Ch.240Episode 12 – The Strongest Mage in History

Several days had passed since the tiger, who had briefly left his cave, returned and killed all the presumptuous foxes.

As the entire family gathered together, waiting for the new year while enduring the cold winter.

I visited the cathedral to speak with the priest.

“It’s been a while.”

“Good to see you, Priestess Rebecca.”

We sat modestly on chairs spread across the wide corridor, facing the chancel where the choir stalls and altar were placed.

The cathedral was large and majestic.

The four massive rectangular stone pillars supporting the ceiling resembled those of the Sacré-Cœur Basilica I had seen while working as an administrative staff at the Korean Embassy. The religious paintings on the ceiling contained such sophisticated artistry and harmony that they reminded me of the interior of the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican.

A northern metropolis.

This grand cathedral, built in the center of the second largest city—neither the capital Bon nor Novo Nikolayevsk, the northern administrative capital—demonstrated the power and glory of the church by its mere existence.

I sat in the front row closest to the chancel and conversed with Priestess Rebecca, who was seated in the same row across the aisle.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to a cathedral. I used to go often.”

“Were you a believer?”

“Not really. I used to escort my unit members to church every weekend.”

Because of their nature, religious facilities gather many people, making the cathedral the best place for Rebecca and me to meet naturally.

However, since imperial intelligence officers might be watching from somewhere, we deliberately sat apart across the aisle and agreed to look straight ahead without facing each other.

I carefully began speaking while keeping my gaze fixed forward.

“Priestess Rebecca. About that apostate.”

“Yes.”

“Have you received any news?”

Priestess Rebecca slightly bowed her head as if in silent prayer.

“Not yet.”

Episode 12 – The Most Powerful Magician in History

There are two operations I’m pursuing in the north.

The operation to dominate the black market through Francesca, pressuring the money flow to find out the source of the black magic used in the terrorist attack from Hormoz.

And the operation to track down the apostate with Priestess Rebecca’s cooperation, to find the true culprit behind the series of murders in the north.

The first operation has been on track for quite some time.

I made a deal with Commander Mikhail and cleaned up all the small criminal organizations. When the small groups operating the black market were wiped out, a true dark age came to the black market.

Now Francesca is filling that power vacuum, fueled by massive funds and resources.

While other criminals are lying low, Francesca has been smoothly taking over the black market, and thanks to that, the operation is proceeding well.

However, there’s a problem with the second operation.

“What’s the problem, Priestess Rebecca? Is there less information than expected?”

“On the contrary. The problem is that there’s too much information.”

Priestess Rebecca is tracking the apostate’s movements based on the information network established by the Inquisition in the north. However, considering that the north is several times larger than an average country, Rebecca is essentially converting an enormous amount of intelligence into usable information.

“I’m trying to filter out activities suspected to be the apostate’s from the reports of our informants, but with reports coming in from all across the north, the analysis is overwhelming.”

“Let me know if you need help. If I put my analysts on it, we’ll get results quickly.”

“I appreciate the offer. However, I think this problem is beyond what a few people can solve. I’ll just accept your goodwill.”

In the end, all these problems stemmed from a lack of manpower. While there seemed to be a straightforward solution, it unfortunately wasn’t that simple to resolve.

Neither the Inquisition nor Military Intelligence could deploy many agents in the north due to concerns about counterintelligence activities by imperial intelligence agencies operating under martial law.

Information analysis (like all such work) requires grinding through human resources to get answers, so the shortage of personnel led to somewhat fatal results.

“Well, with few people for fieldwork but many tasks, plus having to maintain cover activities…”

With too much work and too few people, two people end up doing the work of three.

Since they’re unofficial agents without the protection of international law, they must also maintain their activities as ordinary clergy to avoid suspicion from intelligence agencies.

To analyze intelligence from across the north while maintaining all these constraints? It would be difficult even for an ordinary intelligence officer. Even more so for a double agent who must deceive not only external eyes but internal ones as well.

I could fully understand Rebecca’s position.

So I tried my best to help her.

“If I were the apostate, I would flee to a place beyond the reach of the Inquisition’s eyes. Remote areas or regions where inquisitors wouldn’t go.”

