Chapter 90

Volume 14 - Chapter 16

"You've really gilded your tongue, haven't you?"

At the papal candidate speech event, Damian was the one who made the most significant impact. While other candidates criticized factions and the Yatan Church, expressing political colors and a sense of struggle, Damian emphasized compassion. By reaffirming the basic doctrines pursued by the Rebecca Sect, he stimulated the essence of the clergy and naturally reminded everyone of how despicable Pascal's behavior was.

Based on Froi's teaching, "When the audience's inclinations are scattered, it's better to indirectly enlighten them rather than openly reveal your intentions to avoid causing resentment," Damian's speech technique was highly effective.

The effect was significant. The support base for Pascal showed slight cracks, and the church members who had been wary of Damian began to develop a small liking for him. This was the result of the thorough training Damian received from Froi over the past two weeks.

However, Pascal only sneered.

"Your ideals can never be realized. Most of the current high-ranking clergy have already been tainted by greed after experiencing the Drevigo. How many people will truly be devoted to such meaningless acts of compassion?"

"What do you mean?"

"It means that no matter how you try to deceive the lower clergy with sweet talk, it will be futile. The high-ranking clergy, who have the right to vote, will not agree with you. You've targeted the wrong audience."

Damian was not shaken in the slightest.

"It might be that way for now, but things will change gradually. Most of the clergy are not as corrupt as you. I will work tirelessly until the day all the clergy return to their former selves. Today was just the first step."

"Damian..."

Damian's demeanor had changed significantly over the past two weeks. He had become more confident and fearless. A firm belief had instilled confidence in him. The unwavering look in his eyes reminded one of Grid.

'What bad luck.'

He's starting to resemble a dirty person.

Pascal sighed and shrugged.

"Well, you can believe in Grid and act boldly for now, but that won't last long. You'll soon realize the reality. Look forward to it. In a month, I will become the Pope and deal harshly with Rebecca's daughters. You, powerless, will only be able to watch in despair."

Isabel, who had been standing silently beside Damian, flinched. Seeing Pascal's snake-like gaze brought back memories of her past, which had been like hell. She had been on the brink of life and death just a few days ago, so her fear was even more intense.

Hiding Isabel behind him, Damian gritted his teeth.

"Even if you become the Pope, I will protect Isabel."

"You still don't understand your place. If you have no power, just cower. That's the way of the world."

Only the strong can rule, and the weak exist to be trampled upon. This was the value system of the empire, which had occupied numerous colonies and treated the colonized people like livestock.

If Pascal, who was thoroughly an imperialist, became the Pope, the Rebecca Church would become a religion for the privileged class.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Damian, who was protecting the frightened Isabel, was mocked by Pascal, who laughed loudly and left the scene.

Damian comforted Isabel, who was trembling with her head bowed.

"Don't worry. Isabel will definitely be happy. I will make sure of it."

"Damian..."

The young man's pure and sincere heart began to reach the girl.

***

In the Council Chamber.

The 23 elders, who governed the sacred duties of the Rebecca Church, were having a drinking party. Each of them had a naked woman on their arm, brought by Count Chirita from the empire.

Pascal's face twisted.

"What are you doing? Have you forgotten how many foreign dignitaries have come to the Vatican for today's event? You should have been more restrained today, when there are so many eyes on us!"

"Come, come, don't be so angry. I made sure to do it secretly, didn't I?"

Count Chirita, who was among the elders, stood up and pulled Pascal to the head of the table, smiling sardonically.

"Grid. By now, he should be a cold corpse."

Pascal, who had been nervous, calmed down.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Isn't it obvious? Knight Phlyton, the 19th knight, is a being who can easily wield the power of thousands of soldiers. Once he sets his sights on someone, there's no escape, no matter how much they try."

There was no room for doubt. Even if the current Red Knights were not as strong as the previous generation, the power of the 10th Red Knight was absolute. They had never been defeated.

"In a month, you will become the Pope, the father of 80 million believers. Allow me to offer you a drink."

Count Chirita poured a drink for Pascal. The way he treated his son like a master was something that would not normally happen, but their actions were extremely natural.

"Hmm."

Grid, who had been a thorn in his side.

Thinking that he was dead made Pascal feel as if a toothache had been relieved. His shiny head itched, and he felt new hair might grow soon.

'Finally, I will be free from the curse of baldness.'

Feeling elated, Pascal drained his glass when the door to the Council Chamber burst open.

Was it Phlyton, who had completed his mission and returned?

Everyone thought so, but—

"Ugh!"

Clang clang!

What entered, or rather flew in, without permission, were Count Chirita's knights. The six guarding the entrance had severe wounds. One was already dying.

"R, Run!"

The knights said, their faces filled with fear, as if they had seen death itself.

"Run?"

This is the Council Chamber.

One of the most sacred places in the Vatican, it had been guaranteed absolute safety for hundreds of years. It was supposed to be the last stronghold in times of crisis, yet they were being told to run from here!

Wasn't that a contradiction?

Emboldened by the alcohol, the elders stood up.

"Who dares to desecrate this sacred place!"

