Why is it the Pegasus Cloth?
After all that, the scrap Cloth I revived with my own blood turned out to be the Pegasus Cloth!
Are you kidding me?
Damian was speechless and felt like headbutting a headstone.
He'd bled himself to bring a Cloth back just so he could have one to wear—boost his power and execute the next phase of his plan. So why, of all things, did it have to be the Pegasus Cloth?
He'd only picked it because it looked familiar and pleasing to the eye. He never expected this.
Ask for anything but that, and that's what you get.
What luck.
Now the blood's gone and the Cloth lives. Can he get a seven‑day return with free shipping?
Obviously, he could only wear the Pegasus Cloth to go crash into Saga?
The Pegasus Cloth is meant for the protagonist Seiya. What does it make him if he wears it?
Saint Damian?
Will Pegasus Fantasy, that theme, be singing his praises now?
The thought alone gave him full‑body goosebumps.
Right… Seiya already has a Pegasus Cloth.
So whose is this damaged Pegasus Cloth?
The previous Pegasus's? Or the one before that?
Anyway, Pegasus Cloths are in the Bronze series, and every Holy War leaves them more or less battered. This can't be the only one.
Eyeing the Pegasus Cloth, Damian lightly brushed its surface with a finger, and the Cloth reacted—like answering a master's call—instantly unfolding and assembling.
In the blink of an eye, the Pegasus Cloth covered him completely.
"At least the pecs are fully protected. It's basically the upgraded Mk II Pegasus Cloth."
Looking down over the armor, Damian felt okay about it.
Clearly, it had evolved: full chest protection, broader coverage; no more flimsy single breastplate.
Besides molding itself to his body, it was incredibly light—like wearing a shirt—and he couldn't feel its weight. A Cosmo aura that resonated with his own faintly cocooned him head to toe.
That's the benefit a Cloth brings.
A Cloth gives a Saint high‑grade bodily protection, provides a Cosmo bonus, and in turn is empowered by the user's Cosmo, so defense rises sharply. The two enhance each other.
As Damian stoked his Cosmo, the originally silver‑white armor flushed gold in an instant, turning into a golden Cloth.
"As expected—it became a Gold Cloth."
Damian was very satisfied with the golden sheen.
He'd wanted to try on a Gold Cloth anyway; with limited means, he'd cobbled up a pseudo‑Gold setup.
This Pegasus Cloth couldn't match a real Gold Cloth, but it was far stronger than a regular Bronze Cloth—and a lot stronger than the current Pegasus Cloth.
After all, his Cosmo was top‑tier Gold Saint level. His body and blood had long been tempered by the Seventh Sense. The power in his blood was no joke, so turning it into a pseudo‑Gold Cloth was no surprise.
Damian reined his Cosmo in, and the Pegasus Cloth reverted to silver‑white.
It wasn't the Cloth he wanted, but choices were thin.
He'd make do.
Next, he planned a big move.
The risk was sky‑high. A Cloth would massively improve his odds of surviving and succeeding.
The Pegasus Cloth was, in a word, essential.
Hope Aphrodite's side is fully prepped by now.
Time for the next step.
With that, Damian twitched his will. A heap of Cloth fragments rose—many gold. They were leftover chips from when he rebuilt the headstones.
With just those Gold Cloth shards and a pile of Silver Cloth fragments, he lit a phosphorus fire beneath them.
Gradually, a golden mask took shape in midair.
To keep the op running smooth, he still needed a high‑grade mask to hide his identity.
Just as he finished smelting the mask, Cassios's faint shout drifted up from the graveyard: "Damian, Senior Brother Damian, bad news!"
An instant later, Damian shed the Pegasus Cloth in the cave, jumped to lightspeed, and appeared behind Cassios in a blink.
"Ah—you scared me."
Cassios patted his chest.
"Talk. What's got you in such a panic?"
"Senior brother, it's bad—Ms. Shaina and Marin are fighting. For real. There's blood."