“Remote areas?”

“For example, cities with temples of other religions where the church’s influence doesn’t reach.”

Priestess Rebecca seemed lost in thought, slightly tucking her chin and staring into space.

“How many religions are there in the Empire? Though none have as many followers as the Church, I understand there are several religions of considerable size. Could the apostate be hiding in an area where such religions are strong?”

After deep contemplation, Priestess Rebecca spoke.

“That would make it even harder to find them. Those who serve as the eyes and ears of the Inquisition are, after all, those with sincere faith.”

“…So the heathens wouldn’t provide information to the Inquisition?”

“I don’t mean to cause discord, but that’s the reality. Through their eyes, the Inquisition is just another group of heathens with different beliefs.”

“And quite notorious ones at that.”

Given that it’s ‘that’ Inquisition.

“There seems to be no other way. Even if we outsourced the analysis to the embassy or headquarters, communication is difficult in these regions…”

“We’ll just have to make the best use of the people we have.”

Countless solutions were proposed, but none were useful. The conversation went in circles and returned to the starting point, and as too much time had passed, the moment to part ways finally arrived.

I, who had been sitting pretending to pray, made a gesture of crossing myself. Priestess Rebecca, being a true clergy, made the sign of the cross with much more natural movements than I did.

After making the sign of the cross, completing the prayer and joining her hands, Priestess Rebecca carefully spoke.

“Should we meet at the cathedral next time as well?”

“If we contact each other frequently at the same location, someone might become suspicious.”

I paused briefly as I stood up from the chair.

“Hmm… Let’s meet at a public venue instead. Since you and I have crossed paths through the Church, the Tower, and the Empire, we can pretend to be discussing matters related to Saint Lucia.”

“That’s a good approach. The Tower…”

Priestess Rebecca murmured as if reminiscing about a vague past, looking at distant mountains.

“Come to think of it, I remember when I assisted Saint Lucia’s relief activities with you at the Tower. Would you be interested in following Saint Lucia’s activities here as well? That seems like a good way to meet too.”

“Ah, no matter what, that’s a bit…”

*

After finishing our information exchange and parting with Priestess Rebecca, I decided to take a short break by exploring the cathedral.

The stone grand cathedral, located in the center of the second largest city in the north, is known to hold a long history as magnificent as its scale.

To summarize its legend briefly:

Hundreds of years ago, when the demons of the frozen lands repeatedly advanced southward, threatening the survival of all humanity. On a day when ash and sulfur covered the sky, preventing the sun from rising and causing darkness to persist for more than ten days, the youngest son of a shepherd, suffering from a fever, suddenly woke up.

The boy, dragging his sick body to the well for water, witnessed stars dancing over the field in the middle of the night. As if enchanted, he followed them and encountered a man of foreign appearance tapping a rock with a branch.

With each tap of the branch on the rock, dew formed on the surface, and after seventeen taps, a small stream of water began to flow from the rock. The shepherd’s son drank the water from the highest hill in the field where the stars danced, and his fever was immediately cured.

The shepherd’s son received the branch as a gift from the man of foreign appearance, and a few days later, he set out on a pilgrimage with a small staff made from the gifted branch, leaning on it as he walked through the field where the stars had danced. This boy later became known in history as “Saint Basilius,” who stole the devil’s sword and beheaded the devil in the north.

Although there may be some exaggeration by historians from a time when the Church’s influence was considerable, the existence of Saint Basilius himself is undeniable fact.

After all, the grand cathedral where I stood was built over the saint’s body.

To be precise, Saint Basilius was buried at his hometown according to his will, but a later pope ordered the site to be completely cleared and a magnificent cathedral built over it. That’s why the cathedral is named “Saint Basilius Grand Cathedral.”

Clearing the hometown of a saint who beheaded a devil and building a cathedral over his remains? It’s a decision I simply cannot comprehend.

As I toured Saint Basilius Grand Cathedral, I thought:

“…Isn’t this blasphemy?”

Despite claiming to honor his achievements, a pope—elected by cardinals and bishops who are mere “humans”—cleared away the home of a saint who was chosen by “God,” performed miracles, and killed a devil, and built a structure over his grave. So, is this blasphemy?

