The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 84

She hated the Pope. She abhorred his cruelty. But when asked whether that mattered more than the issue at hand, her answer would be no.

The room she was led to was small and unassuming. Was this what they called an office? Truthfully, she didn’t even know what kind of work was conducted in an office. It was a world far removed from Veronica’s.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me on such short notice.”

Veronica rubbed her anxious palms against her clothes and greeted him. The small room felt crowded with the sheer number of knights packed inside.

“To clarify any misunderstandings, I have no intention of harming His Holiness. I requested this audience because I have something to say to him personally.”

Awkwardly mimicking the formal tone of the knights she’d overheard, Veronica tried to match the atmosphere. The tension in the room was palpable.

“So… there’s no need to fear me.”

The Pope sat with his back to a dim window, his face obscured. The chair was partially turned, and he was so still he might have been mistaken for a corpse. After a long silence, he finally spoke in a benevolent tone.

“Child, do you think I stationed knights here because I fear you?”

“…Isn’t that the case?”

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Veronica instinctively responded in her usual manner. The contrast must have amused the Pope, for he let out a hearty laugh.

“These are God’s knights, who have voluntarily pledged to protect me. They are here out of concern for my safety, not out of forced obedience.”

Veronica glanced at the soldiers. Judging by their expressions, it didn’t seem like a lie.

“The position of the Pope, the Holy See, religion itself—all of it exists for anxious humanity.”

The Pope’s tone was leisurely as he elaborated.

For religion to exist for humans and not for God—this was a surprising claim, especially coming from the Pope of Kart. Veronica, both intrigued and astonished, waited silently for him to continue.

“The same applies to yesterday’s events. There was no malice towards you, child. Know this as truth: simply by being known, you became a spark for disaster. From the moment you survived as an assimilated one, to the moment you stepped into Kart and uttered an ominous prophecy, you have been so.”

Having said this, the Pope leaned on his staff and stood. Tap, clack, tap, clack—his steps echoed as he approached Veronica. She wanted to step back, remembering how he had once strangled her, but she managed to hold her ground.

“Yesterday, three inquisitors and five judges died. There are rumors among the people that they were struck down by divine punishment for trying to kill a saint. It’s understandable. Out of the countless crowd, only those involved in the trial perished.”

Veronica’s eyes widened in surprise. It seemed the citizens had only suffered injuries. That was a relief. But…

“So that’s why you accepted my audience request.”

“Yes, exactly. You are a clever child.”

“What do you want from me?”

Veronica asked bluntly, not bothering to hide her suspicion. The Pope fell silent, as if pondering, before speaking again.

“The people need comfort.”

At first, she thought he was trying to justify the trial. To claim it was held to stabilize public sentiment. To ask for forgiveness. But his next words were cryptic.

“On the final day, hope is more important than faith. For instance, something like a saint to protect the holy city.”

The Pope was a master of indirect speech. Was this how all old men spoke? As she mulled over his words, a chilling realization dawned on Veronica.

A saint, rumors, comfort—surely not.

“You’re not seriously asking me to become an actual saint, are you?”

The words were spoken in denial, but the Pope’s gentle smile in response made her blood run cold. His narrowed eyes showed only dark pupils, and for a moment, he looked like a demon. Veronica immediately felt guilty for the thought. Whatever he had done to her, the Pope was still the father of the church that held lifelong authority over her.

“That’s absurd,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “You… No, Your Holiness tried to kill me just yesterday. And now you’re flipping sides, asking me to work for the church?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I bore no ill will towards you yesterday. It was simply necessary to calm the citizens’ unrest. But as you see, the situation has changed.”

To subdue public anxiety with a visible trial, only for a miracle to manifest before their very eyes. It was a fortuitous event for the Pope, who needed hope in turbulent times. The Holy See excelled at controlling information and shaping public opinion. It was a move befitting the Pope who ended the age of prophecies and ushered in the era of inquisitions. If the church so wished, even a stable master’s wife could become an angel sent by God overnight.

The proposal was as fantastical as it was pragmatic, sending chills down Veronica’s spine. How many times had she been deceived like this? How many lives had been sacrificed to make people easier to manage?

