Ch.69Business? Meeting (2) *AI Illustration Included

The priest of Enyalios, whom I met in the deserted wilderness, introduced himself as Demos.

“What should I call you? I can’t keep referring to you as ‘the enemy of the Ten Towers’ forever.”

‘He’s not even considering calling me L13. Well, that makes sense—he probably hates hearing a Blasphemia codename.’

“How about Outis?”

“Hmph. You’re giving me a name that’s obviously an alias.”

I shrugged. My bare face has the peculiar quality of not being easily remembered unless someone has spent considerable time with me.

Therefore, I didn’t mind showing my face, but names were different. I hadn’t meticulously prepared to deceive with my identity as I had with the rookie Blasphemia agent.

It was better to give a different name from the start.

“The nameless prophet with closed eyes. How symbolic.”

I couldn’t tell if his words were sarcasm or contemplation. Demos left that comment hanging and hurriedly moved on.

“Where are we going?”

“Ah, that’s right. You mentioned you’ve never participated in a Divine Name Order gathering. It’s understandable you wouldn’t know.”

“Given that Blasphemia has been tracking for so long without success, I assume some kind of sacred domain is being used.”

“Yes. Blasphemia has indeed been on our trail for a very long time. However…”

Demos rolled up his sleeve. Underneath was a tattoo of two snakes intertwined around a staff—the symbol known as the caduceus.

‘Huh? That symbol belongs to Pyraios the Gatekeeper, not Enyalios the War God.’

As I pondered this, Demos began clawing at the tattoo, as if trying to tear off his own skin.

But his skin didn’t peel away to reveal muscle beneath. Instead, the golden symbol in his grasp was pulled free and tossed into the air.

Demos channeled his divine power toward the floating symbol. As it absorbed the power, the symbol gradually expanded.

Finally, when the staff had grown to nearly 2 meters in height…

The two snakes that had been wrapped around the staff uncoiled and embedded themselves on either side, transforming into snake-shaped pillars. The space between the central staff and the snake pillars filled with radiant divine energy. The staff, touched by this power, seemed to melt and disperse, dyeing the curtain of divine energy between the snake pillars golden.

A curtain of divine energy, rippling between two snakes glaring at each other—this was clearly a portal connecting spaces.

“Those without the gods’ blessing cannot reach the Divine Name Order’s sanctuary. Follow me.”

Demos walked naturally through the golden portal. I followed behind him.

***

Footsteps echoed through the pristine white marble corridor.

“They’re coming.”

It wasn’t just one set of footsteps. Hyakin, the current head of the Phoibos Order, murmured in a grave voice as he heard them.

‘The Prophet of Phoibos…’

There was once a time when gods directly spoke to people, when humans could behold the divine countenance.

But after the glorious age ended and the dark era of that wicked Mage King began, the existence of prophets who conversed with gods faded into history.

The current Divine Name Order was no different. Among the heads and bishops of each order, there were those who claimed to “receive divine revelations,” but none who claimed to “hear the voice of god.”

Only subtle signs and symbolic dreams remained; those who could truly hear the gods’ voices had disappeared.

It had been such a long silence—long enough to exhaust even the most devout.

‘That’s why the other orders agreed when the Pope’s blasphemous plan was put to vote…’

But now, someone claiming to communicate directly with a god had appeared.

And not just any prophet—a prophet of Phoibos.

Hyakin couldn’t accept it. How could the god who had remained silent throughout all his years of devotion suddenly—!

Hyakin looked around. Most wore robes or veils that concealed their faces, making it impossible to read their expressions.

But Phoibos was far-seeing. Through his sacred domain, Hyakin could read the emotions of others.

‘Most are cautious and observant.’

Hyakin glared at the veiled woman sitting at another side of the round table. Though called a veil, it wasn’t the dark kind meant to completely hide one’s face.

The nearly transparent veil felt more like a bridal veil waiting to be lifted. Through the translucent material, her features were easily discernible. Her long golden hair was vivid.

Urania, acting head of the Elimon Order—goddess of pleasure, joy, and passion.

‘Interest… is it?’

As impulsive and hedonistic as the goddess she served, yet showing curiosity toward this suspicious self-proclaimed prophet. Hyakin shook his head.

Two figures approached from the corridor.

The priests seated at the round table stood up.

Originally, the round table had thirteen golden chairs. One was empty because the Pope hadn’t appeared, and another because the Enyalios Order’s representative had gone to escort the claimant.

Eleven gazes turned toward the approaching pair—or more precisely, toward the self-proclaimed prophet following Demos.

Demos spoke.

“This is the one who prophesied Argyrion’s movements to me and foretold the fall of Torres Mage Tower. When we first met, he called himself the enemy of the Ten Towers, and upon our second meeting, he revealed his name as Outis, one who is no one. I ask that the comrades of the orders bearing sacred names welcome the Prophet of Phoibos with proper respect.”

