Night gradually fell over Chernobog, and the first day of meetings between Laterano and Ursus ended in a peaceful atmosphere. This left a group of ambitious warmongers quite dissatisfied, feeling that the actions of both sides were far too weak.
This group included not only the pro-war nobles within Ursus but also factions in Columbia, Kazdel, and even Kazimierz, all of whom hoped for the outbreak of war so they could claim a piece of the pie. Their extreme dissatisfaction with the current situation led these conspirators to begin cooperating with one another. Just as it was happening now: Sarkaz mercenaries were preparing to assassinate a Laterano Bishop who had secretly left the embassy.
However, they did not know the true identity of the Bishop inside; they were merely mercenaries employed by Theresis. They did not understand the underlying conflicts of interest or what success would mean for the nations involved; they only needed to complete the mission. This was the survival code of the Sarkaz.
They followed the vehicle carrying the Sankta further and further into remote areas. They even began to wonder if they were walking into a trap set specifically for them.
"Your Holiness, do we really not need to deal with those Sarkaz following us? If they cause trouble later, will there be a problem?"
A Sankta standing beside the Pope, clutching a patron firearm, looked back warily. He spoke in a tone suggesting it wouldn't take much time to wipe them out before proceeding. He was worried that a caster might pop up among those Sarkaz and blast them with a massive fireball. This vehicle hadn't been modified for combat!
"I've told you, at a time like this, don't call me Pope. I've already resigned from that position; just call me Bishop. As for those Sarkaz mercenaries..."
The Pope looked back at the little fellows who thought they were hiding well. It seemed Kazdel was having a rough time; they couldn't even send out a Confessor anymore and had to settle for this kind of quality.
"There's no need to worry. I only came out this time to see an old friend. Besides, we are already being protected by specialists; those people won't allow anything to happen to us here."
The Sankta beside him didn't quite understand what the Pope was talking about. Could Ursus have sent Emperor's Blades to protect them? And how did a Pope have friends in a place like this?
Along the way, the Sarkaz never found an opportunity for their casters to flip the car. They could only trail them into an increasingly desolate area until they reached a place that was almost entirely in ruins.
"We've arrived. This is the destination of our trip: the Infected clinic, Azazel. I just wonder if that eccentric fellow is still here after all these years."
"If you want to call someone eccentric, you'd better make your own personality more stable first. I can hear rumors of your 'old eccentric' behavior even from here. You have no right to judge me, George!"
Just as the Pope's voice fell, an old man wearing a black robe appeared ahead, his face hidden behind a mask. The sudden appearance of the old man caused the Pope's guards to immediately draw their firearms, ready to attack at a moment's notice.
However, when the guard clearly saw the black halo above the newcomer's head, he was shocked into silence for a long while before recovering. This man, who dared to bicker with the Pope, was actually a Fallen Angel!
"Furthermore, how far has Laterano regressed if you can still bring a few rats along with you? Do you mean to tell me you no longer dare to strike against the Sarkaz?"
The Fallen Angel looked into the distance toward the hiding spot of the Sarkaz mercenaries. The distance was at least five hundred meters; could this old man sense people from that far away?
"This is your territory, so it's naturally up to you, the master, to clear the trash. Otherwise, wouldn't it seem like I, the 'old eccentric,' am not giving you, Judas, any face?"
The Pope had a teasing expression as he looked at the Fallen Angel he called Judas. Upon hearing that name, a look of distinct displeasure appeared on the old man's face.
"Firstly, I haven't been the leader of this clinic for a long time; I don't even know how many generations of leaders have passed. Secondly, I am no longer the administrator of the city of Judas. Call me Azazel!"
At that moment, the Fallen Angel looked toward that distant area again, took a breath, and said, "Finally, you're in luck. Someone is handling them for you. Follow me inside!"
As they followed Azazel inside, the Sankta responsible for the Pope's safety felt a storm of shock in his heart. This Fallen Angel before them was actually the legendary Judas? That name wasn't something just anyone could use. Back when the city of Judas had not yet been abandoned, only the administrator of the city was entitled to that name—just as every generation of the Lord of St. Peter's City would change their name to George.
Could it be that the old man before them was the protagonist of that great incident back then? But looking at things now, the relationship between him and the Pope didn't seem that strained. Why had things escalated to such a point in the past?
At that very moment, the Sarkaz mercenaries never dreamed that after fleeing all the way to Chernobog to stay away from those monsters, they would run into her here!
Standing before them was merely a white-haired Feline who looked like she possessed no strength at all. Any Sarkaz could snap a creature of this level like a chopstick. Yet now, the bodies of these battle-hardened Sarkaz mercenaries were trembling. They looked at the thin woman before them in disbelief, as if saying: How is it always you?!
They were, of course, intimately familiar with her. Kal'tsit of Babel, the right-hand of Her Highness Theresa. She had taken the lives of many in their squad during the war.
"Our target is not you, and you have no reason to stop us, Excellency. If you let us pass to complete our mission, we can act as if you were never here and will not report this to the Regent."
The captain of the Sarkaz mercenaries tried to use words to de-escalate the atmosphere, while using hand signals behind his back to tell the casters to prepare for combat.
"Your proposal is as laughable as your actions. Knowing the other party has the means to deal with you, yet still choosing to walk into the trap—it is simply stupid."
Kal'tsit looked at the terrified mercenaries. Although she didn't have the slightest memory of their faces, she could guess with her tail that they were Theresis's men.
"Even now, standing before me, you still harbor plans to take me out while I'm distracted, thinking I haven't noticed. You and your team are truly pathetic!"
The moment Kal'tsit finished speaking, before the Sarkaz captain could even react, he felt a black wind sweep past him. He immediately sensed something was wrong. He saw a massive, alien biological construct use its claws to cleanly pierce the hearts of several casters. His subordinates didn't even have a chance to resist.
"Scatter! If you're confident, find a way to take out that Feline, but stay away from that monster! Everyone else, retreat!"
The surrounding Sarkaz mercenaries, upon hearing their captain's order, made their decision in an instant. They scattered like startled birds, attempting to flee for their lives, only to be ruthlessly harvested by the fast-moving monster.