As I gazed at the walls filled with images of Saint Basilius receiving water from the flowing rock, wondering ‘if the saint and the pope met in heaven, would the saint beat up the pope who ordered the cathedral’s construction?’, the door opened and people began to enter.

Judging by their attire, they were priests.

It wasn’t unusual for priests to come and go in a cathedral, so I was about to turn my head back to the mural when I suddenly made eye contact with the clergyman at the front of the line.

“Saint Lucia?”

“Who are… ah.”

It was Lucia.

Lucia, who was entering the cathedral while conversing with elderly priests, turned her gaze when she heard someone calling her.

I greeted her with a slight bow, and Lucia, recognizing me, nodded in return.

“It’s good to see you, Saint Lucia.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here. Have you been well?”

“I’m always at peace.”

Lucia showed a gentle smile.

“That’s good to hear.”

There was some snow on Lucia’s shoulders, suggesting she had been outside for a while.

The north is known for its capricious weather, but it had been particularly cold recently due to the unusual cold wave.

Despite the cold weather, Lucia’s face was as serene as someone out for a spring walk. Whether she was less sensitive to cold or not, her complexion remained unchanged, unlike the other priests whose cheeks had turned bright red from the biting wind.

“What brings you to the cathedral? I wasn’t notified of your visit today.”

“I had a brief matter to attend to. And you, Saint Lucia?”

“I came for a short interview.”

As Lucia finished speaking, the elderly priest standing beside her spoke up.

“Saint Lucia, who is this gentleman?”

I quickly sized up the elderly man who was inquiring about my identity.

Like the other priests, the old man was wearing a black cassock.

According to church law, no one except the pope and saints can wear pure white cassocks, so I immediately knew this old man was just an ordinary priest.

But to call him ordinary would be misleading, given the decoration around his waist. Unlike Priestess Rebecca and the priests lined up behind Lucia who wore black fascias, the old man’s fascia was a deep crimson color reminiscent of red wine.

I bowed to the old man with the crimson fascia.

“Frederick Nostrum of the Abas Embassy to the Kiyen Empire pays his respects to Your Eminence the Cardinal.”

The elderly priest responded to my courteous greeting with a kind smile.

“Ha ha. There’s no need for such formality, brother.”

The old man standing next to Lucia was none other than a cardinal of the Church.

Like a Catholic cardinal, a cardinal in the Church is a high-ranking clergyman second only to the pope.

Cardinals have the right to vote directly for the pope, and thus their numbers are significantly fewer than priests worldwide.

While bishops who manage each diocese are by no means of low status, cardinals occupy a position that bishops cannot even compare to. After all, cardinals are appointed from among bishops to assist the pope in his duties.

In other words, the old man before me was higher in position than any other clergyman, including bishops.

“How could I not show respect to Your Eminence?”

“Please don’t be so formal, brother. The Lord is watching over us, and this humble servant can hardly raise his face.”

For reference, even a dictator cannot easily arrest a bishop-level clergyman.

That’s why political activities (such as protests) in dictatorships like the Kiyen Empire often take place under the protection of clergy.

Even the Imperial Guard, fearing public backlash, would only put bishops on watchlists and monitor them rather than directly intervening.

Although it’s all in the past, when Raphael, a mere bishop, grabbed Cardinal Raul by the collar, it could have become a major issue within the Church. But Raphael remained unharmed despite grabbing Raul’s collar in public because he was the head of the Inquisition.

After all, even a cardinal’s prestige cannot surpass the authority of the Inquisition, the guardian of faith.

By custom, the head of the Inquisition is held by a bishop-level clergyman. The current head, Peter, is also a bishop.

“Nostrum… that’s a familiar name.”

“I’m likely the person Your Eminence is thinking of.”

“Ah.”

A sigh-like exclamation escaped from the cardinal’s lips. The old man, with a smile across his face, bowed his head.

“This humble servant greets a colleague of the Lord’s representative on this earth. I am Theodosius, in charge of the archdiocese.”

“Frederick Nostrum. If you’re in charge of the archdiocese…”

“Yes, by God’s calling, I now hold the position of Archbishop.”

