CA - Chapter 238

Chapter 238

Ever since the Pope was gravely injured by Gabriel and then brought under the Saintess's control, his manor had become a forbidden place. Hundreds of Holy Knights surrounded it, making it impenetrable and blocking anyone from entering.

While her attendant priests went to inform everyone to gather at Light Square, the Saintess came to the Pope's manor alone. The guarding Holy Knights saw her and parted to make way.

The sky was gradually brightening. The warm sunlight shone upon her but failed to dispel the chill surrounding the Saintess. Her long silver hair seemed to be laced with frost, and not a trace of warmth could be seen in her golden eyes.

She stopped at the entrance and, with a blank expression, raised a hand to push open the heavy door. Thin slivers of light from behind her illuminated the darkness within, but the sun's reach was limited. More than half the space remained shrouded in darkness.

The Saintess walked through the half-open door, and her figure was quickly swallowed by the darkness.

Footsteps sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet room. In the farthest corner was a bed, and on it lay a person who seemed to have merged with the darkness.

He seemed to hear the footsteps. His body, as stiff as wood, stirred. A hoarse, feeble voice echoed in the room, “...Is that you, Phoenix?”

The Saintess walked to the bedside, her gaze lowered to the Pope's impossibly aged face. She gave a cold “mm.”

The Pope's thoughts were muddled. He had been lying here for too long—so long that he could no longer feel the passage of time. His life force was draining away, bit by bit. The darkness before him was only ever slightly dispelled when this person appeared. He stared numbly at the Saintess and asked the question he had asked countless times, “Has the Holy Son learned the forbidden technique?”

The Holy Son, his child. He wanted to place this supreme power and glory into his hands.

No matter how confused the Pope became, this was a thought he would never forget. Only when the Holy Son was mentioned could he regain a sliver of clarity.

He stared blankly at the Saintess, awaiting her response. Every time, the Saintess would tell him that the Holy Son was still in seclusion at a critical moment. He had heard this countless times, yet he still waited stubbornly for her answer, hoping to hear something different.

And this time, he truly did hear a different answer.

“The Holy Son is dead.” The Saintess's tone was utterly flat, as if she were remarking that a fly had died outside.

The Pope's sluggish mind took a moment to process this. His gaunt, pale face instantly flushed red. His eyes widened, and his intense emotions made him break into a fit of coughing. “You, cough cough, what are you saying?”

It was as if he had suddenly become lucid. A trace of clarity returned to his clouded eyes. The Pope stared intently at the Saintess, grinding out her name through clenched teeth, “Phoenix!”

“He is dead.” The Saintess, as if concerned the Pope hadn't heard clearly, kindly repeated herself. “He is dead. He died at the hands of the Vampires. All the blood was drained from his body. It was a miserable death.”

The Pope's eyes looked ready to burst from their sockets. He stared at the Saintess as if she were a demon, muttering in disbelief, “You... you heartless woman. And I trusted you so much, nurtured you... you've been deceiving me all this time?”

“What was it for?” The Pope tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't support the movement. “Was it for the position of Pope?”

“You truly disappoint me. You greedy demon.”

He glared hatefully at the Saintess, his face dark and grim. “You shouldn't have killed the Holy Son. You shouldn't have... done this...”

His voice trailed off as he spoke, repeating the same phrase over and over.

The Saintess watched him quietly. Seeing him keep muttering that she shouldn't have done it without giving a reason, she spoke for him. “I shouldn't have done this because he was my brother, is that it?”

The Pope's voice stopped. Only his heavy breathing remained in the quiet room. He looked at the Saintess in horror, stammering incoherently, “How did you, how did you know...”

When he brought the Holy Son before the Saintess, the boy was already five years old. Eight years had passed since the Saintess's mother had disappeared. He had lied, claiming the Holy Son was the child of a lost member of the God Race—a lie no one could expose.

Why... why would the Saintess know...

