Chapter 150: The Holy Land
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 150: The Holy Land
It seemed the Templar Knights had no idea that the “Holy Water” they drank was Cynthia’s urine.
Under the barrage of stinging glares, beads of cold sweat formed on the Pope’s forehead.
A strange atmosphere settled as silence fell. After a moment, the Pope raised his voice, a beat too late.
“Do not fall for the devil’s whisper! This is a cunning lie meant to sow discord among us!”
He didn’t just protest with words. Picking up the chalice that had fallen to the floor, he had a knight fill it with Holy Water and put on a performance of drinking it himself.
Through the transparent glass, the pale yellow liquid could be clearly seen entering his mouth. A single stream even trickled down from the corner of his lips.
“Impressive. To drink it without hesitation when you know better than anyone that it’s piss. Or perhaps, you have a taste for being pissed on or drinking it?”
“Pfft—hack, hack…”
The Pope choked, letting out a series of harsh coughs. The urine in his mouth sprayed in all directions like mist from an atomizer.
The knight who had poured the Holy Water for him subtly distanced himself. He even wiped his foot on a napkin on the floor. It seemed a little had gotten on him.
“Was I right?”
Cynthia had told me the Pope was a pervert who enjoyed abusing those weaker than him.
So I had thrown the words out as a shot in the dark, but judging by the Pope’s reaction, it seemed I’d luckily hit the mark.
“Nonsense! This is the Saintess’s tears!”
The Pope feigned ignorance to the very end. Then again, after drinking it himself, it would be quite amusing if he were to reveal the truth now.
“So you’re saying Cynthia can squeeze out tears at will, enough for the Templar Knights to use freely?”
“Th-that’s right!”
“Then cry right now.”
Cynthia, who had subtly tried to flee when it looked like a fight was about to break out, turned pale.
“How can I cry in a situation like this?”
“According to the Pope, doesn’t that mean you have the ability to squeeze out tears in any situation?”
Cynthia answered with silence instead of excuses. She even avoided my gaze.
“Your Holiness…?”
The Templar Knights’ gazes turned to the Pope. The beads of sweat on his forehead had multiplied. Unable to hold on, a single drop trickled down his cheek.
“Of all the liquids that come from a human body, only urine can be produced in a quantity sufficient for dozens of people to drink. The Pope made a very efficient choice.”
As a light of disbelief flickered in the Templar Knights’ eyes, the Pope could no longer hold out.
“The Saintess’s urine is clean! I, Sibella II, can guarantee it! So, do not doubt it any longer! That is the devil’s trick to make a mockery of us!”
Of course, it was only natural that the Templar Knights’ faces twisted in disgust.
But I wasn’t satisfied with just that. When the Pope got desperate, he wouldn’t care if it was urine or anything else.
Before these men, who mistakenly believed themselves invincible, could trouble me again with attacks that disregarded their own lives, I needed to shatter their delusion.
So, after focusing their attention on the Pope, I swung my sword in a surprise attack.
“Argh—”
The knight closest to me failed to block my ambush, and his body was split diagonally.
“You coward—!”
“Quickly!”
The other knights held me in check while dragging their half-severed comrade back. They then forcibly shoved his organs back in, pressed the wound together, and poured Holy Water on it.
As expected, in the face of death, the filthiness of urine meant nothing.
The problem was the intestine that had slipped out before the rough-cut wound could fully close.
“N-no—!”
Another knight frantically tried to push the red organ, tinged with yellow fat, back in, but before he could, the Holy Water took effect and finished the healing.
“Aaaah—wh-what is this!”
From the flawlessly healed wound, a thick, worm-like intestine protruded. Its vivid red color twitched in time with his heartbeat.
It was a grotesque sight.
The knight who had come back from the dead didn't know what to do upon seeing his own state, and the other knights, terrified, unknowingly took a step back.
“I’m not sure who the devil is here.”
Cynthia’s ability is powerful, but not without its limits. If used on a fatal wound without the support of a proper physician, this is what happens.
The Templar Knights, who had deluded themselves into thinking they were an invincible army, were visibly shaken.
They must have been prepared for death from the moment they became knights, but I could guarantee they had never once imagined such a monstrous end.
“Where are you looking! Do you not see the devil who has stained this holy war with blood! Kill him at once and prove that the authority of the church is alive and well!”
As the Pope pointed an accusing finger, the Templar Knights hid their agitation and prepared to attack me. However, their aggression had clearly diminished compared to before.
