Chapter 36
Why was Sylvain chosen as the Son of God?
Besides Veris wanting to offer his best to his friend, there was another important reason.
A child acknowledged by Veris can share the faith with the Pope.
The young man lowered his eyes but did not explain to the other person. Instead, he walked past him and said slowly, "I remember there were some leftovers from breakfast, bread? Let's make a cup of Moro tea. We've been hungry for so long, we can't have a big meal all at once."
"Why?"
Sylvain stood still.
That calm question was uttered in a low voice.
The person passing by him stopped, their thick boots landing on the carpet.
He seemed to be thinking about which question Sylvain was asking.
After a while, Veris's voice, tinged with a faint smile, rang out from behind him: "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the Church to control the Elven race."
They live in seclusion and resist communication with the outside world. Although elves have gone to the Royal Academy to train over the years, they eventually return to the Elf Forest.
Those elves live no different lives than they did hundreds of years ago.
This is the best way they can think of to protect their heritage from external erosion.
They feared the Church's intervention, but living on the continent of Icarus meant there was no way to escape its shadow.
Even in the Demon King's Abyss, the Pope's glory has shone upon the dark, swampy lands.
The sound of thick boot soles pounding the ground faded into the distance.
Sylvain turned his head to look at Carlo lying on the sofa, his handsome face revealing no emotion.
Veris knew what he wanted to ask.
But I chose another answer.
Sylvain closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he went to the kitchen, his face now displaying the gentle expression he usually had when facing Veris.
Veris stood at the kitchen counter, placed the remaining bread from breakfast on a plate, and sliced it into thin pieces with a knife and fork.
He overslept again in the morning, so he didn't touch the breakfast that was supposed to be his.
The kettle next to it sits on a flat rock; simply injecting magic will heat the water inside.
"His Holiness the Pope shines above my head~ The bread seems a bit hard, but it's still edible with hot tea." Veris hummed a song as he looked at the neatly arranged bread slices on the plate with satisfaction. It seemed his bread-slicing skills were still as good as before.
Sylvain came in, stood beside the kettle, and said, "He'll wake up soon."
He unscrewed the box next to the kettle, then poured the Moro tea leaves into the boiling kettle. Soon, a strange aroma filled the kitchen.
The person next to him grunted in agreement, picked up the plate, and suddenly seemed to remember something. He turned to Fenny and said, "Tell Finney that the Holy Descendant has gone missing. By the time our people arrived, the family had already been dismantled and the evidence destroyed."
Sylvain was taken aback.
“This kid has connections with Arnold. I’m considering whether to send him to Milford Town.” The young man’s voice faded into the distance, leaving only Sylvain in the kitchen. He looked down at the undulating Moro leaves. Under the high temperature of boiling water, the curled and withered leaves stretched out, infusing the liquid with the fragrance hidden in the veins.
He reached out, took the kettle, then took out a cup and poured the Moro tea into it.
Steam rose up, and his fingertips ached slightly; the high temperature had burned the delicate skin on his fingertips.
His fingertips gently massaged that patch of skin. After a moment, he placed the cup on the tray and turned to walk out of the kitchen.
Inside the living room.
Veris placed the disc on the table and sat down on the sofa. Carlo was lying on the same spot where the hero and his companions had sat earlier.
A pale golden light swirled around the boy, repairing the wounds inflicted by Christian's beatings and scoldings, including some old scars. Subtle energy flowed into the boy's body, relieving his hunger.
His eyelashes trembled slightly.
At the same time, Sylvain walked over with the Moro tea, stood next to Veris, bowed and placed the tray on the table, then straightened up, his emerald green eyes lowered.
“Lord Garcia and Lord Clark will arrive at the Elf Forest tonight,” he said softly.
The person sitting on the sofa pulled out a book from somewhere and was looking down at it. Hearing this, without looking up, he said, "I understand. Tell them to let me know if there's any news."
In other words, it is no longer necessary to send messages through Sylvain.
Sylvain pursed his lips, responded, glanced at the boy on the sofa, said nothing, and turned to walk towards the study.
