“Mitsurugi Sora,” the Pope said, firmly locking her eyes on me, her gaze recognizing me as an individual, unlike the distant look she had earlier. In a way, it felt like I was truly facing Pope Sofia Azurite for the first time.

Her gaze, deep and dark, naturally made me tense.

Fortunately, most of the numbness from her secret technique had worn off. I was ready to resume combat at any moment.

While I measured the distance between us, the Pope began to speak in a slightly mocking tone.

“Given the dragon doesn’t notice you, it’s unsurprising. After all, you haven’t even realized your own power.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my brows knitting together involuntarily. It felt like we were suddenly speaking different languages.

More accurately, it wasn’t that I couldn’t understand her words; I just couldn’t grasp her intent.

Ignoring her wasn’t an option—something inside me rejected that. As a result, I remained vigilant.

The Pope narrowed her eyes, observing me.

“As I mentioned earlier, besides the harmony of sword and Kei, the harmony of mind, technique, and body is equally, if not more, important for mastering the Phantom Burial Blade Style. Humans are curious beings; if you believe you can win and face a stronger opponent with that mindset, you can find a chance to win. Those who create upsets are always those who believe in themselves.”

On the contrary, those who lack self-belief often can’t exert even half their strength, even against weaker opponents.

To fully utilize a trained body and refined technique, a stable mind—belief in oneself—is indispensable. The Pope continued, raising her index finger.

“Let me clear up a misunderstanding. You seem to perceive me as a superior opponent, but that’s not the case. Why do you think I’m talking instead of attacking with my scythe? It’s to recover the Kei I depleted by using the Three Forms and One Image technique. In short, I am buying time.”

“What!?”

“Without the harmony of sword and Kei, one cannot execute forms. Of course, this applies to me as well. To use the Phantom Burial Blade Style, I must fully exert my own power, the power of the immortal king, and the power of the Mythical Creature Azrael.”

Her words served as a testament, highlighting her unchanged aberrant form, with countless eyes, ears, and noses writhing. Yet, looking closely, it seemed that the eyes of the Mythical Creature Azrael didn’t hold the same power as when they first appeared. After introducing itself, Azrael hadn’t spoken again. It must be significantly exhausted.

The Pope went on.

“I could have simultaneously cast multiple spells using Azrael’s mouths, creating a barrage. But against you, that would have been a waste of Kei. So, I poured everything into my techniques.”

“What do you want to say?”

“In essence, I played my final card in the opening hand. I had to do so because I couldn’t properly fight you otherwise. You have reached that level. It seems you were completely unaware of it.”

Her expression was utterly serious.

Hearing this, I grimaced. Indeed, as the Pope said, I thought she was fighting with ease. To me, it appeared she wasn’t even using half her strength and was casually dealing with me.

From my perspective, the Pope seemed to be fighting only with her Kei techniques, without using the power of the immortal king or the Mythical Creature Azrael.

But in reality, she had been fighting me far more seriously and with full effort than I had assumed.

That was good to hear. Honestly, I couldn’t see any chance of victory in the current situation.

The problem was why she revealed this now. Was it a lure to make me let my guard down? I continued to speak while pondering.

“Yet you seemed quite relaxed in your fighting.”

“That’s the benefit of experience,” she replied, her face solemn.

Her words, as the immortal king who had lived for three hundred years, might have been laughable in another situation.

But in the current circumstance, I couldn’t even crack a smile. I kept a stern face as the Pope began to explain further.

“Confidence is what people call the heart that believes in oneself. No matter how much others acknowledge your strength, without self-belief, you can’t gain confidence. Without confidence, you always underestimate yourself and overestimate others. You are exactly like this right now. If you had properly maintained the harmony of mind, technique, and body, you wouldn’t have misjudged my strength.”

Hearing this, I frowned for a different reason.

If I had no memory of such a trait, I could have dismissed her words as nonsense. But the Pope’s observation struck a deep chord within me.

Feeling like the Pope had reached deep into my subconscious, I reflexively responded.

“I believe I have the confidence appropriate to my abilities, especially since acquiring my Soul Equipment.”

Ursula had once said that I was unrecognizable from my past self. As this thought crossed my mind, the Pope replied straightforwardly.

“A confident swordsman naturally exudes a certain dignity in their demeanor, but yours is at best that of an ordinary flag knight. For someone who could reach the level of a Sword Saint to display the confidence of a mere flag knight is almost laughable.”

I remained silent.

Indeed, as she said, I had thought she was fighting with considerable ease. To me, it appeared she wasn’t using her full strength and was casually dealing with me.

From my perspective, the Pope seemed to be fighting with just her Kei techniques, without the power of the Undead King or the Mythical Creature Azrael.

But, in reality, she had been fighting with far more earnestness and full effort than I had assumed.

That was good to hear. Honestly, I couldn’t see any chance of victory as things stood.

The problem was why she revealed this now. Was it a lure to make me let my guard down? I continued speaking while pondering.

“You seemed quite relaxed in your fighting, though.”

“That’s the result of years of experience,” she responded, her face solemn.

Her words might have been laughable in another situation, but in the current circumstance, I couldn’t even smile. I maintained a stern face as the Pope began to explain further.

“People call the heart that believes in oneself ‘confidence.’ No matter how much others acknowledge your strength, without self-belief, you can’t gain confidence. Without confidence, you always underestimate yourself and overestimate others. You are exactly like this right now. If you had properly maintained the harmony of mind, technique, and body, you wouldn’t have misjudged my strength.”

Hearing this, I frowned for a different reason.

If I had no memory of such a trait, I could have dismissed her words as nonsense. But the Pope’s observation struck a deep chord within me.

She asked softly, “But what curse could have led you to this state, Mitsurugi Sora?”

The word ‘curse’ echoed in my mind. A curse of not believing in oneself.

Was it because the power of the Soul Eater, my Anima, was too great? Despite my victories over formidable enemies, I always felt it was due to the Soul Eater’s power. But the power of the Anima is the power of its wielder. I knew this, and if not for the Soul Eater, I would’ve been defeated by mere creatures like the Hydra or the Behemoth. My feelings towards the Soul Eater were solely of gratitude. It couldn’t be a curse.

The real cause of my lack of confidence was something else—memories dark and cold.

Flashing in my mind were dry eyes, looking at me as if I were a mere pebble on the roadside, and a voice just as dry.

Ah, yes. If I am cursed, it must be because of that voice.

“― Leave the island. The weak are not needed here.”

A voice that declared me worthless. There could be no other source for the curse.