Ch.197197. The Final Trial

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Luminol Archbishop’s days rarely started pleasantly these days.

If he traced the cause, it always led back to one man.

‘…That damn bastard…’

He frowned even more deeply as he recalled the man he had seen at the recent Hero Selection Trial.

Darwood Campbell.

A name that was having an enormously negative impact on his quality of life lately.

As if the mountain of paperwork piled before him wasn’t enough, he found it nearly impossible to concentrate.

‘Where did such a preposterous man come from…’

He already knew this was someone the Pope himself was keeping an eye on, but he hadn’t realized just how bizarre the man truly was.

His tenacious survival instinct—emerging alive no matter when or where he was thrust into danger—was bewildering to witness.

‘Soon, the final trial…’

In truth, it could hardly be called a trial.

It simply involved letting those who had proven their “qualifications” in previous trials hold the Holy Sword once. That was all.

Ironically, this would undoubtedly be the most dangerous of all trials.

The Holy Sword.

A weapon considered the most powerful sacred artifact in human history.

It was the item the first Hero used to seal the demons’ “true forms” in the Void Zone, and it was so extremely dangerous that anyone unworthy of wielding it could lose their life just by touching it.

“…”

That meant he would have to let Lana hold it once as well.

No matter how uniquely resilient his daughter might be—supposedly unable to die—as a father, he didn’t want to witness such a scene.

“Father, are you there!”

While lost in these thoughts, a cheerful voice echoed from outside his office.

It was a voice that unconsciously brought a gentle smile to Luminol Archbishop’s face.

His daughter. The meaning of his life. His purpose for making the world a better place.

“Come in, Lana-“

The Archbishop’s greeting froze mid-sentence.

“Um, is this alright now, Mr. Darwood? You asked me to bring you to meet my father privately…”

“Yes. Thank you, Lana.”

“Remember your promise to buy me that super-popular giant cake from the Holy City later. Don’t forget!”

“As many as you want.”

His daughter was remarkably thick-skinned, despite being his own flesh and blood.

How could she so calmly introduce someone who had put him in such a predicament?

While the Archbishop trembled with these thoughts, Lana left the office, and the man strode confidently toward him.

He pulled out a chair across from his desk without permission and plopped down as if he were in his own home.

Not a shred of respect or courtesy.

“Pleased to meet you, Archbishop Luminol.”

“…Why don’t you give me one reason why I shouldn’t use an offensive miracle on you right now.”

“Here’s the confession I extracted from the assassins you sent after me. I recorded everything.”

“…”

“That you were their client. That they infiltrated the Hero Selection Trial with assassination as their objective. Imagine the scandal if this got out?”

“…”

Disbelieving, he picked up the crystal.

It was true.

The recording showed the assassins, with glazed eyes, confessing everything about the plan and even providing “evidence” of the commission.

“…”

Archbishop Luminol’s face turned deathly pale.

How?

They were all trained professionals. They were the type who would rather bite their tongues and commit suicide than reveal such information.

As the Archbishop pondered this, his eyes suddenly caught something.

A white energy dwelling in their eyes.

Though unfocused, their “desire” toward the other person was clearly perceptible.

As if they were under some kind of enchantment.

“…”

These were individuals the Holy Empire’s Archbishop could trust with important matters.

They could repel most mental magic. All their equipment was top-grade.

“…You.”

Yet if someone possessed mental abilities powerful enough to reduce them to this state…

“Did you use demonic powers?”

“Who knows?”

“…”

The Pope had indeed warned him that this man might be capable of such things.

But that was merely “might be capable”—the possibility that he could use such powers so freely was beyond all expectations!

‘…Monster…!’

Someone who could “control” another demon’s power and use it at will—there had never been such a person in history.

If there had been, it would have caused enough upheaval to rewrite history books!

“I just came to ‘talk.'”

“I have nothing to say to you-“

“I think you do.”

Darwood cut off the Archbishop’s words sharply.

“Unless you want all your dirty laundry aired in front of your beloved daughter.”

“…”

“Sending assassins after me isn’t the only thing you’ve done. Someone in your position must have done plenty of unsavory things to climb that high. That’s how the Holy Empire works, isn’t it?”

The Archbishop couldn’t help but tense up at these words.

“…You. How much do you know?”

“Who knows?”

Darwood responded indifferently.

His demeanor remained completely composed.

“It depends on your attitude from now on, doesn’t it?”

“…”

●

Two souls were watching this scene unfold.

Souls within the Soul Linker rarely encounter each other, but given the right circumstances, they can “meet” like this.

Just like now, as they exchanged slightly worried glances while watching Darwood Campbell make Archbishop Luminol’s face turn pale.

Using threats to control a situation advantageously. This was something that man had shown several times before.

However, this time.

The “texture” was somewhat different from before.

“…What’s going on?”

Valkarsus asked with a troubled voice as he ran his hand through his hair.

This was the first time they had met like this in the mental world, but they both seemed to have an idea of what topic would come up as soon as they saw each other.

