Chapter 50
"Damn it!" The glass was smashed to the ground with a loud shattering sound, and the transparent glass shattered into pieces, sending shards flying everywhere.
"Why would the king interfere?!"
In the dimly lit room, a middle-aged man stood at one end of a long table, his face full of anger. The crystal above his head shone with a pale light, falling on his hair, and he was the only one standing in the light.
The figure standing in the shadows remained silent, too afraid to speak.
They had timed it perfectly. Shortly after Arnold and his party entered the capital, they clashed with Mold, and then headed to the underground arena. There was absolutely no way they could have tipped off anyone during that time.
There's only one possibility: Garcia had been secretly watching Arnold and his group ever since they entered the capital.
The time was tight, but Arnold and his two companions still had some time to fight the sixth-tier magical beast.
Such important news, and the Queen didn't even inform them... I'm afraid the King has already become suspicious of the Elders' Council's strong support for the Queen.
Thinking of this, his breathing became slightly rapid, and his face grew increasingly grim. Then, he thought of Garcia's other identity, and his anger intensified.
"That person really didn't die?... Impossible. The Holy Son has already taken control of most of the church, and he's just sitting idly by." The president of the Golden Merchant Guild clenched his fist and slammed it hard on the table. With a loud bang, the figure standing in the shadows flinched.
He couldn't believe that the Pope's centuries of hard work and influence would be so easily surrendered! And what was that Holy Son anyway? He came from the countryside and was originally a vagrant. Although his experiences over the past ten years had been blurred, it couldn't change his lowly origins!
Another person came in from outside, stepped forward and presented a roll of documents, and whispered, "Chairman, there's been some progress on the matter you asked us to investigate."
The president of the Golden Merchant Guild is surnamed Jin.
He took the roll of documents, eagerly unfolded it, and the words on it came into view.
No one knows how the Holy Son Sylvain came from Amberley to the capital of Lortheran. All traces have been deliberately erased. However, after the Holy Son entered the capital, the officials at the registration office had some recollection of him, saying that the Holy Son followed a dark-haired young man into the capital.
They entered through the South Gate and went straight to the Papacy. The next day, the identity of the Holy Son Sylvain was announced to the mainland.
The young man with black hair didn't have anything particularly outstanding about him; at most, he was handsome.
Jin slammed the documents on the table, his eyes dark and menacing.
The person who brought Sylvain back to the Papacy must be a confidant of the Pope, a dark-haired young man... His eyes flickered as he recalled the events that had occurred not long ago.
The church envoy who quelled the Mercury rebellion was also a young man with dark hair.
The person who captured an elf on the outskirts of the Elf Forest was also a young man with black hair.
They all claimed to be cardinals, belonging to the Papacy's Department of Punishments.
The Papacy's Execution Division holds a very important position, almost on par with the archbishops. If that young man is the true head of the Execution Division, then it makes sense.
"What's his name?" Jin asked his subordinate.
The subordinate who brought the information had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and said cautiously, "I am incompetent and have not been able to find out his real name."
Jin's face darkened, but he also knew that the person's identity was important. If his information could be easily discovered, he would doubt whether this person was truly a confidant of the Pope.
"The last time he appeared was in the Elf Forest. The Elf King sent back a message saying that the one who captured his elf that day was the Pope himself. Hmph, would the Pope travel thousands of miles to capture an insignificant elf in person? It's probably just that his subordinates using a fake to create the illusion that the Pope is still alive." He said, feeling that he had figured out the truth that the High Papacy was trying so hard to cover up.
Since Sylvain has not yet been crowned, the Pope must, of course, be "alive" to ensure that Sylvain can smoothly take over the Papacy.
He waved his hand, and all his men left the room, leaving him alone soon.
A magical barrier rose, and Jin eagerly began chanting a spell to summon the legendary being—the fallen god.
Time passed slowly, and Jin waited with immense patience for the arrival of that deity.
However, this time He appeared very quickly.
Jin knelt down impatiently and asked the deity what to do next.
The plan to seize the artifact completely failed, and he also lost many trusted confidants and combatants. It would be impossible for him not to have any complaints.
But when the divine soul descended, the oppressive aura that made his soul tremble perfectly ignited the greed in his heart. He longed to obtain the same powerful strength, at which point royalty and the church would all submit to him.
Therefore, he willingly bowed his head and awaited the instructions of the gods.
Yannis's voice was still hoarse and ethereal, but it dropped a bombshell: "Holy Son Sylvan... is related to the demon race."
"What!" Jin's eyes widened in shock, followed by ecstasy. He absolutely trusted the words of the gods. He never expected that the holy and proud prince was actually related to the demon race!
If he looked up, he would see the lingering soul covered in filth, its empty eyes almost overflowing with blood and mud, its features grotesque and hideous.
