Chapter 92: Artificial (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 92: Artificial (3)
There are a total of eight cardinals in Rosario.
Divided into three factions, these individuals lead Rosario on behalf of the Pope, who rarely leaves the confession room at the top of the temple unless for a matter of grave importance.
One was the Pure Blood faction led by Cardinal Mirania.
Another was the Political faction led by Cardinal Gumanian.
And finally, there was the faction led by Cardinal Yutia. The aforementioned Pure Blood and Political factions harbored a deep-seated dislike for Yutia.
Backed by the support of countless believers, Yutia Bloodia had devoured the surrounding influences in an instant. Despite having only two cardinals on her side, she had built a remarkably powerful faction.
And that wasn't all.
While Yutia’s faction was technically the smallest in scale among the cardinals, the others could not afford to look down on her.
This was because, strangely enough, she held leverage over each of them—weaknesses that should have been impossible to uncover.
While these secrets weren't enough to strip them of their positions entirely, they were significant enough to severely weaken their power.
Consequently, the other factions within Sironia despised Yutia.
Because of this, the two other factions had recently joined forces to secretly plot her ousting.
At least, that had been the plan until yesterday.
Unfortunately, their scheme vanished like smoke during today’s title conferral ceremony.
The reason was simple.
‘The Saint?!’
‘Why is the Saint suddenly…!?’
It was because the Saint was standing right beside Yutia as she entered the inner sanctum of the temple where the ceremony was being held.
The cardinals present—excluding the four who were absent due to external duties—all wore expressions of pure shock.
Appearing together in such a public setting, regardless of the context, was practically a declaration of an alliance between the two.
Even if this wasn't an official Rosario event but a mere title conferral ceremony, the impact remained the same.
Above all, the cardinals gathered here knew one thing for certain.
There was absolutely no connection between the Saint and Count Palatio.
Typically, the task of escorting the noble receiving a title is handled by priests who have some prior acquaintance with them.
However, the moment the Saint appeared to escort Count Palatio—a man he had no known ties to—the cardinals were forced to conclude that the Saint had officially sided with Yutia.
‘…If the Saint has joined her, we can’t proceed with the plan.’
‘How on earth did she get the Saint to participate?’
‘Sigh—this is going to be a headache.’
As silent groans rippled through the crowd, Alon, who was walking in for the ceremony, was also having his own internal crisis.
‘…No, seriously, what is this? Should I, like, ask him?’
He glanced at Yuman walking beside him, then shifted his gaze to Yutia.
“…?”
Naturally, her expression was just as bewildered as his own.
Alon couldn't help but feel even more confused.
* * *
“—This concludes the ceremony.”
The tedious ceremony finally came to an end.
“Congratulations, Count Palatio—no, I suppose I should call you Marquis now.”
“Thank you.”
Alon nodded slightly as he shook the hand of the benevolently smiling Anderde, thinking to himself:
‘That was ridiculously long.’
Of course, Alon had expected it to take a while after hearing Sergius’s stories, but he hadn't imagined it would drag on for four hours. He mentally shook his head.
“Well then, let us meet again when time permits.”
With a slight bow from Anderde, the people gathered in the temple began to depart one by one.
Watching them leave, Alon turned as he heard voices of congratulations from his side.
“Congratulations, Teacher. You’re a Marquis now.”
“Indeed. I’ll have to be careful not to call you Count anymore.”
Alon nodded at Yutia and Evan.
“Right. Thanks for the congratulations.”
“Now that your business is finished, what do you plan to do?”
His next schedule.
After a moment of thought, Alon replied.
“My business is done, so I should head back.”
To his cozy, comfortable home where he could roast sweet potatoes.
“Is that so? You aren't staying to enjoy the Birth Festival?”
“…Birth Festival?”
“Yes, today is the Birth Festival of Lady Sironia.”
Alon’s expression went blank for a moment at Yutia’s words.
“Today… was the Birth Festival?”
“Yes.”