The Saintess's gaze on the Pope was filled with bone-deep hatred. “You commanded the Vampires to capture my God Race, then put on a hypocritical mask and came out to 'save' us. Wasn't it all so you could use the God Race to pass on your own filthy bloodline?”

“You imprisoned my mother, let my people go, and then hunted them down on a massive scale. When you did all those things, did you ever imagine you would end up like this?”

What little color was left in the Pope's face drained away. He lowered his head in silence and said hoarsely, “I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have been soft-hearted. I should have killed you when you were a child.”

He had been greedy. He had desperately wanted someone to assist the Holy Son. He had observed the Saintess for many years; she met his requirements in every aspect. Her performance was too perfect.

So perfect that the Pope himself was kept in the dark.

“Do you want to see the Holy Son one last time?” the Saintess said suddenly. “You... haven't you always wanted to know what abilities the God Race truly possesses?”

She reached out and placed her hand coldly on the Pope's forehead. The Pope was bewildered for a moment, then his expression changed. A series of images appeared before his eyes, the Holy Son's corpse infinitely magnified.

The Pope angrily tried to wave the images away, but the Holy Son's grotesque, ashen face was seared into his mind like a brand.

The shock made him gasp for breath, wheezing heavily as he glared fiercely at the Saintess.

The Saintess looked up coldly, her gaze sweeping the room before she drew a long, golden sword from the wall.

“With a life as sinful as yours, you will not receive the Light Goddess's summons even in death.” The Saintess aimed the tip of the sword at the Pope's neck and thrust it in without expression. Blood gushed out. The Pope's eyes widened, and he weakly raised a hand to grab the blade, trying to say something, but only managed to spit out mouthfuls of blood.

The sharp longsword pierced straight through the Pope's neck. His gaze lost focus, and his body slowly grew stiff and cold.

The gushing blood splattered all over the Saintess's body and face. She closed her eyes, her grip on the sword slowly loosening. She took out a handkerchief to wipe her face, but only smeared the blood further. Frowning, the Saintess tossed the handkerchief aside and cast a purification spell on herself.

The thick stench of blood filled the air. The Saintess's eyes held a flicker of bewilderment, but they quickly returned to their usual calm.

Ever since learning what the Pope had done, she had constantly envisioned this day. Now that she had truly killed him, she felt little joy. Perhaps it was because, in her heart, this man had already died countless times.

She had more important things to do.

The Saintess straightened her sleeves and walked out of the darkness. Two Holy Knights standing at the door saw her emerge and lowered their heads slightly, awaiting her command.

“Prepare His Holiness the Pope's body.” The Saintess looked up at the azure sky and said faintly, “Don't delay the new Pope's coronation.”

The Holy Knights bowed. “Yes,” they replied respectfully.

The last time they had gathered in Light Square, the Holy See had not yet suffered such a heavy blow. Although they were short one Cardinal, the number of bishops was still considerable. This time, they were again short one Cardinal, but the ranks of bishops had been reduced to a third of their former number. Gabriel was dead, but the bishops loyal to him had not yet been permitted to return to the Holy See.

This was likely the smallest gathering the Holy See had seen in a long time.

Tang Qiu stood at the bottom of the steps, observing the statue of the Light Goddess with great interest. The last time she was in Light Square, she hadn't had time to examine the statue closely. Looking at it now, she realized this statue of the Light Goddess was likely the most perfectly carved one in the entire Holy See.

Compassionate yet mercilessly cold—these two contradictory and disparate qualities intertwined in the Light Goddess without seeming out of place. Instead, they inspired an irresistible urge to submit.

A side door to the square suddenly opened. Holy Knights in golden armor escorted the Saintess toward the steps. Tang Qiu pulled her gaze away from the statue and looked the Saintess up and down, her expression thoughtful.

Reese's eyes flickered, and then her lips curved slightly into a meaningful smile.

The Saintess walked up the steps, her golden eyes slightly lowered. Her gaze swept over each of the Cardinals, finally pausing on Tang Qiu. In a solemn tone, she announced, “This morning, the Pope received the Light Goddess's summons and departed the continent of Statu with a devout heart.”

