Chapter 16: A small stone cannot stop the wave Part 2

Meanwhile, in the abandoned temple of the northern Scadi Empire.

Hattensila, the saintess of the Cult of the Evil God, had been preparing for the ritual for several hours, clinging to the ancient altar.

It was an altar where, before long, the sacred prostitute of the Holy Church, destined to be tainted and corrupted, would be sacrificed.

She drew a profane sigil with the blood of a young goat and arranged the cursed relics.

Hartensila knew well that this opportunity would be an irreversible blow to the Holy Church.

Therefore, the ritual had to be carried out flawlessly.

“Mikasas Hirakin, Dias Rezeneira.”

Muttering a sinister incantation, she lit the last candle, and a man appeared from the opposite darkness.

“Quite an impressive altar. It’s good enough to use as the old man’s resting place.”

A sinister grin twisted his face, which was covered with hideous scars and markings.

“Haktas. It’s been a while since the last meeting.”

The torturer’s sleeves were stained red, indicating he had just been indulging in his gruesome hobby.

He glanced around the room, now fully prepared.

“If you’re putting this much effort into it, you must really believe that the mercenary you hired can abduct the saintess.”

“Does my plan sound unreliable to you?”

“A little.”

A dry, mocking laugh echoed through the room.

“It doesn’t make sense. You’re not using one of our cult members or a cursed puppet, but a mere mercenary who moves for money? Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Those guys can’t be trusted. If things go south, they’ll just run away. Why not do what I suggested—brainwash a few orphans and blow them up instead?”

Haktas slyly attempted to push his own plan once again.

The saintess met his proposal with the same amused smile.

“The person I hired isn’t just any mercenary. She’s the Vice Master of the Blackhand.”

“…What?”

Blackhand.

At the sudden mention of the continent’s largest assassin guild, Haktas froze.

“Are you serious?”

“Vice Master Shahal. She accepted the contract.”

“…Damn, Hartensila.”

He laughed again, but this time, it was pure admiration rather than mockery.

“How did you manage to hire someone like that? It takes almost five years just to arrange a single job with them.”

Blackhand was almost a legend in the underworld.

If one could secure a contract, they would handle the task without fail, unless the target was a figure comparable to a king.

However, this time, the target was the saintess—a figure as important as a king.

In other words, it was a mission that Blackhand would usually never accept.

“Even if the target is the saintess of the Holy Church, they wouldn’t take it for any amount of money.”

“It’s simple. More than money, a proper conversation, and…”

She paused, giving a sly smile.

“A piece of information they wanted the most.”

“Huh? Information? What kind of information?”

“Oh dear, Haktas. You can’t just ask a lady to reveal her secrets so easily. I have a few of my own.”

Haktas realized from her unbreakable smile that she would never disclose that piece of information.

‘If it’s information significant enough for the Vice Master of Blackhand to take on the saintess abduction…’

‘What on earth could it be?’

Unable to grasp it no matter how hard he thought, he gave up.

“Fine. I’ll just hear it later when the saintess arrives.”

Since it was Blackhand, the abduction was practically a done deal.

It wouldn’t be too late to learn the secret once the grand plan was complete.

“You’ve become quite the wise man.”

Hartensila’s sarcastic remark didn’t bother him as he stretched his body.

“While that monster does the job, we just have to wait. My whole body’s itching to hear Erjena’s screams.”

“Well, from what I hear, that prostitute screams every morning in front of people.”

Hartensila playfully moved her fingers as if strumming an invisible guitar.

“Something about rock spirit or whatever.”

“What the hell is that?”

Haktas’ face twisted in confusion.

“Not that kind of scream. I mean screams driven by pain and fear.”

“Hehe, I know. Prepare your knives and hooks. You’ll need your skills soon.”

“Got it.”

Just then, a cultist burst into the room without knocking.

“H-Hartensila! Haktas! Urgent news!”

“I told you not to come in recklessly.”

“I’m sorry! But it’s news you both must hear!”

The two exchanged glances.

If a low-ranking cultist was acting this way, it had to be related to the Holy Church.

“Faster than expected.”

“Indeed. I thought it would take at least four more days.”

Surprised by how quickly the forces had crossed the border, Hattensila spoke.

“Speak.”

The cultist, pale and trembling, cried out.

“The pilgrimage group—they were denied entry!”

For the first time in years, the smile vanished from Haktas’ face.

Hartensila stumbled, barely managing to keep her balance.

The meticulously arranged relics clattered to the floor.

“W-What? What did you say?”

“Where is the pilgrimage group now!?”

The plains near the border were eerily quiet.

Though countless tents and flags fluttered in the wind, no one stepped outside, despite the early morning.

Neither the saintess nor Mohaim was visible.

Mohaim, alone in an empty tent, quietly sharpened his sword.

-Screech, screech.

The harsh sound of scraping metal echoed, but he continued, undeterred.

Whenever that grating noise filled the air, the memory of what had happened two days ago resurfaced.

“Welcome to the Kingdom of Crosslines, pilgrims!”

He put the sword back on the stand and pulled a chair over, sitting in front of the crystal ball.

The Pope looked at him for a long time before speaking.

“Looks like you’ve been through a lot, Mohaim.”

“I’m sorry for not meeting your expectations, Your Holiness.”

“No, it’s not your fault.”

There was no need to specify what they were referring to.

