Chapter 691: Procession (3)
Martin Rotringue.
He was an Archpriest of the Pater Church, someone with both a common yet distinctive background. The common aspect was that he came from a wealthy and esteemed family. The distinctive part, however, was that he didn’t become a priest just because of that background. That aspect was merely incidental. He had chosen the path of priesthood by his own will.
He wanted purely to worship the divine and to help people in His name.
Although rare, it wasn’t unheard of—a person rich and intelligent, yet feeling only emptiness in worldly affairs and thus turning to religion.
Martin Rotringue was no different. Once, he had lived indulgently, but one day that pleasure suddenly felt hollow, leading him to join the church.
He claimed to have heard the voice of God.
And that was not wrong.
Compared to his days of debauchery, his new life might have been challenging, even stifling, but within it, Martin found a sense of fulfillment. Through prayer, offering, and service, he experienced a satisfaction he had never felt before, and he could once again hear the voice of God.
“This is your path.”
The sense of fulfillment and conviction turned into fervor, and fervor brought results.
As time passed, Martin was appointed to the role of Archpriest not due to political maneuvering but through his genuine religious devotion.
Martin accepted this honor willingly. Rising to a higher position would enable him to better carry out the will of God.
And then, once more, emptiness crept in.
Now, from his elevated rank, he could see the darkness within the church, a darkness hidden from those below.
At times, that darkness came directly to him, forcing him to make difficult choices.
Just as all Archpriests had to.
The voice of God, once so clear, grew faint, and his certainty began to darken with doubt.
But Martin did not give up.
To hear the voice of God once more, to dispel his doubts, to fill the void within, he devoted himself even more to his duties.
If he were to turn back now, all that he had done would become meaningless.
Therefore, Martin chose not to flee and instead resolved to fulfill his responsibilities.
He came rushing forth to save the people, even as disaster rained upon this land blessed by God, and he stood against the lies of the demon before him.
How could he allow a demon’s lie, claiming to bring the will of God, to go unanswered?
“Shall I show you proof?”
Ssshhh-!
And with that, the demon presented his proof, evidence of carrying out God’s will.
A Holy Knight, composed of blood, entrails, and flesh. A Holy Knight condemned in Hell.
In that moment, a tiny seed of doubt that Martin had buried within himself countless times surfaced again.
It was a small doubt, yet deeply felt.
As it took root, the woman on the camel voiced it aloud.
“Do you still believe in Him?”
“…No.”
With that single sincere admission, a truth that he had buried and reborn many times since becoming an Archpriest, the Archpriest who had come to rescue people from this calamity crumbled with ease.
Without any coercion, violence, or threats—entirely on his own.
“Your Grace…”
At that moment, a Holy Knight stepped forward to support the fallen Archpriest.
It was none other than a Holy Knight who deeply respected Martin. Or perhaps it was fate. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have followed Martin here.
Supporting the Archpriest, he tried to persuade him.
“Don’t be deceived by the demon’s cunning tongue. It must be a trick. God would never abandon us.”
“Your faith is strong.”
The woman on the camel then directed her question to the Holy Knight.
“Have you never committed a single act unworthy of that faith?”
...
“Ten years ago, I tortured some boys. They were from the slums, paid to assist a warlock, and I had to capture that warlock at any cost.”
The Holy Knight confessed his truth… The phrase “confessed” suited the situation perfectly.
Even though he didn’t want to, even though he clamped his mouth shut with both hands, the words kept coming.
“That warlock had spread a disease through my hometown, and capturing him was why I became a Holy Knight. So, I tortured those boys, threatened their families, and found the warlock’s whereabouts. I justified my wrath and my violence as actions taken for God’s sake.”
But that was not the end.
“I sold information to the warlock in exchange for money. My sister had fallen gravely ill…”
“I frequented brothels and fathered an illegitimate child. A mistake from my past…”
“I harbor resentment toward other Holy Knights. I despise them for achieving what I couldn’t…”
The plague of truth spread beyond the Archpriest and the Holy Knight, reaching the servants around them and the other Holy Knights, and eventually, the priests and citizens residing in the Holy See State.
“To be honest, I don’t have any real faith. I’m only here because my family sent me, to avoid poverty…”
“This child is not my husband’s.”
“I bribed someone to become a priest and then laughed at God within my heart.”
Those who spoke their truths, just like the Archpriest and the Holy Knight before them, began to collapse one by one, trembling with cold sweat.
Thanks to this, the woman on the camel was able to reach the Holy See without interference from anyone.
The house of God, filled with sinners crushed under the weight of their sins.
