I Became the Narrow-Eyed Henchman of the Evil Boss – Chapter 148

Chapter 148: Interlude (2)

Demus had returned to the Divine Cult after what had been an exceedingly fruitful mission in his view.

The most significant outcome was the last surviving heir of the Bacchus Cult. Despite the burden of being the sole survivor, she was remarkably bold, with a level of skill to match her audacity.

When a mysterious assailant publicly denounced them as heretical fanatics, Demus had felt an immediate foreboding. His instincts warned him that casualties might be unavoidable. It was only natural that sacrifices would be made when priests were isolated in the midst of hostile mages.

But Kine defied those natural expectations.

Though it was unclear exactly what she had done, the hostility of the mages shifted in an instant. Even Demus, initially oblivious to the divine power at play, recognized its presence only through the faint aroma of wine lingering in the air—an unmistakable hallmark of the Bacchus Cult.

What she employed was no ordinary trick. It captivated the mages while simultaneously concealing the divine power’s wavelength with extraordinary finesse.

Demus thought of the suspicions raised against Orthes by both the Priestess Faction and the Papal Faction: Isn’t he just trying to monopolize the Bacchus Cult under the pretext of protecting its survivor?

That was, of course, absurd. Upon arriving in Algoth City, Demus had taught Kine how to wield sacred incantations himself. Yet her current abilities far surpassed anything a crash course could achieve in mere days.

Orthes had genuinely poured his utmost effort into training the heir of the Bacchus Cult.

Perhaps neither the Priestess Faction nor the Papal Faction is truly working for the Cult’s best interests, Demus reflected.

The Pope’s plans had already advanced significantly through the excavation of the Pluton Sanctuary and the sacred relics within. As a cleric, Demus could fully understand the Priestess’ repulsion toward the Pope’s creations.

Yet to oppose such a plan now would seem like opposition for the sake of opposition. Even though the sanctuary empowered the cult, divine energy could also be harnessed through the Pope’s constructs.

If the Cult had already strayed from its righteous path, why not use every means available? At least until the Ten Towers, the Mage King, and the prophets of Phoibos were defeated.

As the leader of a war god’s cult, that much seemed logical. Be it the Priestess’ path or the Pope’s, they should use whatever tools they could to fight.

Satisfied with his reasoning, Demus returned to report to the Cult. The destruction of the parasite appeared conclusive.

Unusually, the Pope requested a private audience. Demus gladly accepted.

“So the parasite has been destroyed, you say,” the Pope mused in a soft voice, inquiring about the “metamorphosis” the entity had been attempting. While Demus hadn’t participated in the final battle, he shared what he could about the vortexes of mana and spatial distortions he had observed.

“I see. So in the end, space itself was distorted.”

“To be precise, the metamorphosis was incomplete. It was caught in the explosion before it could finish.”

“And the cause of that explosion?”

“According to Orthes, it was a reaction between the parasite’s spatial magic and the Hydra Corporation leader’s─”

At that moment, a memory struck Demus: the garden encounter, the fear of the Ten Commandments, and the overwhelming power veiled in human guise.

“Are you well, Demus?” The Pope’s serene tone snapped him out of his thoughts. After all, Carisia’s true identity didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was Orthes’ ally, and therefore an ally of the Cult.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I was just reconsidering the explosion’s scale—it seems too vast to be explained merely as magical backlash. Orthes suggested it resulted from spatial magic colliding with itself in a runaway reaction.”

“I see. Thank you.”

The Pope’s gratitude felt cryptic, but before he could leave, Demus spoke without thinking.

“Isn’t it time to end this?”

“End what?” the Pope asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“This conflict between you and the Priestess. In my view, both of you have your merits and flaws. It’s hard to believe that following only one path is the correct course. Why not take the strengths of both and maximize them?”

The Pope smiled faintly, a fragile expression that seemed to vanish as soon as it appeared.

“If she desires it, I am always willing to end this conflict.”

