Chapter 66

A Cleric’s Duty (2)

Kuwaaaaaang—!

A massive explosion erupted, splitting the space between me and Palliman.
A sharp yet heavy strike, like driving a chisel through thick glass.

Among the people I knew, there was only one person capable of handling divine power like this.

The Acting Executor, Garrison Berkman.

“Since when did you know?”

Garrison’s voice rang out, stiff and hardened.

“Since when, huh? Maybe from the moment we first entered the secret passage?”
“So you’re saying you knew from the start.”
“At the very least, I figured you wouldn’t get in the way.”

Knew from the start? What nonsense.

Everything I was saying right now was bluster.
A lie.

‘If not for the Banshee, I wouldn’t have even had time to come up with a lie like this.’

Until the Banshee floating in the sky detected his form, I hadn’t sensed even the slightest trace of his presence.

To think I had failed to notice the greatest danger to me right now.

‘Seriously, I’ve got goosebumps.’

I sighed inwardly, realizing I still had a long way to go.

The reason I could dominate this battle was because it was structured as a war of numbers.
My power was optimized for dealing with armies.

But if a monster like Garrison appeared?

There was no option besides running away.

Among all the undead I possessed, not a single one could stop him.

‘Even if I sent Raven, at best it’d only buy time. I really almost died there.’

Just as I was feeling relieved while thinking that—

“A cleric, whose duty is to deliver the will of God, guide the sick and weak, and spread light across the world.”

Garrison slowly stepped out from the smoke.
A body massive like a bear, steadfast like a mountain.

“To kidnap people—innocent people with no sins to their names.”

His face hidden beneath the shadows looked terrifying beyond words.

“And then process their blood to create these ridiculous toys that amplify power.”

Picking up one of the glass bottles scattered on the ground, Garrison spoke.

Kwaajik—!

The reinforced bottle was harder than steel.
Yet he crushed it effortlessly in his hand, crimson liquid dripping from between his fingers.

“Until I saw it with my own eyes, how could I possibly listen to such absurd nonsense?”

Garrison neutralized Palliman’s divine power with his own.
As I tried to gauge the extent of his strength—

“It’s been months, hasn’t it, my friend.”

Ignoring the heavy atmosphere dominating the room, Palliman spoke with a smile.

His voice sounded relaxed, as though he were out on a leisurely stroll.

‘Friend?’

Halna frowned at the way he addressed Garrison.

“Shut your mouth, Palliman El.”

In an instant, Garrison reached right in front of him and swung his fist at his face.

Tuhwaak!

The moment I covered my face from the shockwave bursting from his fist—

Kuwaaaaaang—!

An explosion similar to the one from when he first appeared rang out.

“That crazy bastard…!”

A punch thrown without even the slightest hesitation.
The shockwave arrived before the sound itself—there was no need to imagine how devastating the strike was.

A perfect assassin.

The Acting Executor of the Order had just attempted to kill a Cardinal of the Order.

“Calm yourself, Garrison. What is this between friends?”

Yet despite that terrifying fist, Palliman’s voice remained calm.

Chiiiik! Pajijik!

What Garrison’s fist struck was a book that had appeared from within Palliman’s robes.
Floating in the air, it blocked Garrison’s advance as though protecting its master.

“Holy Relic… the Holy Scripture, Tanakh.”

Recognizing the book’s name, Garrison growled.

‘A Holy Relic? That thing?’

In the ancient past, unrecorded even in history—
Saint Gaul, who defeated one of the three great monsters that ravaged the continent, the Leviathan.

That scripture, Tanakh, was said to be one of the three Holy Relics he left behind.

‘That weapon Garrison brought was one thing, but this…’

The divine power that had oppressed both me and this entire space just moments ago.
The source of that immense power wasn’t Palliman himself.

It was that book.

“A Holy Relic that should be under the Acting Executor’s management—why does a Cardinal like you possess it?”
“Do not worry. Unlike you, I didn’t bring it out on my own authority.”

Palliman spoke casually, accepting Garrison’s killing intent as though used to it.

“Are you saying His Holiness approved this?”
“Approved? Is that all you think it is?”

Stepping forward, Palliman placed a hand on Garrison’s shoulder.

“This operation is being directly overseen by His Holiness the Pope himself.”

Bang—!

Garrison’s fist slammed into a wall made of divine power.

“To be this savage… you’re no different from a beast.”
“Palliman, you bastard…!”

Palliman still had his hand resting on Garrison’s shoulder.
Yet Garrison’s fist stopped in midair, unable to reach him.

‘That’s not just a simple barrier. What the hell is that…?’

A force whose principle I couldn’t comprehend.
I even questioned whether it truly was divine power at all.

“I can approach you this easily, but you cannot touch me.”

From behind the Holy Relic’s barrier, Palliman spoke calmly, prompting Garrison to strike him once more.

Chiiik!

As symbolized by the Sun Cross, the nature of divine power was heat and light.
The moment his fist touched the superheated barrier, the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

“This is an operation of the Order?!”

It wasn’t a question.

It was fury rising from the depths of his heart.
A cry filled with despair.

“Why? Isn’t that precisely why you came here in the first place?”

As though he found Garrison’s reaction amusing, Palliman addressed him casually.

‘So that’s why this priest followed me.’

Helian had become a monster, so he came to kill him.
That alone would’ve been reason enough for someone like Garrison.

But the real reason hidden beneath that was this.

