Ghislain tilted his head slightly and asked,

“So you’ve come to escort us to the Empire?”

“Escort, hm… Yes, to escort you very safely.”

Darentz’s tone had changed from before. He twitched his lips several times as he glared at Ghislain.

Because of the Julien Mercenary Corps, he had rotted away here for years—and lost an arm on top of it. There was no way he could feel any goodwill toward them. But since he couldn’t attack them outright, all he could do was swallow his anger.

Behind Darentz, the assassins of the Crips had already gathered.

Seeing them, Ghislain smirked.

“I’ve heard the world’s in turmoil lately. You think that headcount’s enough to properly escort the Saintess? Actually, no—this doesn’t even seem proper etiquette.”

“Etiquette?”

“Right. At the very least, shouldn’t you be treating her like the Pope himself?”

Darentz gave a shrug and a laugh.

“Ah, no need to worry about that. We’ve come with more than enough to show proper courtesy.”

Puh-uhng!

Suddenly, fireworks burst into the sky.

Moments later—

Dududududududu!

A column of troops began marching toward them.

Clank! Clank! Clank!

Knights in full armor moved in perfect formation, encircling the area.

A short wait, and countless soldiers took position behind the knights.

They were the Imperial army, dispatched from the capital.

Ghislain looked them over and asked,

“That’s all? For escorting the Saintess, the scene still feels lacking.”

“Heh heh heh… Now this is…”

Darentz let out a dry laugh. Even faced with the Empire’s elite troops, the man showed such composure. Then again, there were multiple superhumans on their side—perhaps it wasn’t surprising.

But what they didn’t know was just how much preparation had gone into ‘escorting’ the Saintess.

Dududududu!

The sound grew heavier as even more troops poured in.

These ones wore different uniforms from the Imperial soldiers—they were the armies of nearby lords.

Soon, no matter where you looked, the encircling force stretched beyond sight. A quick estimate put their number at over ten thousand.

Darentz bared a cruel grin.

“This should be enough to escort the Saintess. Are you satisfied now?”

“You don’t look like the one in charge here. Why don’t you step out of the conversation, little boy?”

“You bastard…”

Darentz’s face twisted in rage, but he didn’t step forward.

He might be a superhuman, but he had no authority to command the Imperial army.

And then—the center of the formation parted, and someone appeared.

Clop, clop.

A middle-aged man rode forward at an unhurried pace toward the Julien Mercenary Corps.

Looking between Ghislain and Julien, he asked,

“I am Marquis Pherington, here by the order of His Holiness the Pope. Forgive my intrusion, but which of you is the representative?”

Ghislain gave Julien a nudge. Up until now, he had usually taken the lead, but it was time for Julien to get used to standing at the front.

Julien stepped forward.

“I am Julien, commander of the Julien Mercenary Corps. Speak your piece.”

“First, I offer my deepest respect to you for fulfilling the noble mission bestowed by His Holiness. Your accomplishments will be recorded in the history of the Empire and your honor passed down to future generations. The Empire will never forget your efforts. Thus, I have come—at His Holiness’s behest—to escort you to the heart of the Empire.”

“…”

The lavish praise was met with a moment of silence from Julien, who then asked,

“This seems excessive for an escort.”

“Of late, the Demonic Realm has grown bold, black mages run rampant, and there is intelligence that priests of the Salvation Order are targeting you. In light of that, such numbers are not excessive.”

“I understand. Then I’ll leave it to you to see us safely to the Empire.”

Pherington said nothing for a moment. He hadn’t expected them to agree so readily.

'…Do they really not see it?'

That was fine—his real goal today was to confirm the Sacred Stones and take them.

Maintaining a mask of dignity, he said,

“Before we depart, I will need to inspect the Sacred Stones.”

Julien glanced at Deneb, and she calmly removed them from her necklace, bracelet, and ring.

Resting in her palm, the stones gleamed with a soft, holy radiance.

Pherington’s gaze sharpened. Extending one hand, he said,

“I will keep them safe until we arrive in the Empire. It will be more secure that way.”

“That will not be possible.”

“I understand your concern. But the Empire acknowledges your merit and will ensure your safety. Many already know the Julien Mercenary Corps has recovered the Sacred Stones—there’s no need for needless mistrust.”

