In the cathedral within the Vatican in the holy city of Torra, Pope Helmut Helvine had been washing his face repeatedly since early in the morning before sunrise. He wasn’t the type to sleep much in the first place, but his attitude was rather unusual today.

Helmut repeatedly muttered curses while roughly washing his face over and over. He had been washing his face so much that his pale white face had turned red.

“Shit… damn it…”

Helmut looked at the reflection of his face on the water surface while washing his face. On the surface of the water was the reflection of the face of an old man whose face was filled with wrinkles. Although Helmut was told many times that he looked sly, he had no major complaints about the way he looked—he made sure those who were impudent enough to make such comments paid the price without anyone else knowing.

However, things were different this time.

“WHY! ISN’T! THE SMELL OF BLOOD! GOING AWAY!” Helmut shouted in rage.

A few days ago, the Saintess had been reciting the prophecies at the altar as usual. Because there was no special oracle that day, she had been spitting out prophecies which Helmut had made up. Then, the Saintess suddenly had a seizure and cut off her own tongue after saying that ‘she no longer wanted to lie.’ Helmut, who had been praying at the very front, was drenched in the blood that was pouring out of the Saintess’ mouth. Helmut had freaked out and stepped back immediately, but it was too late; his entire body and face had already been sprayed with blood.

The Saintess laughed like a lunatic with a mouth that didn’t even have a tongue anymore, and continued to throw a fit. The Priests restrained her and used their Grace to treat her wounds as soon as possible, but a Saintess without her tongue was of no value to Helmut.

The issue came after the incident.

Helmut had washed his body many times to wipe off the Saintess’ blood, but the smell of blood and the stickiness didn’t disappear. Helmut continued to roughly wash his face, then knocked over the wash basin. When the water spilled all over the floor, an apprentice Priestess rushed to pick up the wash basin.

“...Bring me new water,” Helmut ordered.

The Priestess bowed her head and backed off.

Helmut thought about what he must look like in the eyes of the Priestess who was clearly scared—he was certain that he must look like a madman. Although he was well aware, he just couldn’t stand the smell and feeling blood on his body.

The Pope called the priestess who was on her way out to bring new water in the basin.

“Hey, you.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“Come here and smell my face.”

The Priestess seemed perplexed. But as she knew that the Pope didn’t like to repeat his words twice, she had no choice but to carefully approach him and smell his face.

“What does my face smell like?”

“...All I smell is soap, Your Holiness.”

Helmut was about to lash out at her, but soon thought that there would be no reason for her to lie to him. Suddenly feeling tired, Helmut waved his hand at the Priestess as if he was telling her to get out.

“Nevermind. You don’t need to bring in new water.”

The Priestess bowed her head while feeling relieved and quickly left the room, leaving the wash basin behind.

Helmut agonized over what had happened to him—perhaps he really had gone crazy, he thought. Helmut wasn’t a weak man to get shocked over only an incident like that of a Saintess cutting her own tongue off. He was a soldier who had lived through His Majesty’s era, and he had repeatedly participated in “purging” ever since after the eternal rule. He had seen worse things in his life, and thought he could bear the weight of blood better than even most knights.

‘Or is there really something in her oracle?’

The status of a Saintess was nothing more than a formality. Any decent maiden or Priestess was appointed as a Saintess and stood on the altar, as they were only meant to reassure the public and gain popularity for the Church.

Strangely, there were times when a Saintess appointed by improper ways suddenly uttered an unexpected prophecy. It was only natural for Helmut to not believe such a prophecy considering that he was the one who made up the status of a Saintess, but in fact, such a prophecy was right in all likelihood.

Such cases had been very frequent recently; including the prophecy about the black emperor, and the incident of the Saintess cutting off her tongue was the worst of all.

Helmut fell into a dilemma on whether he should get rid of the position of Saintess or not. When the empire was in chaotic times, it was difficult for the Church to maintain public sentiment without a Saintess who was popular among the public.

‘I should only choose the most ordinary maiden as the Saintess after this.’

When Helmut had been thinking about the next step, he heard someone knocking at his door; it was the Priestess from earlier who was asked to leave. Helmut frowned upon seeing the black scroll she had brought in with her. A black scroll symbolized an urgent message, and it wasn’t something that an apprentice was allowed to bring.

