Cardinal Key staggered back, cursing inwardly.

The Divine Archer advanced.

Key had never liked Pain Atriker, but he had respected his power. The man was one of the Holy Kingdom’s great pillars.

Key had, of course, intended to eliminate him someday, but not like this. Never like this.

He couldn’t fathom how it had happened so easily.

Could a Grand Master truly be that powerful?!

Key’s mind recoiled from the image of Pain’s corpse.

The Commander of the Divine Knights was supposed to be a living weapon, a man whose power rivaled a Grand Master’s—no, surpassed it.

How could such a man have fallen without a fight?

His eyes darted about the chamber, searching for an escape from the monster before him.

He saw none.

Impossible.

His own divine power wouldn’t leave a scratch on this man. Since that was the case…

Key’s heel hit something solid. With a pivot born of desperation, he lunged for the Pope.

“Halt!” he roared, pressing a dagger to the Pope’s throat.

The Divine Archer froze mid-stride.

A surge of triumph shot through Key. It worked.

The monster who had been rampaging without a care now stood perfectly still.

“Back away! Now!”

The Divine Archer complied, taking a slow step back.

The Pope, a blade at his neck, spoke in a low, weary voice. “Have you no fear of the Goddess’s judgment, Key?”

“Ha! The Goddess won’t punish me! No, She’ll reward me for driving out those unbelievers… unlike someone I know.”

“You’ve gone mad. Truly mad.”

“You’re the one who’s mad. You dared to invite unbelievers into this holy nation, even squandering the title of Saint!” Key screamed, eyes flashing.

“I’m different. I’ve devoted my entire life to the Goddess. No one is more deserving of that position than me!”

The dagger’s edge bit into the Pope’s skin, drawing a thin line of red.

“Are you afraid to die, Your Holiness?” Key sneered.

A calm voice cut through the tension. “So, am I done watching now?”

The Divine Archer’s tone was so casual it sent a chill down Key’s spine. 

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He held the Pope’s life in his hands; how could this man be so nonchalant?

“Does his death mean nothing to you?” Key shouted, his voice cracking.

“Hmm, that would be inconvenient. His Holiness has work to do.”

“Then back away right—!”

“But,” the Divine Archer interrupted, “that doesn’t mean you’ll be leaving here unharmed.”

With a snap of his fingers, a dozen shimmering arrows of light materialized in the air. They converged on Key in a single, silent volley.

“Gaaaaaaah!”

Key screamed and collapsed, his body studded with shafts of light. The Pope, suddenly free, stumbled away from him.

Key glared up from the floor, his eyes burning with a feral hatred that promised retribution.

“You!” he shrieked, his voice ragged with pain. “You sold this nation to the Empire!”

Any other man would have been weeping, begging for his life. Cardinal Key only glared, his defiance hardening with every ragged breath.

The Divine Archer made a small sound of appreciation. “So the reputation is earned. You aren’t entirely chaff, it seems.”

“Silence!” Key snarled. “What right does an outsider have to interfere in the affairs of the Holy Kingdom? Is this the tyranny of the Empire?”

“The Empire…” The Divine Archer shook his head with a dry little laugh. “Unfortunately for you, I am no Imperial citizen. As you say, I am merely a wanderer and outsider.”

“Then your crime is greater still! My patron is the Second Imperial Prince himself! Do you dare make an enemy of both the Empire and the Holy Kingdom?”

“Of course not. Even I lack the means to defy two great nations at once.”

“Then—!”

“Ah,” the Archer said, raising a finger. “But the story changes when one of those parties is in league with the Demonkin.”

An arrow of pure Aura shot forth, punching through Key’s thigh.

“Gaaaaaaargh!”

“Aghh…! What… what nonsense is this?” Key choked out, his eyes wide with genuine confusion.

Demonkin? He had bled his people dry and plotted for the throne, but he’d never had any dealings with demons.

The Divine Archer continued as if he hadn’t heard. “We can sort it all out at a trial, can’t we? A far better option for you than dying here on this floor.”

Key glared, his breath coming in ragged pants.

He could have killed me… but he offers a trial. Why?

The answer was simple: he needed justification.

Not even a Grand Master could afford to make enemies of two great nations. This trial was a show, a political necessity. The man must have already bribed the judge or forged his evidence.

But he was making a critical error. He had no idea how Key Dupron had clawed his way to the rank of Cardinal. To think he could be undone by such a transparent political maneuver…

That arrogance will be your undoing.

