algoth City has been obliterated so that our teachings can no longer reach it.”
At this moment, Nastion was prepared for self-critique. As the main culprit for defying the supreme commander and causing unnecessary losses.
“However, he has achieved a success beyond mere failure! He has accomplished a great feat that none of us could!”
While Nastion was still in shock, Halto shouted with fervor.
“He has uncovered the enemy’s name!”
Thunderous applause filled the conference room. Amid countless requests for handshakes, Nastion’s vision went dark—he had no other organ to call eyes, but it was pitch black.
Wasn’t it merely a name? It seemed common sense and reason had gone out to lunch somewhere.
“Nastion.”
Halto’s voice broke through Nastion’s reverie.
“I’ll ask again. A truly important question. Is it certain that the Followers of Superstition were receiving protection from Orthes’s Hydra Corporation?”
“That is correct. If a relic of the Hunting God was used, it undoubtedly required charging time. It’s clear there is a clergy capable of using divine power to track using Holy Power.”
“I reviewed footage of the recorded situation. Do you have an idea why the mages attacked you rather than the discovered Followers of Superstition?”
“That is—”
He couldn’t give a clear answer. Was it Kine? It was clear some kind of magic was activated by the absurd word shouted by the escort placed beside Knemon in Taboone.
The trouble was not knowing the nature of that magic.
“Though I couldn’t precisely identify it, it appears they used magic that affects the mental realm.”
“Is that so?”
Halto’s expression darkened. Orthes had powerful magical enterprises under his command. And he had formed a secret alliance with the Followers of Superstition.
Orthes and Argyrion were sworn enemies.
“The rumors that we and the Followers of Superstition were allies were surely known to the Followers themselves.”
“…Do you think the Divine Cult purposely spread such rumors?”
“No, I reckon it was Orthes manipulating the Divine Cult. To hide the activities of the cult beneath our shadows. I must acknowledge that the plan to conceal us under the cult’s shadow has failed.”
Halto pondered over the various bizarre situations surrounding Argyrion. The leakage and failure of the plan. The accusation of a plan not even started. The judgment that a tower lord who wasn’t even enrolled had met with Argyrion.
Above all.
“Talo….”
The murder of the Elder of the Silver Iron Tower.
All the questions became clear. If Orthes was behind these myriad incidents, the outcome becomes evident.
“Nastion.”
“Yes.”
“How far along is our plan to open the dimensional gate?”
“Originally, data was to be collected from the psychic parasite’s fable, but my retreat made proper gathering impossible. Considering that, it should be at about 76% completion.”
“Is that so? 24%…”
There was ample margin for Orthes to overturn the board.
“This time, shall we flip the board ourselves?”
Now they had truly obtained the means to combat the large enemy.
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