Changes in the Temple
The sacred orc ground of Bator had fallen victim to an assault by undead—Death Knights straight out of legend—and its holy relic was stolen. In Carun, which had only recently averted the mythic catastrophe of the Kraken's emergence, a demon in the form of a fiend burst forth and seized their relic. Casualties were minimal, but the symbolism was unmistakable.
The demon worshippers were targeting the relics.
"Why go after relics that are basically meaningless symbols now?"
"Because to those bastards, the relics are like poison."
"That's exactly why it's weird! Why bother taking poison?"
"……Is it?"
Whispers began to spread among the masses.
"Find any documents related to the demon worshippers. Figure out why they're doing this."
"Yes, sir."
Alongside the Tower of Sages—the oldest mage order in humanity—all nations began scouring ancient records for answers. And through these rumors, one name rose once more: the Light Knight, Tiny.
He had halted the orc wars. That racial conflict, too, had been a demon worshipper plot. Yet Tiny's name spread even wider now, after successfully thwarting their schemes before, than in the wake of this tangible loss and relic theft. It irked their enemies.
- Number One…… I told you to avoid the Warlord, yet you can't handle even one task properly. Useless fool.
The eerie voice echoing from the head of the round table in the dark chamber spread quietly, silencing even the breaths of the shadowed figures seated around it. This failure was indeed Number One's fault in death, but the monster within—its eyes replaced by flickering blue flames in a helmet—exuded an even greater pressure than in life, from the soul of its leader.
Yet one among them mustered courage.
"Lord Carnibal, but the gains outweigh it, don't they? We secured the relics Cor and Humanitas."
- It should have been far easier.
"……."
- And now their defenses elsewhere will strengthen. Wasn't that predictable?
'That's why I said take only Bator's relic.'
Number Two, who had boldly spoken, sighed inwardly. Touching just one place wouldn't have blown up like this. The world would have dismissed it as another demon worshipper terror attack, cursing them and moving on. But with two relics vanishing almost simultaneously, one of their goals was laid bare.
Biting his lip in frustration—
- You seem dissatisfied with my judgment, Number Two.
"N-no, my lord!"
- Heh heh heh. No? You think things wouldn't have escalated if we'd targeted just one relic.
"I absolutely do not!"
- Fine. Think deeply, but follow orders. I like that attitude.
Was this real praise or a trap? Cold sweat trickled down Number Two's back; one word from the leader could mean life or death.
- As long as he's alive, it's meaningless anyway. We target relics, he blocks us. I don't know how he gets his info, but our goals will be exposed because of him eventually. So grab what we can while we can.
"Wise words, my lord."
His own thoughts didn't matter. Number Two bowed in agreement, and the other shadows silently followed suit. The overwhelming aura filling the chamber slowly receded.
Then the leader spoke again.
- Lie low for a while. When public outrage quiets, we move again. Number Two.
"Yes!"
- Where else do we have operatives? Their influence?
"Brothers in the Tower of Sages and central Selden Kingdom. Enough to mobilize the alliance at least once."
- That's all?
"N-no! The plan we've prepared since ancient times—the chaos in the Lycan Kingdom—will come easily. And Tertius operations are smooth."
- Elsewhere?
Number Two's bold reply halted at the curt question. He cautiously continued.
"……Elvenheim brothers were all rooted out. Orc brothers are just low-level stragglers—effectively none."
- Hah…….
"B-but imperial upper echelons still have brothers! And the 'great noble' who recently requested aid……!"
- What use are worthless remnants?
"N-no! They're just keeping low amid the tension. Many nobles among them. As you said, when things quiet, they can move!!"
As Number Two pressed on, the leader's aura intensified.
'Why am I making excuses? Damn it!'
Espionage oversight was Number One's key duty. Number Two felt wronged, but—
- ……It'll take time to repair the two broken Death Knight frames. I need time to complete myself.
"Pardon?"
- Gather sacrifices. To shorten our recovery. In shadows beyond the rulers' sight, as discreetly as possible.
"As you command."
Thankfully, the leader had no intent to crush him.
- All operatives, lie low. And prepare to rise greater still. The moment the world's eyes scatter from us, we eliminate that Morse scum first. Personally.
The chamber fell silent with the final declaration.
Aside from those directly involved, the temple reacted most acutely to the relic thefts—specifically, its two highest figures.
"The fate of ruin has grown stronger this time. It must be tied to those who sold their souls to demons."
Sentinel III's lament drew a heavy gaze from his sole listener, Cardinal Jansen.