Yannis said in a hoarse voice, "Announce the news about the divine artifact."
Jin's body stiffened, but he did not refute it. He simply bowed his head deeply and replied, "Yes."
Silence returned to the room, and the deity departed.
Jin's forehead was already drenched in sweat. He let out a long breath. The terrifying pressure made it impossible for him to even straighten up. He truly was a god.
Meanwhile, Garcia led the three members of the Hero Squad back to the High Papacy.
The magnificent and massive architectural complex left all three of them with expressions of shock.
They also entered through the South Gate, but they took the wrong path. Since they hadn't initially planned to go to the Papacy, they didn't take the road leading to the Papacy.
I could only see a tall tower in the distance.
Now that I've actually arrived at the Papacy, I realize how genuine the longing expressions on the faces of the pastors and priests I met along the way were when they talked about the Papacy.
Although Arnold looked shocked, he unusually didn't say much. Garcia smiled and introduced the Grand Vatican to the hero team.
After personally arranging the arrangements, Garcia also mentioned that the New Year's assembly was in a few days, and they could celebrate the New Year with the believers.
The Brave Squad's accommodation is in a courtyard. The rooms for three people are quite large, with a separate bathroom and kitchen, as well as a living room and study. If they don't like eating in the restaurant, they can cook for themselves or go out to eat. There are still many delicious restaurants in the capital.
As soon as Garcia left, Allen wanted to ask Arnold what had happened, as Arnold's behavior had been off the whole way.
But before they could even ask the question, a head popped up from the wall next to them, and the person greeted them warmly: "You're my new neighbors!"
Allen was taken aback; he hadn't expected there to be other people present. He had a good memory and immediately recalled that Garcia had said in the Colosseum that they would be having new companions join them.
He turned his head and looked at the person clinging to the wall. The person looked a bit older than him, but seemed somewhat foolish.
Out of politeness, Allen smiled and said, "We'll be staying here for a while."
No sooner had he finished speaking than a hand grabbed the high wall, and then a burly figure nimbly scaled the wall and came down.
Murphy silently took two steps back and stood behind Arnold.
Arnold finally came to his senses and blocked Murphy. After all, Murphy was a fragile mage, and it seemed like this person who climbed over the wall could kill Murphy with a single punch.
"My name is Astor. I heard during dinner that you're going to the Royal Capital Academy. That's great! We can go together for the trial!" Astor was beaming with joy. He had an inexplicable obsession with traveling with companions. He always felt uneasy if he traveled alone. Now that he heard that there were other people his age going to the Royal Capital Academy trial with him, he couldn't wait to come and see.
I didn't expect they lived next door, that makes it even more convenient!
Allen: "But isn't the age limit for the Royal Capital Academy's freshman trial twenty-five years old...?"
His voice grew weaker and weaker under Astor's incredulous gaze.
Although Astor is a bit dull and unsophisticated, after being misunderstood so many times these past few days, even he, as slow as he is, can understand some of the unspoken meanings.
He was heartbroken: "She's only fourteen years old."
They were all shocked.
Even Murphy, who usually doesn't show much emotion, gaped open.
Arnold turned to look at the thin Murphy, then at Astor who claimed to be fourteen, a year younger than himself, swallowed hard, and put aside his earlier worries.
Is this the variability of the world?
Fortunately, Astor was already used to it. His enthusiasm was no less than Arnold's, and he was completely unguarded. He already regarded the three of them as future partners, and immediately poured out everything he had seen and heard during his time at the Papacy.
He said he came with an uncle who was kind enough to bring him to the Papacy, give him lots of good food, and even ask the priests of the Papacy to take good care of him.
Allen's brows relaxed: "You're really lucky. That uncle must be someone from the Papacy, right?"
Astor nodded, but then quickly shook his head: "I didn't find out his identity. He disappeared after bringing me here. Maybe he had his own things to do."
None of the three members of the Brave Squad connected the uncle Aster mentioned with Veris.
Astor's physique was so deceptive that even though he had just said he was fourteen years old, his appearance and the word "uncle" made them subconsciously assume he was a kind-hearted middle-aged man.
At that moment, the kind-hearted middle-aged man, Veris, was standing in an empty room.
Despite being described as spacious, the room actually contains a long table.
There was a corpse lying on top, and another person inside the house, a ghost.
Veris touched the tip of his nose; it had felt a little itchy, but he resisted the urge to sneeze.
The undead Lortheran stood beside the long table and examined the corpse closely. It had been dead for over a decade, but the body was only slightly decomposed, and the skin was pale and bloodless.
Few undead choose to possess corpses that have been dead for a long time because they cannot restore the appearance of the corpse, making it easy for people to spot.
“A body capable of containing a soul—once you lie down inside, your heart will start beating again,” Veris said, arms crossed.