The spacious living room has a ceiling much higher than that of an ordinary house, and it depicts scenes from church stories. Over the years, the murals have faded somewhat, and the light swirling beneath them resembles a swimming fish.
The light illuminated the entire living room as if it were daytime, irritating my eyelids.
Before Carlo opened his eyes, he smelled a strange fragrance mixed with a fine mist. The surroundings were quiet, with the occasional sound of pages turning.
His sluggish mind gradually awakened.
His eyelids felt very heavy, but when he realized he was in an unfamiliar environment, his body tensed up involuntarily. However, he immediately heard the sound of turning pages stop.
They've been discovered...
The place he was lying on was very soft; he had never lay on such a soft place before, even more comfortable than in the wild grasslands. The air was filled with fragrance, and his fingers curled up because of the comfort.
"woke up?"
The two simple words snapped the boy back to his senses. He opened his eyes and turned his head toward the source of the sound.
He was lying on the sofa, but more like he was half-paralyzed than lying down. The sofa was too long to accommodate him lying flat, so he was leaning against the back cushion, his body tilted to one side.
So when he turned his head, he saw the person sitting in the light, watching him leisurely.
His pupils constricted, Carlo was utterly astonished, a chill ran down his spine, but at the same time, his heart began to pound rapidly.
The person's face was not clearly visible... but from the outline of the face, it could be seen that the person was of extraordinary appearance. He sat upright to the side, with his long legs crossed and a book open on his lap.
Looking at the boy's expression, Veris finally remembered something, scratched his cheek, and laughed, "Sorry, I forgot about that."
The blurry face gradually became clear in the boy's dazed gaze.
[People of other races should not look directly at the Pope's face]
This wasn't a rule set by Veris. To be precise, it was a rule established by those races when they surrendered to him, in order to curry favor with him, because they were afraid he would wipe them out as well. It was then etched into the blood of their descendants.
Carlo felt his blood heating up, a strange sensation unlike the heat he felt after moving large quantities of goods. It was as if something in his blood had been dried out. He stared intently at the man, unwilling to look away for even a moment, for fear of forgetting that face.
However, such a stunning face, seen only once, is probably unforgettable for a lifetime.
The man spoke again: "Eat something first, or you'll starve to death."
Carlo's gaze shifted to a loaf of bread and a cup of steaming, reddish-brown, translucent liquid on the table.
He obediently did as he was told, the feeling of hunger spreading through his limbs and bones. He didn't care about manners or propriety. For someone like him, if he ate even a little too slowly, the food in his bowl might be taken away.
Veris watched the boy wolf down his food, turning a plate of bread into a barbecue feast, and reminded him, "You should drink some water, or you'll easily choke."
When Sylvain was brought back, he was very proud and even ate very formally.
His gaze drifted, and he looked down at the book again, his mind wandering to the scene in Albion many years ago.
He was lost in thought for only a moment when the boy's calm voice came from the other end: "All done."
Veris looked up, closed the book, placed it aside, and then rested his hands on his knees with his usual gentle smile: "You can ask me many questions."
Carlo stared at him, his first question almost impatiently thrown out: "Are they all dead?"
“Of course.” Having abused the Holy Descendants for so many years, Veris felt that letting them die was already showing mercy. “If I were to let you take revenge yourself, it would be a waste of time, so I’ll just take care of it myself.”
The elven saint still had the appearance of a human boy, with brown hair and black eyes. His eyes seemed to hold countless shadows. Speaking to Veris, his voice was naturally a little hoarse: "Revenge? They are my adoptive parents. I have called Christian father for many years. Although they were not good to me, the family was poor. They have done their best to raise me until now."
He spoke slowly, but his eyes were trying to take in every change in the other person's expression.
However, Veris's smile didn't change in the slightest. He even spread his hands, seemingly regretful, and said, "I'm really sorry, the person is already dead. You can go and offer them a sacrifice."
"Ha..." The boy's eyelashes trembled a few times. After hearing Veris's words, a twisted smile appeared on his face. "Who are you? What do you want me to do?"
The black-haired youth opposite him tilted his head and said with a smile, "You don't need to know who I am, you just need to know that it was the Church of Orlando that saved you."
