Setadel gazed at Diena with eyes filled with contempt.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t know? That you kept driving the Saint into peril over and over because her very existence bothered you?”
“Nonsense!”
“Nonsense? The day the Saint passed away, her divine authority vanished from the Holy Nation. The Saint who should have been born in the next generation never appeared. So what exactly is this Saint that exists now?”
Wrinkles formed on Setadel’s brow from anger.
“A false Saint. A counterfeit made using the fragment of power the Saintess Arkenis left behind in the Church just in case.”
After losing their Saint, the Theocracy of Bretus had fallen into deep despair.
After the death of Saintess Arkenis, no one possessing her divine authority appeared.
Had Arkenis simply reached the end of her lifespan or perished in battle, it would have been acceptable.
The problem was that her death had involved the Radiant God, Lumenis, Himself.
The Church began to suspect—
Perhaps the wrathful Lumenis had completely taken back the divine authority He had once bestowed upon this continent.
Otherwise, it made no sense that no successor bearing the Saint’s power or the Judgment Eye appeared within the Church.
Yet they could not reveal that truth to the outside world.
If people learned that no Saint existed anymore, who knew what chaos might erupt.
“To restore the vanished Saint’s power, you made forgeries, raised substitutes, and basked in authority built on lies.”
Setadel drew out a lantern glowing with a faint green light.
“And since you still remember me, I can guess what filthy remnant resides inside your body.”
Kiiiiing—
As the light from the lantern grew stronger, Diena screamed.
“Kyah! Stop! Stop it!”
Her entire body convulsed, but she couldn’t move—her limbs pinned by black chains and blue spears.
“Come out this instant. You filthy wraith.”
From Diena’s head, something resembling a gray, mucous-like soul began to ooze out—
The shape of an old, withered man.
“Ugh. What the hell is that?”
Seridan frowned at the sight.
The sticky gray slime dripped heavily onto the floor—ectoplasm, formed when a spiritual being took tangible shape in the real world.
“Then who is that supposed to be?”
Suruna was the one who answered Helia’s question.
“The former Holy Sovereign.”
Benedict von Bretus—who had abdicated his throne to Salesin and vanished.
The old man’s face clearly bore Benedict’s features.
“Benedict, the Holy Sovereign who disappeared after passing on his seat? Why is he in such a form?”
Setadel muttered in disgust as he looked at Benedict’s soul.
“The fact that he recognizes me means he too has been continuing this... for a long time now.”
“No way... You mean he performed soul succession?”
Helia clicked her tongue in disbelief.
A forbidden method known only to necromancers—transferring one’s soul into another body.
But Setadel himself had survived for ages by continuously replacing his physical vessel—so how could he deny it?
“They bear children, then pass their soul into those children as inheritance. By doing that, they can return to the Holy Throne with a completely new body.”
“Then that means Salesin is...”
“Outwardly a young Holy Sovereign—but inside, a hideous ancient monster that’s lived for centuries.”
Violetta, who had been listening silently, raised a question.
“Wait a second. If the current Holy Sovereign has that wraith within him, then what is the thing we’re seeing right now?”
“That is a fragment—an offshoot of the soul.”
Setadel examined the wraith carefully and replied.
“He passed his soul into his own bloodline, but Diena von Bretus’s talent was so exceptional that a piece of his soul lodged itself within her as well. In ancient times, she might have become an extraordinary necromancer.”
“Then the reason Salesin spared only Diena...”
“Even if just a fragment, it contained part of his own soul. Rather than kill her, he must have planned to use her.”
He had cruelly disposed of all other blood relatives, but Diena alone was left alive for that reason.
Unlike others who might betray him, she shared fragments of his thoughts and ideals—making her far more useful.
Suruna nodded as if he understood.
“I see. That’s why she was hostile toward me—and why she could wield a portion of that authority.”
So the power Suruna had once sensed hadn’t been an illusion—it had been genuine.
Alex looked at the writhing soul and shook his head.
“A monster that kept switching bodies just to cling to power... even hearing it makes my skin crawl.”
The sluggish ectoplasmic wraith fixed its hollow eyes on Setadel.
[Setadel... Why... why did you betray us...?]
“I already explained plenty a moment ago, and yet you still repeat the same words. Seems your memories are rotted through.”
At this rate, even if he wanted to extract information, he wouldn’t get coherent answers.
Setadel aimed the lantern toward the soul.
[Why! Why?!]
“No need to answer. Just suffer here forever.”
[N-no...!]
The wraith tried to flee but could not escape the lantern’s pull.
A fierce suction erupted from its core, dragging the soul inward.
The Holy Sovereign’s wraith struggled frantically.
Ectoplasm splattered across the floor, but it was useless.
The shape collapsed, melting into a shapeless lump of mud unworthy even of being called human.
Shuuaaaak—!
The Holy Sovereign’s wraith was finally sucked into the lantern like water down a drain.
“Ah... ngh...”
As the wraith vanished completely, Diena, who had briefly lost consciousness, groaned and slowly opened her eyes.
“H-here...”
Her voice flowed out awkwardly, unnatural.
Because part of her soul had been forcibly torn away with the Holy Sovereign’s fragment, remnants of that shock lingered.
Yet her own soul remained—barely enough for her to regain a sliver of reason.
“I see now... So that’s how it was. Our role... was a failure after all.”
Diena looked at Ludger with dim eyes and a faint smile touched her lips.
“You’ve grown strong, my youngest brother.”
“......”