The knights who had been willing to trade an arm for my neck were no more.
With the Templar Knights, whose individual skills were already inferior to regular knights, now acting passively, the tide of battle turned in an instant.
I kept my back to a wall to avoid being surrounded and moved in a wide arc as I fought the knights.
Sometimes I would use my superhuman strength to cleave an opponent in two, sword and all. Other times, I would feint a powerful swing, then use the remaining force to change the sword’s direction and take their head.
No one was a match for me. The majority of the knights died without even getting a chance to use the Holy Water.
“You, devil! The Lord will be your judge!”
In the end, most of the Templar Knights watched for an opportunity and quietly withdrew, while the rest became cold corpses, staining the pure white church red.
The last remaining knight clutched a wound in his chest and looked up at me. He was one who, deceived by the Pope, genuinely believed he was doing the right thing.
“Shouldn’t you be worried about yourself? You, who followed a Pope that defies the Lord’s word and indulges his own greed, will surely never reach heaven.”
“You—Gack.”
After finishing off the last knight, I looked around. The Pope had vanished.
“He ran away without a second glance as soon as the situation turned against him.”
As if seeing such a gruesome scene for the first time, Cynthia looked around the blood-soaked church with a horrified expression.
“He didn’t just run.”
Without Cynthia, the Pope’s plan would turn to dust. Yet he had abandoned her to save his own skin. That meant he had something else up his sleeve.
“Don’t tell me, the Archbishop?”
Cynthia seemed to guess that the Pope would use the Archbishop as a hostage to demand my surrender.
“I wonder.”
I thought differently. Murdering an Archbishop was on a completely different level from the corruption the Pope had committed so far. In other words, the Pope himself wouldn’t escape unscathed.
Besides, hadn’t I been openly aggressive? The Pope would surely surmise that the Archbishop wasn’t of great value to me.
“First, we find the Archbishop.”
“But you don’t know where he is.”
The church in the Holy Land was a massive structure. Searching for the Archbishop on foot without precise information could take more than half a day.
“You can tell me, can’t you?”
Cynthia’s fine brow twitched slightly.
“Why should I? To an enemy who has rampaged through my home and stained it with blood.”
“So, you’re saying you want to continue feeding your piss to a great many people?”
“…It’s not what I wanted.”
I twisted my lips as I looked at the serious-faced Cynthia.
“What does that matter? As long as you remain in the church, that outcome won’t change.”
Cynthia worked her lips as if she had much to say, but instead let out a deep sigh.
“Don’t misunderstand. I haven’t decided to follow you. We are merely, merely accompanying each other for a short while.”
“Says who? I believe I told you earlier. I’ve decided to make you mine. You have no choice but to be in my arms.”
“…”
Cynthia didn’t reply and turned her back.
She led me to the basement. It seemed the Confession Room was located underground.
It was surprisingly bright for a basement, thanks to a long line of candles placed at narrow intervals.
Considering how expensive candles were, it was an absurd waste of money. The pinnacle was a cavern so bright from the sheer number of candles that it felt like being outdoors.
Cynthia, who was walking ahead, stopped and looked back at me. She soon approached my side, and looking at the same thing I was, she spoke.
“This is the library the Pope mentioned.”
The Pope’s story about the prophet had been quite interesting. It was a history I didn’t know, and it proved that this world was not a game.
In the center of the cavern was a desk. A candle nearing the end of its life burned upon it, and countless books and notes covered its surface.
“This is the Pope’s spot. He spends most of his time here, except when he’s bedding a prostitute.”
“Is this your first time in here?”
Cynthia, who had been maintaining a certain distance, had at some point moved close behind me and was peering at the desk.
“In the first place, only the Pope is allowed entry. So… what does it say?”
“You can’t read?”
Cynthia’s face flushed slightly. It probably wasn’t because of the numerous candles.
“There aren’t many people who would teach an orphan to read. Besides, the Pope never wanted a mere tool like me to become smart.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed. Not knowing something isn’t embarrassing. What’s truly embarrassing is the attitude of not trying to learn, even when you don’t know.”
She glanced up at me. Was it my imagination, or did I feel her gaze was slightly different from before? Our eyes met, and she quickly looked away.
“Ahem. So, what does it say?”
“It’s research on the secret of the prophet’s birth. The author claims that the prophet was a bloodline left on earth when the Old God departed this world.”