He has no intention of revealing his identity now; it's just a favor he's doing. Rescuing the Holy Descendants would be entirely beneficial to him, so why wouldn't he do it?
“The Church?” Carlo’s expression shifted. “You’re a member of the Church.”
Veris hummed in agreement, feeling that he had answered the boy's question, and said, "Before I tell you some things, let's remove the forbidden magic from your body."
The Curse of Manlinano, during the Seven Gods era, belonged to the category of black magic. At that time, there was no such thing as orthodoxy or rebellion among magicians; some magicians were bloodthirsty, while others were kind-hearted. In reality, there was no difference on the continent.
After the New Age, the Church listed many forms of black magic as forbidden magic. Anyone found using forbidden magic was immediately judged a traitorous magician and then other magicians were sent to kill them.
During the chaotic period following the establishment of the new nation, Veris killed a large number of people.
The Manlinano curse, once used, will fix the appearance of the cursed person as an ordinary human, and as they grow over time, their body will be no different from that of an ordinary human.
However, the physique and bloodline will be sealed, and a new body will be regenerated on the original body, with flesh and blood intertwined and bones joined together. The originally powerful bloodline will also be contaminated by the newly grown flesh and blood, and after several years, it will be inseparable.
To break the curse, the higher the mage's level, the faster the Manlineno Curse will activate.
The curse on Carlo was planted when he was about one year old. Now, fifteen years later, the curse is almost complete, and he is about to completely separate from the body of the Holy Descendant and become an ordinary person.
The elves probably concluded that no one could restore Carlo's physique, which is why they no longer bothered to conceal it during the coming-of-age ceremony.
Veris smiled and beckoned Carlo over.
The boy stood up and stood beside Veris.
As he listened to the young man recount the terrible curse word by word, his face grew increasingly pale.
For the children of the small town, the elves were a legendary race, and they could hardly imagine what they were like. But in the eyes of the general public, they were a pure race.
How could a pure race do such a vicious thing?
The boy clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white.
Veris watched the action without saying anything, but his expression became slightly more serious as he said, "The curse has penetrated to the bone marrow, and it's practically unsolvable."
"However, I have a way to bring your elven body back into the light of day. But your human body will still exist within you. Your bloodline is mixed. Although your talent as a holy descendant will not be affected, you are no longer a pure-blooded elf."
As he spoke, he also took the opportunity to explain the status of the Holy Descendants among the elves.
Then he looked at Carlo and smiled, the implication being obvious.
Carlo's eyes trembled slightly. His clenched fist slowly loosened, and in the drifting silence, he bent down, kneeling at Veris's feet.
Veris remained silent.
The boy tilted his head back, his eyes bloodshot, the flames above his head reflected in his dark eyes, burning fiercely.
"I swear in the name of the holy descendants of the elves that I am willing to give my life for His Holiness the Pope."
Calobi Veris was smarter than he imagined. The definition of the Church was too broad, and if he swore an oath in the name of the Church, he would be too restricted. So he simply bowed down to the Pope directly.
A pale hand landed on his dry hair, and the young man whispered with a smile, "I like smart kids."
The pale golden specks of light that danced in the air instantly pierced into Carlo's body.
Like a seed, it quickly took root and sprouted in his flesh and blood, conquering and expanding its territory. Intense pain swept through his entire body, and before the boy could even groan in agony, dizziness came first.
Veris looked at the boy who had gone limp, rested his head on the edge of the sofa, and then stood up.
He looked up and saw Sylvain standing in the shadows in the corridor, watching for who knows how long.
After being discovered, he walked out nonchalantly and reported in a gentle voice, "The remaining spell tests have all been completed."
After a pause, he continued, "There is one thing, though, that might not be suitable for a first-tier spell."
Veris lifted his eyelids slightly and said, "You mean thorn magic?"
Thorn magic is the longest of the first-tier spells, and similarly, once used in its entirety, it is extremely destructive. Unfortunately, first-tier mages often skip this spell.
Sylvain was taken aback, but quickly nodded. He hadn't expected that Veris had already noticed the magic.
The young man walked down the corridor and said calmly, "This is something I added; consider it a small test."
A mage who can master all first-tier magic is often more outstanding than other mages.
