Chapter 384

383. Omen (2)

The encampment of the Order of Pilgrimage Knights felt more like a monastery than a military camp. The scenery of neatly arranged supplies, weapons, and warhorses clearly resembled that of a disciplined army, but the absence of any noise except for the quiet ringing of bells and the flipping of book pages made it even more so.

Fernandez walked through this strange sense of dissonance, following the knight ahead of him. Occasionally, knights who noticed Fernandez would stop in their tracks, but none questioned his identity, stopped him, or even greeted him.

The Church of the Temple of the Gods officially prohibits the use of private armed forces. While some churches individually trained a few temple knights to act as enforcers, having a collective force was a different matter altogether.

A collective armed force could influence the political landscape of secular royal families. Five hundred years since the Council’s declaration, the Church of the Temple of the Gods had delegated all external military responsibilities to the Vaitas Church.

As a result, the Vaitas Church now possessed two combat groups: the St. Bartholomew Monastery, tasked with dealing with heretics, dark mages, and demons, and—

‘The Order of St. John Pilgrim Knights, tasked with responding to large-scale apostasy or attacks against the Church.’

At first glance, the two groups didn’t seem all that different, but Fernandez was keenly aware of their distinctions.

The Inquisition Office suspects everything in sight and digs deep until not a single doubt remains. To put it bluntly, they are like hyenas or jackals, voraciously devouring and tearing apart any incident that reeks of heresy.

However, these Pilgrim Knights do not suspect. Like the ancient priests who maintained the most fundamental attitudes of clergy, they do not doubt that everything will happen according to the Lord’s will.

Thus, they do not ask. They do not speak. They do not express. They operate like automatons, mechanical in their faith, solely executing the Lord’s words.

‘Was the official reason for their dispatch retribution for the destruction of the monastery?’

That was the most plausible reason, but according to documents released by the Phaeirn Royal Family after the Inquisition Office’s suspension, the destruction of the monastery was not the work of the Phaeirn Kingdom. While their information couldn’t be fully trusted, the foundation of noble society was justification and face, and the royal family’s official announcement couldn’t be dismissed without evidence.

In other words, the Vaitas Church had to first confirm that the attack on the monastery was not the work of an ‘unknown cult group’ before they could dispatch the knights.

‘Zigismund knew that fact better than anyone… and he made the first move.’

Even now, Fernandez couldn’t help but think that Tyban was too sharp-witted to be worshipping. Fernandez didn’t overestimate Tyban’s military strength, but he highly valued the cunning of his strategies.

Tyban had set up a perfect board where the Vaitas Church, the Temple of the Gods, the Empire, and other royal families couldn’t intervene, and he had established his operation faster than anyone else. Having lost the initiative, Fernandez had no choice but to flip the board, even if it meant making a risky move.

Fernandez bitterly pursed his lips and continued walking. The knight ahead of him suddenly stopped. In front of them, near the campfire, a priest was sitting and peeling potatoes into a pot.

It was a familiar face.

“Your Eminence.”

The old man with a nervous expression put down the knife he was using to peel potatoes and looked up at him. He chuckled and patted the spot beside him.

“My neck hurts. Are you going to keep making an old man look up at you?”

Cardinal Caliocini. A few years ago, he had played the antagonistic role in Fernandez’s canonization advisory council.

At his hostility-free joke, Fernandez laughed heartily and sat down. The cardinal turned his attention back to the pot, tossing in the sliced potatoes.

“Surprised?”

“Knowing how much effort His Holiness has put into this matter, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“You’re still as sharp-tongued as ever. Haha.”

Despite his nervous demeanor, the cardinal spoke like any other warm-hearted old man you might meet. However, Fernandez remained wary as he watched him.

In any church, the role of the ‘Devil’s Advocate’ is absolutely necessary. Since there’s no guarantee that the collective opinion will always be for the good, there are always those who take on the role of advocating for the bad to prepare for such situations.

In this era, the Devil’s Advocate of the Vaitas Papacy was the old man before him. A grueling task that required always opposing the Pope, who held absolute power within the church. A position devoid of any trust or honor. A cruel role that no individual should have to bear alone for decades.

Even if the actions are for the greater good, that kind of harshness slowly warps a person’s nature over time. While one couldn’t deny that the old man’s morals were just, he could never be as warm-hearted as the friendly old man next door.

“The reason you sought out this old man is to hear about the situation in the Church of the Temple of the Gods, isn’t it? Remarkable intuition. Who else could think that far ahead? How long has it been?”

As expected. Fernandez smiled wryly, confirming that his prediction was accurate. The cardinal continued stirring the pot without any change in expression.

The field-style stew bubbled, emitting a savory aroma. The old man, looking down at the pot where the dough was thickening, continued without changing his expression.

“I know you are extremely intelligent and coldly rational. A level of thinking ability that doesn’t match your age. Both Brother Beorn and His Holiness agreed on this. Brother Beorn considered it divine providence, and His Holiness thought it was prophetic ability, but I think differently.”

Beorn believed Fernandez’s intelligence was a blessing from God. Most young men of his age would struggle to follow even a fraction of Fernandez’s complex thoughts, so it wasn’t entirely wrong.

On the other hand, the Pope believed Fernandez had prophetic abilities. It was hard to explain otherwise how he seemed to know information that didn’t match the time or place.

But Cardinal Caliocini…





The old man, who had made it his job to first deny every opinion and then find the basis for it later, did not think so.

