Chapter 677: The Sea of Penance (2)
People love to rank things.
It might seem sudden to bring this up, but there’s hardly anyone who would deny it.
Is it some base desire to classify others by rank, mere curiosity, or simply a way to pass the time…?
Though the exact reason is unclear, people have always shown an intense enthusiasm for ranking.
Discussions about who’s bigger, who’s stronger, who owns more—simple yet childish as they might seem—were common topics.
This tendency applied to everyone, from children to adults alike.
And for the past several decades, the top answer to these ranking questions had been "the United Kingdom."
A small island nation in the north among the chosen nations.
Although not particularly large in size, the United Kingdom’s vast territories were thanks to its many colonies, making it the nation with the widest domain today.
On the other hand, what would be the smallest country?
If one were to include the chosen nations, as well as those deemed savage or uncivilized?
Surprisingly, the answer to this question also lay among the chosen nations.
That nation was none other than the Holy See State.
Located far to the south, opposite the northern United Kingdom, this city-state housed the Saint Hall, the main center of the Pater Church, which worshipped the Heavenly Father.
Strictly speaking, the Saint Hall was established first, and the Holy See State was later formed to support it.
In any case, the smallest nation in the world was this very Holy See State.
Its territory did not even cover one district of Landa, and its population barely exceeded a thousand—an exceedingly tiny nation.
To call it a country was honestly a stretch.
Yet, surprisingly, no country in the world dared to ignore this little Holy See State.
And of course, that was due to the Saint Hall.
The main center of the Pater Church.
But why exactly?
Was it because of reverence for the Pater Church and the worship of the Heavenly Father?
While that wasn’t entirely wrong, there was a more immediate reason.
The Saint Hall provided significant support to each nation—or rather, to each regime.
Its words could sway the position of royal families and governments alike.
And that wasn’t all.
Beyond such political influence, the Saint Hall offered each nation an irreplaceable form of assistance.
They dispatched Holy Knights and sisterhood groups to help uphold public order and welfare within nations.
With the donations they received from countless believers, they funded national finances.
High-ranking priests, such as the Archpriests, served as consultants to the leaders of nations or even acted as diplomats and politicians.
A prime example was Archpriest Armand, the Chancellor of Gallos, and Archpriest Roderick, who served as advisor to several small royal families in the central continent.
Even in an era where wealth superseded faith as the prevailing value, each nation was careful not to offend the Saint Hall.
Though it could no longer use excommunication as it did in the past to bring others to their knees, the Saint Hall still wielded considerable influence over nations.
For instance, it could withdraw the Holy Knights and sisterhood groups, creating a void in administrative capacity, cut off financial support, or close diplomatic channels to isolate a country.
For this reason, even leaders who lacked faith would feign piety within the Saint Hall.
The Saint Hall, in turn, harnessed this secular power to maintain faith and order.
Much like the secret meetings the Archpriests currently held on a regular basis.
“We must dispose of him! I don’t understand why I even have to make such an obvious argument!!”
Atop a prominent hill in the center of the Holy See State.
Beneath the solemn white structure of the Saint Hall.
In a secret chamber known only to a select few, an Archpriest made his vehement plea.
His words met with nods from other Archpriests who filled the massive hall, as well as those attending via enchanted mirrors.
Each nod spread murmurs throughout the hall, the sound echoing like a wave.
As the atmosphere grew more tumultuous, one Archpriest raised a hand, and the murmuring ceased.
Having the same rank didn’t necessarily mean having the same influence.
All eyes turned toward the Archpriest with his hand raised.
He was, after all, one of the foremost contributors to the current issue at hand.
This was Archpriest Roderick, who had flushed out the accursed being hiding within the city of corruption and revealed his identity.
When he raised his thick, iron-like hand, silence fell as each Archpriest awaited his words, though their expressions were far from pleasant.
“Speak, Lord Roderick.”
The old man presiding over the meeting addressed him.
He was the eldest among the Archpriests, most of whom were themselves quite advanced in years.
Officially granted the right to speak, Roderick opened his mouth.
“I oppose disposing of him.”
He repeated the argument he had been making for the past few days, without changing a single word.
Naturally, the reaction was the same.
“Again with this argument,”
“Why on earth…?”
“Is it because of that…?”
With puzzled frowns, whispers filled the hall, some Archpriests exchanging quiet words.
Though each one held a high-ranking position and kept up appearances, the hall had become as noisy as a marketplace.
Or perhaps, considering that humanity’s fate was at stake, this level of orderliness was remarkable.
As Roderick pondered this, someone else raised a hand.
It was another Archpriest, though he was from the moderate faction.
“May I ask a question?”
“Please, go ahead.”
“Thank you. Since you have granted permission, let me be direct... Is it because of Deus Ex Machina that you oppose his disposal?”