Lortheran was still somewhat intimidated: "If he's so powerful, how come no undead have possessed him before?"
Veris shrugged: "Do you think this is some kind of publicly available information? I doubt this person even knows they have a special constitution. I almost forgot about it myself."
The period when the gods descended into human form and played among mortals occurred before the birth of Veris.
Lortheran gritted his teeth; he didn't really want to be resurrected, but it was Veris's idea.
What he feared most was that once he had a body, it would be easier for Sylvain to torment him.
If Veris knew what he was thinking, he would definitely be unhappy and say that he was making malicious assumptions about Sylvain.
The undead took a deep breath. It's alright, as long as they're both okay, I, Lor'theran, won't mind taking a beating!
With her eyes closed, Lortheran approached the corpse. Soon, spiderweb-like red patterns appeared on the corpse's body, and a suction force came, causing Lortheran to lose consciousness.
Sylvain watched this scene quietly, a hint of coldness in his eyes. But when Veris turned to look at him, that coldness melted away like winter snow, replaced by a familiar gentleness.
Veris blinked, a smile spreading across his face. When he saw his friend pause slightly, the smile widened.
"He still needs time to adjust to his body, let's go back first." He took his friend's wrist, as if the dodging from a few days ago had never happened, and naturally pulled him away.
Sylvain lowered his eyes, looking at the pale wrist that was gripping his hand. Just like him, the flesh wrapped around the bone, the color of the blood was very light, and blue blood vessels ran through it. Where the wrist connected to the palm, the knuckles protruded, and there was a faint mole on it.
The Grand Vatican has underground magic arrays that keep it warm in winter and cool in summer, so you don't feel cold walking in the corridors. Veris is wearing a thin robe with a long outer garment draped over his shoulders, making you wonder if the outer garment will slip off his shoulders at any moment.
"Do you believe that Yannis's next step is to test whether that body can accommodate his remnant soul?" The young man's voice was light and clear, with obvious laughter, yet also mixed with a hint of ambiguity, as if he had already seen through the god's thoughts.
He was happy to share his plan with his friends: "He cannot leave Arnold's body for too long, but it would take at least a day to possess the body. Unless Arnold willingly lies next to that corpse for a whole day, Yannis will never be able to possess it successfully."
"But he will definitely check whether that body is really the same as the one he had before."
Arnold arrived in the capital today, and the first thing he did was dig up someone's grave. It wasn't that he wanted to strangle Yannis; he just happened to discover this.
Anyone with a brain knows that the body is of utmost importance.
However, for Yannis, his real target is probably Arnold.
Veris laughed heartily. He could predict the course of various events, even the future outcome, and then choose the ending he felt was most suitable.
He knows too much and can see too much. Yannis considers himself a remnant of a god and has the power to fight him. In Veris's eyes, Yannis is only not dealt with so quickly because he has Arnold as a contractor.
However, what Yannis did did bring a lot of unnecessary danger to the adventurers' team.
The heterochromatic eyes gradually warmed. Veris rarely held Sylvain's hand like this for so long. Sylvain listened quietly to his smug words, occasionally responding with a word of agreement, which made him very happy.
"The Golden Merchant Guild's next plan is probably to release information about the artifact to attract others to seize it." Veris said as if he were talking about a trivial matter. "The Royal Capital Trial is an opportunity, and all forces that want to seize the artifact will make their move then."
Sylvain frowned slightly: "Didn't they consider that the Papacy had already obtained the artifact?"
Veris chuckled: "Gods can hint at things to humans and corrupt their minds; that's the power of faith."
"you……"
“Yes, I gave everyone a hint as well,” Veris said. “Arnold is just bait.”
These people thought they were hunters, but from the moment they stepped into the testing ground, they were all lambs to the slaughter.
The Papacy wouldn't do anything against worldly morality, nor would it covet any divine artifacts. Arnold's possession of the artifacts would only bring trouble, and Veris traded them for something more practical.
...However, that key did indeed help Arnold a lot; he never expected Arnold to be able to find the Holy Apothecary's Divine Pool.
The key that can open any lock is not because it has some powerful magic circle or some powerful alchemical product; it is attached to the "rules" given by Veris.
Yannis is going to disrupt the balance of power on the continent. The peace has lasted too long, and many forces are eager to make their move, including the council of elders within the royal family.
Veris smiled, and he didn't mind playing along with everyone, acting as a pope who was "actually already dead."
For hundreds of years, the Kingdom of Lortheran has occupied most of the land on the continent of Icarus. Under the rule of the Lortheran royal family, the entire continent was able to recover from the post-war state so quickly and even prosper.
Successive kings have worked diligently to strengthen the state, and with Veris residing in the High Papacy for many years, the overwhelming military force meant that anyone with wavering resolve was ruthlessly dealt with.
