EeDechi was silent for a long moment, then shook her head gently. "No matter how noble the reason for doing evil, it doesn't change the fact that it's still evil."
"It's a necessary evil," Alphonse said, straightening his back. "I believe one day even the Divine Envoy will see that pure 'good' can't save this crumbling world."
"Hmph." EeDechi scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine, spare me your 'necessary evil' bullshit. You can go now."
"Goodbye." Alphonse turned to leave but suddenly paused. "Wait. I came here to find out why you trespassed into our country's forbidden zone."
"Just curious," EeDechi said with a shrug. "Oh, and you mentioned earlier that Antilene is the hope of the Slane Theocracy, but she's a half-elf. Everyone knows the Theocracy despises non-humans. Makes me wonder if you've been abusing or locking her up."
"You're dodging the question with vague accusations, as usual. That reckless style does suit an adventurer, though," Alphonse said, a hint of irritation in his voice. "We're not controlling Antilene. If she wanted to leave the Slane Theocracy, no one could stop her."
"Then why does Antilene stay in that underground forbidden zone? Why take on the Theocracy's burdens? Why not return to the Elf Country?" EeDechi fired off the questions in rapid succession.
"If Antilene were still in the Elf Country, her father would've defiled her by now," Alphonse said slowly. "Back then, her mother was deceived and raped by the Elf King, resulting in Antilene. It was our Six Scriptures that launched an all-out attack on the Elf Country's capital to rescue her pregnant mother. Do you remember the Divine Commandant of the Windflower Scripture?"
"The Divine Commandant of the Windflower Scripture?" EeDechi's eyelid twitched as she recalled the blind old woman. "Wait, is she Antilene's mother?"
"Uh… no," Alphonse said with a wry smile. "She's someone around Antilene's age. She was just a low-level cleric in the Windflower Scripture back then. During the battle to save Antilene's mother, her eyes were scorched blind by magic.
"From that, you can surely see how much we care for Antilene. We've sacrificed so much for her, raised her from a crying newborn into the serene, beautiful young woman she is today.
"Antilene is one of the members of the Black Scripture. To her, the Black Scripture is her family, and the Six Scriptures are her closest kin. There are things we don't want her to do, but for the sake of the Theocracy, she willingly steps up. Truth is, every single one of us in the Six Scriptures has already given everything we have to the Slane Theocracy."
EeDechi frowned slightly. "Doesn't sound like a good deal."
"Last night, you must've run into Cardinal Josiah Carey," Alphonse said, placing a gray pointed hat on his head. "Like you, he's someone who shouldn't be in the forbidden zone. Antilene subdued him, but then you subdued Antilene, giving Josiah a chance to slip away. He knows too many secrets and has now vanished. I have to hunt him down. Farewell, Divine Envoy."
With that, Alphonse's figure flickered and he teleported away. His words carried a faint tinge of sorrow, as if he knew the path he walked led to certain doom but still marched forward, back straight, toward his inevitable fate.
EeDechi stood with her hands on her hips, mulling it over for a moment. "Let's go find this Cardinal Josiah Carey ourselves."
…
The three adventurers gathered their gear. Barrett pushed open the door, only to find a young blond boy in lavish clothing standing right outside.
"Who're you?" Barrett glared down at the boy, barely waist-high, his eyes narrowing.
The kid lifted his eyelids, giving Barrett's waist an arrogant once-over, his voice pitched high and haughty. "You stinking adventurer, you don't even know who I am? With eyes that bad, you probably can't tell gold from dirt. How you're still alive is a mystery. I'm Connor Daller, the prophesied Holy Son, heir to the Papal Throne!"
"Holy Son?" Barrett racked his brain, recalling EeDechi mentioning some cocky, self-important brat.
But why was this Holy Son constantly tilting his chin up, staring at Barrett's waist? After a moment's thought, Barrett got it—if the kid looked up to meet his eyes, he'd have to crane his neck ninety degrees to the sky.
"Run along and play, kid," Barrett said, not budging an inch. But Holy Son Connor Daller slipped past him and strutted through the door.
"Tch, tch." The boy marched in, putting on a grand, authoritative face as he swaggered toward EeDechi. "So-called 'Divine Envoy,' you've trespassed into our forbidden zone, violating Articles Eleven, Twenty-Two, and Thirty-Four of the Iron Constitution. Pick your poison—hanging or exile."
"You little brat, someone needs to teach you a lesson," EeDechi growled, raising a fist to clobber him. She paused, thinking better of it—smacking the Holy Son wouldn't exactly be a good look.
"This little pretty boy is so cute!" Franco suddenly leaned in close to Connor Daller's face, startling the young Holy Son into stumbling back two steps.
Franco licked his lips. "If we used some body-altering magic to turn you into a little girl, you'd be even cuter, heh heh heh."
"Freak!" Connor Daller took another two steps back, dodging Franco's attempt to pat his head.
Boom! A faint magical explosion echoed from far away, the sound drifting through the window. EeDechi rushed to the sill, peering toward the distant capital. Ribbons of smoke and dust curled into the sky. Someone was fighting in the heart of the Slane Theocracy's capital.
"Let's check it out!" EeDechi muttered, ignoring the Holy Son's babbling. She wrapped a black scarf around her face and sprinted toward the source of the blast.
…
It was high noon, the sun blazing like a fireball in the sky. Most folks would've been hiding in houses or under wooden awnings to escape the heat, but the northwest quarter of the Slane Theocracy's capital was pure chaos.
In a residential district reduced to rubble, elite Theocracy troops had formed a tight perimeter around a towering wooden structure. They were locked in, guarding it like a fortress.
At the base of the tower, bodies littered the ground, blood pooling thick as paint under the midday sun. Most of the dead wore red robes, like clerics, their corpses bristling with arrows like slain porcupines.
Heavy infantry with tower shields stood at the front, crossbowmen lurked in the rear, light cavalry with longswords patrolled the edges, and at the back, mages gripped wands of every color.
In the midst of this ironclad siege, a shrill voice amplified by magic rang out from the top of the tower, grating and piercing: "The old gods are dead! A new god must rise! The Six Great Gods have abandoned us. Now, only faith in the true god of the Sorcerer Kingdom, the great Ainz Ooal Gown, is our salvation!"