Chapter 107 Heretic (1)
Heretics (1)
A darkness so thick you couldn't see an inch ahead. Only a few flickering torches barely illuminated the surroundings.
At the center of the room stood a massive round table. Around it sat seven individuals, each occupying their own chair.
Some wore robes draped so completely over their faces that even their genders remained indistinguishable.
Those gathered at the table showed no particular reaction, as if this were already familiar.
They simply sat in silence, watching a lone woman at the round table.
A woman in white priestly robes that starkly contrasted with the black-robed figures surrounding her.
A black mask covering her face.
The mask's grotesquely twisted eye corners and mouth edges evoked instinctive revulsion just from looking at it. Combined with the fully draped robe, the unsettling effect seemed to double.
After prolonged silence, one of them raised a hand.
One of those completely shrouded in robes.
"Hey, how long are we going to sit here without talking?"
A woman's voice shattered the silence.
Instantly, as if by some secret agreement, all eyes at the round table focused on the speaker. Under this concentrated gaze, her fingertips trembled slightly.
"W-what? Why's everyone staring?"
Flustered by the sudden attention, she laughed awkwardly.
At that moment, the masked woman pointed at her. Crimson flames erupted midair and engulfed her completely.
Without even a moment's hesitation, the flames consumed her so swiftly she had no time to scream before turning to ash.
Despite the sudden violence, none of the remaining six screamed. They simply observed the now-empty chair piled with ashes as though witnessing an everyday occurrence.
The woman clicked her tongue before speaking.
"Absolute Rule of these meetings: No one speaks until I open my mouth."
She pronounced this like a judge sentencing a criminal, despite her intended audience having just been reduced to ashes.
A man watching this scene giggled and poked at the ashen remains on the chair. The vulgar gesture made the girl beside him wrinkle her nose in distaste.
"No wonder she acted like she'd been replaced—turns out she was a spy~"
"Shut your filthy mouth before I make you?"
The girl clicked her tongue at the man's words. He smirked but obediently closed his mouth, as if long accustomed to heeding her commands.
"How's the plan progressing?" asked the apparent leader.
The man bobbed his head in response, his manner irreverent though she seemed unconcerned by such things. "Nearly done. Only one scapegoat remains."
"The real problem is that Saintess," a deep male voice interjected from the side. "Who'd have thought that immature girl would actually be the real thing?"
The man nodded in agreement. "Right? Making an Imperial their Saintess—one wonders if the Goddess has lost her mind."
Veins bulged on the speaker's forehead. Their eyes met—the man's gaze locking with the other's narrowed glare.
Shiiiing!
In an instant, the giant man drew his blade, pressing it against the other's throat. Yet the others at the table showed no surprise, as if this spectacle were routine.
The man grinned, glancing sidelong at his assailant.
He'd provoked intentionally, but this reaction exceeded expectations.
"Choose your words carefully."
"Playing devout at this stage? Save the hypocrisy."
"This blade will prove whether it's hypocrisy or not."
"Should I believe that promise this time?"
The sword bit into his neck, a single drop of blood falling. Yet the man didn't retreat an inch, instead smirking at the threat.
As he endlessly needled with verbal jabs, the swordsman's face twisted in rage. The man remained utterly unshaken, seemingly unconcerned for his own life as he prepared another retort.
Just as the blade prepared to bite deeper, the woman's calm voice rang out.
"That's enough."
The swordsman looked at her, then quietly sheathed his weapon. The man laughed hoarsely, casually wiping the blood from his neck—the wound already healed, no longer bleeding.
"Surprised my head's still attached? Unexpected, isn't it?"
"Psycho bastard."
He just grinned wider at the girl's insult. The others also remained silent, as if this were all part of their normal routine.
Simply watching those gathered around the round table.
"Back to business. The Saintess has accepted the Sanctuary Trial."
"Oh, that thing with no set end? Isn't that perfect?" The man beamed at the mention of the trial, but the woman shook her head, making his expression turn quizzical.
"And the Sanctuary Trial just ended."
"...Did it?"
At his question, the girl stared at him as if he were absurd.
