### Chapter 12: The Cause and the Conclusion (Middle)
October 19, 1182
I’m not quite sure how she first tracked down the Jester—perhaps it was through that man buried in the Western Continent.
The Jester returned to inform me about this, an unexpected twist that made me realize Sister Teresa might just be the breakthrough we need to crack the seal of the Land of Dragons. After all, with her standing in the Church, she could easily get her hands on those esteemed divine relics—the so-called “Divine Reliquaries.”
But at the same time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a high probability of it being a trap.
Over the years, the Church hasn’t been able to trace my whereabouts or that of the Essence, yet they have made several visits here. I could tell the higher-ups among the Saints were getting anxious—maybe someone sensed our recent activities, particularly Teresa. It’s a rather plausible scenario; the Gate of Truth is treading carefully right now, and I must be more cautious than ever.
I worried about what reckless actions the Jester might take.
That man certainly doesn’t trust Teresa; he has an innate aversion towards anyone associated with the Church, especially someone so revered. I fear he might not be able to control his darker impulses and, in a fit of impulse, end up killing the Saint. Though he hasn’t done that yet, just keeping Teresa controlled at Nogowai Sea Port without bringing her here is, for the Jester, already a dangerously telling move.
It was clear that the man had a massive interest in Teresa. The reason he hasn’t eliminated her yet might be either due to her strength or perhaps because he intended to play a more thrilling game…
The latter seems far more likely.
And once the Jester’s games begin, he’s sure to pull me into them as well; otherwise, he could’ve just kept this from me. By the time I notice it, that woman might already be dead at his foolish hands.
The Jester has his plans, that much I can see.
But I didn’t express any of that.
After much contemplation, I decided to meet Sister Teresa once.
I needed to have a face-to-face with her, and I’d take the Jester along. Only then could I make a more accurate judgment about the current situation. This risk is one I, as well as the Gate of Truth, must face because it may hold greater opportunities—perhaps a golden chance to turn our dire situation around.
I absolutely cannot miss this opportunity.
I need to make the Jester understand that we need someone like Teresa on the side of Truth. But if we can’t have her, then may the Jester do as he pleases.
November 18, 1182
We officially met for the first time in the shipwright warehouse at Nogowai Sea Port.
To my surprise, Sister Teresa turned out to be an Ebboristian—something I had never heard before.
However, as an Ebboristian, her choice to become a lapdog for the Church is honestly disappointing. I was left feeling let down, realizing she was merely a spineless fisherman’s daughter. Even wrapped in a fancy golden robe, revered by thousands, she couldn’t hide the foul, ignorant stench that seeped into her very bones.
That really was my first impression of her.
But since she came specifically to meet the first councilor of the Gate of Truth, claiming she had important matters to discuss, I thought I might as well listen to what she had to say. With that in mind, our conversation began, and before long, my impression of her took a significant turn.
She wasn’t a foolish woman manipulated by the Church.
Like the Jester, she was a bit of a lunatic.
Ha!
I must document this thoroughly because I have a feeling she might very well turn out to be the most devout traitor in the Holy Church’s history, and it is thrilling that I encountered her—goddess bless!
On the eve of her election as a Saint, this woman was brought to the Holy City by Pope Angel. She learned of the complex situation the Holy Church currently faced, and the devastating impact of their actions on this world. The truth of the alien wars from a thousand years ago, the fall of the deities, the emergence of the Abyss— the Saints, at last, found themselves at a loss. What kind of world would we have moving forward? That night, everything seemed to collapse within her like the turbulent rapids of the Red River, shattering her previously unwavering beliefs.
Pope Angel told her that to become a Saint meant bearing the world’s sins alongside him, paving a new path for humanity in the narrow space before the tidal wave of destruction. Teresa recounted this to me verbatim, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
To desecrate the deceased divine body and imprison the living gods, all for the sake of coveting grand divine powers—how brazen, greedy, and utterly ridiculous could one be? Eventually, one cannot escape the anger of the deities and like that, push humanity and the entire world into the dark Abyss, teetering on the brink of obliteration…
Who exactly carried out this madness? Wasn’t it you hypocritical Saints?
How dare that young Pope utter such drivel!
It’s utterly ludicrous!
Teresa was originally a pious believer, someone radiating a willingness to sacrifice and contribute to others. I could see that; I’m adept at reading people. It struck me at once; her faith had completely crumbled by now.
In her mind, she believed the Holy Church to be selfless, comprised of a bunch of great people—and like her, others willing to dedicate themselves. Everything they did was to shield the unfortunate from the storm, aiding those enduring hardships.
Teresa and I both hail from Ebborista, and she’s witnessed the horrors of pillaging and bloodshed, fully understanding just how tough and humble life can be. Perhaps even she and her family were once among those humble beings. She had seen more than her fair share of unbearable sights, and in wanting to change all that, she became a nun and, through her talents and hard work, reached her acclaimed day.
She was willing to become a Saint and do even more from then on.
Then she learned who the real culprits behind all this chaos were.
Teresa finally saw through the true faces of the Saints who had stood high, revered, and adored.
When she came to her senses, she realized she had also become one of them.
Even though she had been kept in the dark and, for now, hadn’t actively contributed to those “great deeds accelerating the world’s demise,” she had figured it all out. Her so-called “gift” was nothing more than having ingested “holy water” mixed with divine essence, allowing her body to better accommodate the sinful liquid. So, those Saints encouraged her to drink more of it—this “faith power,” this so-called pious belief, was merely that; it had nothing to do with any notions of benevolence, purity, or dedication.
She understood her faith power was something that was slowly plundered from the great divine bodies by the Church, piece by piece. The so-called “blessings” were nothing but lies crafted to deceive the world. She merely had a knack for being a better vessel for the divine essence as a human; without a doubt, she was an outstanding carrier.
She grasped all of this.
Afterward, she even saw the Mother God of Abundance, imprisoned underground in the Holy City, already driven to madness.
When Teresa recounted these events to me, her face bore no joy or sorrow, but I noticed her hands trembling violently beneath the table.
Meanwhile, the Jester’s laughter sounded jarringly harsh.
What a poor, pitiable woman…