His words were reasonable. The Corps’ name had spread after solving problems across multiple kingdoms, and recovering the Stones would naturally make them heroes. The Pope and Empire would need to honor and protect them to preserve their own dignity.

But the mercenaries’ expressions remained flat.

In peaceful times, they might have believed him. But now, with war against the Demonic Realm underway, the Pope and Empire had both the power and the authority to turn on them at any moment.

Julien shook his head firmly.

“The Sacred Stones were recovered by us, and we have the acknowledgment of each race’s representative as ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) their rightful owners.”

Pherington’s brow twitched. His voice grew cold.

“So… you mean you won’t hand them over?”

“That’s right. The rightful owner of the Stones is Deneb. We came to the Empire to explain this to His Holiness and seek his understanding.”

“…”

Pherington studied him in silence.

Upstart mercenaries, emboldened by reaching superhuman rank and gaining the support of multiple races. Or perhaps they were relying on the Dragons.

Arterion’s warning had already reached him. Dragon wrath was a terrifying thing—but that would only matter after the war. The Pope and Empire’s authority was the immediate power, and no one could oppose it.

'His Holiness already anticipated the Dragons would react this way.'

Which was why the Empire was prepared to confront them if necessary.

The Pope was the strongest of all—priests who had known him since childhood called him the greatest genius in human history. That was how he had ascended to the papacy without a single dissenting vote.

And if he obtained the Stones’ power… even Dragons could be opposed.

Pherington’s voice turned icy.

“Julien, I’ll give you one last chance. Hand over the Stones, now.”

“That will not happen.”

“Even if it means you die here?”

Julien met his eyes.

“Weren’t you planning to kill us from the start?”

“No.”

The denial was firm. The order to kill them and return with the Stones had indeed been given—but fighting multiple superhumans was risky. He was confident of victory, but the losses would be severe, and in wartime every soldier counted.

The plan was to secure the Stones first, then find an opportunity to eliminate the Corps one by one. Killing them all here and taking the Stones would be the last resort.

Pherington’s voice softened, if only slightly.

“Hand over the Sacred Stones. As long as you do that, there’s no reason for us to clash. Treasures belong only to those worthy of them.”

“The one worthy of them is Deneb.”

“If you keep refusing, we’ll have no choice but to strike you down.”

“Then go ahead and try.”

In an instant, the tension between both sides turned razor-sharp.

The Julien Mercenary Corps calmly placed their hands on their weapons. They weren’t fools—they knew exactly what this situation had turned into.

Marquis Pherington’s eyes gleamed with killing intent as he spoke.

“So it’s true what they said—that you’re stubborn fools. Then I’ll take your heads and the Sacred Stones with them.”

He raised his hand.

Clank! Clank! Clank!

Every soldier behind him lifted their weapons, shifting into battle formation.

That was when Lionel suddenly shouted and stepped forward.

“What is the meaning of this!? How could you do such a thing!?”

He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Why would they try to attack the Julien Mercenary Corps while he, a loyal servant of the Pope, was standing right here?

Pherington looked at Lionel.

“It’s been a while. But this isn’t the time for pleasantries. Step aside.”

“My lord! I’ve been acting under His Holiness’s orders alongside the Julien Mercenary Corps!”

“Which is why I’m telling you to step aside. I’d rather not kill someone who serves His Holiness and the Empire.”

“What… what do you mean by that?”

“Do you truly not understand? Did you think the Empire would simply overlook heretics who dare impersonate the Saintess and steal the Sacred Stones? When you return to the Empire, you’ll undergo an intensive heresy trial—keep that in mind.”

“A… heresy trial?”

“That’s right. For all I know, that witch may have bewitched you into abandoning your faith.”

Lionel’s eyes widened in shock. Those words were as good as an admission that the Pope had abandoned him.

The only reason they weren’t killing him on the spot was because too many eyes were watching—they intended to take him back alive for now.

Once in the Empire… he would be branded a heretic and put to death in disgrace.

“M-my lord… I’ve… I’ve served His Holiness faithfully for years—”

“And? What matters now isn’t your past service. What matters is whether or not you’re a heretic.”

“I… am no heretic.”