Sweat poured down Cassios's face. He looked like an honest man driven to his limits.
Damian's face didn't change. "Lead the way."
What was coming had come.
No matter—he had a plan.
.
The arena.
Shaina and Marin stood facing the wind.
Both female Saints wore their Cloths, bodies wreathed in Cosmo, fighting spirit high.
"Marin, you seized my disciple while I was away. That's a gross insult to me!"
"I'll break your legs and make you a lame eagle."
"Your face was seen by all the men in the Sanctuary. How do you still have the nerve to live?"
Shaina's rage flared. Her poisonous tongue unleashed volley after volley.
"Shaina, Pansy asked to follow me—and to call me teacher. Maybe you just weren't good to her."
Marin's voice was cold as ice.
"Not good to her? What are you babbling? How dare you slander me?"
Anger bled into Shaina's tone. "Enough talk—taste my Thunder Snake Claw!"
"If words are useless…"
Without a heartbeat of hesitation, Marin planted her legs and took her stance.
Whoosh!
Both bodies cracked the air with sonic booms. In a blink, they collided.
Fist and foot crossed, detonating with brutal force and sending airwaves rolling.
"Hah!"
"Ha!"
The two female Saints were no weaker than men, and both excelled in speed.
They clashed, crossed, struck—splitting into a storm of afterimages—neither giving an inch, hammering away, kicking up dust all over the arena.
Crackle, crash!
Sonic booms and impacts rang nonstop.
"Wow—intense. Women Saints fight fiercer than men."
A late‑arriving Damian watched the two going crazy with blows and couldn't help but praise them.
"Senior brother, p‑please make them stop!"
A childish girl's voice called out suddenly.
It was Pansy.
"Relax. You look so anxious?"
"You wanted to sit on the mountain and watch tigers fight."
Damian eyed Pansy, gaze odd.
On the way, he'd asked Cassios for the rough story.
Shaina returned to the Sanctuary and found Pansy calling Marin "teacher," then confronted her. They argued.
Pansy seized the chance to say she'd follow whoever was stronger—and the two women threw down.
Shaina had a hot temper.
Marin didn't—she stayed cool.
Could it be hypnosis again?
She wanted to see the two women bleed?
The little brat was mean. Sure enough, she couldn't keep clean hands in the Sanctuary.
"Senior brother, do you have a way to stop them?"
Cassios was extremely anxious—he could feel the two murderous auras tangling. This was real.
At this rate, a little blood would be the least of it—there might be a death.
"Hold it!"
Damian finally moved.
He leapt to the high tier of the arena and bellowed, "Step right up—Marin of Aquila versus Shaina of Ophiuchus—both in Cloths and going hard. The book is open, place your bets!"
"Also, both their clothes got pretty torn…"
His shout was loud—like a bullhorn—carrying well over a kilometer.
And wouldn't you know it, his holler instantly drew piles of trainees, and even a few bored Silver Saints perked up.
The Silver Saints sprinted at supersonic speed and burst into the arena. Trainees swarmed in.
Everyone was panting, eyes locked on the targets.
Female Saints were rare. Watching them fight was rarer still—especially with clothes torn to shreds…
Seeing the sudden sea of spectators, Marin and Shaina halted at once.
They covered themselves and turned to stare at Damian—speechless.
The fight had been too fierce. Their clothes really were ripped—skin white as snow, outfits a mess.
Damian shrugged. "What are you looking at me for? Your Cloths cover so little. Clothes getting torn is normal. If you're ready to fight to the death, what's there to fear in being seen?"
Judging by the way the two beauties covered key parts—they were afraid!
Damian, a bit embarrassed, turned toward Pansy to give the culprit a lesson—but a runner dashed in at the arena gate and shouted, "By order of His Holiness, the Pope summons Saint candidate Pansy."
Damian: …
Dark Saga himself is summoning Pansy?
He's stirring the pot!
Not good—his plan had to move up.
(End of Chapter)
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