Chapter 100 Saintess (4)
The Saintess (4)
The Holy Kingdom arc.
This is the story arc that appears in the mid-to-late stages of The Villainess Turns Back Time Today—a part so crucial it would be no exaggeration to call it the most important.
It's the moment when the long-dangling plot thread of the "Saintess" tied to Adel finally unravels, and also the arc where one devastating development after another comes crashing down.
With the cast of characters expanding, the narrative twists into greater complexity.
Above all, this Holy Kingdom arc is where the truth of this world is revealed.
'I've prepared everything.'
How much had I readied for this moment? So far, everything had flowed according to the plan I'd laid out.
From Byzantine's appearance to Adel's inauguration as the Saintess.
In the original work, Adel was granted only the title of Saintess by the Goddess—not the Holy Mark.
At that time, she had committed sins so heinous that she could hardly be called a Saintess. Though time had rewound, erasing those crimes as if they'd never happened.
The Goddess possesses the ability to see vanished timelines.
Thus, She could still witness the sins and evils Adel had committed, and so She withheld the Holy Mark.
That fact became the catalyst for the devastating turns in the Holy Kingdom arc.
'But not anymore.'
Unlike in the original work, Adel had fought tooth and nail to preserve her humanity.
Of course, that was only possible because I had acted as her bulwark. I'd intercepted countless trials from the original story before they could reach her.
Even so, the fact that she had made it this far—without committing sins, without being worn down—was entirely due to Adel's own willpower.
No matter how much I tried, I couldn't shield her from all the suffering she endured through her endless regressions.
"Haaah..."
I exhaled deeply and lifted my head.
Then, I gazed at the distant walls towering before me. A fortress wall so tall it could dwarf most modern skyscrapers, its blindingly white surface almost painful to look at.
Countless ancient runes carved into its surface intertwined, radiating Holy Power.
The only reason this tiny nation had survived for so long was thanks to those walls.
And now, very little time remained before they crumbled.
'Protecting the walls is impossible.'
Thinking I could defend them against the boss of the Holy Kingdom arc would be sheer arrogance.
Just protecting the people would be hard enough—let alone those walls.
Against that Dragon, it's an impossibility.
"Tch."
This overwhelming sense of helplessness was something I couldn't do anything about. No matter how much I knew about future developments and settings, there were limits to what I could interfere with.
'Sally, was it?'
In the original work, a spirit named Sally had never appeared—not even once.
But because Adel had contracted with Silpi—unlike in the original—a spirit named Sally had emerged.
And who would've guessed that spirit would turn out to be Silpi's friend, the Spirit of Injustice, appearing as an enemy?
"The butterfly effect, huh..."
I'd expected it, but now I could feel the future of this world diverging—tangible, undeniable.
After all, the original work never had an assassin suddenly appear and attack the Pope.
"The butterfly effect, you say? Quite an intriguing term."
A voice spoke up from behind me. I turned my head to see the Pope stroking his beard as he approached.
Leaning on his staff, he made his way toward me, and I let out a dry chuckle.
"Eavesdropping isn't a hobby befitting Your Holiness the Pope."
"Hohoho, but muttering to oneself in public is hardly becoming of you either."
"Since when was the Sanctuary a public space?"
The Sanctuary.
A hidden space buried in the deepest reaches of the Holy State of Numen.
By principle, no one except those of the highest standing—like the Saintess or the Pope—should be able to enter.
I, of course, had used my knowledge of the original work to gain entry fair and square.
Though, in the past, the Pope had once taught me how to enter the Sanctuary.
"If a mere passing noble can waltz in as he pleases, doesn't that make it a public space?"
"Haha, now that's a funny joke."
His words were so absurd I couldn't help but laugh.
"Wasn't it you who taught me how to enter the Sanctuary in the first place?"
At my retort, he smirked and tapped his staff lightly before speaking again.
"True. If you've come all the way here, you must have something to say."
The Pope settled onto a tree stump beside a limestone pillar. He struggled to steady his trembling legs as he sat.
All around us, plants and flowers stretched toward where we stood.
