Chapter 123
Chapter 123
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: The Prophet Pope
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KABOOM!!!
A massive explosion swept through the warehouse. Blood pooled across the floor, chunks of what used to be people dangled from the ceiling, and a huge summoning magic circle sprawled across the ground.
The puppeteer had apparently given up everything and chosen to flee, detonating over ten puppets in a frenzy.
Amid the smoke, I clutched my throbbing head, used Heal to mend my wounds, and staggered to my feet.
"That goddamn bastard."
He'd nearly won, so he'd blown everything sky-high. Even let the saintess escape. Who would've thought transfer magic was etched into the puppets too?
I unleashed Solar Divine Art, incinerating every trace of smoke inside the warehouse—which had somehow endured the blast unscathed.
"Everyone okay?"
The first thing I saw was Belial, her face twisted with irritation and rage, yet still breathtakingly beautiful. She'd charged at the puppeteer with murder in her eyes for daring to toy with Solomon's avatar, but she'd failed.
To be precise, she could have killed him, but he'd self-destructed instead.
Crunch crunch!
Belial didn't answer. She spread her wings and flew out of the warehouse, vanishing into the distance.
She needed time alone. For a great demon and fallen angel like her, failing to kill a lowly creature spared by their mercy was humiliating.
It was also fallout from her resurrection, where most of her power and presence had been sealed away.
Leaving her to suppress her emotions and return, I turned to check the opposite side.
There stood a sturdy golden Eucharist, glowing with holy, radiant beauty. Its unyielding grandeur seemed absolute, but the seal released, revealing a fainted figure inside.
I rushed over, catching the collapsing Legion and checking her condition. At the sight, Saihan—who was carrying the also-unconscious Min Cholong on his back—spoke up.
"Minor mana overload. She pushed too hard blocking the explosion. She'll recover in a few hours, so just let her rest. Give her a mana potion if you have one. I'm no good at defense, so I had to rely on her. Alone, I could've dodged somehow, but..."
"It's fine. You did more than enough."
I immediately pulled an advanced SSS-grade mana potion from my inventory and poured it down Legion's throat. Her furrowed brow relaxed a bit, and I let out a sigh of relief as I slumped down.
Loss? Hardly. We'd razed his base, destroyed a significant force of puppets, and smashed what looked like an important summoning circle. We'd gained plenty.
But we hadn't killed the saintess—the most crucial target. No, I'd hesitated for that split second, so we failed.
What happens if I kill the saintess?
That fleeting doubt in my mind had made me pause against Isabel the saintess, and she'd slipped away with the puppeteer's help.
My head was a mess. Realizing the key fact only in that moment, and hesitating on top of it.
The saintess was a pure woman blessed by the gods' love. Naturally, she carried divine protection. Would killing her bring divine punishment? Or not? That question kept swirling in my mind.
Sure, some divinities were stuck in place like Hercules, unable to act. But others wielded influence in the mortal realm, even at great cost.
Some extended power through apostles or incarnations like demonkin, demons, or devils. Others paid massive prices to the system for direct intervention.
Of course, I hadn't encountered any yet. The most I'd felt was Asclepius granting me a fragment of a title's power.
Azazel was an exception since he'd resurrected. Solomon's avatar had already been here too.
Anyway, the point was this.
From the moment she allied with demonkin and demon lords, it should've been impossible for the saintess to keep the gods' favor.
But there was always that "what if." In the end, weren't demon lords just another type of divinity?
Broadly speaking, demon lords, demons, demon gods, angels—they were all divinities.
It was common knowledge that demonic divinities clashed with others, but again, "what ifs" always lingered.
The root of my doubt was simple: the saintess plotting to destroy the Holy Kingdom—a divine domain—alongside demonkin and demon lords hadn't been excommunicated.
A scheme this massive must've been in motion for years.
That meant some divinity—or divinities—were still watching over her. Powerful ones with real influence, no doubt.
Even if divinities rarely paid attention to the mortal realm, a "saintess" beloved by the gods pulling this off? They had to know.
