Chapter 110: Light and Dark (Part Seven)
As the nun waltzed in with a water basin and towel, I quietly slipped out of the room.
Talking to Margaret left a sour taste in my mouth. I spilled my guts to her, trying to lay bare my feelings, but Princess Saint had her strict guidelines. She demanded I “follow the rules,” adhering to certain doctrines like “don’t meddle in politics, steer clear of wars, and never let personal feelings dictate your stance,” and on and on it went. Honestly, the moment she started listing them out, I checked out mentally—I had violated every single one of those rules!
Not that I didn’t understand her situation.
As the holy lady of The Holy Church, every little thing Margaret does becomes tabloid fodder. But unlike the Pope Knight, the title “Saint” is supposed to symbolize redemption, not carnage. That’s the whole point of bestowing such a title, right?
A saint is destined for a life of solitude—no heartstrings to tug at, no desires to indulge in, forever unencumbered by the trivialities of the world, eternally reverent to the masses. The image the church wants to project is one of an untouchable, pristine saint… or, more bluntly, a PR stunt.
Just imagine—if one day, people started gossiping about the current saint, discussing not her noble deeds but how she single-handedly vaporized someone yesterday and minced another poor soul for brunch today… What a disaster that would be!
So yeah, Margaret has a tough gig.
Her title means the only tool in her toolbox for solving problems is talking, not fighting. She’s constantly tiptoeing around, scared of stepping over any line… I get that.
Her standards for me are reasonable enough.
After all, “doctrines” are essentially the law of the land when it comes to the church, and here I am, basking in the luxuries that come with being a Pope Knight. I’ve got a hefty bank account and a swanky house; flashing my ID anywhere gets me respect. So naturally, I’m expected to play by the rules and carry some responsibility—nothing wrong with that; everyone else, including Carlos, does the same.
Margaret’s not in the wrong.
She’s just… a bit rigid.
Maybe her title puts her in a mental cage, or maybe she just likes to toe the line that much. Even in these chaotic times, she clings fiercely to rigidity, fearing any deviation. She maintains that unyielding image of being “fair and just” even when no one’s watching—oh, and that includes my very unique self, apparently.
But with me, it’s always the same.
It’s like she’s drawn a circle on the ground, trapped herself inside, and wants me to join her… because that’s what’s “right.” She did say she wanted to guide me down the righteous path.
She’s probably stressed to the max…
But honestly, some things…
In a world without internet or phones, there won’t be a viral video if the saint does something controversial. The information flow is tightly controlled by the church, and regular folks will never know the full story… Whatever the church says is gospel.
But Margaret doesn’t seem to get that.
Maybe she has her principles…
In her eyes, I’ve probably crossed the line, disregarding the rules and slaughtering people at will… the consequences will catch up with me once all this blows over, right?
Whatever…
As long as Victoria’s fine, that’s all that matters…
Either way, I’m done listening to Margaret’s nonsense.
I didn’t even try to convince her; people like her are pretty resistant to being swayed by words. So, if we’re not vibing, I’m not sticking around—my head’s a mess, and I’m no help, might as well get some fresh air.
When I left, Victoria seemed to be doing much better. Margaret didn’t threaten me with any ultimatums if I didn’t comply; she was laser-focused on treating the poison. I was worried handing Victoria over to her, but trusted her care.
Beyond that, there was nothing else to be done.
The wind outside the church was fierce.
I climbed to the top of the central tower, gripping the golden cross atop the spire with one hand, peering out at the city below.
From up here, I couldn’t see the royal palace situation, but I was scanning for anyone trying to take themselves out of the gene pool.
And attempting to sense the Abyss’s position.
Margaret had just briefed some of the clergy but hadn’t directly mentioned the Abyss, only instructing them to check the entry logs from the last month. The issue? No one at the church had the slightest clue where to start or who to ask, and the person who might have had that information was probably now a cold corpse. That was supposed to be the guards’ job, and with the chaos in the city, who knew if that was feasible?
The church was already short-staffed, needing to treat the injured and calm the panicked populace; they could hardly spare anyone for this task.
A few did manage to head out…
But really, what can a handful of people do? Even if they found the list, just reading it would take an eternity… With the current situation, whether anyone knowledgeable could cooperate with the investigation was a monumental question.
This is just…
d*mn it.
I couldn’t feel a single trace of the presence…
Rubbing my temples, I gazed down at the courtyard that was filled with mournful cries.
It used to be set up with tables and chairs; I’d chatted with Aili here—it used to be an open, beautiful space, and now it was packed with civilians scrambling in from outside. One glance down, and it was shoulder to shoulder, many injured, a few even lying on the ground, gasping for breath.
Nuns were bustling below, and I even spotted a few children from Cataloma, wearing ill-fitting clerical robes, darting around helping the wounded, applying bandages and ointments.
My head throbbed again…
I could really go for a snack right about now.
That strange hunger resurfaced, and saliva started pooling in my mouth. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of all the unwise cravings.
Time to head down…
I at least needed to check on Victoria’s safety… Tough it out a bit longer…
I leaped from the tower’s top, landing gracefully on the elevated stone pillars in the courtyard, then climbed over the railing to get back to the second floor.