Both of them knew exactly who they were talking about.

“Even I didn’t expect the Central Council to make that decision.”

Mohaim’s gaze dropped to the desk.

There, a pile of documents stamped with [Entry Denied] was stacked like a mountain.

Suppressing the urge to tear them apart, he muttered,

“The Saint was right.”

“Hm?”

“That man is definitely a heretic. How dare he refuse Your Holiness’s request!

Even though Your Holiness personally guaranteed both rewards and safety!”

“Hahaha. Now even you are saying that?”

The Pope laughed heartily, changing the subject to calm Mohaim’s anger.

“Come to think of it, there’s been no word from Erjena. Is something wrong?”

“What? We’re not sure either. The Saint has been skipping her morning performances for two days now.”

“Hmm. That’s unusual.”

As Mohaim said, even he hadn’t expected this.

Since the Pope scolded her, Erjena had become unusually quiet.

In fact, she stayed inside her tent, lost in thought, not stepping out at all.

Even when the Central Council declared [Entry Denied], she did not intervene.

Instead, she quietly returned to her tent without a word.

When Mohaim went to see her, all he heard was, “It’s fine. I just want to be alone for a while.”

Hearing this, the Pope nodded understandingly.

“Young girls that age often have a lot on their minds. Just give her some time.

She’ll soon return to being the Erjena we know.”

“I hope she comes back soon. I’m not used to seeing the Saint like this.”

“And you, try not to get too angry. We almost had a serious problem last time.”

Mohaim immediately knew what Escabaror was referring to.

“Those guys knew the pilgrimage group was coming and positioned the border guards at the frontline.”

The Border Guard.

Ancient golems over three meters tall.

As soon as the Central Council announced [Entry Denied], the reactions from the pilgrimage group and the Holy Knights were fierce.

And the moment one agitated knight drew his sword, the golems that looked like statues on the walls began to move.

[Detected violent response toward the entry inspector. Initiating forceful response protocol.]

All 28 golems, each about three meters tall, drew their five-meter-long greatswords, confronting the Holy Knights.

Even Mohaim felt a bit tense at the sight.

He wasn’t afraid to fight them.

After all, they ran on mana.

If struck with a weapon blessed with holy power, their mana would dissipate, and they’d shatter.

But conflict at the border carried the weight of war.

If even a single drop of blood were spilled, it could spark a war with the Crossline Kingdom, let alone a holy war.

So Mohaim had no choice but to suppress his anger and calm both the Holy Knights and the pilgrims.

“They tried to trap us here and crush us with the Border Guard if we resisted.”

He spat out the words bitterly.

“If that’s not the act of heretics, then what is? Cowardly bastards…”

“Mohaim. Every plan faces obstacles. If everything were perfect, there would be no need for saints and heroes.”

The Pope spoke as if it were no big deal.

“Reacting harshly to harsh resistance will only worsen the situation.”

“Are you not angry, Your Holiness? They openly defied the will of the Lord!”

“If we act forcefully, they’ll resist desperately. It’s better to approach this gently.”

Mohaim remained silent.

‘How could they approach this gently when they’d already been denied entry?’

Seeing his troubled expression, Escabaror spoke.

“The Central Council is just a small stone—stubborn but not easily broken. I rather like him. Whether he’s a heretic or not is still uncertain.”

“Your Holiness!”

“But that’s only if he decides to side with us.”

Escabaror stopped Mohaim from speaking further and continued.

“I just finished a conversation with the queen of the Crossline Kingdom. I promised to personally bless her soon. She’ll likely contact the Ministry of Foreign Affairs soon.”

“Does that mean…?”

“No need to worry anymore. The border will reopen in a few days, I guarantee it.”

Mohaim stood up abruptly and bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Your Holiness! We will surely fulfill the will of the Lord!”

“You’ve endured a lot in these past two days. You look exhausted.”

The Pope had managed to resolve the situation without direct conflict, by reaching out to higher powers.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this troublesome, but I had no choice this time.”

“If only the Central Council had cooperated, it would have been easier.”

“A shame, indeed. If he were as competent and pragmatic as Gerard, things would be different.”

Both knew why Gerard had been executed.

‘Collusion with underground organizations, smuggling, and aiding illegal entry.’

Though corrupt, his cooperation had made it easier for the Order to carry out missions secretly.

“At least the fact of the holy war remains a secret. Minor rumors will soon fade.”

“What if the Central Council exposes the holy war?”

The Pope gave a light laugh.

“My word versus that of an entry inspector. Whom would the world believe?”

There was no need to answer.

That settled it.

“Take a rest now. I’ve talked too much.”

“I will keep Your Holiness’s grace in my heart.”

As Mohaim reached to turn off the crystal ball, Escabaror spoke again.

“One last thing before you go. You can be honest with me.”

“Honest…?”

Escabaror’s face lost its usual warmth.

“Every choice comes with a price. That young man will soon learn that lesson.”

“Your Holiness, what do you mean?”

“The Central Council formally protested against the insult to the Holy Order. When an entry inspector commits a grave mistake, there is only one penalty.”

Mohaim knew what Escabaror was hinting at.

The inspector would be executed according to the laws he valued so highly.

“Those who defy the Order cannot be allowed to exist.”

No matter the reason.

No matter how trivial the individual.

A small stone can never stop a wave.

Never again.