Inside the heart of Babel, Theresa stared with a heavy expression at the intelligence sent to her by the Banshee Lord.
What she couldn't understand was why her brother had suddenly turned his thoughts toward the ancient past—secrets so obscure that even the elders were beginning to forget them. She knew he must have received word of something specific; otherwise, he wouldn't have dispatched his men all the way to Ursus to seek out the last pure-blooded Wendigo.
He was undoubtedly trying to find proof of a history that had long since turned to ash within those ancient heritages, or perhaps he was simply coveting that supreme power.
Indeed, possessing the memories of past Demon Kings, Theresa was well aware of the Golden Horn's existence and the terrifying power it held. The only reason she had never told her brother was that she didn't trust him to remain calm upon learning the truth. She knew him too well—if he knew such a thing existed, he would stop at nothing to obtain it.
"He actually went back to look for such an ancient past? Could he have found something out? Or are the Confessarii around him planning something again?"
Sitting before Theresa were Kal'tsit, who had always remained by her side, and the Doctor, the most critical figure coordinating this entire war.
Kal'tsit took the intelligence and examined it closely, noting that Theresis was searching for something that had vanished from history for a very long time. Even Kal'tsit had heard rumors of that object. She had even witnessed the Catastrophes it caused with her own eyes—despair that resembled hell itself. It was once the Sarkaz's ultimate weapon for sieging cities and conquering lands; in the era when that weapon was used, Kazdel had dominated a third of Terra with almost no effort.
"I don't know. I don't even know where he got this information. Thinking it over, only those Confessarii are likely candidates."
Theresa rubbed her brow, genuinely worried that her brother might do something irrational after learning about this past. Despite his outwardly calm demeanor, he was a stubborn man of action. Once he set his sights on a goal, he would achieve it by any means necessary.
Seeing Theresa's headache, Kal'tsit turned her gaze to the Doctor, who had remained silent throughout the meeting. She asked in a clipped tone:
"Why don't you offer your opinion? Usually, you have plenty to say at times like this. Why are you so silent today?"
Why is this person so somber today? In the past, wouldn't the Doctor have already voiced a strategic analysis? But even after Kal'tsit finished speaking, the Doctor didn't move an inch, sitting there like a block of wood.
"What's wrong? Are you sick?"
Seeing this, Kal'tsit reached out and nudged the Doctor. If their strategist fell ill at such a critical moment, it would be a major problem.
Nudged by Kal'tsit, the Doctor—wrapped tightly and opaquely in their gear—seemed to snap back to reality. After listening to Theresa's explanation once more, the Doctor fell into deep thought.
"Do you two have any clues? Without a lead, this is quite difficult for me to handle..."
The Doctor was different from the other two. One possessed the inheritance of the Demon King and knew the secrets within. As for the other... she was someone whose age probably required several zeros at the end. Who in the world knew more than her? Even those who knew a lot couldn't outlive this cat. Is she really a lynx? Or some kind of immortal cat demon?
Theresa recounted the history to the Doctor, but the Doctor couldn't help but wonder... did a horn that could summon Catastrophes really exist? It sounded like something plucked straight out of a storybook, even if its existence was indeed recorded in ancient texts.
"And what do you think? Aren't you supposed to be omniscient?"
The Doctor tilted their head to look at Kal'tsit, whose "cat face" made it obvious she simply didn't want to deal with them. Regardless, Kal'tsit had been annoyed with the Doctor many times before; after looking at that face for so long, her expressions no longer had much of an effect.
Kal'tsit saw the Doctor kick the ball back into her court and merely rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath and began to speak:
"That object is inextricably linked to Laterano, but we don't have an intelligence network there. I've already sent someone to inquire with the Sankta merchants. I expect them back shortly."
She naturally wanted to know if there was any movement in Laterano, but given Babel's current situation, gathering intelligence from other nations was a luxury. Between excavating the Rhodes Island landship and resisting Theresis's offensives, they were already pushed to their limits. Even now, they could only send operators to the borders to seek news from passing Sankta. This was only possible because Theresis's recent attacks had slowed down enough to grant them a bit of breathing room.
"Did you send Outcast? She moves much more easily than we do. Regardless of the situation, a Sankta is more likely to gain trust than a Sarkaz."
Outcast, a current Elite Operator of Babel. In a place crawling with Sarkaz, the presence of such a powerful Sankta was admittedly strange. This self-proclaimed exile was unwilling to get involved in the Sarkaz's military struggles; she was rarely assigned combat missions, spending most of her time training other operators. As for why she joined Babel, she simply hadn't known where else to go when she received an invitation from an old acquaintance.
That old acquaintance was, of course, our wandering lynx of unknown age, Lady Kal'tsit. It was said that when the two first met, Kal'tsit was still a missionary in Laterano.
"Rest assured, I'm back. I never thought I'd live to hear of such a major event happening in my homeland!"
While the three were discussing, the door behind them opened. An elderly Sankta walked in, her face showing signs of age. From her expression, it was clear she was in a very good mood today.
"You're back? It looks like you've brought quite a bit of news."
Seeing her expression, the Doctor immediately guessed that the elderly Sankta had returned with valuable intelligence.
"Of course. A lot has happened recently. The stone walls descended by God, the bells of the Revelation Tower ringing again—I thought that thing was broken when I lived there! And then, there's the emergence of the Saintess."
Outcast recounted the news she had gathered from her old friend. The matter of the Saintess was truly beyond her imagination. She couldn't understand what Laterano was planning. To suddenly declare a Saintess now... that title had been vacant for how many years?
Kal'tsit knit her brows slightly upon hearing this. In all her years, this was the first time she had heard of Laterano having a Saintess. When someone mentioned a "Saintess" now, her first thought was actually Kjerag! What were those Sankta thinking? This is practically finding an ancestor for themselves!
"God said the Saintess is His spokesperson on earth, possessing the right to decide all matters. Unless something truly significant happened, I don't think the current Pope would go looking for such a person—especially one who isn't even a Sankta!"
As she spoke, Outcast pulled an exquisitely crafted figurine from her pocket. It was a statue of the Saintess her old friend had managed to snag in Laterano. If she didn't believe the higher-ups were that short-sighted, Outcast would have suspected this "Saintess" was just an official Lateran scheme to make money.
"This..."
Kal'tsit froze the moment she saw the figurine. She hadn't expected that a stranger she had encountered would now hold such a high position. She certainly recognized the girl; back in Chernobog, wasn't she one of the two young girls she had traded with?
"It seems you recognize her? That explains the source of all that Holy Water you brought back. I was wondering where you managed to get so much of it," Outcast remarked, seeing Kal'tsit's surprise.
"I didn't know who she was at the time," Kal'tsit replied. "But why would a Saintess of Laterano appear on the territory of Ursus?"