However, in the past decade, Veris has almost never appeared in public.
It's no wonder that those forces were eager to make a move. Coupled with Yannis's instigation, the artifact that was said to rule the continent appeared in the world, the Demon King Vesper broke the seal, the Demon King Forest was thrown into chaos, and the demon race invaded from the south.
There are constant voices within the royal family. Few of the princes are capable, the king is getting old, and the ministers are gaining more and more power. If this continues, trouble will inevitably arise sooner or later.
The dukes and nobles who were assigned to various fiefdoms were also restless.
Veris walked forward, then suddenly realized something, released Sylvain's hand, and let it hang casually at his side.
Just as he was retracting his hand, a figure emerged from around the corner.
The great mage, whose bangs covered his eyebrows and eyes, froze on the spot when he saw the two people walking from the other end of the corridor. He didn't bow and greet them until Veris got close, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
Veris had a bit of a headache, but he still spoke kindly, "You just came from the execution chamber?" He could smell the blood.
Uther nodded, his voice sounding as if squeezed from his throat: "Yes."
He eagerly awaited the Pope's next question, but the Pope merely grunted in response and told him to rest early before leaving with the Holy Son.
The two figures disappeared around the corner.
Uther stood there, the familiar yet distant scent of Veris still lingering in his nostrils.
He didn't leave until he could smell nothing anymore.
Today... is a really nice day.
Veris had important business to attend to today, and even though it was getting late, he still took Sylvain to his room, which was large enough to accommodate a study.
He pressed the man down into the chair, his expression serious: "Has your memory really not returned?"
Sylvain's occasional expressions and tone of voice always reminded him of times from many years ago.
In just over ten days, Sylvain's hair had turned black. He looked up at the face that was leaning closer, his breathing slightly rapid, and whispered, "It's recovered a little."
He didn't say how that wretched soul was fighting him for his body. He had indeed glimpsed some of those distant memories, but not all of them, because if he were to receive those memories, that wretched god would surely replace him again.
If he has no memory, he has no memory; he will never give up his body.
"How much has it recovered?" Veris asked, puzzled, but he didn't dwell on it. As long as his memories weren't completely unsealed, he didn't need to change his plans.
Before Sylvain could answer, he leaned in and, before the young man could react, his cool forehead touched another patch of skin.
...Too close.
They were so close they could see Veris's long, thick, slightly curled eyelashes. His eyes were downcast, or perhaps closed, and a strange power seemed to flow into them from where their skin touched.
Sylvain's dazed gaze snapped back to reality after he realized what Veris had transmitted.
His body stiffened, and astonishment flashed in his eyes.
Veris raised his hand and gently inserted his fingers into his silvery-white hair, which would soon return to its original color.
The voice of the young man, though centuries old, still sends shivers down one's spine.
"You're so awkward, my dear friend."
"You definitely don't want to recall those things."
"Then I'll help you."
Sylvain's breathing quickened as fragmented memories flashed through his mind. Pain flashed in his eyes, but his soul hesitated at this moment, yet in the end, it still forcefully pulled him into that memory.
The young man's body gradually lost strength. Veris lowered his eyes and placed his other hand on his friend's shoulder.
His neck pulled back, and this time, Sylvain's face, which had been forcibly slumbering, came into view.
The bedroom was completely silent. Veris stood in front of him, gently stroking his head, as if he had returned to the cramped attic in Albion, soothing the restless boy.
Veris's gaze was calm.
He realized something: with the revival of the seven gods, his own divine nature would also be revived. He always thought that he would be influenced by the desire for love within the god of love, and that's why he wanted to get an answer that had been buried for three hundred years.
But he was wrong.
It wasn't because the god of love had been revived that he wanted an answer, whether it was yes or no.
Rather, it was because his normal human emotions had been stripped away due to the suppression of his demonic divine nature over the years that he lost his ability to perceive love.
“My child, the god of love and humankind are very close; we all yearn for love.”
Regardless of what answer Sylvain gives upon waking this time, or how different he may be from the Sylvain she imagined, Veris is prepared.
When did you make up your mind?
It was probably around sunset, with a cold wind blowing through the corridor, when he jokingly told Sylvain that he was probably going to fall madly in love with him.
Sylvain extended his hand, his expression earnest: "Don't be afraid."
Yes, what is he afraid of?
Even the gods and demon kings combined couldn't defeat him, and the enormous trouble the hero's party was facing was nothing more than child's play to him.
Glory is bestowed upon him, and divine faith rests upon one person.
He is so good, so amazing, he has transformed this continent into such a prosperous place, and he carries the hopes and aspirations of countless people.
Why wouldn't Sylvain love him?
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Author's Note: [Hugs]
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