"Whatever. Can't kill her now anyway... what's it matter?"
I brushed myself off, hoisted the fainted Legion onto my back, and slipped back to Min Cholong's room. Now, it was time to regroup.
In the end, we'd hooked the big fish, but only reeled in half—the rest tore free and swam back to sea.
Full-scale war was all that remained. I gazed at the dark night sky, then soundlessly slipped out the window.
Someone I needed to meet. With that, I melted into the shadows.
In a vast chamber, a middle-aged man lay sleeping. An utterly ordinary face—if you just saw his mask, you'd think dozens like him roamed the streets.
But one look at his bedroom revealed his true stature.
It was the heart of the colossal cathedral at the Holy Kingdom's core—called the Grand Temple. Surrounded by the four cardinals' offices, this was a chamber permitted to only one person.
And I'd entered it. Stealthily. An impossible feat, naturally.
Guards were everywhere, countless barriers enveloped the room, and alarms stood ready to blare at any intruder.
At the room's center, a semi-sacred relic even turned the place into a sanctuary.
Yet I'd slipped in. Effortlessly.
The moment my foot touched down through the bedroom window, the man on the bed—eyes closed—slowly opened them and sat up.
"You've come, Irregular of this land."
Golden pupils fixed on me. Holy, noble, beautiful—they seemed to pierce right through me, though he did nothing of the sort.
My authorities and Supreme Soul didn't react, confirming he truly hadn't acted.
His mere presence, a single motion or glance, created that pressure.
I swallowed hard. I hadn't thought he'd detect me sneaking in, but an outright invitation? Was that what this was?
"You knew I'd come?"
The middle-aged man—no, the pope—gave a small smile and nodded. His golden eyes sharpened, tiny gears appearing within them.
Time. I knew it instinctively. Because I was a regressor who defied time? Or my rune, the Hourglass? I didn't know the cause, but it was certain.
Those gears symbolized vast time itself.
"A rune?"
"Indeed. A miracle bestowed by my divinity. Far beyond my worth, I've been granted a minuscule, fragile speck of the grand law of time."
The pieces fell into place. His power.
"Foresight."
"Impressive deduction from one so tied to time. Yes. I am one who sees the future. Incarnation of the Lily that Conveys the Oracle of Prophecy, the great divinity. I am Pope Haramib."
I involuntarily bowed in respect and responded to his introduction.
"Pleased to meet you. Shin Juha, from the dimension called Earth."
"I know. You intrigue me greatly."
The pope rose. In an instant, papal vestments adorned him, and he sat at the opposite table, sliding a steaming cup of tea my way.
As if we'd skipped time. Or had he pulled his future self here?
"Drink it while it's warm. Good for the body. We have plenty of time to talk."
I sat cautiously and sipped the tea past my throat. Tense in case of poison, but there was none.
I'd heard much about the pope and could see for myself he wouldn't stoop to poison—but tension lingered.
He was the Holy Kingdom's strongest. Even Bartroy couldn't beat him, reduced to a pathetic defeat.
"No need to tense up. I mean you no harm. Of course, words alone won't convince you."
Spot on. I sipped my tea and racked my brain. I'd come to meet him, but couldn't easily voice the question burning inside. It might even be rude.
"I see the question on your face. To answer: I cannot intervene."
My face twisted slightly. With the kingdom facing potential annihilation, he couldn't step in?
"Call it the fate of one who knows the future. I cannot meddle in fixed destiny, causality, or time. Especially not this time."
"Why?"
"Ripple from wielding not the full law, but a faint, unstable speck. Normally, I could influence subtly—enough to reach this undeserved papal throne. Half a figurehead, though. Heh."
I stared at the laughing pope. What was so funny? His life hung in the balance.
Meeting my pointed gaze, he sobered. Seeing the pope's face without its smile for the first time sent chills down my spine.
No malice or killing intent there.
Curiosity. Thick, manic curiosity that terrified me.
"The reason I can't act this time is you, Irregular Shin Juha. That's why I invited you. Why? Why do you lack a fixed fate? How did a mere mortal cast off destiny?"