The woman on the camel strode across the vast square in the Holy See, reaching out toward the main gate and disintegrating everything in her path.
Crrrkkk…
The sturdy pillars, massive gate, and pristine white walls began to blacken and crumble to ashes, as though fresh fruit were rotting from within. The decay continued to spread, threatening to consume everything.
The once-grand building that had stood since the Pater Church’s inception now seemed poised for an ignoble end.
It was then that the decay suddenly stopped.
Aged walls crumbled, and there, deep within, sat an old man.
Dong… Dong…
Without a moment’s hesitation, the woman on the camel advanced, leading her procession to stand before the old man.
“You have worked hard, Archive.”
...
“You have worked hard, Archive.”
The woman on the camel spoke in a resonant tone.
At this, the old man, resting against a heavy, crude iron door in the depths of the Holy See, opened his one remaining eye.
And with that eye, he gazed upon the woman on the camel and the fifty-six headless nuns she led.
Remarkably, the old man did not flinch at the terrifying sight.
It was not merely that he had lived long and seen much.
“You have arrived, Lady on the Camel.”
Despite meeting her for the first time, Merlin greeted the woman on the camel as though they had met before.
Perhaps it wasn’t so strange.
In a certain sense, they might have known each other.
The first Archive, who had established the role, had been acquainted with every demon. Sharing in his memory, Merlin could, in a way, claim acquaintance with them all.
Perhaps that was why the woman on the camel treated him with more kindness than she did others.
“Yes, I was able to come here unbothered by anyone.”
Once again, Merlin did not stir.
He could already guess what had happened.
The woman on the camel was one of the seventy-two Lords of Hell.
Surely, her power had caused them all to crumble on their own, compelled to reveal the dark truths they harbored within.
Ironically, human beings had no trouble accumulating sins that could bring about their own downfall.
And when someone exposed those truths, regardless of how strong their will or spirit, they couldn’t help but collapse.
As Archive, Merlin knew this all too well, so even as he glanced at the fallen Holy Knights and servants muttering in the distance, he felt no resentment.
This was a kind of fate, something that, like a flowing river, couldn’t be escaped even if foreseen.
“Ah, let me correct myself. ‘No one’ was a bit inaccurate. After all, you’re blocking my path right now.”
The woman on the camel bent down slightly, scrutinizing Merlin. In her gaze was a kindness tinged with respect, different from the casual kindness shown to ordinary people.
“Yes, but as the Archive, you have already faced your sins, so you’ll be all right.”
“It’s not that I’m all right. I simply endure…”
Was it due to his injuries, or because he was facing a demon? Bound in bandages, Merlin acted more deferential than usual, a stark contrast to how he’d once treated Oliver.
It felt almost excessive, yet it conveyed an unyielding line, one he would never compromise.
Whether she recognized it or not, the woman on the camel smiled.
“There’s no need to apologize. After all, the Archive was created for this very purpose. I am, in fact, grateful.”
“What do you mean?”
“For sitting here at the door, ready to protect him.”
The woman on the camel had deduced why Merlin was seated before this iron door above all places.
This door led to the only path into the Holy See’s basement. Merlin had occupied it as soon as the calamity began, bringing his wounded body here to safeguard the entrance.
Fearing that, amidst the calamity, someone might harm Oliver.
In truth, several attempts had been made, and Merlin had thwarted them all.
“Thank you for protecting him.”
The woman on the camel said this with the humor erased from her face. Her tone sounded utterly sincere.
Merlin responded.
“Your words are strange. Why thank me for protecting my own disciple? I was simply exercising my duty and my right. Kindly retract your thanks.”
“Your disciple?”
“Yes. Though only temporarily, a disciple is still a disciple.”
“You know what he is, don’t you?”
“Of course. And yet, it remains true that he is my disciple.”
“You are… truly impressive. Sincerely so.”
The woman on the camel, with genuine admiration, addressed Merlin.
“I will retract my thanks as you requested. Now, will you stand aside?”
Merlin gave a sad smile.
“Could you not simply handle your business and leave?”
“Do you know what I am here to do?”
“You’ve come to reclaim what you have given, under his command. I harbor no resentment, but I ask this: Please do not meet the boy. He is not in a state to face you. Surely you understand.”
“That is precisely why it might be best to meet him now.”
The woman on the camel replied, and Merlin sighed deeply, rising from his place.
For a rare moment, the woman on the camel looked at him with regret.
“I ask you one last time. Will you not step aside? I do not wish to harm you.”
“Only one way to know whether you can harm me, is there not?”
Merlin pulled out a book from thin air.
