Part 2, Chapter 21
Part 2, Chapter 21
Translation: godsn
Medeia's emerald eyes darted between Rachel and the bleeding Goddess Statue.
Hidden inside the statue's eyes were round wax balls mixed with red dye.
'Adding honey to wax slows its melting rate.'
By calculating how long the mixed wax would take to melt at room temperature, she'd timed it so the liquid would flow out just as all participants had entered—making it appear as though the Goddess Statue was shedding bloody tears.
All so today's attendees would spread word across the continent that the goddess did not recognize Rachel as the Saintess.
But then Rachel had stepped forward earlier than expected, claiming she wanted to help Claudio, creating an even more dramatic moment than Medeia had planned.
Using such underhanded methods to corner the Saintess might incur divine wrath. Yet Medeia felt no fear.
Her resolve to descend into hell had been made long ago.
Rachel could endure no more.
Just as she'd tried to push Claudio like gunpowder into Valdina's midst, they'd detonated an outright bomb instead.
'That bitch is turning the priests against me right now!'
After all her suffering to regain the temple's trust!
Images flashed before her eyes—countless sacrifices offered to dark mages while enduring their abuse, all to demonstrate absolute Holy Power.
"I'll prove it!"
'She must have tampered with that statue. If I expose the trickery, everything will be fine.'
Rachel strode decisively toward the Goddess Statue.
The moment her hand reached out—
Crack.
The circular mirror positioned behind the Goddess Statue shattered.
Without cause. Of its own accord. As if refusing to let Rachel's hand touch it.
'Rachel, I knew you'd try to expose the trickery with your own hands once caught in my trap.'
That's why Medeia had placed thin wooden panels beneath the mirror's base with delicate supports.
The instant Rachel stood directly before the statue, vibrations would make the mirror shatter.
"W-what...?"
Rachel's bewildered face fractured across the broken mirror shards.
"Ah! The mirror broke when the Saintess approached!"
"It happened when she reached for the Goddess Statue. The goddess remains wrathful."
"Good heavens, what is happening?"
Rather than exposing any trickery, these successive miracles only lent greater credibility to Medeia's claim that Rachel had incurred divine displeasure.
Rachel's face twisted. She had to stop the wildfire of suspicion spreading through the assembly.
"...Someone broke it deliberately. To trap me—to trap the Holy Kingdom—"
"A trap? The Saintess should mind her words. Are you implying Valdina tampered with the Goddess Statue to ruin this unprecedented celebration?"
A Valdinan noble sharply countered.
After Rachel had slandered their princess months prior, her crying "trap" now seemed brazen.
"...Please compose yourself, Saintess. We will protect you and uncover the truth."
The Holy Knights commander interrupted to calm her while swallowing silent dismay at her clumsy, overt mention of "traps" during an official ceremony.
Debate erupted over whether these successive miracles represented divine will or human trickery.
When High Priest Paolo joined the fray under the pretense of defending the Saintess, the banquet hall quickly descended into chaos.
And in a place untouched by the crowd's commotion—a man who'd been observing everything slowly rose.
The small pebble he'd been idly rolling between his large fingers clinked silently into a window planter.
"Everyone! Don't fall for these cunning schemes targeting our Saintess! These underhanded attempts to diminish the Representative's power out of fear—urk!"
Paolo's rant ended abruptly as he staggered.
Something hard had violently struck his calf.
"High Priest! Are you alright?"
Paolo collapsed to his knees in confusion, failing to notice someone passing by with graceful steps.
"S-something just hit..."
As Paolo groped the floor—whoosh! A sharp tearing sound struck his ears.
Those who turned toward the noise gasped in horror.
"The—the Goddess Statue...!"
The problematic Goddess Statue that had been shedding bloody tears during today's proclamation ceremony lay shattered. Utterly destroyed beyond recognition, reduced to countless fragments.
White marble shards scattered across the ground as plumes of stone dust billowed upward.
And through that distant haze, a man emerged.
Making no attempt to conceal his act, he stood with a sword in one hand.
"My sword...!"
A Holy Knight near Paolo exhaled sharply. The knight's face turned ashen as he stared at his empty scabbard and the blade now in the stranger's grasp. He hadn't even sensed the moment the man had drawn his weapon.
"How dare you destroy the sacred Goddess Statue! You vile heretic! What madness is this?!"
High Priest Paolo roared at the man.
The Goddess Statue symbolized divine presence.
It was tangible proof of their connection to the Goddess, a sacred symbol of faith worshipped by believers across all nations.