"This place was sacred? I thought it was rotten."

A mocking voice came from beyond the door.

Thud thud.

Slowly approaching footsteps.

At this point, no one had expected it.

Could the intruder be—

"Y, Grid?"

"This can't be!"

Pascal and the elders were as if they had seen a ghost. Grid had not been killed by the Red Knights and Black Knights!

'Impossible!'

Pascal's spine shivered.

'Is Grid a 19th Red Knight or higher?'

In the midst of the chaos, Grid, who had approached the round table, glanced at the prostitutes. His gaze lingered on a woman with an especially large chest before he sneered.

"Look at them."

At that moment, Grid was certain.

'Rebecca, the goddess, is wrong.'

To violate the doctrines and commit evil, but to be given divine power as long as one believes and serves her?

What a narrow-minded and superficial goddess.

'Or perhaps she is just pure.'

The problem lies with the farmers who exploit her purity.

'Whatever the case, it has nothing to do with me.'

What Grid wanted now was only one thing.

"You all need to die here."

"…!"

Pascal and the elders were terrified.

Grid smiled at them, who were frozen like statues.

"I told you, didn't I? I'm different from Damian. I can deal with you freely. I'm genuinely grateful that you're coming at me."

Pascal and the elders' names were all red. As the masterminds behind sending the Red Knights and Black Knights as assassins, the system recognized them as enemies.

Grid, who was not afraid of the goddess's curse, was delighted.

Count Chirita struck a gong.

"You insolent fool! Do you know who we are? How dare you come here and act so recklessly!"

Count Chirita, who had risen to power thanks to his son, had lost all sense of propriety. He thought everything would go his way.

"What are you doing! Kill him immediately!"

He ordered the injured knights.

They were going to die anyway.

The knights, who had been lying on the ground, stood up and immediately attacked Grid.

However, they felt no courage, no will to live, only fear.

Their level was only in the early 200s, and their bodies were stiff, making them no match for Grid.

Swish!

The greatest advantage of greatsword skills is their powerful destructive force.

The sight of the knights' bodies being cut down in one swift strike was impressive.

The blood splattered over the round table, which was filled with various delicacies.

"Ah!"

The prostitutes were in a panic, and Count Chirita collapsed on the spot.

"R, Really? Is he stronger than Phlyton…"

As Count Chirita muttered, Pascal was trying to calm Grid down.

"Your Grace, what has happened to make you so angry? Let's calm down and resolve this misunderstanding through dialogue."

Indeed, Pascal was a high-level player.

Even at this moment, he maintained a calm demeanor and acted naturally.

Grid snorted.

"After sending Red Knights and Black Knights to assassinate someone, what are you pretending? Just die quietly."

Pascal put on a serious face.

"No, did such a thing happen? I don't know anything about it."

"Stop your ridiculous act."

"Ah!"

Seeing that Grid was still suspicious, Pascal gave Count Chirita a reproachful look.

"Count Chirita, could it be you? Did you dare send assassins to Your Grace?"

"W, What…!"

Is this guy trying to sell out his father?

Count Chirita, shocked, was speechless.

Pascal whispered to him.

"Sacrifice yourself. I must become the Pope."

"Pascal…! How can you do this to your father!"

Pascal's face turned angry as he looked at the naive Count Chirita.

"For the past few decades, you, a mere lord of a border region, have been able to live in luxury only because of me. I have fulfilled my duty as a son. What have you done for me as a parent?"

"P, Pascal…"

"Before you die, at least act like a father once. Don't you think so?"

"Ugh…"

Count Chirita finally shed tears.

Not out of fear of Grid, but out of shock and sadness at being treated so poorly by his only pride, his son.

Seeing him bow his head and sob, Pascal smiled at Grid.

"Ha, this is unexpected. It seems Count Chirita acted foolishly on his own. Your Grace, vent your anger on the count and come here to accept my drink—"

"Madman."

The fundamental reason Grid disliked Pascal was because he was the type who trampled on the weak.

Seeing Pascal always reminded him of the people who had mocked and tormented him in the past, making him feel bad.

But at this moment, there was another reason Grid disliked Pascal.

"Scum."

Born and raised in the Eastern Land of Etiquette, Grid was an extremely filial son, always giving the chicken legs to his parents when they ordered chicken.

Sacrificing his father as a scapegoat was something Grid could not tolerate, and he felt extreme disgust.

"Don't try to trick me. The only person who can survive here is me."

Grid's aura changed as he equipped the mask and eye patch of the Executioner.

Pascal, sensing the threat from the red glow in Grid's eyes, shouted.

"Stop your foolishness! If you touch us, the Empire of Saharan will punish you! Aren't you afraid of the consequences?"

"Of course, I am."

He could not afford to be enemies with the Empire of Saharan yet.

With the current strength of Raydan, they would be crushed in less than half a day if they went to war with the empire.

"That's why I'm going to kill you. The fact that I killed the Red Knights and Black Knights must not reach the empire."

"Don't worry, we'll keep quiet! If you kill us, things will get even more out of control! Is there not a single witness to your presence in the Council Chamber? You will be identified as the culprit and