Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Granting the Oracle (5)
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"Does that mean you're going to receive an oracle from there?"
"Yes, that's correct."
Brilliant lights were surging up from the temple's spire.
And outside the temple, holy knights stood guard.
"Hmm..."
I wondered why they had so many holy knights on standby...
There were more than one or two places I needed to return to.
Holy knights were stationed at every spot where troops might be waiting.
"They've prepared quite a lot."
It would take quite some time to deal with all of them.
From the looks of the current situation, there seemed to be a bunch here too.
"Let's see... that one... and that one too..."
Swoosh—
When I turned my head, I saw the holy knights following behind me.
They flinched.
"D-Do you have any orders, sir?"
Their attitude was impeccably polite.
Having realized the people they followed were in the wrong, they must have felt like criminals.
On top of that, it seemed like they had heard Illia's voice as well.
"We've got quite a few on our side too?"
The troops they had prepared were now entirely on our side.
And that wasn't all.
"I thought these guys were decent people..."
There were clearly more personnel than the hidden forces.
Holy knights from the Pope—Uncle—were waiting, ready to head to the temple at any moment.
"Hey, Aluerad."
"Yes, Sir Chris."
"I'll point them out, so catch them all."
Did those people know there was a traitor in their midst?
From the way they were eyeing each other suspiciously, they probably had a rough idea.
"The three by that pillar over there."
Clack—
Clack—
The holy knights moved at Aluerad's command.
"Among the people in front of the temple... all those guys are bad news."
"A-All of them...?"
"Yeah. And... the five in the middle under that pillar over there."
Clack—
It must have been hard for them to spot the spies mixed in.
That's why they were scattered haphazardly like that.
But they were plain as day to my eyes.
"The people over there..."
"We'll capture them all."
"No, those are our allies. Talk to them nicely."
One group looked utterly black-hearted, full of ulterior motives.
They gave off a sleazy vibe that was impossible to ignore.
"Grab those guys first."
I grabbed one holy knight who was about to charge.
"Uncle, you stay here."
"...Pardon?"
This guy had terribly bad luck.
If I had to put a name to it, maybe the three calamities.
And they were at the tail end, so he had to be extra careful with everything.
"You'll get hurt if you go."
In one's final years, even falling leaves can be dangerous.
He looked like he was carrying every kind of disaster with him.
That must be why he'd gotten tangled up in something like this.
"Anyway..."
The problem was the divine power.
I thought the scattered divine power had dissipated, but it hadn't.
"..."
Strands of divine power floated aimlessly in the sky.
Aluerad and the other priests didn't seem to sense it...
But the flow was crystal clear to me.
"It doesn't feel like the divine power is coming down..."
More like an intent dwelling within the divine power...
It felt less like it was trying to speak and more like it was pointing somewhere.
The form was still vague, though.
Probably because there wasn't enough of it.
The temple kept sending up more divine power to fill the sky without end.
"This is kinda weird..."
It wasn't something to brush off lightly.
Mess this up, and it could turn into a big problem.
I lifted my rattle while gazing at the temple entrance where the battle was raging.
Ting-a-ling—
My body swayed slightly, and my vision blurred.
"The aftermath scares me..."
The intent gradually became readable.
After focusing intently time and again, I confirmed its true nature and gaped in shock.
"So this is what 'granting the oracle' meant...?"
It was a solemn scene.
Everyone had their hands clasped in prayer, divine power rising from their entire bodies.
All of it flowed toward the sacred relic on the altar.
The sword used by saints and saintesses through the generations.
The symbol bestowed by the god.
The sacred relic.
'In the end, the oracle...'
The Pope clenched his fists tightly.
This was a moment where stray thoughts must not intrude.
But he couldn't help feeling regretful.
If no oracle came, the tragedy that would unfold was all too predictable.
'Please, may they not cross the line...'
Berte, now openly revealing his true intentions.
Berte's gaze prickled the back of his head.
The Pope and everyone here already knew.
No oracle would come.
Time had passed with no change.
As the Pope tried to refocus on prayer.
Berte's voice shattered the concentration.
"Ah...! O God...! Why do You turn away from our voices...!"
He flinched.
"Is it because our hearts are lacking... or perhaps..."
Berte took a breath and continued.
With a face full of genuine sorrow.
"Is it because we have mingled with heretics...?"
"Insolent fool! How dare you speak at a time like this!"
Klein's fury erupted like fire.
It was utterly intolerable.
"I too cannot contain my grief."