“It’s foolish to find out. And you are no fool.”
“At my age, I’ve come to wonder…”
“…?”
“…if foolishness itself might be a blessing from God.”
With these words, Merlin once again infused his body with the power of the first Archive that resided within the book.
The power that had once stood against the awakened might of Oliver and had founded the Archive to prepare for the end.
As a result, his body, wrapped in bandages, began to crumble even faster.
Yet Merlin remained unperturbed, as if such matters were now of no consequence.
Watching this, the woman on the camel raised a massive arm formed of the nuns’ limbs and, with her actual voice, spoke:
“This is why I simply cannot bring myself to dislike you.”
...
Cough, cough…
Far from the center of the Holy See State, in its outermost areas, two elderly men clad in armor coughed and spat out dust.
The state of these elderly men was nothing short of a mess, and given that they were Archpriests, it was all the more evident.
Still, one could say they were relatively lucky.
If Kevin had delayed even slightly in extracting them, they would have drawn their last breath.
“What… what exactly happened here?”
Armand and Roderick asked, their faces smeared with dirt and grime.
Despite everything, they didn’t seek water; instead, they focused on understanding the situation, which was admirable.
In recognition of their resolve, Kevin immediately explained the situation.
“A demon has descended. The woman on the camel.”
“Is that so?”
Fortunately, Armand and Roderick were calmer than expected.
Confronted with the worst scenario, they had, ironically, become even more clear-headed.
“Did a demon truly descend?”
“Yes, that’s why I pulled you both out. Is there any way to stop this?”
It was a question born of faint hope.
Both Armand and Roderick shook their heads.
“If a demon has descended, there is no way to stop it. From the records we’ve examined over the years, demons are beings far beyond human capacity to handle. That’s why all books and records concerning demons have been thoroughly censored.”
Kevin wasn’t particularly surprised.
Having seen the woman on the camel himself, he instinctively understood.
Nevertheless, he had asked just to confirm, as it was the only thing he could do at the moment.
So, despite knowing it was likely futile, he continued to ask questions. After all, giving up could wait until after death; while he was still alive, he felt compelled to try anything.
“Can’t we use Holy Magic to at least contain her, if not subdue her?”
“Holy Magic will not work.”
This time, it was Joanna who replied. She had encountered two demons—the Burnt One and the woman on the camel.
Without hesitation, she answered Kevin’s question.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, I’ve already confirmed that it has no effect… Holy Magic isn’t actually a power granted by God.”
Joanna then shared what she’d heard from the Burnt One.
She felt there was no longer any reason to keep it a secret.
Kevin, too, wasn’t very surprised, having already learned the truth when he first heard of the Deus Ex Machina Project.
The Archpriests also acknowledged this.
“It’s true… Holy Magic actually originates from the blessings granted by an angel.”
“An angel?”
“Yes. The angel, God’s most beloved son, was the one who blessed the pool, which became the source of Holy Magic. The Holy See was built around that pool. Over time, the power was misinterpreted… no, deliberately altered to seem as though it had been bestowed directly by God.”
“It made it appear more sacred.”
At Armand’s explanation, Roderick added his own comment, as if there was no longer anything to hide.
After all, with a demon descending upon the Holy See State, there was no point in hiding such things.
A strange sense of liberation washed over them, and amidst this feeling, Roderick chuckled.
“Ha… It’s laughable. We brought him here to prevent precisely such a calamity, yet in the end, I’ve only helped bring it about.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Joanna asked.
Only then did she realize that, having been detained by fellow Holy Knights while trying to protect Oliver, she hadn’t heard about it yet.
The Deus Ex Machina Project.
“What is this project? Deus Ex Machina?”
Roderick, searching through his coat, answered.
“To put it simply, it’s an attempt to artificially create the son of an angel, a being who could avert the apocalypse.”
“How could something like that be possible?”
“With this.”
Roderick pulled a vial of crimson holy water from his coat.
“Holy water, made from the blood of the angel who bestowed the power of Holy Magic. The plan was to inject it into him, transforming him into an artificial son of an angel.”
Joanna’s face twisted in confusion.
“Is that even possible?”
“Whether it’s possible or not, I don’t know. Most who consumed it died; their bodies simply couldn’t withstand it.”
“So, was Oliver drawn into this to use him as a vessel?”
“Yes.”
Roderick answered honestly, as if he’d be willing to take a blow for it.
Joanna clenched her fist tightly as she looked at him, but she refrained from striking. Instead, she pressed on with another question.
“Would it actually work? Against the demon?”
She asked, her eyes filled with a determination that showed she was prepared to risk everything.