“What’s going on? Who gave this to you?”

“It was the Priest who was in black clothing, Your Holiness…”

The Priestess carefully handed the scroll over to Helmut. The Priests in black clothing were the Inquisitors. Among them, the Inquisitors working in the holy city of Torra were the ones who carried out Helmut’s secret mission.

Helmut’s face stiffened, and he opened the scroll in haste. Upon reading through the document at a fast pace, Helmut’s face turned red and blue, and then eventually turned pale. In fact, the anger that filled his body from head to toe calmed him down.

[The imperial envoy sent by the Pope has gone missing. The Order of the White Crow attacked the city of Hiveden. The Order of the White Crow was wiped out, and only a few of them were able to flee. There have been notable testimonies, but they are under investigation as the case is serious and raises questions about their credibility. Subsequent reports will be delivered later.]

“They are telling me to believe this?”

The scroll was full of terrible reports only. Helmut’s hands that were holding the scroll trembled, and he breathed heavily as if he was about to faint.

“Your Holiness, please calm down,” the Priestess carefully whispered as she noticed that Helmut was overly enraged.

“Calm down?”

Helmut only then realized why the Inquisitor had avoided directly delivering the message to him and rather got the Priestess to do the delivery—they were already well aware of how angry he would be when he saw the report.

Helmut picked up the wash basin and smashed the Priestess’s head with it. The Priestess let out a faint scream, but Helmut didn’t stop and continued to repeatedly hit her head with the wash basin. With a gruesome sound, the Priestess fell to the floor. Nevertheless, Helmut constantly swung his hand. The brutal sound of blood splattering and bones being crushed filled the Pope’s bedroom. Every time Helmut swung his hands, the Priestess’s body convulsed.

After a long time, Helmut threw the wash basin to the floor which had been completely crushed. The room was entirely covered with blood, and the fragments of the Priestess’s head could barely be found. Helmut breathed heavily and slowly pointed with his thumb.

The Priestess’s head, which only had a few fragments left, began to recover in an instant. The Priestess’s nerves, blood vessels, bones, and flesh began to quickly regenerate from the center of her spine, as if a new tree was growing. The Priestess’s new body trembled and she soon exhaled her first breath with her new body.

“Huff…!”

As soon as the Priestess opened her eyes, she let out a scream at the sight of blood, bones and brain matter around her. When she realized that the messy remains were of her own, the fear of death filled her eyes in an instant.

Helmut gestured to her with his chin with a tired expression.

“Clean up the room and bring me new water to wash my face.”

***

The Loen basin near the holy city of Torra—the basin rumored to have been created when an ancient god had fallen, was well known as a land that couldn’t grow any plants other than shallow grass.

At times, there were people who visited the Loen basin either in search of beautiful scenery or to look for a place to live in it. However, civilians had been completely prohibited from entering the Loen basin ever since the basin had been designated as the exclusive training ground for the Order of the Capital.

This was in fact, a lie.

Loen basin was a place that even made Pavan Peltere, the captain of the Order of the Capital, nervous.

Pavan followed the heavy sound that resonated from a distance and slowly walked into the basin. Shortly after, Pavan found an old man with a long drooping beard who seemed to be at least two times taller and bigger than himself. Every part of the old man’s firmly defined muscles were filled with scars left behind as a memory of the long battles and duels he had fought. Pavan could feel the air in the surroundings getting heavier just by approaching the old man.

In front of the old man was a golden cow that had a height of about ten meters. The old man was currently grabbing the cow’s horn and twisting its head to ram it into the floor. The cow struggled to escape the old man’s hand while foaming at the mouth, but the old man tightly held the cow and didn’t move an inch.

Pavan tried to find an opportunity to speak, but he couldn’t find the right time to open his mouth.

“What a beautiful creature, isn’t it?’

The sudden heavy voice of the old man shook Pavan.

“You came at the wrong time, Pavan. I was in the middle of taming this fellow right now.”

“It’s a… majestic beast.”

“It’s a holy beast. Sometimes there are beautiful things left by gods, just like this fellow here. Maybe it’s the first time that you’ve seen it.”