Clutching her clothes tightly, Veronica tried to steady herself, thinking and thinking again. What would she gain by agreeing? What would she lose by refusing?

Could she do it?

“Come to think of it, you haven’t asked why I’m here.”

Veronica’s thoughts finally reached their conclusion. The Pope raised an eyebrow, as if he had forgotten she had come to see him, or perhaps he hadn’t considered she would dare request anything. She wondered if it was due to his old age or simply his disbelief that she would ask something of him.

“I don’t know how you’ll take this, but Your Holiness, please do not regard the question I’m about to ask as blasphemy.”

When she thought about it, the Pope was the only one who might truly know where the holy city was. Veronica realized this could be her chance to uncover history that even the records had missed.

She needed to find out if the wilderness was the holy city. She needed to propose migration.

Perhaps she would have to participate in a farcical play, but if it could save people, it was a gamble worth taking.

***

Slice. Every time a body was cut, the sound echoed loudly in his ears. As blood sprayed like mist, Leon thought: I have to survive. I cannot die here.

It was the first time he had such a thought. In his twenty-nine years, he had never once valued his life. Selfless sacrifice was one of a knight’s virtues. He couldn’t recall a single moment where he hesitated in the face of death.

Yet now, standing before the holy sword, he hesitated. Pathetically, he wanted to live just a little longer. He wanted to return and hold onto the one source of warmth in his life. Even if she hated him, even for just one more day, he wanted more time.

Bahamuts swarmed endlessly, like lines of ants climbing a wall. They trampled over their own kind, enduring boiling oil, fiery arrows, and cannon blasts without a single scream.

What made Bahamut terrifying was their lack of fear for death. Each swing of the holy sword cut through the air, unleashing dazzling arcs of lightning that continued to slaughter them. Hours of repetitive fighting made time feel infinite. There was no satisfaction to be found in such carnage. Whether it was human or not, the sight of red blood could drive a person mad.

When he was on the verge of losing his mind, clang, clang—a bell tolled behind him, pulling him back. He turned, and in an instant, all sounds and sights of the battlefield vanished as if it were a lie.

Leon found himself standing in Kart’s back alleys. It was a memory from before the city’s fall, back when the holy city was still beautiful and peaceful. As he recalled the battle he had just fought, he looked down at his hands. The holy sword was gone.

Clang, clang, clang. The church bell tolled again. Amid the atmosphere of despair, he realized what he was seeing. This was the day he had snuck out of the monastery to meet his mother. Dusk blanketed Kart’s impoverished outskirts.

Slowly turning his head, he saw it: that house. Rusted hinges and a broken latch hung on the dilapidated door.

As if succumbing to fate, Leon walked to the door and opened it. The creak of the hinges let in a faint light that pierced the darkness. The first thing he saw was a pair of emaciated legs. Thin and limp, they swayed in the air, suspended from the ceiling by a noose…

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his from behind. Startled, Leon turned to look.

“Then why did you tell me to wait? You said we’d go together next time. In the wilderness, too. You said you wanted me to like you. So I…”

It was Veronica. A woman who had no reason to be in this memory was speaking reproachfully. Staring at her, Leon unconsciously repeated words he had said before.

“Because it’s easier to handle you that way. After making you like me, there was no reason not to be a little kinder for a day.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. Leon felt an unbearable pain as if his chest were being torn apart.

“I like you.”

The sun was setting.

“I like you.”

She said it again, as if she would say it a hundred more times if necessary. Leon’s eyes widened. She extended her hand with all her might to the boy lost in the abyss.

“I like you, so I’ve been waiting.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Giving up isn’t easy for me.”

He wanted to wipe her tears away. Don’t cry, please. Don’t waste those precious tears on me.

He reached out.

Let me reach you.

“Veronica.”

Let me reach you. Please.

“I…”

Boom! Crash! The ground beneath him collapsed, and his vision was swallowed by darkness. The deafening roar of cannon fire pounded his ears. Leon’s eyes snapped open. The floor of the wall came into view, and Apocalypse lay trembling beside his shaking hand. As he bent over, coughing violently, an enormous amount of blood poured from his mouth and ears.