“Boy King, let’s be honest and speak frankly.”

Indeed, the topic Calivan brought up with a sigh wasn’t far from that expectation.

“Was he always this rotten?”

“…”

Valkarsus frowned without answering.

His gaze was fixed on Archbishop Luminol, who was sweating profusely.

Then it shifted to Darwood Campbell, who was staring back expressionlessly.

“…”

Being asleep inside the Soul Linker most of the time, he didn’t know everything, but he had a general understanding of what had been happening to that man recently.

He’d heard that Darwood had asked the Grey Demon for something called the Seal of Transcendence, and his race value was gradually moving away from human.

‘…He is the one who saved my kingdom. The one who promised to fulfill my wishes.’

He still remembered.

The day he was first “taken in” by him.

The day Darwood promised to save his people and complete the revenge that Valkarsus himself couldn’t achieve.

What had he said to him then?

“…”

He had said they were alike.

That he wanted to show kindness because they were similar.

That someone with such a mindset.

Someone so fundamentally human.

Had now changed to this.

It certainly didn’t evoke pleasant feelings in him.

“Threatening someone using their daughter to make them comply. Isn’t that going too far, even if the other person is bad?”

“…”

“And just think about what he did to that woman, Tatiana.”

“…Priestess Tatiana committed undeniable evil deeds. That’s certain.”

“Then, all the more reason. He shouldn’t become just like her.”

“…”

“From what I can see, that guy isn’t much different from her now.”

As Valkarsus fell silent, Calivan continued in a gloomy voice.

“That guy is changing faster than expected.”

The statement dropped heavily.

“He always tends to look at events as large chunks. He thinks about the eventual outcomes first and makes plans accordingly, then charges ahead recklessly to achieve them.”

“…He was always like that.”

“But he used to maintain at least some boundaries.”

Calivan sharply rebutted Valkarsus’s comment.

“I’m saying his mindset is changing to ‘anything goes as long as I achieve my goal.'”

“…So, what are you suggesting we do?”

He was already aware of this himself.

Yet it was also he himself who was continuing with it despite knowing.

“It’s a trap of good intentions.”

Valkarsus heaved a deep sigh.

“He probably thinks this self-destructive sacrifice is good for himself too.”

What a foolish man.

Why would he try to save everyone else but not care about getting buried himself in the process?

As someone who had once been described as “similar” to him, he could understand it clearly.

As someone who had conducted funerals for all his subjects before his very eyes, he could quickly comprehend “why” he was going to such lengths.

This was almost like fear.

At some point, though he wasn’t sure when.

That man must have experienced losing someone before his eyes.

It must remain deep in his heart, deeply rooted in his mind, enough to become a trauma that determines his behavioral mechanisms.

If his actions stemmed from such reasons, it would be nearly impossible to break his stubbornness no matter what was said.

“No, there is a way.”

Calivan’s words fell before Valkarsus’s contemplation.

“He needs to keep his own word.”

“…Hmm? What do you mean?”

Upon hearing this, a grin spread across Calivan’s face.

“He once told Elia too. If he seemed to be crossing the line, he asked her to set him straight.”

“…”

“Our job is to create that opportunity.”

“…”

It might be his imagination.

But somehow, Calivan seemed pleased.

He looked as if he was enjoying the prospect of tormenting Darwood Campbell more than anyone else.

“…So, what method will you use?”

“He’s been quite frustrating, honestly.”

Being pushed around by women he can’t handle.

Yet claiming they’re incomplete and dangerous, trying to protect them.

Not caring how much he gets hurt or broken in the process.

So.

At this point, there’s just one thing to show him.

“From my perspective, simply putting him in someone else’s shoes should be enough.”

“…What does that mean?”

“We need to make him properly realize that others hate seeing him hurt just as much as he wants to protect them.”

Such words followed.

“We need to show him how much he is ‘loved’ by these women.”

“…”

“That he doesn’t always have to handle everything alone.”

The sentences sounded plausible.

Yet somehow, they only gave him an ominous feeling.

“You just need to do one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Contact the Demonic Vessels I mention. One of them, well…”

Calivan briefly thought of someone and smirked.

“…He’s probably out of his mind with guilt by now. But with your alchemy, you should be able to reach him somehow, even in spirit form.”

Yes, that was certainly possible.

During the periods when he was asleep in the Soul Linker without communicating with Darwood, his alchemy skills had grown even stronger than before.

Now he could independently transmit thought messages even to entities in spirit form without going through “himself.”

The question was.

Why do this?

“Don’t worry and leave it to me.”

That was the only answer he got, accompanied by a smirk.

“…I don’t know how you’ll take this, but.”

Valkarsus narrowed his eyes as he spoke.

“Somehow, aren’t you becoming more like him?”

“…”

“The bizarreness of your ideas, the sinister undertone in your smile… right now, you’re exactly like him…”

Calivan’s expression rapidly hardened.

He looked as if he’d just been gravely insulted.

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