More influential than I thought.

Archbishop Theodosius, who introduced himself as managing the northern archdiocese of the Kiyen Empire, extended both hands to request a handshake.

The kind-smiling old man grabbed my hand firmly and asked:

“Brother, are you a believer?”

It was an ordinary personal question.

Having encountered me standing alone in the grand cathedral early in the morning with few people around, I could certainly appear to be a believer who came to pray. In the archbishop’s eyes, I might have looked like a person of sincere faith wandering around this vast cathedral.

A spy meeting with an inquisitor would seem less plausible than a believer coming for morning prayers. At least in the eyes of a clergyman.

But the archbishop’s gaze was too intense for it to be mere curiosity.

He laughed and held my hand tightly.

“Ha ha. That a colleague of the Saint believes in God. I wonder if this is coincidence or not—this humble servant cannot tell. Perhaps it’s because my faith is lacking that despite decades of prayer, I haven’t attained enlightenment.”

“Your Eminence, I…”

“Don’t worry, brother. I wouldn’t reproach you even if you held a different faith. This too must be God’s will. Ho ho!”

“……”

I was sightseeing cathedral murals at dawn and suddenly got treated like a heretic. I’ve never had a religion in either of my two lives, and now this bolt from the blue.

I was so dumbfounded that I just stood there silently, and the clergy following Lucia and Archbishop Theodosius sighed with concern.

Though I didn’t know the details, it seemed the archbishop often asked such questions about others’ faith.

At least the middle-aged priest in the front row stepped forward with an awkward smile, as if not knowing what to do.

“I apologize. Archbishop Theodosius didn’t ask with bad intentions…”

“It’s fine. He might have been curious.”

In a world where divinity clearly exists, asking someone about their religion is considered highly impolite. Such questions alone can be seen as disrespecting other religions and doubting another’s faith.

Therefore, religions in this region tend to refrain from public proselytizing, evangelism, and other external activities.

If someone were to shout in the streets or subway that non-believers would go to hell, a clergyman from that religion might rush out barefoot to slap the proselytizer and beat them with a belt. Or someone from another religion passing by might pick up a stone and hit them on the head.

Unless it was an era of burning magicians in the square and waging holy wars against heretics. Even the Inquisition doesn’t freely persecute heretics these days.

Whether they’re restraining themselves due to international scrutiny or because the heavenly god issued an oracle begging them to stop killing after they killed too many, I don’t know.

Anyway, the priests apologized to me on behalf of the archbishop. The priests, bowing their heads and repeatedly apologizing, hastily dragged the archbishop into the cathedral.

“Why are you all acting like this? I was just…”

“Your Eminence! Please close that mouth!”

“Ho ho. Such irreverent fellows. If I were just ten years younger, I would have crucified you all. Ho ho ho.”

Despite his savage joke, the archbishop didn’t seem to truly dislike the priests as he was led away by their hands. Though he spoke harshly, it was clear he didn’t genuinely resent them.

Lucia watched the departing archbishop and priests with a fond smile.

“He’s mellowed a lot. During my theological college days, he would have beaten someone with his fists. He’s definitely become more benign than before.”

“…Do you know the archbishop?”

“He was my professor during theological college. He taught courses on primitive beliefs and heresy. He also taught the history of inquisition and grand exorcism. I took all his classes.”

“He seems to have been known for his fiery temper.”

“Indeed. He once became controversial for personally hanging a student who fell asleep in class from the top of the cathedral.”

“……”

“Oh, by the way, that was during the history of inquisition and grand exorcism. I remember him tying up the student with rope, saying he would demonstrate how to drive out the devil that made the student fall asleep during the sacred class time.”

I stared at Lucia with a blank expression.

“Why on earth didn’t you convert?”

“I was born into the faith. Both my parents were clergy.”

“Just convert already. You can repent later…”

*

After the meeting with the insane cardinal who hangs sleeping students from the top of the chapel, Lucia and I remained at Saint Basilius Grand Cathedral.

Lucia offered to show me around the cathedral if time permitted. Since I still had time before work and hadn’t received any messages from Francesca or Priestess Rebecca, I accepted her offer.