With that, the Pope rose and began to leave. Before Demus could realize it, he was gone, likely having returned to his private quarters.

Even for the Cult’s heralds, the Pope’s powers remained mysterious.

“If she desires it.”

Demus recalled the saying from the cult of Poliphron, the God of Smiths: Strike the iron while it’s hot. Resolving to act, he set out to meet the Priestess.

It was time to put an end to this senseless internal strife.

***

Meanwhile, Nastion, who had lost roughly 30% of his mass to Orthes’ high-frequency blade, barely managed to utter the words, “The enemy’s name is Orthes…” before collapsing upon returning to Argyrion’s base.

When he awoke, he instinctively knew he had incurred the wrath and contempt of both Halto and the other Argyrion leaders.

Nastion had opposed Halto’s precise judgment, labeling it irrational, and had argued against deploying their top-tier forces. The loss of Sprigo was solely his responsibility.

Argyrion would not forgive Nastion for failing to respond to their adversary’s resurgence and botching the initial countermeasures.

But contrary to his expectations, Nastion wasn’t condemned by the other leaders.

Instead of berating him, some patted his shoulder or back. Others murmured, “It’s alright,” though what exactly was “alright” remained unclear.

The vague reassurances of “Anyone could’ve done the same” only deepened Nastion’s self-loathing.

One phrase, however, was universally agreed upon among the Argyrion executives: “When it comes to that adversary, anything is possible.”

Nastion, a being who sowed the seeds of division and delusion, now found his thoughts muddled. What truly broke him was Halto’s address at the grand assembly.

Before all available executives, Halto proclaimed:

“Behold, comrades! Nastion has failed! Algoth City lies scorched, beyond the reach of our enlightenment.”

Nastion was prepared to undergo public self-criticism for his defiance and the unnecessary losses it caused.

“But he has achieved a success greater than his failure! He has accomplished a feat none of us could!”

While Nastion stood dumbfounded, Halto roared with fiery conviction:

“He has learned the adversary’s name!”

Thunderous applause filled the hall. Overwhelmed by handshakes and congratulations, Nastion—though he lacked proper eyes—felt his vision grow dark.

It was just a name. The scene defied all logic and reason.

“Nastion.”

Halto’s voice snapped him back from his reverie.

“One more question. This is vital. Are you certain the heretics were under the Hydra Corporation’s protection?”

“Yes. If they were using the Hunting God’s relic, it would require a recharge period. There must be a priesthood capable of harnessing divine power for sacred incantations.”

“I reviewed the recordings. Why did the mages attack you instead of the exposed heretics?”

“That’s…”

Nastion couldn’t answer definitively. Kine, the guard Orthes had stationed by Kynemon, had shouted a bizarre incantation, triggering some unknown spell.

The nature of that spell eluded him.

“It appeared to be magic affecting the psyche,” Nastion finally offered.

“I see.”

Halto frowned. Orthes had the backing of a powerful magical corporation and had allied with heretics in secret.

Orthes and Argyrion were now mortal enemies.

“We and the heretics couldn’t possibly be allies without their knowledge.”

“…Do you believe the Divine Cult spread such rumors deliberately?”

“No. Orthes likely orchestrated it, using the cult’s activities to obscure his own. It seems his plan to hide beneath their shadow has failed.”

Halto considered the strange sequence of events surrounding Argyrion: leaked plans, premature exposure, and accusations against unaligned tower lords.

“Most of all…”

Talos. The elder of the Silver Iron Tower, slain.

With Orthes as the hidden orchestrator, the pieces finally fit together.

“Nastion.”

“Yes.”

“How close are we to opening the dimensional gate?”

“We intended to gather data from the parasite’s metamorphosis, but my defeat prevented proper collection. Factoring that in, I’d estimate it’s about 76% complete.”

“I see. The remaining 24%…”

Plenty of room for Orthes to overturn the board.

“This time, we’ll be the ones to flip the table.”

For now, they were finally ready to face the true adversary.