The moment her words fell, the bishops began to whisper among themselves. The Saintess's words were grandiose, but their actual meaning was an announcement of the Pope's death.

Everyone had long been prepared for the Pope's death, so they weren't surprised. They were more anxious about who would succeed him.

Everyone's gazes shifted back and forth between Reese and Tang Qiu, while some stared directly at the Saintess.

The Saintess waited for them to quiet down before continuing, “Before he departed, the Pope conveyed his last wish to me.”

She gestured to the side. An attendant priest who had been waiting stepped forward, holding a white tray. On the tray lay an ancient-looking ring and an envelope.

The Saintess's gaze fell upon Tang Qiu. She paused for a moment before speaking in a low voice, “Cardinal Grace rendered meritorious service by sealing the Blood Demon and recovering Cynthia's Staff. The Pope proposed that she succeed to the position of Pope.”

Tang Qiu met the Saintess's gaze. Hearing the proposal, she merely curled her lips into a habitual smile. Her sky-blue eyes showed neither joy nor sorrow, as clear as ever.

The wandering gazes all began to converge on Tang Qiu, filled with surprise, envy, and jealousy. How many years had it taken for her to rise from a minor priest in the Bill Empire to her current position as a Cardinal?

And now, after today, her title would change from Cardinal to Pope.

Was that not cause for envy and jealousy?

Yet they could not voice any objections. Sealing the Blood Demon was her achievement. Forging an alliance with the werewolves and elves was her achievement. Recovering Cynthia's Staff was also her achievement. They had even heard that during the battle in the Shas Principality, she had been the one to stop the restless Vampires. That, too, was her achievement.

They couldn't find a single reason to oppose her.

According to the Holy See's regulations, establishing a new Pope required a vote from the Cardinals and bishops. Although it was sometimes just a formality, it was a rule passed down through the years.

Everyone assumed they would follow this rule and were waiting for the vote to begin, but the Saintess said nothing more.

Reese glanced at the silent crowd behind her and said with displeasure, “What are you standing around for? Do you intend to object?”

As she spoke, she turned to the side, placed her left hand gently on her shoulder, and gave Tang Qiu a slight bow. “I approve of the Pope's proposal.”

With Reese taking the lead, the others snapped out of their daze. They began to imitate her, bowing and saying, “We approve of the Pope's proposal.”

Vogt and the other Cardinals exchanged a look, then also bowed in Tang Qiu's direction.

The voting process, which was typically the most time-consuming and prone to error, was skipped entirely. The Saintess nodded at Tang Qiu, gesturing for her to come up.

Tang Qiu reached out to help Reese up, then walked past her and ascended the steps. The Saintess handed her the ring from the tray.

It was unknown which Pope had first started the tradition of passing down this ring. It looked ancient, but it represented the supreme authority of the Holy See.

Tang Qiu took the ring, rubbing its smooth surface between her forefinger and thumb. She glanced down. Except for Reese, whom she had helped up, everyone else was still bowing and waiting.

Tang Qiu smiled faintly and slowly, deliberately, slipped the ring onto her index finger. She raised her eyes to meet the Saintess's and said softly, “I thank His Holiness the Pope for his trust.”

“It's just a shame I couldn't see him off in person.” Tang Qiu shook her head, looking genuinely regretful.

The Saintess looked at her, her expression softening. “He passed peacefully.”

“Is that so.” Tang Qiu chuckled softly. “How fortunate for him.”

Their voices were low, audible only to each other. The corners of the Saintess's mouth lifted slightly, and her entire demeanor seemed to relax.

The midday sun was at its brightest. A beam of light shone down on Tang Qiu, enveloping her in a halo. She lowered her gaze, toying with the ring on her finger, a faint smile on her lips. Just standing there, she created a beautiful picture.

The darkness had passed. The Saintess gazed at Tang Qiu, and warmth slowly returned to her golden eyes. The light had finally arrived.

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