CHAPTER 78……………………
Gregorian wore a benevolent smile toward the man kneeling before him.
It was a look Ijef had often seen from Graham’s hierophants—exactly the kind of posture the Holy Pontiff would assume when bestowing divine power or blessings upon believers or priests.
“Even here, he’s helping others…”
In Graham, priests or sages frequently prayed over the sanctified in the name of God or invoked divine favor on their behalf. In particular, the Holy Pontiff could grant powerful healing or blessings. So, what lay before Ijef’s eyes was neither strange nor unfamiliar.
Only unexpected.
The man with the Pontiff was someone Ijef had never seen before. Judging by his dark attire and cropped hair, he seemed like an ordinary noble of Dreat. A glint from his neck caught Ijef’s eyes—a choker, the mark of a tournament participant.
“It’s no surprise more people are moved by His Holiness.”
Indeed, countless people had come to faith through Gregorian’s miracles. Ijef thought little of it.
The darkness kept him from discerning the man’s face or finer details of his clothes. Believing it impolite to keep staring, he turned away.
Retracing his steps, Ijef climbed to the summit, harvested the unique mana stones, then swiftly descended. Along the way he met Edwin, and at the mountain’s foot, he encountered Gregorian and Mephisto, who had arrived before him.
Later, however, an unwelcome thought began to sprout.
Could the man I saw… be one of the contestants who died during the tournament?
A ridiculous suspicion.
“No. It can’t be… so why…?”
Yet unease gnawed at him.
That was the “trial” that had come to Ijef.
Even though he knew it was absurd, disturbing thoughts kept rising.
Pouring himself another cup of tea, Ijef swallowed it. The hot liquid slid down his throat, leaving tension behind.
“It’s only my private doubt. With nothing certain, I cannot trouble Her Highness the Princess…”
But he wanted to confide in Asterios instead. Asterios could verify things objectively.
Surely, the man he had seen would not have perished after receiving Gregorian’s prayer and blessing. And yet, the ominous foreboding would not leave him. He began to feel guilt over his faltering faith.
That was why he longed for confirmation—
That His Holiness Gregorian was innocent.
Finishing his prayers, Ijef straightened his robes and stepped out to find Asterios. And then, the unexpected happened.
In the corridor on the way to Asterios’s room, he once again saw Gregorian and the very same man.
“!”
Ijef clasped his hands, bowed toward the Pontiff, and moved closer, listening as he passed.
“Thanks to Your Holiness’s blessing, I safely passed the first test. I do not know how I can ever repay such grace.”
“All I did was listen to you and say you would pass safely. That is all.”
It was indeed the same man Ijef had seen on the mountain, now thanking Gregorian. Hearing their words fade into the distance, Ijef felt strength drain from his body.
“How could I have doubted His Holiness?”
His trial ended in vain.
And the result was devastating: he could no longer deny his faith had wavered. His spirit crumbled with it.
“All I did was pray for your safety and fortune. I used no divine powers—for the contest must remain fair.”
Gregorian’s voice, calm and warm, echoed behind him.
Suddenly, Ijef thought how eerily similar that voice was to the one that had pierced his mind in the Secret Fog. A shiver ran down his spine.
“Could His Holiness have foreseen my faith’s collapse? Perhaps He sought to warn me with that voice…”
Heavy steps carried him away.
The guilt and anxiety pressing upon his heart were like punishment—torment for one who no longer served God yet still believed in Him.
But tragically, this was only the beginning of Ijef’s suffering.
“It seems clear someone holds a deep grudge against me.”
“Against you, As?”
Roziana repeated, not fully understanding.
At that moment, Mari entered with cautious words: Cedric, the Emperor’s aide, had come.
“His Majesty summons all princes and princesses to discuss the incident in the Secret Fog.”
“Understood. I’ll go at once.”
Rising, Roziana spoke to Asterios.
“Will you wait in your room? We’ll speak again after I return.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
After the Princess and Mari departed, Asterios calmly returned to his chamber.
There, he gazed at the bright moon, then drew the curtains closed. Darkness filled the room.
When silence reigned even in the corridor outside, he opened the nightstand drawer and drew out a small wooden box.
The “Broken Chalice” of birch.
Holding it in both hands, he drew on its contained power to recover. There was a reason he had not fully reclaimed this fragment of himself, yet the limit of restraint drew near.
That which was once part of him yearned to return, leaking stronger power with each passing day. Closing his eyes, Asterios absorbed it. If he swallowed it whole, he would regain the glory of his past as a Dragon God—but he could never remove it again.
So he endured.
Until the day the Broken Chalice was truly needed.
At least it gave him strength now. If Nox returned, matters would be far better.
Then, despite the closed window and curtains, the air stirred.
“You’ve returned.”
Asterios smiled at the shadow that appeared just when needed.
“I am back, Master.”
From the trembling darkness of the wall, a form emerged—ashen hair, crimson eyes.
The Dragon God’s familiar, Nox.
“You’ve come at the perfect time.”
Nox frowned.
“There is much to report, but may I tend to you first, Master?”
Asterios nodded, entrusting himself to Nox.
His body was near exhaustion, sustained only by the mana he had just replenished with the chalice. Nox quickly perceived this.
“Did illusions repeat until your mana drained so completely?”
Amused at Nox’s accurate guess, Asterios recounted all he had endured in the Secret Fog.
It was a shocking tale. Never before had the illusory mists continued in such succession. Clearly, it was a trap woven through the Secret Fog itself.
“Do you suspect anyone?”
“You probably know the answer better than I.”
Asterios narrowed his golden eyes, gleaming sharply even in darkness.
“…So your fears were justified.”
Recalling his own findings, Nox placed his hands on Asterios’s back. A black aura flowed into his master, knitting his internal wounds. Heat coursed through Asterios, wringing a groan from him. At length, his complexion improved, and he exhaled deeply.
“So then—what did you find?”
With clarity in his gaze, Asterios listened as Nox began.
“I searched everywhere in Graham except Gregorian’s bedchamber and study—cathedral, temples, every archive. There was no direct mention of ‘Gabriel,’ but as you suspected, Gregorian seems linked to the fallen archangels of five centuries ago.”
Asterios slowly closed and opened his eyes, golden irises flashing.
“Tell me in detail.”
“According to the Cathedral’s records, five angels fell to Graham. Exactly the number you had predicted.”
Though the demon realm had suffered the most casualties in the war with heaven, the angels too had losses. Some, for unknown reasons, fell to earth, wings broken, hiding among humans—thus called “fallen angels.”
Asterios did not know why they remained on earth, but he suspected Gregorian was connected to them. That was why he had sent Nox to the Holy Kingdom.
Gregorian’s unfathomable power and austere devotion resembled the angels Asterios had once seen as Tenebres.
“Graham was founded at the time the angels fell. There have been four Pontiffs since, and Gregorian is the fourth. Their appearances match closely the descriptions of those fallen angels.”
Just as he had suspected.
Asterios’s thoughts had been correct.