“This is a painting recording the moment when Saint Basilius met the Eastern sage tapping a rock in the field where stars danced long ago.”

A man with an exotic appearance reminiscent of Arab features taps a rock with a branch, while a pale-faced child who has climbed a low hill looks on with a surprised expression.

Behind the two stretches a vast prairie and a sky tinged with ominous colors. Only the light dancing in the field and around the Eastern sage are painted in bright colors.

Lucia pointed to the Eastern sage depicted in the mural.

“There are two interpretations of the Eastern sage’s identity. One is that he was an archangel sent by the Lord to reveal a vision to the shepherd’s son. The other is that he was the Grand Priest wandering the world to defeat evil.”

Grand Priest. A term referring to the greatest ordinary priest in the Church.

At first glance, the Grand Priest might seem like a title similar to the Archmage of the Tower or the Priestess (also called High Priestess) of Mauritania, but in reality, the term Grand Priest refers to only one person.

The clergyman with the most devout faith in the Church.

The priest who conducted the most inquisitions and grand exorcisms in Church history.

The teacher of all inquisitors and exorcist priests.

That’s the Grand Priest Lucia is referring to.

“I’ve heard of him, but I don’t really know much about…”

While ignorance is not shameful, it’s difficult to show it outwardly, so I trailed off ambiguously, subtly asking the question.

Noticing my intent, Lucia smiled gently as if to say it was okay and continued.

“The Grand Priest holds a unique position even within the Church. He serves as both an inquisitor and exorcist priest, and holds the position of archbishop in the region closest to the Church.”

“So he’s a high-ranking clergyman.”

“Of course, since he’s rarely in his position—you could count the days on one hand—other priests in the diocese usually carry out his duties.”

What an irresponsible person.

But I couldn’t criticize him because what the Grand Priest does is so extraordinary.

After all, the reason he’s usually absent is because of grand exorcisms. It’s a well-known fact that the Grand Priest has been sending demons rising from hell and the monsters summoned by them back to hell for hundreds of years.

I nodded as if I just understood.

“That’s fascinating. Grand exorcism. I’ve only heard rumors, but hardly anyone has seen it firsthand.”

“In principle, revealing exorcism rituals to others is taboo. Even among the clergy, very few have witnessed grand exorcism.”

Though I live in a world where religious authority is high, I haven’t paid much attention to the religions of this region.

Whether it’s because I’ve seen too many bad things to harbor faith, or because I fell into a world that’s neither heaven nor hell and thought there might be no god, I’ve never once entertained the thought of believing in religion.

So I asked Lucia this question with genuine curiosity:

“Do you believe in God, Saint Lucia?”

It was an inappropriate question to ask a clergyman, but Lucia showed no sign of anger.

Lucia merely laughed as if it was an amusing question.

“Well.”

Lucia began with an ambiguous answer.

“If you’re asking whether I believe in God’s existence, my answer is ‘yes.’ However, if you’re asking whether only the one I believe in and follow is the master of this world, I might answer ‘perhaps not.'”

It was a curious response.

“Why do you think so?”

“The Heavenly God created the world but made it in an imperfect form. Even humans, whom He created with the most care, are not perfect—that’s reality, isn’t it?”

Lucia looked at the distant chancel. There stood the image of the Heavenly God reaching out to humanity, and the altar.

“Some believe that faith should be without doubt, but I think differently. The very idea that faith should be unchanging, love should be without crisis, certainty without anxiety, and hope without wavering—that itself is arrogant.”

“Why?”

“How can human faith be perfect when humans themselves are incomplete beings?”

Lucia’s gaze shifted to the mural.

Her blue eyes rested on the mural she had just been explaining.

“That’s why the Lord always presents us with hardships and adversity. It’s a kind of test. In religion, this is called the greatest blessing bestowed by God.”

“……”

“Even if you wander and despair, not knowing by what standard you’re being judged or where you are on the path, there is always only one way to go. And just as God sent a messenger to Saint Basilius, He always illuminates the path in moments of crisis.”

Suddenly, a verse came to mind. I recited it aloud.

“The Great Father created heaven and earth, but the earth was not in its complete form, and the heavens were covered in darkness.”

