The harp sang on, graceful and moving.
When the piece ended, its lingering notes seemed to cling to the beams.
Only then did everyone return from the elegant melody, silent as if savoring it.
"What a beautiful performance!"
"Pansy, your playing deserves praise."
Saga, robed as the Pope, showed clear approval.
"Thank you, Your Holiness."
Pansy rose, pinched the hem of her skirt, and bowed her head. "I was born to a noble family and studied the harp from childhood. It is my honor to play for Your Holiness."
Truly well-mannered, adorable and polite—flawless.
"Your Holiness, I wish to take Pansy as my disciple. Please grant me permission."
Marin stepped forward and knelt.
"Your Holiness, Pansy is my disciple and always has been. Marin abducted her and now wants to take her in. I beg Your Holiness to judge."
Shaina knelt as well.
Mask facing mask, killing intent rising—the two were about to go at it again.
"Pansy has told me about this."
The Pope looked at the two feuding Saints and declared, "We must respect Pansy's wishes. Let's hear what she has to say."
Pansy stood, bowed her head to the two Saints vying for her, and spoke slowly: "Respected teachers, I've thought it over. The life of a Saint may not suit me, so I don't plan to be a Saint any longer."
Then Pansy turned and knelt toward Saga, respectfully saying:
"Your Holiness, I am only a frail girl, delicate in constitution, and I want a safe place to stay."
"…If Your Holiness would not disdain me, Pansy is willing to tend Your Holiness's daily needs and play the harp for you. I ask Your Holiness's grace."
At this, Shaina and Marin were completely stunned—bodies suddenly stiff.
Neither had thought Pansy would choose neither of them—but the Pope.
Was the girl out of her mind?
Seeing the Pope silent, the two bewildered Saints dared not speak.
"I accept. You may remain in the Pope's Hall to do chores. I am short a maid here."
After a moment, Saga gave his answer.
"Thank you for Your Holiness's grace."
Happiness blossomed across Pansy's little face, and she bowed again.
From his corner in the hall, Damian couldn't help a headache at the scene.
Was it truly the irresistible charm of a cute loli?
Or was Saga a loli-con?
Or did Pansy's hypnosis work on Saga too?
Damian shrugged.
It was more or less expected—not the worst outcome.
The little lass had approached the Pope to scheme for the box sealing the twin gods of Death and Sleep.
It would probably take her some time to get it.
He slipped silently out of the Pope's Hall and hurried toward Star Hill.
Now that Pansy had succeeded with her ploy, she would be opening the box to release the twin gods of Death and Sleep. Once she did, the Holy War would surely start early.
The main plotline was getting tangled. They hadn't even had the Galaxian Wars yet.
Specter Demon Stars were already roaming the world—chaos enough.
He would have to pick up the pace.
At the spiral stair to Star Hill, Damian began climbing without pause.
From the outside, Star Hill looked like a tower of rock—a spire thrusting into the clouds; inside, it was a true tower.
Only Popes through the ages could enter, and there were no guards, so the way was clear.
Moving quickly, Damian reached the top in no time.
Several spacious rooms made up the summit.
This was the sacred place where the Pope watched the heavens in Athena's stead and practiced divination.
The inlays on the floor were exquisitely done, with an astronomical chart of the Twelve Temples that correctly indicated the cardinal directions.
Most eye-catching was the observatory—a semicircular structure from which one could see the sun, moon, and stars with the naked eye.
Popes throughout history used Star Hill's observatory to foresee events, read the world's trends, and track the gods' movements.
Damian had no interest in the observatory.
He had come for Shion.
As a traveler, he knew the man's body lay on Star Hill.
But before him the place was empty—apart from some astrological gear and books, nothing at all.
After a glance around, he found a hidden hanging ladder.
Climbing up, he discovered another little loft above the observatory, with an open-air stone dais.
An old man with snowy hair lay on the dais. There was no aura upon him—clearly dead as a doornail.
He wore white robes, his face was withered, his skin pale, and two dots marked his brow—the sign of the Jamir.
It was none other than the former Pope, Shion.