Time’s about up… Let’s take a peek…
The hallway was eerily quiet.
In stark contrast to the chaos below, there were hardly any people on the second floor. Civilians weren’t allowed up here, and clergy were all tied up in the main chamber. Once inside the inner sanctum, the entire second floor was as still as a grave, except for the sound of my own footsteps echoing.
Suddenly, I caught a faint whisper.
“Go through the back hall… Be careful, don’t get caught…”
Huh?
Who’s there…
I stopped dead in my tracks, following the voice and turning to glance at a closed door down the hall.
What “don’t get caught” nonsense?
This felt a bit off.
I held my breath instinctively, straining to listen.
“Make sure to see Duke Lex… Inform him… Don’t use any written methods, and don’t let anyone see… Quickly notify him of Elizabeth’s position… He’ll remember… All your promises…”
I was momentarily stunned.
Once the meaning of those words sank in, fury and disbelief erupted in me like a volcano.
It was that old Pope!
I recognized his voice!
Without a moment’s hesitation, I charged forward and kicked the door down.
Crash!
The brown wooden door flew back.
Inside, the room was bright and solemnly decorated. A golden cross adorned the front wall, exuding an air of the untouchable. At a desk to the side of the cross, an old guy in a gold-lined robe sat stiffly, with a young cleric standing beside him.
They jumped at the sound but were still processing what happened, instinctively drawing back as the door came flying at them.
In the next moment, I dove into the room.
Moon Step!
Whoosh—
The whirlwind knocked over bookcases and candle holders, sweeping through the entire room like a tornado. Papers danced in the air, and the old Pope widened his eyes, his face a mass of startled wrinkles. He started to raise a hand, but I slammed him down on the head, pushing hard.
Bam!
He smashed face-first into the desk, splintering the wood and sending shards flying; pieces embedded themselves into his face. Meanwhile, I grabbed the young cleric on my left by his robe.
My eyes glowed blue.
Frosty mist swiftly enveloped the cleric, freezing him in place like an ice sculpture. I released him, and he slowly tipped backward. At the same time, I used my grip on the Pope’s head to yank him back up, pulling his face out of the debris before slamming it back down again.
Crack!
The sturdy wooden table splintered in half, bl**d spraying out.
“Ahhhhh—”
Finally, the old Pope managed to let out a cry, his voice cracking with pain.
His body wobbled, folding down in front of me. I tightly held onto his hair, preventing him from collapsing to the floor, and glared at his bloodied, splintered face.
“Speak! What are you doing?!”
“You… I…”
The old Pope’s front teeth had been knocked out, bl**d dripping from his chin. He looked dazed, his frail body trembling as he flailed his arms about like a fish out of water, unable to articulate his thoughts, his tongue seemingly injured as he stuttered.
“You’re a bishop of the church! How dare you…”
“I didn’t… I…”
“I heard everything!”
“Please spare me… please…”
In the next moment, faint golden light erupted from his body.
Buzz buzz buzz—
“Ah!”
The old Pope suddenly went on the offensive, spitting out a mouthful of bl**d while his glowing right hand reached for my head.
He dared resist!
Boom!
Black flames erupted from his arm, swiftly engulfing his whole body in rampant fire. His mouth gaped wide open, his twisted face now grotesque, eyes locked onto me as if he were trying to shout something, but his body quickly withered away in the black blaze, his face collapsing into a pile of ash.
The white smoke snaked its way into my chest.
Ah…
Delicious…
It wasn’t until the flames consumed the shattered table that I snapped back to reality. A chill rushed through me, and I hastily waved my hand to extinguish the flames.
Tendrils of black smoke drifted out of the room.
I stood still in the wreckage, my gaze fixed on the holy cross on the wall, temporarily entranced. After a moment, I glanced back at the frozen cleric at my feet and rubbed my temples vigorously.
Ouch…
I hadn’t intended to use Chaotic Power… how did that happen…
Head throbbing…
Time to… tell Margaret…
That cleric was already a goner. I didn’t bother with him anymore and swiftly exited the room.
Just heard the old Pope mention the Old Duke…
Didn’t they say to remain neutral and not get involved in politics?
No wonder they could make things run so smoothly after we left… The chaos in the royal city, the church’s inaction… These scumbags were undoubtedly supporting the Old Duke behind the scenes… They must’ve been swimming in backroom deals!
I had to tell Margaret about this…
I quickened my pace. As I approached the corner of the hallway, I suddenly heard hurried footsteps coming from around the bend.
Who’s that…
I instinctively tensed up, unleashing blue light from my right hand.
Then three panicked children came darting around the corner. They were in such a hurry they almost crashed into me, halting in shock upon realizing I was there.
Not enemies…
Once I figured that out, I quickly stashed my right hand behind my back.
“…Sister?!”
Huh?
That beautiful, familiar voice startled me, and as I focused, I recognized the girl leading the charge—Aili.
She looked just as surprised to see me, her face shifting from worry to delight, only to morph back into a frown as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Sister…”
“Someone’s gone missing…”