What a loathsome expression.
Any unknowing onlooker would praise him as a true cleric.
"The absence of an oracle means..."
Berte's eyes reddened.
"There must be reason for the Lord to turn from us...?"
"Silence that mouth at once."
"For instance... the impure object held by Sir Hans, disciple of Sir Klein."
At Berte's words, Klein and Hans froze.
The Pope, staring at the holy sword, was no exception.
Learning of a tightly guarded secret was a shock to all three.
"We know of the innocent soul imprisoned in that jar."
"..."
"With a priest committing such acts, how could an oracle descend?"
Berte's eyes blatantly swept over the Pope's back.
"Those who overlook it are no different."
Murmurs spread instead of resounding prayers.
From those aligned with Berte, taking the Pope as the divide.
"..."
Klein knew.
No matter what he said now, their stance wouldn't change.
It felt like a calculated scheme.
'So this was their preparation.'
Who would have thought the soul purifier he'd brought would backfire like this.
What a tricky situation.
The mood was shifting toward Berte.
"In these times when necromancers stir, we cannot overlook this easily."
"Indeed."
"Detaining an innocent soul?"
"Isn't that the work of necromancers?"
Berte pleaded toward the Pope.
"Your Holiness, there is a matter that must be resolved before receiving the oracle."
Without giving anyone else a chance to interject, Berte pressed on.
"I believe it is essential for the oracle. Please grant me leave to speak."
"..."
The Pope slowly turned to face Berte.
Disrupting this sacred rite warranted severe punishment.
But that could come later.
The Pope had no desire to stir discord here.
"Speak."
Berte raised his bowed head and gestured.
A priest rushed forward.
His wrinkled face opened in speech.
"Not long ago, we acquired an item presumed to be from the necromancers."
Klein and Hans's faces hardened at the sight of the item the priest presented.
A transparent liquor bottle.
Filled with seeds.
The tightly wound string around it and the paper tucked between were all too familiar.
Klein glanced at Hans.
"...It's not Sir Chris's. It's in my possession."
A quiet whisper.
Klein nodded faintly and murmured back.
"Don't take it out. Stay still."
The situation was obvious.
They had brought a fake imitation of that item.
The priest continued.
"Inside this artifact, created by wicked black magic..."
"..."
"A soul is sealed."
Gasps erupted from various spots.
Predictably, from those in Berte's camp.
"A spell to corrupt souls into monsters."
"Heavens..."
Suddenly, the priest yanked open the bottle's lid.
"What do you think you're—"
A murky energy poured from the opened bottle.
Soon, it shattered with a loud crash.
Shatter—
The bottle exploded from the priest's hand.
A chilling scream echoed from within.
"...Ba...Banshee...!"
The revealed banshee trembled.
Unable to endure fully in this place brimming with divine power.
The priest reached out but hesitated, then spoke.
"Rest assured. Monsters cannot wield power here."
"...How dare you commit such rudeness during an oracle rite!"
Klein's stern command fell, but the priest remained composed.
"This is the essence of the spell: imprisoning souls in jars to slowly transform them into monsters."
Hearing that, Hans could no longer hold back.
The jar had merely been a temporary sanctuary to purify the soul.
As he opened his mouth to shout, Klein stopped him.
"Stay calm."
"But Master...!"
"Perfect timing. I have business with Priest Hans anyway."
The priest pointed at Hans with a smug face.
"When we learned the truth of this black magic, we were shocked."
He flinched.
"Because we had seen Priest Hans carrying an identical jar."
Outcries exploded immediately.
"Is that true?"
"Sir Klein, you must prove otherwise."
"A priest carrying such an item!"
The silent priests looked at Klein with frustration.
Why wasn't he responding?
The Pope maintained the same silence.
The reason they held their tongues was simple.
This was that kind of place.
Only prayers should resound here.
Klein spoke lowly.
"I report to Your Holiness."
The Pope and Klein's eyes met.
The time had come to end this ridiculous play.
Framing the saintess's chosen as a necromancer.
Klein clenched his fists and stepped forward.
"Using this opportunity, I shall execute all the traitors..."
Boom—
Before he finished, the door burst open with a violent crash.
All eyes naturally turned there.
"I smelled some stray ghost earlier... turns out a virgin ghost had slipped in."
The banshee shuddered in fear.
His intense gaze swept over the crowd.
"And there's plenty of divine power from these fools."
Ting-a-ling—
"This should be more than enough for the welcoming ceremony of the soon-to-be-born saintess."