The spells were lengthy and the effects were weaker than expected, so many magicians couldn't wait to go to the High Church to improve their rank after reaching the upgrade standard.
“But the latter part of the Thorn Magic is very easy for novice mages to make mistakes… or even reverse their magic.” Sylvain turned around and looked at Veris walking forward. “Isn’t that too much of a risk?”
The consequences of a magical reversal are severe; repulsive magical elements enter the body, posing a great threat to life.
Sylvain frowned, staring intently at the back of the figure that had stopped walking.
Veris couldn't possibly be unaware of such consequences, and for centuries he didn't consider himself the first to discover the problem.
The slender figure turned to the side, revealing a prominent nose and a slight smile beneath slightly curled hair.
“Perhaps you should strengthen your study of reconstruction magic, Sylvain,” he said.
He was still wearing the white robe he had recently changed into, with a pure black belt, a rather strange combination. The buttons gleamed with gold, and a thin chain hung in front of his chest, swaying gently with his movements.
As if by magic, Veris produced a black hat from thin air and put it on his head.
Sylvain immediately stopped worrying about the thorn magic and stared intently at Veris: "Where are you going? Didn't you just get back recently?"
The man had already turned his back, and his casual words fell into my ears: "Now that the work is done, you can pack it up and take it back to the High Church. I'm going to the Elf Forest."
Today is the thirteenth day, which is faster than expected.
There are still choir scores left, but for Veris, he can try it himself or hand it over to the people of the High Papacy. If there is a more important task, writing scores must be put aside.
"Just leave the Holy Heir there; he won't wake up so soon." With that, a burst of pale golden light erupted, causing a slight stinging sensation in Sylvain's eyes and a pale face as he watched Veris's figure disappear into the magic circle.
The magical teleportation array spans thousands of miles, and there isn't a fifth person on the entire continent who can cast it.
The Elf Forest is the size of half of Mercury County. It's hard to imagine that a race would still be living in treehouses and picking fruit to eat hundreds of years later.
The outer perimeter is surrounded by a dense forest where tree spirits hide. Elven guards often patrol the perimeter, and a magic circle that keeps outsiders at bay is hidden beneath the soil.
Despite such a major event occurring within their tribe, the elven guards continued to work diligently.
As soon as Veris stepped onto the outer ground, several arrows rained down from the sky, accompanied by the elves' cries of alarm: "Intruders! Assemble quickly!"
In the darkness, the moon hangs high in the night sky, stars twinkle, and constellations appear and disappear. The temperature in the elven forest near the north is much lower than in Mercury.
The cold wind whipped up the fallen leaves at their feet. The goblin was eager to pop out, but sensing something, it suddenly retreated back down just as it was about to break through the soil.
The young man in the white robe raised his head and looked at the shadow that was darting quickly through the intertwined branches.
That face, so beautiful it was almost unbearable to look at, instantly transformed into the features he used when he was a bard.
He is handsome and gentle, and does not have a strong aggressive nature.
The arrow that flew towards him barely stopped around him, while several elves secretly watched the young man's every move.
When they saw the incredibly hard arrow seem to have struck some kind of barrier and shatter into pieces instantly, the elves widened their eyes and shouted in their unique elven language, calling out to their companions.
That young man was clearly human; there was no way he could understand Elvish!
Soon, several shadows appeared in the woods, their translucent wings flapping. An older elf stood on a high branch, looking down at the young man standing in the clearing. The elf had locked onto his location the moment he appeared and was now watching him with a leisurely air.
The two stared at each other, and an aura of danger seemed to rise from nowhere.
The elder elf tightened his grip on the longbow and said, "Human, trespassing into the elven forest will only bring you the wrath of the elves!"
The man tilted his head back, in a position that should have been that of a subordinate, but he had a smile on his face, the corners of his lips curving up in a perfect arc, as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times.
He looked harmless, but his first words were provocative: "Is that so? I see your anger... is nothing special."
"you!"
The elf couldn't contain himself any longer and stepped forward, glaring at him angrily: "Humans are arrogant!"
"Give him a lesson!"
"How could the sacred sacredness of the Elven race be violated by such ants!"