Deus Ex Machina
A secret project underway, spearheaded by the hardliners, to counter the apocalypse.
As expected with such a clandestine endeavor, only a handful outside the Archpriests knew of its existence.
By chance, however, all those gathered here, if not in full, were at least familiar with the gist of Deus Ex Machina.
The goal was to artificially create a "Son of Angels."
That was the underlying question of this Archpriest’s inquiry.
“Are you trying to spare that sacrilegious being just for the sake of continuing the dangerous and blasphemous project led by the hardliners?”
“Or do you mean to gamble the fate of humanity for the Pater Church’s internal politics?”
Roderick, who was more a political strategist than a religious figure, understood the question’s implications and responded accordingly.
“Not entirely.”
This drew more murmuring, which Roderick quelled with a raised hand before continuing.
“What I mean is, there’s no need to kill him right now. If anything, provoking him while he’s currently calm could be more dangerous, wouldn’t you agree?”
Everyone here was well aware of how that being had been captured.
It would be strange if they didn’t know.
The incident had involved hundreds of Holy Knights and thousands of servitors.
So, though it was difficult to believe, they had no choice but to accept the reality.
The Prince of Hell, a being prophesied to open the Gates of Hell and bring about the end of the world, had surrendered voluntarily.
For reference, the Prince of Hell was currently held quietly in a prison deep below the secret chamber, in a cell that officially did not even exist.
For several days now, he hadn’t eaten, slept, or drank, merely clutching his quarterstaff.
Roderick highlighted this fact in his argument.
“Thus, it would be unwise to act hastily. Rash actions only invite unforeseen disaster.”
Several Archpriests in Roderick’s favor seized the opportunity to agree, and soon others followed suit.
Each Archpriest was an exceptional figure, but strangely, when a certain number gathered, they became susceptible to influence, almost as if following a rule.
However, every rule has exceptions, and the Archpriest who had initially questioned Roderick was one of them.
“That’s precisely why I argue we must act now.”
The Archpriest in favor of disposal retorted.
“Perhaps he’s docile now, but we can’t be sure what he might do later. I’m well aware that my suggestion might seem reckless. After all, that being defeated the Piper, a menace that we, the Pater Church, have been unable to subdue for centuries.”
At that, another Archpriest interjected—a hardliner.
“Who’s to say he’s actually the Prince of Hell?”
Everyone’s gaze shifted toward the speaker.
Not the Prince of Hell?
The supporting Archpriest explained further.
“I’ve heard it as well—that he himself claimed to be the Prince of Hell and demonstrated extraordinary power...”
The hall buzzed with murmurs once again.
The Archpriests had all heard reports of the being’s feats.
A mere gesture had reduced the Piper to dust, forced others to their knees with an incomprehensible aura, and even caused people to explode simply by walking past them.
While few fully understood without witnessing these events firsthand, the lingering shock among the kings and representatives present, and the near-shattered morale of the Holy Knights, who hadn’t been able to resume duty, made the gravity of these actions undeniable.
And because of this, no one doubted the being’s claim of being the Prince of Hell.
“However, is that truly evidence? We’re only speculating; we don’t actually know what the Prince of Hell is like.”
The murmuring grew louder.
Over the years, the Pater Church had attempted countless methods to study and analyze the end times, yet they had failed to ascertain what exactly the Prince of Hell or the Son of Angels truly was or how to prove their existence.
It wasn’t surprising.
Even if they claimed to be the sole representatives of humanity’s faith, they hadn’t even glimpsed the face of their God.
“Besides, he’s even cooperated with us, hasn’t he? Helping us contain Gallos’s black magicians.”
“Are you suggesting we use him?”
“Not exactly… but if he truly is the Prince of Hell, he would have no reason to kill the Piper, wouldn’t he?”
Another Archpriest immediately rebutted.
“It was said that, before he awakened, the Piper’s rage had been fully extracted. This aligns perfectly with the tenets of the apocalypse!”
“...‘The false gatekeeper will deliver the key’?”
Someone muttered to themselves.
“Yes! Precisely. ‘Tick, tock... When a vast chasm opens at the world’s end, the clock will start. The black sun rises from the earth, a creature of the western sea stirs, and the false gatekeeper delivers the key. The lost child becomes a boy.’ This is the prophecy on the apocalypse, and we’re nearing its end!”
Bang!
The Archpriest advocating for disposal slammed his fist on the table.
Though violent, no one stopped him.
“A few years ago, the Gates of Hell opened in the Land of Ice, and now we’ve reached the present! Yet we’ve done nothing! Nothing! And now we’re supposed to keep waiting?!”
His furious outburst silenced the other Archpriests.