"In contrast, that Light Knight's actions seem aimed at stopping them. Yet dispatching holy knights to Elvenheim was ultimately futile."
"We did receive word he wouldn't visit the temple directly, Your Holiness."
Jansen interjected as the pope's self-reproach continued, but the pontiff pressed on undeterred.
"If it feels like he's avoiding the temple, am I wrong?"
"……No, of course not."
Sentinel III sighed deeply, noting Jansen's averted eyes. Then he gazed sadly at the cardinal.
"I heard an amusing tale recently."
The pope's utterly humorless expression made Jansen's pupils tremble.
"I've heard bits about temple corruption, but this was hard to stomach."
"Pardon?"
"They say the world sees us as some usurious loan shark ringleader. The richest man alive."
"That's absurd, Your Holiness! Who dares such blasphemy!?"
The aged cardinal nearly leaped in fury. But the pope only sighed bitterly.
"No one would come if invited by the world's top usurer. Who knows what we'd do……."
"Y-Your Holiness……."
"I'd rather we had that much money. I could bribe him then."
"……."
"Even if the world ends, temple priests live well—check the temple to find the richest man."
"Th-that's……."
"Commoners must nearly bankrupt themselves for broken bones. So they go to 'doctors' without holy power. Many charlatans; some die from 'treatment.'"
"……It's not your fault, Your Holiness."
Jansen couldn't lift his head.
"In this climate, who would believe my prophecy of ruin?"
"Your voice speaks for the Goddess. Who would doubt it?"
"The unquestioning scare me more."
"Pardon?"
"Buy indulgences, for doom approaches…… Other cardinals or high priests might say that. It's happened before."
"Th-that's……."
"We can't continue like this. I'll meet God Hand myself."
"Your Holiness!?"
"Even neutral holy knights would heed a personal request without politics."
"What do you intend to say?"
"I must meet that Light Knight. Through him, proclaim the prophecy of ruin. Wouldn't people listen more?"
A pitiful response from the head of a continent-spanning faith.
"He might ignore the usurer lord, but heed God Hand, famed for 'centuries.'"
"But Your Holiness, God Hand isn't suited for persuasion……."
"Ugh, enough! No more negativity. That's my last hope."
Clutching his head, the pope shouted. Jansen retreated with pity. The pontiff stared at his fistful of hair, face ashen as if all were lost.
"Heh, heh heh. Will I go fully bald first, or the world end? These thoughts churn my gut. Food barely goes down lately."
A half-mad expression.
'His patience has reached its limit. This won't do…….'
The pope, who heard the Goddess directly— if he broke mentally, all was lost.
'No choice. Despite the risk…….'
Jansen bit his lip, then spoke resolutely.
"Your Holiness, would you stake your life on temple reform?"
The pope's face changed.
"What do you mean, Cardinal Jansen? Surely……."
"Yes. Shall we start the purification revolution early?"
"It's too soon! You said so yourself!?"
"But with the chaos and your deep anguish, let's take the gamble."
The stern-faced old priest's eyes gleamed dangerously as he outlined the plan. When he finished, Sentinel III nodded with renewed clarity.
"Not impossible. Then we must move God Hand."
"Pardon?"
"I'll ask him to bring the Light Knight."
"Your Holiness!"
"With him away, the deed eases. He blocks more than corrupt blades, per canon."
"Ah……."
Jansen nodded gravely at the pope's sharper, riskier gleam.
That day, the pope acted on his resolve.
"……Due to my failings, I cannot sway even one soul, so I beseech God Hand's prestige. As a knight, surely he'll meet me if you intervene?"
The temple's nominal highest bowed politely to one man. An attitude shocking to secular folk or any temple member. But the recipient—clad head to toe in ornate white full plate even indoors—reacted contrary to expectation.
"Is this the Goddess's will?"
The voice from the helmet, eyes scarce visible, rang too plainly, devoid of emotion.
The pope's gaze flickered, but he continued calmly.
"He may be the key to resolving the prophecy of ruin from the Goddess. Yet he refuses to meet……."
No lie, but by some lights, blatant pandering. The usual pope wouldn't stoop to such sophistry, but now he committed fully—iron mask in place, unassailable to those who knew him.
It worked.
"……All as the Goddess wills."
The knight signed the cross, one hand vertical on chest. He rose and strode heavily away.
Among the continent's Seven Great Knights, the holy knight God Hand—the temple's living weapon, existent so long it forgot its name—stood from its seat for the first time in a week.