Thorn vines coiled halfway up the broken limestone pillar, reaching toward me rather than the sun. Sunflowers—no, not the sun, but me—twisting their heads in my direction, and countless others...
The Pope's sharp gaze pierced through the foliage toward me.
"Only the Goddess can eavesdrop here."
"Yes. That's correct."
The Sanctuary was a space where no one—not even the Archmage, nor the Emperor himself—could interfere.
Crackle.
Every time I tried to weave magic, the spell circles scattered instantly. A clear sign that the owner of this place wasn't exactly welcoming me.
I should consider it a blessing just to still be alive. Though, realistically, the Goddess wouldn't have touched me to begin with.
"Did you notice the assassin's intent?"
"Yes. He wasn't an ordinary one, that's for certain. Though, he wasn't after my life."
He sighed as he answered.
Displeasure was etched across the Pope's face. He grimaced before continuing.
"He was targeting my arm—specifically, with flames."
Hmph. The Pope snorted, rolling up his sleeve. Only the scarred remnants of the Holy Mark remained on his arm.
The assassin must have intended to burn away the sleeve and expose that mark.
Clicking his tongue, the Pope tapped the ground repeatedly with his staff.
"Cunning bastard. He wanted to stir up internal strife."
At present, the Pope was the only one who could wield the Holy Kingdom's authority in full.
The Saintess Candidate was still too young to officially ascend to the position, and the Guardian concerned himself solely with his duties, showing no interest in politics.
And then there were the high-ranking Priests, long harboring discontent.
If they learned the Pope had lost his Holy Mark—
It didn't take a genius to predict the civil war that would erupt within the Holy Kingdom. Especially with the specter of ruin looming ahead.
Public sentiment was already unstable as it was.
Had the assassin succeeded in exposing the truth, it wouldn't have stopped at mere unrest.
"So, the bastard knew I'd lost the Holy Mark."
Muttering to himself, the Pope's eyes flashed. He then pulled his sleeve back down.
Leaning on his staff, he slowly rose to his feet.
"Very few know of this. Even that Saintess Candidate girl remains unaware."
"You mean Yurp?"
"Indeed. Which means whoever knew must be..."
Someone deeply embedded within the Holy Kingdom. And among them, it had to be one the Pope trusted—a traitor.
The thought must have stung, as he exhaled heavily.
"Meaning, it's someone from my inner circle."
Grind.
Gritting his teeth, the Pope stepped closer to me.
The rhythmic tap, tap of his staff accompanied him as he stopped beside me and asked again:
"Duke Hardenberg. You know who it is, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Will you tell me?"
I closed my eyes, briefly deliberating.
Would he trust me if I spoke now? We were once comrades on the battlefield, but that was long past.
Meanwhile, the relationship between the Pope and the mastermind behind this...
Well, would he believe me if I told him outright?
"I can give you a hint."
"...What is it?"
"The Heretic Inquisitors."
The Heretic Inquisitors.
The faction that handled all the Holy Kingdom's dirty work—a militant group dedicated to hunting and "reeducating" those who worshipped heresy.
Lower-ranking Priests remained oblivious to their existence. But among the high-ranking clergy? Everyone knew.
How could they not?
The Pope had only secured his authority because of them.
Of course, the Holy Mark bestowed by the Goddess and his formidable Holy Power had also played a role in his rise...
But without the Inquisitors, even that would have been unstable.
Though, their effectiveness was also a testament to the Pope's own skill.
"...Them, is it?"
"Do you find it hard to believe?"
"...No. On the contrary, it's a credible lead."
Muttering, the Pope fell into thought. After a long silence, he tapped the ground again with his staff.
When he reopened his eyes, they fixed on me.
"Thank you for the advice, Duke Hardenberg."
"Think nothing of it."
With that, he leaned on his staff and walked out of the Sanctuary. I watched his retreating figure until it vanished.
Once the Pope was gone, I turned my gaze back toward the distance.
The pristine white walls came into view once more.
The walls that had repelled invaders for a thousand years, sustaining the Goddess' rule.
Why did those towering fortifications seem so fragile now?