“Even if we entertain the possibility that he isn’t the Prince of Hell, would it be wise to let him live? There’s no guarantee he won’t become the next Piper, or worse! In fact, I’ve heard reports indicating that black magicians are beginning to rally around him!!”
The Archpriest rattled off his points like a machine gun, each one factual.
Right after the being defeated the Piper, all the black magicians present had dispersed amid the commotion and spread the news to the underworld.
The one who defeated the Piper, the strongest black magician, or perhaps a demon incarnate.
Even the Pater Church’s influence couldn’t stop the widespread rumors.
The underworld was in turmoil, and even the Black Hand was shaken.
The Fingers, a massive black magic organization primarily composed of black magicians, had lost several members recently and had become increasingly fractured, with rumors circulating that they planned to reorganize around this being.
If left unchecked, there was a real possibility that a being even stronger than the Piper could lead an unprecedented coalition of black magicians.
“Even if he isn’t the Prince of Hell, it’s still too dangerous to let him live. Especially now, with the apocalypse on the horizon. Gallos, the central continent, the United Kingdom, all the chosen nations—are they not all in chaos?!”
Once again, there was no rebuttal.
After the death of the Flesh Chef, Gallos had fallen into chaos, and though they were gradually restoring order, this being’s presence was stirring the pot once more. The central continent, at the epicenter of the conflict, was likewise in disorder.
Although for different reasons, Landa too was now facing turmoil.
It had recently been attacked by an army of the dead, supposedly under the command of Puppet.
If the royal army that had been sweeping out warlords and gangs around Landa hadn’t provided reinforcements, the city might have fallen. Although the surviving residents were now embroiled in disputes over royal authority and autonomy…
In any case, as the Archpriest had said, it was as if the apocalypse was drawing closer, with the world descending further into chaos.
“So, forgive me for being direct, Lord Roderick... but what will you do if that being locked up below decides to change his mind and leave tomorrow?”
The hall fell silent as everyone turned to look at Roderick.
“If that being down there no longer wishes to be held and decides to do as he pleases, what would you do? Is there a way to stop him?”
Roderick remained silent.
For even a seasoned Archpriest who had risen to the highest ranks as both a knight and a priest, this question had no easy answer.
“Which is why I insist that he should be disposed of now. A bomb waiting to explode should be defused, not used. Especially if the fate of humanity hangs in the balance!”
As the Archpriests quietly mulled over this logical assessment of the current situation and the limited actions available to them, their opinions began to shift.
Seeing the direction the atmosphere was taking, Archpriest Roderick opened his mouth to intervene.
“I object.”
At that moment, another voice broke the silence.
It was Archpriest Armand.
The Chancellor of Gallos, a leader among the moderates, and, above all, Roderick’s main partner in capturing the being.
Everyone was surprised by his opposition.
The man who had remained silent since the being’s capture was suddenly voicing dissent.
A voice rose in protest.
“What do you mean by this? Is it because of…?”
One Archpriest began to speak.
As if about to question whether Armand’s opposition stemmed from a personal alliance, due to the fact that he had gained control over Gallos’s black magicians through the being.
Armand shook his head.
“It’s for another reason, so do not misunderstand.”
“Another reason…?”
The Archpriests, puzzled, listened as Armand continued.
“There is another party with as much stake in this matter as the Pater Church… Archive, the archmage.”
A deep silence fell over the hall.
The Archmage Archive.
A mage with no official ties to the Pater Church, yet unofficially involved with them for centuries due to the ongoing battle against the apocalypse.
And this same Archive was currently present at the Saint Hall.
He had arrived under the pretense of acting as a temporary mentor to the being, as well as a guardian of the end times.
Given his contributions and his substantial personal power, even the Pater Church could not dismiss Archive lightly. In fact, for the past several days, Archive had halted the Archpriests from making a hasty decision.
This prolonged delay in the meeting’s proceedings had stemmed largely from Archive’s interference, as well as the weight of his previous contributions and his unmatched might.
Yet he was absent today.
Realizing this fact, one of the Archpriests asked aloud.
“Why isn’t Archive here today?”
Some Archpriests who hadn’t questioned his absence, perhaps feeling relief at not having to see his face, now shared the curiosity about his whereabouts.
Archpriest Armand provided the answer.
“He has gone to meet the being.”
A hush settled over the room.
...
At the heart of the Holy See State, within the Saint Hall, lay a dark, deep underground chamber.
So secret that even few in the Pater Church knew of its existence.
And at the very bottom of this chamber was a prison.
A vast cell, like a massive vault.
“Is this the place?”
An elderly man entered, asking in a low voice.
It was Archive Merlin, a collaborator of the Pater Church.
In response, a sister who had taken a vow of silence by severing her tongue nodded.
“Open the door.”