Chapter 416: The Remnant Body

Crossing beyond the “guards” left outside the door—one dead knight after another—into the forbidden zone, the Pope’s face was as dark as it could be.

At this moment, the Second Forbidden Zone—which for a century had belonged to the Church’s core secrets—was no longer quiet. Piercing alarms howled; the Great Barrier and the Holy Domain reacted at speed, and the entire cathedral had long since been sealed shut.

Under layered lockdowns, not even a fly would likely get out.

But it was too late.

Before the Pope, the device once filled with alchemical solution now lay empty. Green fluid spilled from the shattered apparatus, ran all the way to his feet, and faintly traced out a twisted smiling face—dripping with mockery.

The Pope silently watched that face, eyes overcast.

From the faint, familiar stench wafting up, he quickly understood the true culprit behind all this.

The Corrupt Love God!

"How disgraceful, Hezekiah."

Meladomir was likewise in the core of the forbidden zone. Since the Pope had chosen to tell her, he naturally did not block her entry.

Her ethereal figure stood upon layer after layer of intricate lines. With the slightest sensing, she could feel two powerful and precise creations guarding this place without pause—protecting, and at the same time suppressing what had been contained within the vessel... “that thing.”

Even she felt enormous pressure. If the Pope wished, he could likely use those two creations to directly shred this projection of hers right here.

Thus the strongest defense was no empty boast. The Church’s terrifying heritage, built over a thousand years, had forged this into the safest place in the world.

By rights, no external foe could invade this forbidden zone, much less steal anything from within.

But as so often happens... the stronger the place, the more the problem comes from within.

"A single Captain of Knights could penetrate this deep, take that thing, and only after he got out in one piece did you react?"

Meladomir turned back and asked coldly.

"When did the Church become this useless?"

"No. A captain naturally doesn’t have that clearance."

The Pope replied:

"According to Ulrons’s report just now, every action Captain Kans took followed procedure. After a bloody battle, he withdrew with his unit to the rear to rest and rotate—an entirely normal personnel adjustment.

"Neither the Saintess nor the Archbishops noticed anything amiss, because he was not amiss at all. The rotation order itself was personally issued by Archbishop Locast.

"And the rotation was a trivial matter besides; such actions play out dozens of times a day across the Church’s internal departments and secret sections.

"Even if Kans harbored ill intent, he shouldn’t have been able to truly touch the core..."

"But?"

Meladomir looked at him in silence.

"But..."

The Pope gripped his scepter. Veins jumped on the back of his gaunt hand, and in his timeworn eyes there flickered anger and helplessness he could not hide—like an old wound to the bone, ripped open and bleeding once more.

"In Ulrons’s records, the one who entered here just now was not the Captain of the Sacred Sword Knights, Kans Lord, but... the true Saintess of the Church of Life, Belena."

"Saintess Belena..."

Meladomir’s brows twitched, recalling how, more than half a year ago, when the academy had been invaded by an Evil God, that earlier Saintess had been controlled by the Love God.

She had been the Church’s Saintess and Professor Prang’s proudest student.

But she was already dead—killed by Meladomir’s hand—and could not possibly return.

Therefore...

"The Love God... plundered that Saintess’s clearance?"

"Yes. As Saintess, Belena naturally had the right to enter here."

"That’s far too easy. Since the Church already knew Belena was under the Love God’s control, why keep her clearance?"

"We did not keep it. But all things leave traces. And what the Love God stole back then was not only Saintess Belena."

The Pope let out a heavy sigh:

"At the time, Belena was still the Church’s Saintess, so the Love God used her connection to the Church to also steal fully one-fifth of the Church’s Holy Light. That colossal portion of Holy Light is the root of everything."

"Holy Light? One-fifth?"

Meladomir was momentarily stunned, then immediately saw it.

No wonder that mutt looked like that last time they met. She had thought It had gone for a beauty treatment, stuck a few more bird-feathers on itself to better trick pure, ignorant boys and girls.

So that sacred power had come from the Church’s Holy Light. And because that Holy Light was mixed with the Love God’s own power, even Meladomir herself hadn’t recognized it at once.

"One-fifth... no wonder. That’s enough for the Love God to deceive heaven and earth, not to mention Belena’s residual trace. You practically handed both key and lock to the Love God. Of course It was going to play you."

"Yes. It’s maddening, but the bitter fruit brewed by a moment’s mistake remains bitter even now. Even so, I still had room to respond. As long as I sensed it in time, I could have used the Holy Domain to instantly seal Kans and the Love God controlling him together."

Bright radiance coiled around the Pope’s scepter. Within boundless sanctity, the entire Holy City seemed projected here, every detail clear.

The whole cathedral, the whole Holy City, lay completely within his grasp. In a single instant, his gaze could reach; within a single breath, his true body could arrive.

"But the problem is, that Withering Evil God was ‘playing a game’ with you—you chase me; catch me and I’ll let you heh-heh—successfully drawing all your attention."

