Chapter 114

The bishop walked through the woods near the church, with Bunier following behind him.

“Do you believe he is devout?” the bishop asked.

“I think so. The duke often goes to Colby to help the poor and attends church services every week, even when he is ill. He has endured suffering and has now embraced God, determined to dedicate his body and soul to the Lord.”

The bishop smiled.

Seeing his smile, Bunier also smiled. “Bishop, will you accept him?”

The bishop continued to smile silently, not answering Bunier’s question.

In the evening, Sharman visited the church in person. He was extremely humble, kissing the bishop’s hand and the hem of his garment. He confessed to the bishop his former thirst for power and vanity, his unkind thoughts towards his brothers, and sincerely and completely confessed the sins he had committed.

“I confess to you, Bishop, for the mistakes I made in my childhood and my cowardly escape afterward. I am truly ashamed of my baseness…”

Sharman choked with sobs. The blind bishop listened quietly. He could not see the flickering hatred and anger in Sharman’s eyes, but he was fully aware of it in his heart.

To the bishop, Sharman’s ingratiation was as hypocritical and childish as Adonis’ flattery once was. After all, in this field, he was the top expert.

Sharman had lost his right to the throne and suffered many hardships in Falkland. For a prince accustomed to luxury, the time as a captive on Falkland must have left a deep imprint on his heart.

Ah, angry Sharman, poor Sharman, scheming Sharman, plotting revenge…

The bishop’s lips curled slightly. Sharman noticed that the bishop’s attitude seemed different from what he had expected. Perhaps a blind person’s lack of vision was compensated for in other ways. Sharman quickly adjusted his expression, convincing himself that he was indeed feeling remorse rather than wanting to strangle the man in front of him.

“Duke, you don’t need to be so harsh on yourself. Everyone is sinful,” the bishop said with a gentle smile. “You have simply discovered your sins earlier, which means you can redeem yourself sooner.”

Sharman forced himself to sound grateful, like a child who had been forgiven for a mistake, expressing his joy and emotion at the bishop’s understanding. He then seized the opportunity to again propose joining the Holy Knights. However, the bishop, still smiling, refused him, stating that he lacked sufficient experience.

Lack of experience… Sharman was furious. He just wanted the title. What a difficult man!

Unable to achieve his goal and unwilling to break off relations, Sharman could only grit his teeth and admit that he was indeed not good enough yet, but he would continue to strive to meet the standards of the Holy Knights.

Sharman left. The bishop sat alone, neither angry nor particularly concerned about Sharman’s performance. Instead, he felt that Sharman’s identity, experiences, and actions seemed more like those of a true villain in this world.

Stepping away from the constraints of a natural person, and further from the villain’s setting, looking completely from an observer’s perspective, compared to the miserable beginning of the previous world, Sharman’s presence in this world was too strong. The bishop had to conclude that his so-called villain identity did not actually exist.

Sharman did not seem like a colleague with a mission either. If they were truly similar, the bishop would have sensed it. This meant that Sharman was originally a character set in this small world.

Since a villain was already set, why would the Alliance go to the trouble of sending him into this small world?

The bishop’s fingers rhythmically tapped the table.

The system could not enter the small world, the system was completely ignorant of the small world, and the Alliance did not punish him for failure… All the doubts converged in his mind, and the bishop found it increasingly interesting.

Various conjectures rolled in his mind, and the desire to explore the truth grew stronger. The natural person’s brain once again began to think at a higher dimension—why did an always indifferent natural person become increasingly emotionally rich after experiencing these small worlds and start pondering questions he never would have before?—it must be these small worlds that changed him—was this change accidental or intentional—if intentional, was someone pushing him to find the truth?—was his desire to explore the truth his own, or was it a suggestion implanted by other forces in his mind?

A sharp pain radiated from his forehead, as his body couldn’t withstand the mental strain of the rapid, leaping thoughts. The bishop closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths until the pain gradually subsided.

The bishop’s face regained its calm composure.

Even if this world had its own settings, he wouldn’t let a character like Sharman steal his thunder.

The truth, the truth behind the truth, the supreme position in the small world—he wanted it all.

Satisfied, the bishop nodded, his mood thoroughly restored. Then, the king’s name suddenly flashed through his mind. The bishop’s nodding stopped, and his lips pressed into a slight frown.

—

The long-divided continent had been plunged into war by the King of Lecy. Estin’s surrender marked the beginning of the conflict. Roque quickly sided with Lecy. Roque’s king issued a statement, emphasizing his shared religious faith with the kings of Estin and Lecy. As devout followers of the bishop, baptized and crowned by him, their faith was unified, and their authority was God-given and legitimate.