"Is he perhaps a despicable person trying to take advantage of the situation?"
The already angry elves were enraged when they heard a sentence that seemed to come from nowhere, and their fury surged even higher.
The arrowheads gleamed coldly, exuding a bloodthirsty aura in the moonlit, shadowy woods.
The older elf lowered his eyes, the angry shouts of his companions ringing in his ears. He finally spoke: "If we take another step forward, I can't guarantee that our arrows won't lose their direction."
Before he could finish speaking, he watched as the young man raised his hand, took off his hat, and took a step forward.
The bowstring was taut, like a full moon, with the arrow nocked.
The young man's voice, tinged with amusement, rang out: "I come from the church to investigate the matter of the Holy Descendants. If you know what's good for you, you'll step aside."
Veris's eyebrows curved, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
The elf had excellent eyesight, and he put on the church's medal as soon as he entered the elven forest.
The atmosphere in the forest was tense. The elder elf had seen the medal, of course, but he still refused to let Veris enter the elven forest. So what if it was the church? This was their elven territory!
Moreover, coming alone, he is probably not someone of high status.
Two powerful figures had already arrived at the church in the first half of the night. If this newcomer gets into trouble, he will likely be held accountable.
The back of his hand, which was gripping the longbow, turned slightly white.
A voice rang out from the shadows of the forest: "The Grand Papacy's magicians have been here for a while now. You're probably not an imposter!"
Veris raised an eyebrow: "So you've been found out? I'm definitely not a magician from the High Papacy."
A fierce glint flashed in the elder elf's eyes: "Impersonating a church mage, I'll deal with you for those two gentlemen! Fire!"
The elves, who had been drawing their bows, were already impatient, and in an instant, the sound of arrows piercing the air rang out.
However, as the arrow left the bowstring, the magic circle surrounding the entire elven forest lit up.
The circular magic circles covering the land outline the shape of the elven forest, with pale golden light rising from the bottom of the trees. In the past, these were magic circles used to capture trespassers.
At this moment, a light golden light flew out from the magic circle, like a firefly, floating in mid-air.
The arrow froze in mid-air, and the elder elf's expression changed drastically.
Veris raised his hand, put the black hat on his head, and chuckled, "You're all so impatient. I haven't finished yet. I am indeed a cardinal of the Papacy, but I am certainly not a magician of the Papacy."
A pale golden glow floated gently, illuminating the elves' bewildered faces.
As soon as the young man finished speaking, it swiftly rushed into the bodies of those elves.
In the forest, the sound of heavy objects falling to the ground echoed continuously, and the magic circle continued to flash, illuminating the outer forest almost like daytime. The young man strode forward, walking in one direction.
Stepping over the bushes, the elf hidden within looked up in fear.
His companion lay dead not far away. The forest was eerily quiet at that moment. His pale face was contorted with fear.
Veris stopped in front of him, lowered his eyes, and met a pair of light green eyes.
Elves are easy to identify; most of them have green eyes. Unlike Sylvain's deep green eyes, their eyes are a light color, said to have evolved from gold.
"You, you're not a cardinal! Cardinals can't control magic circles! Who are you?!" The elf's teeth chattered, but he still managed to shout.
He was the one who stirred up emotions while lurking in the darkness just now.
A smile played on Veris's lips, and the shadow of his hat fell between his eyebrows and eyes, making him look less like a holy bishop and more like a demon who had slumbered in hell for many years.
Especially those gloomy black eyes.
“You were innocent,” he whispered.
A pale hand reached out and covered the elf's eyes. The young man seemed to be sighing: "Unfortunately, there is a creature that should not exist inside you."
Who would have thought that the divine essence of the Earth God would awaken in an unknown elven soldier in order to evade his pursuit?
He can take his place in just three days.
"Aa ...
Damn it! Damn it! How did he find out?!
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Author's Note: Veris: Guess
God of the Earth: Who exactly is the villain?!
[The Seven Mysteries, Part 8]
Of the seven great gods, only three are capable of manipulating magical elements.
The god Yannis, the god of the earth Ambrose, and a demon from hell.
I've heard that the true form of a demon is something indescribable.
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