“Yes... It’s ridiculous of me to say this now.”
Diena quietly accepted the sins she and her kin had committed.
Even if she’d been influenced by the wraith, she wasn’t completely innocent.
When she had been wholly Diena von Bretus, she had carried out countless atrocities as a member of the Holy Bloodline.
“Salesin won’t stop. By now he must have succeeded in seizing the entire continent in his hands.”
“That’s no reason for us to stop.”
“Even if the whole world is the enemy?”
“Not everyone.”
At Ludger’s reply, Diena glanced at his companions and nodded.
“You’re right. You have good comrades. As a final gift before I go, I’ll give you the secret of the Galaharad Fortress.”
“The secret of Galaharad Fortress?”
Seridan’s eyes gleamed.
From Diena’s tone, she instinctively sensed that the fortress itself concealed a hidden function.
“This fortress isn’t just a castle. It’s one giant device.”
“A device for what?”
“To scatter divine authority across the entire world—a massive amplifier. If «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» one could activate its full function, its true form would be revealed. With it, even if the world stands against you, you might still have a chance.”
Ludger pointed out the inconsistency.
“Then why hasn’t Salesin used this power? If it amplifies authority, he wouldn’t need all this scheming.”
He paused, then shook his head.
“I see. He couldn’t use it. He doesn’t have the qualification. Neither he nor the wraith within that soul.”
“...You’re quick to grasp it. Yes, that’s right. But you, Heathcliff—you might be able to.”
“How can it be activated?”
“I don’t know. I only know... that it exists...”
Her voice grew faint, her eyelids heavy.
Having a fragment of her soul torn away, her life was now slipping away.
Her last gaze turned to Suruna.
“What you’re searching for—it’s here.”
“......”
Normally Suruna would have answered with a sly remark, but not this time.
He only nodded silently.
“Do your best, all of you.”
With that final whisper, Diena closed her eyes.
* * *
“Hm?”
Sitting on a terrace overlooking the Imperial Palace garden bathed in moonlight, Salesin raised his head.
“Oh dear. So she’s gone.”
He could tell even from afar—the fragment of his soul had completely vanished.
“I thought she was rather useful... To think she’d disappear like this. Did I overestimate her, or was my youngest brother’s strength greater than I expected?”
Of course, if a demon was attached to Heathcliff, it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible.
“In that case, I suppose I’ll have to get serious.”
Salesin smiled.
He never imagined he, the Holy Sovereign, would one day have to attack his own nation.
“A lot of blood will be spilled.”
He sighed with feigned regret—but his eyes shone with delight.
Yes, it wouldn’t be any fun if things ended too easily.
He turned toward the interior of the terrace.
“Are you ready, Second Prince—or should I call you Emperor now?”
At that, Ivelon von Exilion, who had been waiting, bowed humbly.
“I’m not yet Emperor. Please call me the Second Prince for now.”
“I see.”
“The preparations are complete. Soon, the world will declare war on the heretic Heathcliff. It will be remembered in history as a grand holy war.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Then I shall take my leave to prepare for tomorrow’s departure ceremony.”
As Ivelon turned to go, Salesin stopped him.
“Ah, Prince Ivelon. May I ask a small favor?”
A favor.
Salesin didn’t need to ask favors—if he wished something, he could simply command it.
Yet he spoke as though he were just another man.
“Yes, please speak.”
“Tomorrow morning’s newspaper headline—could you add one word in front of my brother’s name?”
“What word should I add?”
With a gentle smile, Salesin replied,
“Demon King.”
* * *
After finishing his private meeting with Salesin and returning to his quarters, Ivelon let out a deep sigh as he looked around the quiet, solitary room.
A sharp, cold touch pressed against his back.
He knew well what it was—a blade.
“Why don’t you stop now, sister?”
Ivelon spoke calmly, unstartled.
At his words, the pressure of the blade eased and vanished.
“You’re an annoying one.”
Aileen emerged from the shadows behind him.
“An ambush? Where did you even learn that technique?”
“None of your business.”
She twirled the dagger in her hand and sat down heavily on the empty bed.
It was a strange sight—Aileen, who should have been brainwashed and stripped of reason, sitting here conversing with Ivelon as though nothing were wrong.
“To think you’d turn out to be a spy from Bretus.”
“Call me a double agent.”
Ivelon removed his coat and sank comfortably onto the sofa.
“Salesin the Holy Sovereign is about to wage war. As you know, his target is Heathcliff von Bretus. I heard he escaped from the Holy Nation’s prison and seized the Galaharad Fortress.”
“Heh. As expected of that man. Pretending to be captured, only to raise an army right in the enemy’s heart—an insane yet brilliant move.”
“But now he’s made the entire world his enemy. Tomorrow the Holy War will be declared in full.”
Ivelon looked at her with a troubled gaze.
“This war can’t be stopped. That’s why you have to act, sister.”
The Holy Nation had long planted secret spies within the Exilion Empire to prevent its reckless ambitions.
They had contacted Ivelon and turned him into one of their believers.
“I used to wonder about it—the Holy Nation’s unbelievable power of brainwashing. I thought joining them was necessary to stop the Empire’s collapse. Yet here I am, plotting betrayal against them with you. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Then why don’t you just brainwash me again and throw me out—then take the throne yourself?”
“You know that’s impossible, sister. Just as you couldn’t bring yourself to kill me, I can’t do that either.”
A faint, bitter smile spread across Ivelon’s face.
“In the end, I suppose I prefer a warm family over being an emperor.”