Meladomir supplied the second half for him, her tone indescribably cutting:

"You were outplayed by that Disgrace of Evil Gods."

"Yes."

After his anger ebbed, knowing things were settled, the Pope nodded quietly:

"This time we were indeed counted by the Love God. I fear the reason It helped Withering was to use It to draw the Church’s eyes. It never cared whether Withering succeeded."

"An old trick."

Meladomir snorted.

How like the last time Silent Moon attacked the academy.

And yet, however old the trick, it still worked.

Because when an Evil God runs amok—especially one that is the mortal enemy of the Goddess—the entire Church cannot help but stand to arms.

Moreover, the Love God had clearly learned from last time and acted even more like a lurking old snake. When Withering was one step from breaking through the Church, It actually held back and hid in a place like this.

And the result was worlds apart.

Last time, failure and a tail-between-legs escape.

This time... success.

"Heh. As expected of that mutt—it really does love handing people impossible problems."

Meladomir lifted her head and opened her crimson eyes, as though she could gaze beyond the sealed forbidden zone at something far away.

Perhaps not at something distant, but at something long past.

In that moment, she no longer seemed like a pajama-clad little loli. That ancient gravitas and authority even for a time pressed down the scepter-wielding Pope:

"The Love God’s success in taking that means the gears of fate have begun turning again."

"No... in truth, they began turning long ago. The Evil Gods’ frequent activity itself augurs something—or perhaps... there is some unseen hand behind the scenes we do not know."

Whether speaking to herself or to the Pope:

"But whatever those nebulous things may be, what matters most now is... the Love God has succeeded once already. It must not be allowed ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ to succeed again.

"Because what It took..."

"Is the Remnant Body of the Demon God."

In the cold, still forbidden zone, the Pope lowered his gaze and gently spoke the taboo words.

"The only Evil God in a thousand years to truly descend upon the mortal world, ushering in an era of chaos that swept the continent—spreading death and despair like a plague, and one can even say directly snuffing out a brilliant age...

"The First Evil God—the Demon God."

"Yes. The Demon God."

Meladomir tasted each word.

Two syllables to inspire dread.

Its true, reverent name had long been buried by the river of time, yet the wound It had given this world remained.

A thousand years of history broken like a fault line; countless crippled ancient ruins; blood-and-tears records in old texts; the Abysses that still exist to this day... and the demons within.

Meladomir’s eyes flickered; her expression was complex.

Unlike the Pope, who knew the Demon God only from the Church’s inherited tomes, she had been there.

She had personally joined the Demon God’s subjugation war; she knew better than anyone how terrifying that Demon God truly was.

"I’m going back first. The academy can’t have another incident."

Unable to play the bystander and forced back to overtime, Meladomir sighed miserably. "The Demon God cannot return to the world—at least not now. Otherwise, with the current pitiful strength on all sides, we might as well stop resisting and hold hands to collectively off ourselves."

"Understood."

The Pope nodded, seeing her figure gradually fade.

He hesitated, then still asked:

"You... don’t seem very angry?"

"Angry? Why? Because the Church lost something so important, so I should be angry?"

Half-transparent already, Meladomir looked back, her expression mocking:

"If something like this could make me angry... then a thousand years ago I would’ve died of rage already."

"...Is that so?"

"Relax a little, Hezekiah. The burden on you is too heavy."

Meladomir’s gaze grew deep as she looked at the Pope.

"One person cannot save the world. Likewise, one person cannot destroy it. The Church of Life should have more important matters to handle, shouldn’t it?"

"...Before you, there really are no secrets."

"Live long enough and you naturally know more."

Her fading fingers passed over the precision alchemical instruments. She tilted her head, tracing out a meaningful smile:

"After all... for you, this is only the Second Forbidden Zone, isn’t it?"

...

...

After Meladomir left, the Pope lingered a long time in that cold, quiet space.

The acrid smell still drifted in the air—foul and nauseating, yet ever sharpening one’s thoughts.

After pondering and deducing for a long time, he finally walked out through the great door.

The knights’ corpses had been cleared away. Only a white-robed elder stood with hands lowered, as though he had long awaited him.

"Locast."

The Pope spoke the Archbishop’s name:

"Is it done?"

"Yes. Without a single flaw."

Archbishop Locast answered with reverent voice:

"All proceeds as Your Holiness wishes."

"Good. It seems the bait has been successfully cast."

A keen light flashed deep in the Pope’s timeworn eyes. Archbishop Scarlot did not dare meet his gaze and quickly lowered his head.

Only before that millennia-old little loli Meladomir did his aura and seniority get pressed down by one.

At all other times, he was the Pope.

The highest of humankind—the Pope of the Church of Life.

"Then... let everything start moving—be it the gears, or whatever else."

The Pope tapped his scepter lightly and walked forward. Darkness yawned on either side of the path, yet his gaze did not waver in the slightest.

In his eyes, that was the only light upon this pitch-black road.

...

A single person, of course, cannot save the world.

But what he intends to save is not the world.