A dark warehouse. Deep darkness.

“But at His gesture, the Holy Spirit hovered over the deep, and darkness retreated from His path.”

Bright lights drive away the darkness, illuminating the interior of the warehouse. A well-dressed orc raises his arms high.

“Let there be light in this place.”

Lucia nodded.

“It’s a verse expressing the moment the Lord created the world. The most famous phrase.”

“It’s a verse my friend likes. He was born into faith.”

“I see.”

Actually, it’s a phrase he says whenever he turns on a light or lights a match, but anyway, it’s Viktor’s favorite verse. It just sounds a bit off because he always says it jokingly.

But Lucia didn’t know this, so she just smiled and said:

“I like that verse too. But my favorite verse is different.”

Lucia began to recite her favorite verse in a beautiful voice.

“Son of man, do not fear them, nor fear their words. Though thorns surround you, and you dwell among scorpions, do not fear their words, nor tremble at their faces.”

“……”

“It’s a verse my parents often recited to me when I trembled on nights with thunder and lightning as a child. Mostly my mother would say it.”

I focused on Lucia’s words with an interested gaze.

Little was known about Lucia’s background except for a few details. Even Military Intelligence, which had planted a spy at the top of the Inquisition, handed me such sparse personal data on Lucia that they ordered me to find out as much information as possible to supplement the file.

That’s how secretive Lucia was. Even within intelligence agencies that handle all kinds of classified information.

Lucia’s parents were clergy of the Church, and Lucia was born into faith. And she grew up hearing a specific verse from her mother. Plus, during her theological college days, she attended lectures by the archbishop of the northern empire.

This is new information.

After storing this information in my mind, I spoke to Lucia with a pretense of surprise.

“I didn’t expect to hear about your family history here.”

“Well, I’ve never mentioned it before…”

Lucia smiled as if embarrassed, then took a breath and broached a subject.

“About the work you’re doing now.”

“Me?”

“Yes. The investigation you mentioned before.”

“Ah, that.”

Lucia showed an infinitely benevolent smile.

“I don’t know what it’s about since you didn’t say, but I’ll pray that you don’t get hurt. Please take care of yourself.”

Promising to pray for me, Lucia joined her hands and bowed her head. A saint’s prayer. Something that even the emperor of the empire couldn’t receive for a fortune, she’s offering to me.

I don’t know if prayer really works, but I’m grateful that she’s taking time out of her busy schedule to pray for me. I bowed my head to Lucia to express my gratitude.

“Thank you, Saint Lucia.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But you seem to be avoiding answering the question I asked earlier.”

Lucia responded with a gentle smile.

“That must be a misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s not a misunderstanding, you really didn’t answer—”

“It’s a misunderstanding.”

“……”

Lucia dismissed it with a brazen attitude.

Are the religious people in this region the most thick-skinned? From a saint getting caught gambling by the pope to brazenly putting on a poker face. Anyway, they’re all strange people.

While I was momentarily taken aback by her brazen attitude, a clear bell sound cut through the silence.

“What’s that sound?”

“Ah, it’s my phone.”

I hurriedly took out my phone to check. The number from the contact network I had given to Francesca was displayed on the screen.

“I’m sorry. I thought it was on vibrate, but it wasn’t.”

“It’s fine. But please make sure to set it to silent or vibrate during worship times. The professor… I mean, the archbishop really hates phones ringing during service.”

“I’ll be careful. Excuse me for a moment…”

“Go ahead.”

With Lucia’s permission, I left the spot. I went to a place I had scouted earlier where others couldn’t hear me and answered the phone.

As soon as I pressed the call button, Francesca’s voice came through. From across the encrypted communication, Francesca greeted me.

-“Major, can you hear me?”

“I hear you well. What’s the matter?”

-“I have good news.”

Francesca continued.

-“Today, a message came through a magician. Someone wants to meet with you and me.”

“Who? Please tell me the name.”

-“Hormoz.”

Francesca murmured in a low voice.

-“Hormoz of the Palm Tree Cartel.”

“……”

-“Finally, he took the bait.”

“Let me know the location and time. I’ll prepare.”

The break is over.

It’s time to get to work.