Riding in Kagari’s chariot into the temple, I suddenly felt my body lighten. Since arriving in the demon realm, the miasma that had been tormenting my body seemed to have been completely swept away.

It was clear, without needing to ask anyone, that this was thanks to the barrier surrounding the temple.

Glancing around, I noticed that everyone else’s complexion had visibly improved as well. This was particularly evident in Klimt, who was injured. Claira placed her hand on her chest, a look of relief washing over her face upon seeing him.

Ursula, another of our companions, maintained a stern expression, unwaveringly fixing her gaze ahead. Ever since she heard of the death of Utsurui, the enemy of her father, and the annihilation of the Fangxiang Clan, Ursula had grown more pensive.

Although I was concerned, I hesitated to intrude on her thoughts, considering the gravity of the situation. Any discussion would have to wait until after Klimt’s treatment was finished.

Later, we were greeted by a high priest and led straight to the great cathedral where the Pope resided.

On the way, we passed through what seemed to be the city’s main street. There were no stalls, and only a few people walked the streets. The quiet streetscape seemed gloomily oppressive.

I wondered whether this gloom was due to the chaos following the destruction of the Fangxiang Clan or a characteristic of the temple city. As I pondered this, we arrived at the great cathedral.

The cathedral, which I saw for the first time, was far more magnificent than the Ganzan Royal Palace in the western capital. Its exterior and interior, as well as the furnishings, clearly demonstrated the position of the Light God Temple in the demon realm.

Facing an organization with the wealth and authority surpassing that of a nation, I had expected a complex and tedious process of rituals and formalities.

However, this expectation was quickly proven wrong.

“Welcome, everyone,” came a voice, slightly hoarse, from a figure draped in a white priest’s robe and veiled face, as we were led by the high priest into the innermost sanctum of the cathedral, the prayer room.

“I apologize for the inconvenience our believers have caused you. We should have come to you, and I am grateful that you have taken the trouble to visit us,” said the veiled figure, bowing deeply. The priests and priestesses in attendance, all seemingly of equal or higher rank than the high priest who had guided us, bowed in unison. Presumably, these were the high-ranking clerics supporting the temple.

And it was evident that the person veiled in the face-covering veil, commanding such respect, was the Pope of the Light God Sect.

I understood that much. What I didn’t understand was…

“Are you looking at me?”

I murmured softly to myself.

Yes, even at this very moment, I could feel a gaze fixed on me from behind the veiled face-covering. Not on Kagari, a member of the Nakayama royal family, nor on Klimt, who had his right arm severed by Utsurui, but solely on me.

It wasn’t a look filled with hostility. There was no such prickliness. Rather, it was the complete opposite.

A deep affection, palpable even through the veil, enveloped me, clinging to my entire being, capturing my attention, refusing to let go – no, not allowing me to divert my attention elsewhere.

It was as if I was being showered with the intense emotions one might feel upon reuniting with a long-lost lover. I couldn’t help but feel bewildered by this overwhelming sensation.

◆◆

Afterwards, the Pope deeply apologized to Kagari for the incident at Mount Ganzan and promised substantial compensation in the form of money and food supplies.

Then, they immediately began treating Klimt.

The pinnacle of sacred magic for healing, the “Restoration” spell, could even heal the loss of limbs. I had heard of it, but this was my first time witnessing it in action.

To put it simply, the magic was a success. It was so effortlessly executed that it almost seemed anticlimactic.

Thanks to this, Klimt was able to regain his lost right arm.

“Sora-sama, thank you so much!”

The one expressing their gratitude, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, was Claira Berch, her face flushed with joy.

After Klimt’s arm was restored, he lost consciousness, presumably due to the shock of regaining a limb he thought was lost forever. Ursula took over the duty of watching over him, allowing Claira to visit my room.

After our audience with the Pope, each of us had been assigned a guest room. Currently, only Claira and I were in my room.

“Well, a lot happened, but it’s good to see your efforts rewarded,” I said, smiling at Claira.

Now that Klimt had regained his arm, I was certain he would start complicating matters concerning his sister’s future. While I personally didn’t feel particularly joyful about it, I made an effort to not dampen Claira’s spirits.

I could have pressed Claira for soul-eating as a return for our assistance, now that Klimt was fully recovered, but I refrained from doing so, thinking it would be inappropriate.

Honestly, my reluctance was more due to the lingering doubts about the Pope I had encountered earlier.

Noticing my confusion, Claira’s joyous expression faded, and she tilted her head in puzzlement, just about to speak when there was a knock on the door.

It could be Kagari, Ursula, or maybe Klimt had woken up. The quiet knock didn’t seem like it would be him, though.

Thinking this, I stood up and gestured for Claira to stay put while I opened the door myself.

In the next instant, I was struck by two surprises.

The first was that the person standing before me was the familiar figure in the veiled face-covering.

The second surprise was that the woman, without hesitation, lifted her veil to reveal her face.

It was a face I had never seen before, yet it resonated with my memories.

“I am meeting you for the first time. I have joined as a warrior of the ‘Phantom Burial’ and my name is Sofia,” she said.

“Lord Jin, This is my first mission as a warrior. I will do my best not to be a burden to you,” she continued.

“Lord Jin, you seem to have a good relationship with Lady Atori. I must admit, I’m a little jealous.”

These were fragments of a memory from three hundred years ago, glimpsed through Soul Eating. The face from that memory overlaid with the face of the Pope before me with frightening accuracy.

This couldn’t be explained away as mere familial resemblance or a lookalike. She seemed to be the same person.

Of course, it’s impossible for a human to live through three hundred years. Therefore, the person in my memory and the one before me being the same person should be impossible – under normal circumstances.

But I knew of ways that made the impossible, possible. Not through legitimate means, but through curses, sorcery, and other such dark arts. I knew of those who had achieved immortality through these means, and I had even crossed blades with some.

In other words…

“The Immortal King.”

The words slipped out of my mouth. Hearing this, the Pope didn’t show any sign of surprise. Instead, she nodded quietly and then…

She smiled faintly.