This statement greatly alarmed the other four kings, as Adonis emphasized his religious legitimacy, combined with Lecy’s bishop’s non-recognition of other continental religions, implying their monarchies were illegitimate and could be overthrown.

The four kings, furious, met on a neutral island in the Auston Continent to discuss countermeasures. They formulated several actions.

First, they decided to recall their knights from the Holy Knights as a warning. Then, they issued a joint statement condemning Lecy, Estin, and Roque’s religious despotism as barbaric and unreasonable, demanding Lecy abandon its autocracy against the continent’s will.

However, the first step proved difficult. Knights found various reasons to retain their status, making it hard to recall them, and the joint statement was delayed as the kings couldn’t reach a consensus.

One nation, having had good relations with Bishop Eugene, secretly invited him over, hoping to ease tensions. The bishop promised that if the king accepted his coronation, he would recognize the king’s throne and the legitimacy of his nation’s religion.

After countless negotiations, conditions, and the allure of peaceful coexistence, the king compromised, unaware that this marked the beginning of a continental religious tilt toward Lecy.

As the four-nation alliance broke, Lecy waged war on the strongest of the remaining three nations, Fredic.

Fredic’s king, feeling betrayed, furiously engaged in battle. The war lasted half a year with heavy casualties. In the stalemate, the Holy Knights, previously honorary, sided with Lecy.

No one knew how the cardinal persuaded them to the battlefield, but the silver knights, bearing their banner and call to “fight for God,” tipped the scales, securing Lecy’s victory.

Fredic faced severe punishment. All religious activities were declared illegal, the deceased couldn’t enter heaven, newborns couldn’t be baptized, and the dead couldn’t be buried with religious rites. All illegitimate clergy were stripped of power and exiled to Falkland.

This harsh punishment plunged Fredic into mourning. The bishop, who had spent three years spreading doctrine across the continent, took it all away in one stroke, inciting immense anger against the Fredic royal family.

The remaining two nations, witnessing Fredic’s fate, preemptively protested, demanding their kings seek the bishop’s recognition and legitimate religious coronation to avoid a similar downfall. The internal upheaval left the two kings stunned, while Lecy continuously waged war on them.

The continent’s unification was inevitable, and victory was within reach.

King Landes of Lecy’s prestige soared both in Lecy and in the countries recognizing the Church’s religious authority. Only the bishop of the Church commanded more respect. Rumors spread that the bishop would elevate himself to the pope by year’s end, a move that seemed logical and unsurprising, as power had found its rightful owner.

The bishop, soon to gain supreme power, remained calmer than those around him. Power did not come from a title alone; the respect he now received matched the position he sought. Even Bunier spoke to him with utmost deference now, refraining from expressing any opinions.

Over the past few years, the Cathedral has undergone several renovations, doubling its original size. Inside, it gleamed with splendor. The small building where the bishop resided remained intact. His choice to preserve it was praised as simplicity, though his reasoning was simple—he just didn’t want it demolished, nothing more.

The weather grew warmer again. In the bathroom, the bishop washed himself clean. His hair, unchanged in length, maintained its consistency. Clad in light clothing, he idly played with the cross nestled in his collar, his expression calm.

The closer he came to the pinnacle of power, the more bored he felt.

In fact, these past few years had seemed rather dull to him.

Every step he took seemed predictable; there was no novelty left. In his previous small world, he had already tasted the so-called flavor of power. Well, he wasn’t actually interested in power; he simply felt it was rightfully his. What extra enjoyment could it bring?

Randes…

The bishop’s gaze turned fierce and cold.

Very well, this was the most steadfast opponent he had encountered, capable of enduring a cold war with him for years without either side giving in.

This spiritual confrontation intrigued him more than the supposed papal seat.

When he ascended to the Pope, he would knock him off the emperor’s throne—

What kind of expression would he have then? What kind of reaction?

A somewhat evil smile crept onto the bishop’s face, feeling increasingly relaxed in this imagined hostility.

“Bishop.”

Outside the door, the knight restrained his excited tone. “Foval and Luse have surrendered!”

The victorious monarch rushed to the capital, amidst cheers and flowers from the city’s people. Randes’s icy face finally softened into a faint smile as he waved to the crowd from his horse.

The king, having achieved his ambition, quickly returned to calmness after a brief excitement. Inside the palace, he swiftly bathed and had his hair trimmed and beard shaved by attendants. Seated with legs crossed, he wore a white shirt with a towel draped over the collar, listening to diplomats read congratulatory letters from various countries.

“They are all asking about the bishop’s possible promotion to the Pope this year, you know, they are all loyal believers.”