In essence, it represented the Goddess herself.
'And he smashed it outright?!'
In Paolo's sixty years of life, he'd never encountered such brazen sacrilege.
"Filthy heretic scum! Have you no fear of Divine Punishment? The pyre shall make you repent!"
Paolo raged like a madman.
Yet the Holy Knights and Agema warriors stood rigid with instinctive tension.
None had detected the man's presence until he'd already reached the statue.
Then the motionless figure finally stirred. With each step, his dark silk cape billowed like a shadow of malevolence. The chandelier's light traced every ripple of steel-corded muscle across his back.
From his slender waist down to his sculpted thighs, explosive energy coiled like a beast poised to strike. His slow, relentless stride—predatory and elegant—left the hall breathless.
Though empty-handed, the threatening aura radiating from him stretched the very air taut.
Standing before the shattered statue, the man fixed his gaze on Rachel.
The way he looked at her suggested the Saintess might be his next target after destroying the Goddess's likeness.
Rachel found herself frozen without realizing it.
"Protect the Saintess!"
The Holy Knights swiftly encircled Rachel, blades drawn in unison toward the intruder.
"Drawing swords at a banquet—what barbarity!"
Dianzel scowled at the knights burning with combat readiness as if assassins had appeared.
'Are these fools determined to ruin Princess Valdina's banquet?!'
Regardless of the stranger's presence, if those fanatical knights started swinging blades blindly in the name of protection, who would bear responsibility?
Yet the man seemed utterly indifferent to the knights' piercing hostility, casually turning his head.
After sweeping his gaze across Paolo, Rachel, and the knights, his lips curled in a smirk.
"If all who bear the Goddess's name prove this dull-witted, the Holy Kingdom's former glory shall remain forever distant."
His rich, mocking voice pressed directly upon the Holy Kingdom's most sensitive reverse scale.
This toward the nation whose influence still stretched across the entire continent.
Former glory.
Referring to the golden age when the entire continent lay within the Old Religion's grasp.
The man remained unfazed as the Holy Kingdom's representatives bristled like provoked beasts.
"You bas—!"
"High Priest."
The man cleanly severed Paolo's roar.
"This is what scheming looks like. Breaking. Shattering—"
His black boot crushed a statue fragment underfoot.
"—only through destruction do foolish humans find satisfaction."
Crunch.
The delicate sound of pulverized marble beneath his heel raised everyone's hackles.
"Tearful messages meant for someone who'll never die or break—surely you know such sentimentality better suits your tender-hearted Goddess?"
His outstretched finger pointed skyward as he delivered this brazen insult to the elderly High Priest with shocking naturalness.
As if born to rule with all beneath his feet.
Through the crowd's stunned silence, only the man's golden eyes burned bright.
His gaze flickered briefly over the shattered remains of the statue.
A barely perceptible smile touched his lips as he observed the piled fragments and the ground beneath.
Then the Holy Knight Commander, who'd been tense alongside his men, suddenly stiffened. He'd belatedly recognized the man's face.
"The First Prince?"
The voice of the Holy Knight Commander, who had belatedly recognized the man's face, trembled with disbelief.
The man—no, the prince—merely tilted his head slightly, as if mildly amused by the delayed realization. His golden eyes gleamed with an unsettling light, reflecting neither warmth nor mercy.
The shattered remnants of the goddess statue lay scattered at his feet, the delicate sound of their crumbling still lingering in the air like an afterthought.
Who would shed tears over something as insignificant as a message that neither dies nor breaks? His unspoken mockery hung heavy in the silence. Such sentimentality suits only the tender-hearted.
With an effortless arrogance, he pointed a single outstretched finger toward the heavens, his tone dripping with disdain as he addressed the elderly High Priest. The ease with which he spoke down to the revered figure was startling—unnervingly natural, as though he had been born to rule with all beneath his feet.
Among the horrified onlookers, only his golden eyes burned vividly, cutting through the chaos.
His gaze flickered briefly toward the ruined pedestal where the goddess once stood. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took in the piled fragments and the floor beneath. Almost as if he knew something they didn't.
Then—
The Holy Knight Commander stiffened, his grip tightening on his weapon. The others around him remained frozen, caught between shock and the dawning realization of who stood before them.
The First Prince.
The once-unrivaled powerhouse of the imperial succession.
Now a man whose very presence seemed to drain the warmth from the air—a prince whose body was said to be rotting from within.
And yet, even in decay, his authority remained absolute.