Chapter 123
A slave was nothing more than an object. A piece of furniture, no different from a table, a bed, a teacup, or a candlestick.
Yes, one could grow fond of it. But no person of sound mind would trample the Pope’s dignity over it. The Pope concluded the Emperor had another motive. For reasons unknown, the Emperor had decided to make an irreparable enemy of the Temple.
The Pope’s lips trembled as he glared.
“A mistake, Your Majesty.”
“A mistake,” the Emperor echoed softly.
Lost in his own thoughts until now, the Pope finally saw the Emperor’s expression—and instinctively stumbled back.
“Indeed. My mistake. How foolish I was to obediently withdraw when told to wait outside.”
Since the recording’s reveal, the Temple’s officials had avoided eye contact, their skin prickling with unease. At first, they thought it was the chill of guilt. They were wrong.
“What kind of human—?!”
The High Priest’s horrified whisper was one the Pope agreed with entirely.
That thing wore the shape of a man, but it was no human.
It was a monster.
The air itself trembled. Not as poetic exaggeration—literally. The very atmosphere warped under a pressure that made the earth itself seem to shudder.
The Pope’s jaw quivered. Knowledge shaped perception. Unlike the others, drowning in formless terror, he understood.
This was no longer about a slave.
This was annihilation.
Like a dam collapsing under water that exceeds its capacity, like legs giving way under an unbearable load—the space itself twisted, unable to withstand the terrifying surge of magic. If this continued, everything might be crushed into a single point.
No one had ever heard of, much less seen, such a thing.
This was not a human wielding magic—it was as if magic itself had taken human form and now stood before them.
They tried to resist, drawing upon holy power, but against this overwhelming force, their struggles were pitiful.
A helplessness like being cast into endless darkness with nothing but the faintest flicker of light.
Instinct screamed at them—Run. Flee this place, now, before it’s too late.
“Ghk—!”
One of the priests, barely holding on, coughed up blood and collapsed. Then, like dominoes, those with weaker holy power fell one after another.
Unable to bear it any longer, the Pope mustered his courage and shouted:
“Your Majesty!”
“The Temple seems to have many frail souls. Watching them drop like flies is quite bewildering.”
The Emperor’s indifferent reply made the Pope grit his teeth. He had just realized—there was no way to hold the Emperor accountable for this. Not at all.
Even if the fact that the Pope, priests, and holy knights were all brought down by a single mage were made public, it would only make the Temple a laughingstock. Yet they couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.
“Your Majesty, isn’t this enough?”
“What do you mean?”
The Emperor asked back disgustingly. The Pope was on the verge of losing his mind and jumping in fury. Even he, the one with the most powerful divine power, was drenched in sweat—let alone the state of the others.
Why is this happening?
What does the Emperor gain by acting like this?
No matter how much he agonized in his dazed state, no plausible answer came to mind. If the intention was to pressure the Temple, it was already more than enough. No matter how he looked at it, the Emperor’s current actions held no benefit for himself. Unless… he was blinded by rage and lashing out without thinking—
The Pope’s face twisted in horror.
Could it be… that the Emperor is just angry? That he’s doing this purely out of fury over what they did to that slave, with no political calculation at all?
No, that can’t be. What kind of lunatic would make an enemy of the Temple over a mere fork, teaspoon, or teacup?
A slave was no different from such objects. It made no sense to cause this much trouble over one slave. But there was no other explanation. No—if he discarded all preconceptions and relied on pure intuition, that was the only answer left.
Even the High Priest, the strongest among them, had collapsed.
Now, among those clad in priestly robes, the Pope was the only one left standing. His eyes burned with fury.
“Are you truly doing this?”
The Emperor answered not with words but with action. The Pope’s legs buckled, unable to withstand the merciless pressure.
“Your Majesty!”
The priests let out anguished cries as they watched his legs slowly give way. Finally, the Pope’s knees met the cold, bare floor.
A deathly silence fell over the Temple.
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