Pavan nodded his head in surprise.

‘A holy beast.’

They were the beasts that used to be the gods’ pets and assistants. Pavan had always believed that a majority of them went extinct during His Majesty’s era, but some still remained—it was indeed his first time seeing a holy beast in real life. Pavan couldn’t even guess where the old man had captured and brought the holy beast from.

“So. What is it that you have to tell me?” the old man asked.

It was only then that Pavan recalled why he had come all the way to Leon basin and visited the old man.

“It’s the emergency report from the Capital’s Intelligence Agency. It is said that the Order of the White Crow was defeated,” Pavan quietly said.

However, the old man didn’t show any interest in his words.

“It is said that the Order of the White Crow refused the Pope's order, and pursued the Order of Huginn and tried to dominate the city of Hiveden. The Pope even sent the imperial envoy to stop them, but the envoy went missing and the Order of the White Crow carried out their attack. Under the circumstances, the imperial envoy appears to have been murdered.”

“What a mess.”

“Even Bishop Rietto helped the Order of the White Crow, but the Order of the White Crow fled, only leaving a few Templars behind. Captain Ethan Etil went missing, and the Pope seems to be trying to use this situation to crack down on the people internally.”

“Huh. That kid Ras Raud isn’t too bad after all. I see… So he managed to hold out against the Bishop. I thought the Order of Huginn had already been wiped out when they arrogantly attacked us.”

Pavan breathed heavily before getting into the point.

“Ras Raud appears to be dead.”

The old man remained silent at Pavan’s words, and soon replied in a calm manner.

“I see. So another one has fallen just like that.”

“There is one more thing I have to report. I personally think that this information is so absurd that it lacks credibility. Perhaps it’s either a false piece of information that the Order of Huginn purposely leaked, or a rumor created by the city that was involved with the war. But I don’t know in what ways Pope Helmut might use this information, so…”

“It really must be a ridiculous report to see you lay out excuses like that. Go ahead and tell me.”

“It is said that at one point, Ras Raud had become Nigrato, the god of death.”

“...At one point?”

“Yes. But… they say His Majesty appeared in Hiveden and conquered him.”

For the very first time, the old man showed a reaction to Pavan’s words. The old man slowly turned his head.

The moment Pavan directly faced the old man’s gaze, he was more than overwhelmed by it. The old man’s powerful eyes were staring at Pavan, as if his gaze had fixed Pavan’s neck to prevent him from looking away. What stood out the most about the old man was the white horn on his head, which was bent in a round shape like a crown—it was as if he was born a king right from birth.

Pavan hurriedly continued his words.

“Once again, it’s a rumor from the battlefield. Ras had already turned into an undead a long time ago, so I think it’s fair that people misunderstood the situation in the brutal battlefield where everyone was in panic. After all, it was the first time that Ras showed himself in public. The rumor about His Majesty is suspected to have been spread by the Pope. Perhaps it was his intention to crack down on the Church at a time like this. Rather than chasing ridiculous rumors, the Order of the Capital is planning to watch out for the movements of the Vatican first to…”

With a cracking sound, the holy beast suddenly dropped down to its knees. The entire basin shook and vibrated as the giant body of the beast fell sideways to the ground. The old man, who had bent the holy beast’s neck 180 degrees with a single gesture, threw the holy beast’s broken horn to the ground.

“Pavan,” the old man quietly called out Pavan’s name.

Upon hearing his name, Pavan closed his mouth and bowed his head unknowingly. Cold sweat began to run down from Pavan’s entire body. Despite not being his own will, Pavan had no choice but to obey the old man’s voice. Pavan realized yet again who he was speaking to.

“Go get me detailed information. Not rumors, the truth,” the old man ordered.

If the old man had sought to become the new emperor, there would be no one in the empire who could stop his reign. However, he did not do that. Instead of taking the seat of the emperor, he laughed at everyone as if he wasn’t interested in such a trivial position.

Although he didn’t take the seat of the emperor, no one doubted that he was the most powerful force that moved the empire. The old man went by many names. Previously known as the empire’s Great General who commanded the imperial army, the last survivor of the Hornsluine, as well as the empire’s number one.

The Regent—Barth Baltic.