Everything starts at home. Knowing unknown information in advance? Already possessing knowledge that is generally unattainable, predicting future events, and having wisdom that is not typical for his age?

The Pope was wise. If it wasn’t a prophecy, it would be hard to explain. But Caliocini decided to oppose the Pope’s opinion first. If all this wasn’t due to prophecy, could there be another conclusion?

“By compiling the materials left by those who had the power of prophecy, one conclusion emerges. That this world will inevitably perish someday. Though not known to the public, the Church of the Temple of the Gods believes that day is not far off.”

The world, called the Material World, is living on thin ice. The conditions leading to destruction are too many, the ways to avoid it are extremely few, and the schemes of those who wish for destruction are countless.

Suppose one day, some cultists finally succeed in opening the gates of Hell. What if that horrific heresy is reported a moment too late, and some problems arise in the process of dealing with it?

Hell can destroy the world too easily. Even a single demon can kill hundreds, thousands of people. A handful of Hellish Magic can contaminate more than one town’s territory, and the air flowing from that contaminated land spreads like a plague.

To eradicate this, the Church has enforced all means for a thousand years. Burning entire villages, collapsing cities, hanging countless saints on stakes to catch a single heretic hidden among the crowds.

It was a necessary sacrifice. Humanity achieved its current prosperity through miracles that were almost accidental. After the celestial races retreated before the Celestial War, it was we humans who occupied the unclaimed lands and settled.

Power and miracles obtained not by one’s own efforts can disappear at any time, and in any amount. More than any other group, the Church knew this fact clearly. Therefore, they believed that the end could come to them at any time.

Only hoping that it would not be today, and at least not tomorrow, they continue to live, throwing themselves into the fire even at this moment.

“The number of demon worshippers is increasing over time. No matter what efforts we make, heretics still hide in the sewers and shadows. Demon incidents flare up every moment we turn our eyes away, and countless lives are consumed to strike them down. How much time do we have left?”

Just a hundred years ago, it wasn’t like this. The incidents that occur in a month in this era are more than the reports received in a year in those days.

Of course, in the more distant past, and in more ancient records, the reports of a year were less than a week’s worth now. The Inquisition Office has been a long-standing group since the days of Mumto of the Great Wilderness, but it has not been as large as it is now for even fifty years.

Of course, the Church of the Temple of the Gods had to seriously consider the end. Though they don’t know when it will be, it is at least not far off.

And Caliocini, looking at Fernandez’s actions, suddenly thought this. What if the Pope was wrong? What if… really what if. What if this young man is not a prophet?

“Have you seen the moment of the end?”

“…!”

A leap of logic and a near-delusional speculation, something that couldn’t even be explained how it was possible. But Caliocini silently did his job. After opposing the Pope’s opinion, finding the basis for it.

The result is this. Fernandez is not a prophet, and the reason he knows the future and is precocious and wise beyond his years… If he came from the future, it was possible.

He doesn’t know how to turn back time. It might be possible. But if so—

“At least within a century, this world will be finished, right? Or not?”

Fernandez clearly knew the situation of this era. More than what could be known by flipping through history books. Doesn’t that mean that Fernandez has already lived through this world?

Caliocini felt a chilling sensation from his own reasoning. If you think like this, everything fits. Knowing information that hasn’t even been revealed in this era, rooting out heretic sects hiding everywhere in advance, and even slaying a Great Demon.

All Great Demons were sealed in unknown places. Not only Mumto of the Great Wilderness and Sadarkelisa of the north, who were confirmed to be slain, but also at least two other entities that seemed to have been resealed.

The fact that a person from the future clearly knows their location and situation, which even the Church didn’t know, means, in other words, that they were released in the near future.

The situation where ancient demons imbued with divinity roam freely in the Material World is, more succinctly put, ‘the end.’ And if Fernandez knows all these situations, he has faced the end and returned.

Caliocini looked at him with a tired and haggard face. Deep fear and despair were seeping from his complex gaze.

“Answer me.”

“That thought is correct.”

“Lord…”

Caliocini made the sign of the cross and dropped his head.

“I miss Brother Beorn. Who would have thought that brother’s opinion was the most correct?”

Fernandez’s existence is a blessing from the Lord. That was the last conclusion Beorn left about Fernandez while alive. Unlike the Pope, who tried to establish a political foothold among the secular royal families using the power of prophecy, Beorn believed in Fernandez until the very end.

The Pope’s judgment was clearly wise and cold, but if Fernandez had returned to the past through the power of Vaitas, could it not be said that his very existence is a blessing from God?

Perhaps this man was the last chance. Paradoxically, his existence meant that even the power of God could not prevent the end. It meant that there was no alternative but to escape to the past in the face of the end.

“Wouldn’t we all miss that brother?”

At Fernandez’s words, Caliocini smiled bitterly and scooped porridge into a simple wooden bowl. Fernandez took it and raised the bowl as if to toast.

“As the brightest among us heads to the hall, this is—”

“To be the lighthouse of the hall.”

“Makto.”

“Makto Superlaudo.”

The two faced their bowls once and quietly continued their meal. The tribute to the dead, as always, was not long.

Now it was time to face reality. The conversation of the two priests echoed softly in the quiet of the Order of Pilgrimage Knights.

Discussions about the future of the Church of the Temple of the Gods, the end of this world, and the political situation of the secular royal families. The apocalypse about the end remains only a metaphor between the two priests who believe it should.