“So… you’re saying I’m a descendant of a god? Hmm. In that case, shouldn’t you start showing me some respect?”
“I’m of a witch’s bloodline myself, you know.”
Cynthia’s expression immediately soured.
“So… you’re saying there’s a possibility that you and I are distant relatives on the family tree?”
“Hardly. There wasn’t just one or two Old Gods. The chances of our family trees being intertwined are extremely slim. Of course, since I don’t know my roots, I can’t say for sure.”
I swept the books and notes the Pope had been studying into a nearby bag and handed it to Cynthia.
“It’s heavy…”
“You shouldn’t have been so cheeky, then.”
Having crushed her sly little rebellion in one fell swoop, I resumed the search for the Archbishop. The Confession Room wasn’t far from the library.
“Oh, Lord. The world is full of chaos. The church, which should be a focal point to purify the world, is mired in even greater corruption and depravity. Oh, Lord. What should I, your faithful servant, do?”
As soon as I opened the door, the sound of the Archbishop’s prayer greeted me. His simple brown attire was as it always was, and the shine on his face suggested that he hadn’t been mistreated.
“Archbishop. It’s time to go back.”
The Archbishop’s reaction upon turning to me was dry. It was as if he had known I would come.
However, his brow furrowed slightly when he saw the bloodstains of the Templar Knights splattered across my body.
“Have many more innocent people died because of this humble servant of the Lord?”
“In the corrupt temple of the Lord, how many innocents could there be? They stood by and watched the Pope’s indulgence, and knowing his wicked desires, they followed his will and threw the world into chaos.”
At my words that it was the Pope who had drawn his sword first, the Archbishop’s complexion darkened further.
Making the sign of the cross again, he looked up at the statue on the wall that looked down on him and prayed. I approached him from behind and continued speaking calmly.
“Archbishop, do you truly believe that the Lord who guided us here did not know things would turn out this way? If you do, then you are an arrogant man.”
The Archbishop, his back to me, still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the statue on the wall.
“The Pope confessed that the prophets who guided us were witches. The proof was a memo left by the great prophet. The god we believed in and followed was created out of necessity by the witches we condemned as followers of the devil.”
It seemed the Pope had told the Archbishop the same thing. The Pope’s claim that he had entered the Confession Room of his own free will might have been true.
The Archbishop’s voice trembled slightly. His faith was wavering upon learning the truth.
“Is the existence of God that important?”
“…What?”
The Archbishop turned back to me, his expression asking what kind of nonsense I was spouting.
“God has never manifested on this earth. Nevertheless, humans have believed in God, and following His will, they have walked the right path, performed righteous deeds, and lived righteous lives.”
“In other words, faith has served as a guidepost in our lives, leading humanity in the right direction. It has nothing to do with whether God exists or not.”
“If God does exist, He would look upon our faith and be pleased. And we cannot say for certain that God doesn’t exist. Is it not possible that the great prophet simply made use of a god that was already there?”
The Archbishop stared blankly up at me. Cynthia, too, couldn’t hide her surprised expression.
“Sometimes, when I look at you, Baron, I feel that you are more devout than I am.”
It was only natural. I had memories of the modern world that the people of this world couldn’t even imagine. Furthermore, didn’t I know the power of witches better than anyone? To me, the existence of God was not strange at all.
“More importantly, has your belief that procedure must be followed no matter what changed?”
After a brief glance at the statue on the wall, the Archbishop pushed himself up from his knees.
“If God truly does not exist, then we who call ourselves servants of God must strive even harder to protect our faith. I, Raceni, will endure this disgrace for the sake of restoring a faith that has been tainted by corruption.”
As they say, the ground hardens after the rain. The Archbishop turned to face me, his eyes shining with a newfound, hardened resolve.
In the end, the Archbishop had decided to accept the papacy. As it turned out, the Pope had been a help.
“A wise decision.”
Meanwhile, Cynthia, who had been repeatedly glancing at the exit to the surface as the situation settled, spoke up.
“We should go back up now. We’ve wasted too much time. If we delay any longer, we’ll run into whatever new trick the Pope has prepared.”
Sure enough, the Pope who had fled was waiting for us on the surface. With him were a middle-aged knight and thirty elite soldiers.
“Babel, Baron?”
Cynthia identified the middle-aged knight. Unlike her, whose face had gone pale, I smiled.
How could I not smile when the bait I needed for Alex had walked right into my hands?