Proof that the Order was connected to the Empire’s plot that turned Helian into a monster.

“How fortunate, Father Garrison.”

Removing his hand from Garrison’s shoulder, Palliman slowly opened his mouth.

“Prince Klein, who stands accused of being a disciple of Archimond, has now been confirmed to have used necromancy.”
“…!”

At those words, Garrison’s eyes widened.

“What nonsense are you spouting? I came here to kill you—!”
“Central Parish of the Holy Kingdom, 11th Street A72.”

A voice flowed from Palliman’s lips.
What he spoke was an address.

‘To think I’d hear the address I sent gifts to every year in a place like this…’

The moment I recalled that familiar address, my expression twisted instantly.

‘Using such a petty trick.’

That place was Garrison Berkman’s family home.
The address of the orphanage where he raised the children he had taken in.

“If you try to kill me here, the Inquisitors will pay that place a visit.”

But the Garrison I knew wasn’t the type to bend to threats.

Rather than dance on a board someone else laid out for him, his way was to flip the entire board over.

‘If he threatens him like this, then instead…’

“If you threaten him like this, it’ll only make him angrier.”

My mind blanked for a moment.
The voice that had spoken the exact thoughts in my head aloud—

It was Palliman’s voice.

“That’s what you think, isn’t it, Prince Klein?”

Looking at Palliman smiling at me like that, an ominous certainty crept over me.

“But unfortunately, things change when children are involved.”

The Acting Executor of the Order.
The hammer of God that crushed every heretic in sight.

And that man called Palliman had referred to Garrison as his friend.

“This man would never abandon the children he took in.”

Friend.
Not anyone else, but Garrison Berkman himself.

“You bastard…!”

As though he might explode at any second, Garrison’s body swelled with rage.
Yet completely ignoring his reaction, Palliman continued speaking.

“Isn’t that precisely why Your Highness is still alive?”

Listening to his words, I looked at Garrison’s back as he stood facing away from me.

It was the angriest expression I had ever seen on him.
And yet despite that, his fists no longer moved.

“See? Am I wrong?”
“…Yeah. You’re right.”

Watching Palliman speak so smugly, the corner of my lips twisted upward.

‘It’s been a long time… since I’ve met a villain who truly acts like one.’

The moment I saw that face, I instinctively realized it.
This entire disaster surrounding Paul Wyvern wasn’t Helian’s doing.

‘Once the hypothesis is formed, only one thing remains.’

Experimentation.
And proof.

“What are you doing, Garrison? Hurry and kill Prince Klein—”
“Kill me? You can’t.”

Having finished my thoughts, I stepped forward and cut Palliman off.

“What did you say?”
“It’d be too much of a waste to kill me here. Don’t you think?”

After putting away the sword I was holding, I tapped my forehead while looking at him.

“Aren’t you curious about what’s inside here?”

At my words, Palliman—who had been commanding Garrison—hesitated.

“I merely carry out His Holiness’s will. I am not in a position to judge.”
“That’s not true.”

At my sudden change in attitude, cracks began forming in the composed demeanor Palliman had maintained all this time.

Confusion.
Just a little of it.

But enough to seize control of the situation.

“The Pope’s orders are a lie. This entire deal was orchestrated by you.”

I spoke calmly, as though merely stating facts.
The cooperation between Helian and the Empire.
The deal with the Order.

And at the center of it all stood not Helian—

But this man.

‘No evidence, but my instincts have rarely been wrong.’

What I knew about Palliman was only fragmentary information.
Yet I bluffed as though I understood everything about him.

Perhaps it was experience gained from the years I had lived as Archimond.

Or perhaps it was the strange kinship shared between villains who had weathered countless battles.

“…I don’t understand what you mean.”

After a brief silence, Palliman lowered his shoulders slightly and spoke.

“Everything was arranged by His Holiness and Lady Helian. I merely—”
“And honestly, I’m getting tired of hearing you use honorifics for what’s basically a tool.”

Tool.

At that word used to describe Helian, Palliman stopped mid-sentence.

“Why? Am I wrong?”

I stared directly into his pitch-black eyes.
Eyes hiding their true nature behind a mask, filled with schemes that dug into the weakest parts of human nature.

“…What exactly are you?”

At last, the mocking smile covering Palliman’s face disappeared, replaced by open vigilance.

“Archimond.”
“…!”

Both Palliman and Garrison’s eyes widened simultaneously.

In Garrison’s case, it was shock.

In Palliman’s case…

“Kuh… kuhuhuhu…!”

He looked delighted beyond measure, as though he had stumbled upon an unexpected treasure.

“Well then, let’s stop wasting time with meaningless pleasantries.”

After confirming Palliman’s interest had been fully stirred, I spoke while tapping the ground with my scabbard.

Tok. Tok. Tok.

Three taps at fixed intervals.
The signal meant: “Below.”

Noticing my actions, Garrison immediately looked down at his feet.

‘We strike together. I’ll draw his attention, so prepare yourself.’

Black letters written in demonic energy briefly appeared, then vanished.

“Tch.”

As though disgusted that he understood what I meant, Garrison clicked his tongue briefly before nodding.

‘That bastard… so he still remembered after all.’

The signal I had sent him was one we used seven years ago back in the reformatory.

A time impossible to forget.

Remembering it, I smiled like a true villain and spoke.

“Let’s make a deal, Cardinal Palliman.”