Cardinal Key bit his lip, his glare sharpening into a weapon. A moment later, his eyes flashed with defiance.

“Fine!” he roared. “I will attend this inquisition myself!”

He would be acquitted, of course. Without direct evidence of collusion with Demonkin, they had no case. And when that day came…

I will drag you into court.

He would see this man on the gallows, condemned as a criminal for seeking to subvert both the Empire and the Holy Kingdom.

“I’m glad we can be efficient,” the Divine Archer replied with a nod.

He flicked his fingers again. Two thick stakes of Aura slammed through both of Cardinal Key’s insteps, pinning him to the stone.

“Guaaaaaaaah!”

Key’s scream echoed in the cavernous hall.

The Divine Archer paid him no mind, turning instead to the terrified Templars.

“Guard him. Make sure he doesn’t escape. Of course,” he added with a chilling smile, “if you feel compelled to help him, I’ll have a convenient excuse to end this cleanly.”

With that, he turned his back, helped the shaken Pope to his feet, and walked out of the cathedral.

* * *

The inquisition began surprisingly quickly.

I stood with the Pope and the Templar Philip as witnesses. The accused, of course, was Cardinal Key Dupron.

“I did as you asked,” my master murmured as we waited in the tribunal hall, “but it would have been simpler to just kill him. I hold no citizenship. I could have been gone before the body was cold.”

He was right. The clean path would have been to sacrifice him.

By pinning everything on the foreign wanderer with no allegiance and letting him take the fall, the affair would have been neatly resolved.

But I wouldn’t.

It wasn’t a matter of sentiment. Had it been the only way, I would have asked it of him.

But it wasn’t.

All my preparations were in place. So long as Key played the part I had written for him, victory was not just probable—it was certain. No matter what tricks he had prepared.

A small smirk touched my lips as I looked to the dais.

Cardinal Key sat at the defendant’s table, posture rigid despite the fresh bandages visible beneath his robes. A smug confidence radiated from him. He must have struck a deal.

Struggle all you want. It would do him no good.

My gaze drifted to the gallery below.

As this was an inquisition, the hall was packed with citizens of the Holy Kingdom, their faces a mixture of fear and outrage.

“They say our suffering is because of that man!”

“Damn him! How could a man of the Goddess do such things?”

“A true priest wouldn’t! He’s a demon worshipper, I tell you!”

A low, angry murmur filled the hall. On the dais, Inquisitor Helena slammed her gavel.

“Silence!”

Her sharp gaze swept the chamber. “No disturbances will be tolerated in this sacred court. Anyone who causes a commotion will be judged to have insulted the Goddess and will be executed on the spot. Is that understood?”

The hall fell silent.

“Then let the inquisition of Cardinal Key Dupron begin.”

Helena’s eyes turned to ice as she formally opened the trial. “First, Key Dupron, you stand accused of colluding with the Demonkin. Do you admit to this charge?”

“I do not.”

“So you deny it.”

Key nodded, his voice firm. “I swear on the name of our revered Goddess that I have never conspired with the forces of darkness.”

“Then why do you believe such a charge has been leveled against you?”

“It is a plot!” Key declared, his voice ringing with outrage as he pointed a trembling finger at me.

“A scheme concocted by these infidels to mock the Goddess and seize our kingdom! Baron Louis Berg is a hero of the Empire. The Emperor himself granted him his title. The Divine Archer, this man’s master, murdered loyal knights of the Holy Kingdom in cold blood! He struck down the esteemed Honorary Cardinal, Pain Atriker, without provocation!”

“Continue,” Helena said, her expression unreadable.

“Why would a man so honored commit such atrocities? To conspire with the Pope and hand the Holy Kingdom to the Empire! And the proof is right there—the Pope himself branded Baron Berg with the mark of a Saint!”

Inquisitor Helena’s fingers drummed on the table.

After a moment, she looked back at Cardinal Key. “Are you referring to the Stigmata?”

“Yes! How can the Stigmata, a mark that appears only on the holiest of saints, manifest on the brow of an unbeliever? A man who wields Aura, not divine power!”

“So you claim this was all a conspiracy orchestrated by His Holiness, the Pope.”

“That is correct!”

Helena nodded slowly, not in agreement, but to mark the transition.

As I expected, her gaze shifted from Key to our side of the hall.

“Then let us hear from the witnesses.”

My turn had finally come.

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