“It didn't seem like any preparations were being made, though.”
As Alon recalled the scenery around the temple over the last two days, Yutia explained.
“That’s because the festival preparations only begin in earnest after the Pope announces the start of the Birth Festival on the night of the full moon.”
She added that since the Pope was busy with prayers in the Holy Land, Chief Cardinal Anderde would likely handle the opening. Alon nodded, deep in thought.
‘The Birth Festival….’
The Birth Festival of Sironia.
It was an event that occurred when visiting Rosario in Psychedelia. It was only available in the early stages of the game, and unfortunately, he had rarely attended it.
It had always been more efficient in terms of levels and experience to raid labyrinths across the continent or grind in Lartania.
However, just because he hadn't attended didn't mean he didn't know about the items that could only be obtained during the festival event.
‘…Since I’m already here, should I try to get one?’
With that thought, Alon spoke.
“Well, in that case, I’ll stay for a day or two and enjoy the festival.”
“Oh, really, Count—I mean, Marquis?”
“Yeah.”
Evan and Yutia nodded, looking very pleased with Alon’s decision.
‘Well, investing a day or two isn't a bad trade if I can get the item.’
Just as Alon reached that conclusion…
“Marquis Palatio.”
A somewhat familiar voice called out from behind. Alon turned to see Yuman standing there.
“Saint.”
“Congratulations.”
Alon replied with a slightly flustered expression at the immediate congratulations.
“…? Ah, yes, thank you.”
Unlike the last time when he had warned Alon to be careful of Yutia, Yuman’s voice was now filled with genuine kindness.
…He was impossible to read.
Whether he noticed Alon’s confusion or not, Yuman wore a satisfied smile as his gaze shifted toward Yutia.
“…”
“…”
Their expressions did not hide their mutual hostility.
After locking eyes with her for a moment, Yuman spoke again.
“Then, I shall take my leave. Ah, and also… I hope you will give serious thought to what I told you.”
With an intense, burning gaze—as if he were offering profound advice—he quickly departed.
Alon stared blankly at the retreating figure of Yuman.
“Marquis.”
“What is it?”
“…I know it’s incredibly irreverent of me to say this about the Saint, but… don’t you think he has… a bit of that?”
“…A bit of what?”
“You know… bipolar disorder.”
Alon remained silent for a moment, considering Evan’s reasonable suspicion. He recalled how Yuman’s mood shifted from anger to seriousness to smiling every time he saw Alon’s face.
Eventually, he gave a slow nod.
“Perhaps…”
It was a cold, objective assessment.
However, Yuman, who had no idea he was being evaluated this way, was fueling his own passion and resolve.
‘I must save the Hidden Saint from Cardinal Yutia’s evil clutches.’
* * *
That night.
“Wow, it’s truly a spectacular sight.”
“It is.”
At Evan’s voice full of admiration, Alon also marveled inwardly at the view from their room, though his face remained expressionless.
‘It’s even more beautiful than in the game.’
A blue moon hung in the sky.
On the ground, the area surrounding the massive temple was illuminated not by red torches, but by blue ones.
In the center of the great temple, a staggering number of priests had gathered, offering prayers in unison as they waited for the festival to begin.
The scenery was truly magnificent. As Alon gazed blankly at the temple, Yutia spoke.
“It’s starting.”
Alon shifted his gaze to the podium.
Anderde ascended the stage, and the Birth Festival officially began.
Not long after, Alon watched as Yuman joined him on the podium.
‘…Well, I felt uneasy thinking we had become enemies, but things worked out, so I guess it’s fine.’
He knew that even if he were on bad terms with Yuman, the Saint wouldn't physically or politically harm him unless he was a heretic. Still, Alon’s personality made him want to avoid making enemies.
Above all, according to the original story, Yuman would eventually become one of the companions who protected the world alongside Elivan, the protagonist of Psychedelia.
That meant there was nothing to gain from a poor relationship.
With that heavy burden lifted from his mind, Alon watched the festival with a relaxed heart.