“Then fetch the Sacred Stones from that witch. Let’s see if your faith is truly unshaken.”

Lionel turned his head, stricken.

Ghislain only shrugged with a sly smile. Kyle watched with an amused smirk, Ereneth remained as imperious as ever, Marika looked bewildered, and the other mercenaries sparkled with the interest of an audience watching a good play.

Julien and Deneb, meanwhile, smiled at him gently.

Lionel lowered his head.

He had long suspected there might come a time when they would have to fight the Imperial army, but he’d never truly believed it. He’d thought the Pope would never abandon him.

Even if such a situation arose, he had intended to mediate—to persuade His Holiness somehow. After all, he had served him loyally for years, and the Pope had always valued and trusted him.

But now… it was clear they were ready to slaughter the Julien Mercenary Corps—and him along with them.

Lionel looked at Pherington with sorrow in his eyes, still unwilling to accept he had been discarded.

Steeling his trembling voice, he said,

“Please… let me through. I’ll meet His Holiness myself… and ask if this is truly his will. I’ll persuade him.”

“Heretic.”

Chaaang!

Pherington drew his sword. A deep-blue aura blade roared to life along its edge.

He was one of the Empire’s foremost superhumans—a Swordmaster.

And he wasn’t alone. Other superhumans stood here as well, alongside the Empire’s finest knights, mages, and elite troops.

Against the mere thirty-odd members of the Julien Mercenary Corps, they had more than enough to crush them completely.

Pherington leveled his sword. He was just about to give the order to attack—

When Ghislain snatched the Sacred Stones from Deneb’s hands and shouted,

“Hey! You want these, right? I’ll just give them to you.”

“…What?”

Pherington hesitated. If he could take the Stones, there’d be no need to risk heavy casualties in a fight here.

But then—

“Here! Come and get them yourself!”

Ghislain spun around and hurled the Stones with all his strength.

Pherington’s eyes went wide.

“That… that lunatic—!”

They weren’t far from the harbor. Which meant that beyond them lay the sea.

An ordinary man couldn’t have thrown them that far… but Ghislain was a superhuman.

The Stones sailed high into the air—and splashed into the ocean.

A suffocating silence followed.

Every soldier present, including Pherington himself, stood frozen, staring blankly at the waves.

Ghislain broke the stillness.

“Well? If you leave them there, you’ll never find them again. They might drift away with the tide… or maybe a fish has already swallowed them.”

“F-find the Stones! Now! Mages, what are you doing!? Retrieve them at once!”

At his shout, the knights in the front ranks scrambled, stripping off their armor before diving into the sea. Mages hastily took to the air, flying toward where the Stones had fallen.

“Anyone who can swim, get in there! Now!”

At the officers’ orders, soldiers hurled themselves into the water in droves. Even the Crips assassins joined the frantic search.

In moments, the Imperial formation was in shambles and the entire area in chaos.

Pherington, his face flushed with rage, shouted,

“You fool! Throwing the Sacred Stones into the sea—do you know what you’ve done!?”

The Stones had been entrusted to them by the representatives of each race. If the Empire both lost the Stones and killed the Julien Mercenary Corps, the blame would be entirely theirs.

More than that—how could anyone so casually discard one of humanity’s greatest treasures?

Ghislain replied with an untroubled expression.

“So what? You were planning to kill us here anyway. Why would we need the Stones?”

“You… you…!”

“Better that you don’t get them either. At least then, the Pope will take the heads of everyone here.”

“You… you bastard…”

Pherington’s face burned crimson. He opened his mouth to retort but found himself speechless—because Ghislain wasn’t wrong.

Snarling, he gave the only order left to him.

“Kill them! Now!”

He lunged at Ghislain, sword swinging.

Kaaang!

Ghislain raised his staff to block the strike.

“You little—!”

Pherington’s aura blade flared violently as he pressed forward. But Ghislain didn’t budge.

Instead, a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Naktura—since you’re back in the world, how about you cut loose?”

Kwaaaaaah!

Dark energy surged in midair as a robed skeleton appeared.

The lich’s hollow eyes blazed with blue fire after centuries of imprisonment.

Above the staff he held high—

Fwoooosh!

A massive fireball roared to life.