"Didn't you see the pillar of light on your way here?"
"I did."
"...Well, I suppose an outsider wouldn't know."
Muttering under her breath, she clicked her tongue. The man merely shrugged in response.
"That pillar of light is proof that the Sanctuary Trial has ended."
"...Ah. I see."
What a shame, the man thought, crossing his arms. The woman, who had been watching him, adjusted her slightly askew mask before speaking again.
"We don't know whether she passed the trial or not."
If she did pass... She clicked her tongue again. Even with her face hidden behind the mask, her displeasure was palpable.
The man chuckled at her reaction.
"Right. If the officially recognized Saintess gets her way, she'll wield all the justification she wants."
"The Prophecy of Destruction—just when we finally had our chance, this happens."
The girl tapped the table with her fingers as she spoke. The man shrugged once more and asked,
"Then isn't killing her an option?"
"...Are you actually insane?"
She narrowed her eyes at him in contempt. Unfazed, the man simply shrugged again.
Clicking her tongue as if questioning whether he was truly this clueless, she continued.
"The Iron Blood Duke of the Empire. Abel Hardenberg."
"That is his name, yes."
"He's strong. Strong enough that I'd struggle to face him alone."
The massive man, who had been sitting silently until now, finally spoke. The man stiffened slightly. Though he disliked his usual tone, he knew better than anyone just how powerful he was.
After all, this was the man who bore the codename Arrogance—someone who refused to yield to anyone.
And yet, here he was, openly admitting his own inferiority.
"Hah. That strong, huh?"
"Exactly. The Iron Blood Duke is likely the most dangerous variable."
The masked woman nodded in agreement.
It wasn't just his strength that made him a threat. The so-called Iron Blood Duke wasn't just a powerhouse—he was also ruthlessly meticulous.
He had completely concealed the fact that he was the Archmage until the Hunting Festival. His patience was one thing, but his ability to control information was on another level entirely.
Even though this wasn't his territory but the Holy Kingdom, underestimating his capabilities would be a fatal mistake.
"...Then we'll have to proceed the usual way."
"Right. We'll spread the word that the Pope has lost his Holy Mark."
"Even though we failed once before."
The man grinned as he looked at the masked woman. She clicked her tongue and leaned back in her chair. Watching her, he spoke again.
"So, why did you fail?"
With your abilities, failure is unusual.
The woman rested her chin on her hand before answering quietly.
"The spirit broke free from my control for a moment."
"Ah, that Sally girl, was it?"
"Yes. I was certain the brainwashing had taken hold."
The man stroked his chin, lost in thought.
"Come to think of it, isn't that Saintess a Spiritualist?"
"I suspect that's the cause."
"Honestly, she's nothing but trouble from start to finish."
His face twisted in displeasure. The girl glanced at him and could easily guess what was going through his mind.
That expression means he's considering something extreme again.
She exhaled sharply before speaking.
"Don't even think about assassinating her."
"Ahaha, caught me?"
"Assassinating an Archmage? Are you out of your mind?"
"With my abilities—"
The girl's expression twisted violently. The man froze mid-sentence and shut his mouth.
He knew all too well what would happen if he provoked her when she looked like that.
Despite her usually calm demeanor, the girl who bore the codename Wrath wielded power just as dangerous as her title suggested.
Besides, the only reason she was angry was because she was worried about him. Feeling awkward, the man didn't press further.
Satisfied, the girl gave a slight nod before speaking again.
"Don't forget—your life belongs to me."
"I'll remember."
He nodded obediently. The girl, pleased with his unusually serious response, turned away.
With that, silence fell over the conference hall once more. The torches, which had been burning fiercely, now flickered weakly.
"Anyone willing to deal with the Pope?"
"I'll handle it."
The massive man rose to his feet. The woman hesitated before asking,
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Isn't it obvious?"
She furrowed her brow and pressed further.
"He was once your comrade."
"Now, he's my enemy."
No further questions came after that.
She knew his personality well enough to understand that pressing further was pointless.
All that was left was to wait quietly for the outcome.