At that moment.
Yuman, standing on the podium to deliver the Birth Festival sermon alongside the Chief Cardinal as per tradition, suddenly felt something.
“…?”
He sensed something strange.
The man standing before him was undoubtedly the Anderde he knew, yet something was subtly different.
If asked to explain what was different, he couldn't put it into words.
Yet, Yuman felt a distinct sense of dissonance from the Anderde before him.
In that instant.
“As expected, the Saint seems to feel it.”
The Chief Cardinal, Anderde, who had been wearing a benevolent smile, spoke.
“Pardon?”
Yuman asked back.
However, Anderde did not answer the question. He simply looked at Yuman and said:
“I truly envy you, Saint.”
His voice uttered a strange sentence, deviating from the planned liturgy.
Naturally, confusion flickered in Yuman’s eyes.
“Because you are blessed simply by existing.”
As those words rang out, the cardinals and bishops sitting in their designated seats on the podium began to look puzzled.
“Not the priest who has prayed for decades, nor the child starving for a day, nor the believer who chooses penance to fulfill God’s will—but you.”
“…”
“I find that unfair.”
And now.
The believers, who had been praying until a moment ago, also realized that this situation was different from the usual ritual. They looked up at the podium with questioning faces.
In that moment, Yuman saw it.
While still maintaining that benevolent smile—
“Therefore, at this gathering to witness a new god, I would like you to die as a ‘symbol’ of that unfairness.”
Cr-crack—!!
Anderde’s arm, which had been perfectly normal just a second ago, swelled as if it were about to burst, transforming into something grotesque.
The massive arm, looking as if hundreds of tree roots had been twisted together, swung out without warning to sweep away the cardinals and Yuman on the podium.
It happened in a flash.
Simultaneously, everything began to move in slow motion in Yuman’s eyes.
He saw the cardinals and bishops on the podium trying to stand up with terrified expressions.
He saw the Paladins belatedly drawing their swords.
The shock on the faces of the countless priests filled his vision slowly.
Normally, from the moment Anderde’s surprise attack succeeded, no one on this podium should have survived.
Divine power takes a long time to manifest.
No matter how deep one’s faith or how high their divine power, everyone had to offer a prayer to God to use it.
That was the natural law.
However, there was one person here who was free from this constraint that no one else could escape.
Saint Yuman.
Having been personally chosen by God to become a Saint, he could use divine power without a specific prayer.
K-k-k-k-ring—!!!
Despite the suddenness of the attack, he was able to instantly manifest divine power to block it.
“Ugh—!”
Yuman instinctively grimaced at the heavy impact, despite pouring a massive amount of divine power into the defense.
However, while the barrier created by Yuman’s immense power blocked Anderde’s initial strike as expected…
“—!”
Anderde’s arm slid along the outer edge of Yuman’s barrier and continued its swing, descending toward the priests gathered below the podium.
“No—!”
Yuman shouted instinctively, trying to expand the size of his barrier.
But despite his efforts, Anderde’s grotesque arm was already falling toward the heads of the young priests who had not yet reached adulthood.
In that moment.
Yuman saw it.
The eyes of the children, trembling with the intuition of terror, looking toward Yuman as they tried to cling to a shred of hope.
But those gazes only brought Yuman a deeper sense of despair. Just as he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut…
“Thunder God Form.”
As a low voice resonated through the air…
He soon discovered something.
An ink-black coat fluttering amidst the children who had been trembling in fear just a moment ago.
“…!”
By the time Yuman realized it, a biting chill had already settled in his lungs.
Next, he saw blue lightning crackling at the hem of the violently fluttering coat.
Finally, he saw that Anderde’s grotesque arm—which had been swinging to crush everyone on the podium—had vanished as if it had exploded.
And then.
As the eyes of everyone, including Yuman, focused on the man—no, on the figure of the Hidden Saint standing with the blue moon at his back…
“What do you think you're doing?”
He spoke.