Chapter 138
Isid Ranké.
The Pope of the Ranké Order, a man possessing the greatest holy power across all generations, gazed down at Rosie with a solemn expression.
A girl lying there, pale and seemingly asleep.
It wasn’t the first time he had seen her, but until now, he had never seriously examined her condition.
And why would he? There were far more pressing matters demanding his attention.
He had discovered the demon hidden in the Von Portei family’s servant, Yvon Asatro, and revealed that the Von Portei family had long been using dark magic through a pact with demons.
Immediately after, he had fought a decisive battle against the demon, and even upon returning, there were countless matters to handle. To him, Rosie’s life or death had never been of much concern.
Had the Emperor not personally requested it through the royal knights this time, he would never have bothered to check on her condition himself.
But…
‘If I had known it would come to this, I should have checked her condition long ago.’
The Pope regretted it as he examined Rosie seriously.
Faintly, he detected traces of Ranké within her.
Unless one was a priest serving Ranké in the temple, or someone trained as a holy knight like Cliden, there was only one circumstance in which traces of Ranké could remain like this:
A holy blessing given by a priest.
This was the most potent holy magic, capable of protecting the recipient’s health, extending their lifespan, and more. Since it required transferring a portion of the priest’s own holy power to another, the recipients were extremely limited.
The Emperor and his direct family were precisely among those eligible.
The presence of such a blessing in Rosie’s body meant only one thing:
She was—
“This child… could she be Rosalyn…?”
The possibility that the missing princess, Rosalyn Biancke, might be this very girl.
The Emperor’s eyes twitched as he looked at Rosie, unable to believe the idea.
Even in her deep sleep, she bore certain resemblances to the Empress.
He had had similar thoughts just moments ago.
With trembling hands, the Emperor brushed Rosie’s cheek and spoke.
“It’s been ten years since she disappeared. Everyone said she must be dead by now.”
At first, he had refused to accept that. But over time, he had tried to find at least Rosalyn’s remains.
And now, this child—his own daughter—was here, alive?
Rosie had lived as an orphan and had served as a maid in the Count Kikern’s household for the past ten years.
Had he only thought to look, his eyes might well have fallen upon her.
The Emperor lowered his head in front of Rosie’s bed, grief and regret washing over him—not only for the years he had lived without knowing of her existence but also because the girl he had finally found lay collapsed, dangerously ill.
With desperation in his voice, he said,
“Please… save this child.”
But the Pope could not answer the Emperor’s plea immediately.
Rosie’s current illness was due to the curse of the sacrificial offering. No one who had survived being a sacrifice had ever lived.
‘In fact, it’s strange that she is still alive.’
It was probably thanks to the holy blessing she had received as a child.
Yet now, even that blessing seemed nearly spent. The traces of Ranké’s power in Rosie’s body were so faint that they could barely be detected.
The Pope shook his head slightly.
Unless they could find the demon’s second heart and destroy it, saving Rosie was impossible.
Meanwhile, at that moment.
Clang—.
Cliden threw the dagger that had split in two from his hands onto the floor and muttered a low curse.
“…Damn it!”
He had already destroyed countless weapons in this manner. He could not find the demon’s heart like this.
Eventually, he got up and headed toward the temple’s underground prison.
As if waiting for him, the demon’s eyes gleamed upon seeing Cliden.
“You have come.”
Cliden immediately approached, grasping the demon by the collar and growling.
“Speak.”
The demon chuckled.
“Heh heh heh.”
Cliden bared his teeth.
“Tell me! Where is the second heart?!”
But the demon would not provide a proper answer to such demands.
Squinting, the demon finally said,
“…One day left?”
It was very difficult to gauge the passage of time in this underground prison.
But from Cliden’s desperate stance, it seemed certain that Rosie’s life was hanging by a thread.
The demon whispered:
“Don’t you think it’s time to make a decision, Cliden Diero?”
Cliden gritted his teeth, glaring.
The voice of Ainarr, shouting in the banquet hall while holding Rosie after she collapsed, echoed clearly in his mind.
‘If you can’t do it, I will. So take me to the demon immediately.’
It was clearly a statement intended for the pact with the demon. A determination to save Rosie at any cost.
Of course, Rosie had said she would never forgive Ainarr if he acted that way…
Thud.
Cliden knelt before the demon, muttering:
“…Save Rosie.”
At this point, it seemed there was no other way left.
“The price?”
The demon, watching the despairing Cliden, asked arrogantly, amused.
Since the proud man had knelt, the initiative was effectively in the demon’s hands.
“My life.”
“Ha! Do you think your life is worth more than a thousand other sacrifices?”
The demon sneered.
“…Well, not bad, I suppose.”
Cliden Diero’s soul now radiated a very delicious scent, one on the verge of corruption.
A fragrance from the broken, the hopeless, the shattered.
Consuming such a soul would keep the demon sated for nearly a hundred years.
But then.
The laughing demon suddenly twisted his face in pain and screamed.
Someone had stabbed his heart.
It was the method devised by the temple to subdue demons: every hour, the holy knights would stab the demon’s heart to inflict pain.
The demon roared angrily:
“Damn it! First, bring me my heart, Cliden Diero!”
He gave his command as if he were certain Cliden would obey.
“Don’t you want to save that girl? Hurry!”
Cliden rose with a somber expression.
To save Rosie, he had to sacrifice his life and deliver the demon’s heart with his own hands.
And as a result, the Empire might fall to the demon’s wrath.
Cliden slowly stood.
“Hurry! Cliden Diero—!”
The demon barked, eyes bloodshot.
From his agonized face, magical energy leaked and dispersed.
As if he had personally cut the demon’s horn with a sword.
And at that moment—
“…The magic… why is it dispersing?”
Cliden realized.
There was a way to reach the demon’s heart.
“…Cliden Diero…?”
The demon called his name painfully.
He could not have failed to notice the shift in the aura of the soul that had just exuded despair and delicious fragrance.
Cliden’s cold gaze fixed on the dispersing magic in the demon’s body.
Without another word, he left the temple’s underground prison and quickly ascended the stairs toward the altar.
The holy knights, who were performing their duty of stabbing the demon’s heart with a sword, saluted as they spotted him.
Cliden, gasping heavily, grabbed the heart from among them.
From the wounded demon’s heart, the same magic he had observed before seeped out.
This was the hint.