Hyakin thought:

‘The head of all orders, the leader of leaders who should speak first, is currently absent. Therefore, I have the right to speak first.’

Hyakin stepped forward with dignity, or perhaps rage. Seeing Hyakin’s advance, the other priests took their seats.

Demos blocked Hyakin’s path. Six steps separated Demos from Hyakin, and another six steps separated Demos from Outis.

Across these twelve steps, Hyakin called out to Outis:

“I, Hyakin, the rightful head of the Phoibos Order, speak. The Phoibos Order knows no one like you. You who call yourself no one, reveal your true identity to me!”

***

I had anticipated this level of resistance. If anything, it was surprising that the other orders were holding back.

Unlike the other priests who covered their faces, Hyakin, like Demos, showed his face openly. Was this meant to be a direct confrontation between Phoibos Order and Phoibos Order?

“I don’t know you either.”

“What?”

“But I do know one thing: that everyone gathered here is an enemy of the Ten Towers. I too am an enemy of the Ten Towers, so even if you can’t trust me as an ally of your order, perhaps you can trust me as an enemy of your enemy?”

Hyakin’s face twisted slightly at my words.

“You call yourself the Prophet of Phoibos, yet you don’t know the head—”

“Hey.”

One of the priests seated in a golden chair interrupted Hyakin. Judging by the depth of his voice, he seemed to be a young man, perhaps just past puberty.

“Say ‘Ten Towers bastards.'”

Huh?

“You claim to be an enemy of the Ten Towers, right? Say ‘Ten Towers bastards.'”

“Ten Towers bast—”

“I want a love fortune-telling!”

A voice suddenly cut in—the clear, high voice of the golden-haired woman with the veil.

“Urania, what are you doing? Ideological verification is an important procedure.”

“Prodito, what about you? This person was vouched for by Demos. The issue isn’t whether they’re an enemy of the Ten Towers, but whether their prophetic abilities are real!”

Something seemed to break loose following these two interventions.

“What’s the secret to passing the Blasphemia interview?”

“That high-frequency blade you’re carrying can’t be standard Blasphemia issue, right?”

“Is it true they eat stew through their noses in the Blasphemia basement?”

“Where is the child of the Bacchus Order?”

Though some priests still maintained their silence, the round table chamber had filled with noise. Demos covered his face.

Demos carefully approached and whispered:

“There weren’t many who behaved so indecorously before… Please understand. After decades of only gloomy news, everyone’s spirits are lifted by an event that offers some hope.”

I gave a bitter smile. I hadn’t come to deliver hope, but to pull off a con.

Among the excited atmosphere at the round table, Urania and Prodito were the loudest.

“Can you tell my love fortune?”

“Say ‘Ten Towers bastards.'”

“Tell my love fortune!”

“Say ‘Ten Towers bast—'”

“Enough!”

Hyakin shouted with a boiling voice. He had tolerated it for a while, but apparently reached his limit.

“As those responsible for our orders, maintain your dignity! I am the one speaking with this person right now!”

***

Having suppressed the commotion with his angry outburst, Hyakin glared at Outis again.

“Since you’ve asked us to believe you’re an enemy of the Ten Towers, I will test whether you truly possess the wisdom and prophetic ability to oppose the Ten Towers as you claim.”

Outis nodded calmly. Closed eyes and smiling lips—like someone observing the world from a place beyond the mundane. Hyakin disliked everything about him.

“Speak, you who falsely claim to be a prophet!”

‘No matter how talented he might be, he couldn’t possibly know this.’

This was the most secret prophecy Hyakin had glimpsed. Even other order heads didn’t know it; only the Pope had been informed.

Without being chosen by a divine artifact, there was no way to guess this correctly.

“What is the greatest calamity that will befall this world?”

Outis’s smile deepened slightly. Hyakin interpreted this as a pretense of composure hiding confusion.

‘You can talk about the Ten Towers’ purge or extra-dimensional invasions, but you’ll never touch the truth. I’ll expose your false claims in broad daylight.’

Slowly, Outis opened his mouth.

“…Mage King.”

His voice was too soft, barely audible.

“If you’re a prophet, then properly proclaim your prophecy!”

A blue glow briefly peeked through Outis’s nearly closed eyelids. That blueness intensified, as if casting darkness over the round table.

No.

The world’s saturation seemed to decrease.

In the suddenly darkened vision, a mist appeared behind Outis’s back.

Not just any mist—it was a rippling haze that seemed to gather all the world’s ominousness.

In the center of this fate-like shimmer, the shadow of a being surrounded by an indescribably brilliant radiance was reflected.

With that fearsome light as a backlight, Outis, his blue eyes glowing, prophesied:

“The return of the Mage King.”