As a former Gold Saint and the Sanctuary's last Pope, Shion had been no ordinary man. His body would greatly aid Damian's strength. No matter the risk, he had to take it.
"Even in death, his Cosmo still wraps his whole body to keep it from decaying—almost like he's sleeping."
Without a word, Damian bundled the corpse into his sack and turned to leave.
He needed Shion's Cosmo, his ultimate techniques, and his Cloth repair craft.
That was only one objective on this trip. The rest would follow the situation.
He bore Shion down the tower.
Carefully tracking Saga's Cosmo, Damian moved with caution, doing all he could not to brush against it.
"Wait—Saga isn't in the Pope's Hall. Where did he go?"
Yes—Saga's lingering Cosmo in the hall was faint, without oppressive weight.
Which meant Saga had already left the hall.
A gift from heaven.
According to Aphrodite's map, the Pope's library was in the deepest part.
Practiced now, Damian slipped through the empty hall and found the library quickly, then entered.
The room was huge—more archive than study.
On the walls and shelves were… boxes.
Boxes?
Why boxes?
Damian set down the sack with Shion's corpse and casually took up an ancient stone box.
Inside was a roll of parchment—mottled, cracked—but the text upon it was clear.
It recorded information from the last Holy War. From its style, it should have been set down by the Pope two generations back, Sage.
"These boxes all hold scrolls or artifacts. Where would the scroll on purifying divine blood be?"
He searched on.
Fortunately, symbols were carved on walls and shelves—twelve in all—corresponding to the twelve constellations like twelve calendar years, noting the great events each year.
On the innermost shelf, he saw a stone wall with strange symbols—more unusual than the rest: sun and stars, skulls and spirits, even droplets of blood.
Damian opened the box with the blood-drop mark and began riffling quickly—scroll after scroll.
Most recorded matters from the mythic age about divine blood. He had a feeling he was close to treasure.
At last…
[…When divine bloodlines are polluted, they require washing by holy water, paired with the Divine Purification Art. If holy water is unavailable, then more potent blood of the gods must be used for laving… the blood of the Twelve Olympian Gods.]
"To purify tainted divine blood with god-blood, it must be from a stronger deity."
With the incomplete parchment in hand, Damian understood.
He was no god and knew no divine arts.
So he had to use stronger divine blood to cleanse the polluted bloodlines—the blood of the Twelve Olympians, chiefly.
"That leaves Athena."
Damian had it clear.
Under present conditions, only Athena could provide divine blood.
But Athena was still in Japan as a rich heiress.
Would he have to go draw some blood from Athena?
He kept searching and found another peculiar scroll—the seal was in gold lacquer, strange to the eye, as if it recorded something incredible.
Sadly, it wasn't the box of the twin gods of Death and Sleep.
He also wanted that box—to bury it in the graveyard and make a killing.
If the graveyard could extract the Cyclops progenitor's attributes and skills, then the twin gods should be extractable too.
Clack!
A sound came from behind.
He turned and saw Pansy staring dumbly at him, mouth agape, an empty box on the floor and another in her arms.
The little lass was opening boxes in the library too.
Truly a box‑opening prodigy!
You're after the Death and Sleep twin gods' box too?
Well then, we're colleagues today.
"Who… who are you?"
Pansy stared in shock at the masked man in a Cloth.
This was the Pope's archive—even Gold Saints could not enter without leave. Who was this man?
Wearing a golden mask and a silver‑white Cloth?
"I'm Kui-ye."
"You open boxes, I open boxes—let's not interfere with each other, how about it? Heh heh heh…"
Since he'd been spotted, he found himself thinking it might be best to remove this little calamity!
He was masked and wrapped head to toe—no one would recognize him.
So… die!
Sensing the killing intent, Pansy suddenly opened her mouth and screamed, "Help!"
The sound was piercing and huge, ringing through the empty library like a whistle.
Crap!
Had he laughed too lecherously just now?
Damian didn't hesitate—he threw a lightspeed punch straight at Pansy's face—but the fist‑light veered in a blink.
Space distorted?
In that instant, an obvious spatial ripple swept through the Pope's palace, and a brutally domineering Cosmo descended.
Bad!
Saga was back!
…
(End of Chapter)
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