CHAPTER 62…………
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it.
“Y-your Holiness!”
“Grant me your grace as well!”
“Please, show mercy upon us!”
“Oh, my God!”
Those who had become the recipients of the miracle wept as they threw themselves before Gregorian, and most of those present begged the Holy One in desperation.
“The Lord looks kindly upon those who are pitiful. This is not my power. Offer your prayers of thanks to God.”
At that, everyone began praying to God in unison. Gregorian quietly joined the prayer, then turned toward Leodian.
“Then, I shall take my leave to prepare for the contest. Once more, I thank the Sun of Dreat for granting me the chance to share God’s grace.”
As Gregorian suddenly vanished, the blessed recipients crawled after him on their knees. Some were dazed, some prayed, but all trembled together before the miracles they had experienced.
When the Holy One disappeared, Leodian furrowed his brows, feeling as though he had been outwitted.
‘Damn it…’
It had been a mistake to grant Gregorian’s request to perform healing before donning the restricting choker for the contest—without it, he could fully wield his holy power.
When they had first arrived, they had already tested the chokers on their wrists, confirming that both holy power and dragon force were partially suppressed. Because of that, Leodian had little choice but to allow Gregorian’s request.
‘A blunder.’
At least for those present in the council chamber, the Holy One’s stature had grown immeasurably.
Though it was Leodian’s family who would ultimately choose the final victor in the last round, the Senate and nobility would no doubt try to exert influence however they could.
‘Surely he doesn’t intend to shake my empire and seize my daughter.’
Impossible. Even if Gregorian was strong, Leodian would not yield.
The emperor’s eyes glinted sharply as he gazed at the figure of Gregorian, already gone.
It was truly an overwhelming sight—stronger than anything ever heard of before.
Though some distance away, the blazing radiance of divine power had seeped through, and even those outside could roughly grasp the situation from the sounds within.
Mephisto, though in another space, watched everything clearly through the insect that Neor had summoned.
As expected—
A power of unbelievable might had erupted from Gregorian. The shock was so great that even Mephisto felt a fine “resonance” ripple across his body, despite it being holy power.
‘Jude once said the strongest holy power in history belonged to the Fourth Gregorian.’
It was true.
But realizing that only made things more suspicious.
‘Why would a Holy One with such overwhelming power still require a Saintess?’
And beyond that—he intended to wed Roziana in order to make her the Saintess?
Mephisto couldn’t make sense of it.
‘Perhaps it means the Holy One values God’s voice that much?’
If the revelation Daniel had received was truly the voice of Heaven, and if the Holy One had a sacred duty to obey it without fail—
“Then I suppose that would make some sense.”
But even so, it still felt excessive.
Just then, the chamber doors opened, and the imperial family exited first. After them, a noisy crowd poured out, the retreating procession loud and chaotic.
Most were in tears. Shock, awe, and overwhelming emotion filled them, each person desperately trying to express their astonishment in words and gestures.
‘A scene of chaos—like a battlefield.’
The irony wasn’t lost on Mephisto. On the battlefield, when bombs suddenly fell and men were torn apart, many would lose their senses just like this.
As Mephisto’s eyes followed Roziana, he noticed Asterios, at her side, excusing himself and leaving. It seemed he had been summoned briefly as captain of the guard.
From today, the contestants had to keep their distance from the royals for fairness. Candidates could not approach first, though the royals could summon them when needed.
‘Tch.’
It irked him, twisting his mood further.
Whatever reason Tenebres was now living under the name Asterios, he was clearly the greatest obstacle in this contest. From Mephisto’s perspective, who knew the truth of the princess’s soul in the demon realm, it was only natural to see him as a threat.
‘Because Roziana is really Erica.’
And Mephisto knew that Tenebres—Asterios—was her old lover.
‘Even Edwin, who was closest to Tenebres, doesn’t seem to realize Roziana is actually Erica.’
But Mephisto had no intention of revealing this to anyone or whining about the contest being unfair. He was confident he could win regardless.
‘Roziana will ultimately have to choose someone with mana.’
Anyone striving to become Demon King had only one inevitable fate. In the end, they would choose the companion with the strongest magic.
No matter her love or will, the mana in her body would drive her choice.
‘So even if her heart is with Asterios, her body will choose me—so long as I raise my mana to the utmost and win over the emperor and empress to my side. Hm?’
But then, Mephisto frowned as he noticed Roziana quietly withdrawing in the distance.
‘My lady?’
Even from afar, her expression looked troubled. A knight at her side held her hand, gently guiding her to her chambers.
But moments earlier, when Asterios had been beside her, she seemed fine.
‘Could it be… the aftereffects of being exposed to such overwhelming divine power?’
Mephisto decided he would have Neor check on her condition. With that thought, he hurried toward the candidates’ palace.
Meanwhile, Asterios returned to the palace and approached Izeph, who was already seated in the central garden sipping tea. He sat opposite him.
Dressed not in priestly robes but in neat indoor garments, his white hair tied back, Izeph lifted his cup with elegance befitting a noble-born.
As noon came, the candidates grew busy—some preparing in their chambers, others resting, while groups gathered in the courtyard to form teams for the Secret Fog challenge.
Those with no special abilities did their best to cooperate so they could survive the first round. Those with wealth flocked to Edwin, begging for magic scrolls or tools they could use in the Secret Fog.
The Mage Tower was on the verge of opening a shop just for the candidates. Truly, Edwin was remarkable in turning the situation to profit.
The two men, cups in hand, silently took in the scene.
“How is Her Highness the Princess?” Izeph asked gently.
“She is well. But she seemed tense at His Holiness’s divine power.”
Recalling what had happened in the chamber, Asterios gazed into his tea. Ripples spread across the surface of the cup he had set down.
When the wave of divine power had swept the room, he had felt Roziana’s body tremble. Through their magical bond, her emotions had also reached him directly.
‘Why would she feel that way?’
He had been perplexed at the torrent of emotion that surged through her before that immense power.
His first instinct had been to scoop her up and flee the chamber, but he barely restrained himself and watched closely instead.
“Izeph, have you ever been present when His Holiness wielded his divine power?”
Lifting his gaze, he asked.
“Of course. As Chief Priest, I have witnessed him use authority in the Grand Temple.”
Raising the sick, purifying monsters and dark magic with holy relics—his abilities rivaled God’s very authority.
“And how did you feel then?”
“If you mean my impression…”
After a moment’s thought, Izeph answered.
“For me, it was reverence.”
Reverence.
Asterios lowered his eyes, lost in thought.
“…Why do you ask, my lord?”
As Izeph looked on with concern, Asterios’s golden eyes met his.
“Because when His Holiness unleashed his divine power earlier, Her Highness seemed to feel something else entirely.”
“Something else?”
Reverence would normally contain awe or admiration. But Roziana’s trembling eyes had held something very different.
It was closer to sensing a threat to survival.
In her violet eyes was unmistakably—
“Fear.”
“…What?”
Yes, what he saw was fear.
“It seems I cannot relax until I find the true answer.”
The Holy One’s divine power was so strong, no one could have foreseen it.
If only Nox would hurry back from Graham with a clue.
Just as Asterios was about to continue in his grave tone—
Scratch, scratch.
“…Why are my ears so itchy all of a sudden?”