Harlan smiled, appearing more excited than the king.

Randes tilted his head back, his chin covered in white foam. “I think you mean loyal opportunists. Enough—” Randes pushed away the servant’s hand, wiped his chin with the towel, smooth and somewhat empty like his resolute heart… Randes stood up, shaking off those weak emotions.

“The war is not over, negotiations are imminent,” Randes straightened his collar, putting on his coat. “First, reply to Adonis and ask him to come for a meeting.”

“Yes.”

Harlan watched the king button his cufflinks, smiling wryly. “Your Majesty, are you planning to meet the bishop? The upcoming negotiation should formally meet his approval. Do I need to go and obtain permission for the meeting from the bishop?”

The king glanced at the diplomat. “Get lost.”

Harlan chuckled, touching his nose and shrugging. “Alright, looks like you don’t need me.” Harlan watched the king, leaning on a cane as he walked away. His smile slowly faded, sighing.

Over the years, the king had devoted all his energy to unifying the continent. Harlan witnessed his sleepless nights and tireless efforts. At the same time, he observed the king’s concealed longing for the bishop, difficult to grasp. The king intentionally hid it, but Harlan, attentive as he was, noticed the king’s persistent thoughts about the bishop.

Normally, time would fade such feelings. But if time couldn’t erode this affection, perhaps nothing could.

Harlan never understood why, if the king loved so deeply, he didn’t try harder to pursue it. Yet, despite never privately communicating or meeting, the two silently progressed everything with mutual understanding. Harlan suspected there might be an agreement between them—perhaps to settle personal matters after unifying the continent. He had experience; girls often found strange excuses to avoid further development. Hopefully, the king wasn’t like that. Harlan chuckled to himself, thinking the king wouldn’t end up as miserable as he was. The future emperor of the continent could win anyone’s favor; he just wondered how their relationship would develop in the future…

Emperor and Pope… it’s quite stimulating to think about!

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but the bishop is not in the cathedral,” Bunier poured cold water on the passionate king, “the bishop accepted Duke Sharman’s invitation and is visiting his estate.”

“Sharman?”

The king’s expression changed slightly. How did the bishop suddenly become so intimate with Sharman again…

To avoid the impulse to rush to the bishop again and repeat their past arguments and compromises, besides the bishop’s safety, the king almost blocked out all news about the bishop.

In the quiet of the night, the king would also question himself. If the bishop fell in love with someone else during their separation, someone had already opened that closed heart, what should he do…

He is not his, the king said in his heart. He can freely seek his love. He is not his, he cannot imprison him.

If that’s the case, he can only face even greater difficulties in pursuing him again.

As for how to win the bishop’s heart, the king still had no confidence. What he could be sure of was that at least these years could prove that he was not just greedy for his beauty, nor was he just asking him to cooperate in seizing power. Time and distance could be his witnesses.

The carriage ran fast. The king pushed open the carriage window, letting the wind blow into the carriage. Only God knew how nervous he was at the moment. He didn’t even think about meeting his most hated brother later. His mind was filled with the accumulated thoughts, which had accumulated for years and was about to erupt…

*

“Coffee or tea?” Sharman asked softly.

“Coffee, thank you.”

The bishop had visited Sharman’s estate only a few times. He was curious about Sharman’s continued flattery. What kind of conspiracy was behind this restraint? The bishop almost wanted to ask, maybe he could help him with a reference.

Sharman softly spoke of his devout religious beliefs and praised King Randes’s achievements, as well as the bishop’s significant role in the situation.

The bishop listened quietly. Every time Sharman would flatter him for a long time before getting to the point. Sometimes he wanted to join the knighthood, sometimes he wanted to re-accept the bishop’s baptism, sometimes he hoped the bishop could fight for him for a piece of land, and he was willing to make any exchange.

The bishop rejected all these requests. Every time, he listened to Sharman’s demands and then rejected them, which made Sharman feel manipulated.

Sharman had no other strengths, but he was good at socializing. He rebuilt his social network in the capital and had a good reputation. He often went to Roque and Estin to socialize with their kings and nobles. His identity as the Duke of Lexi helped him a lot, and the prestige of Randes made those people afraid to neglect him, which made Sharman more resentful.

“There are rumors that you will be promoted to pope,” Sharman smiled. “I think this must be true. Besides you, I can’t think of anyone on this continent who is capable.”

“It’s just a rumor.”

The bishop’s attitude was flat, waiting for Sharman to make another request.

“With faith, the unification is complete. I think there should be an emperor besides the pope. Respected bishop, I am really curious about which king crowned by you is the most favored.”

The bishop smiled, “Does who I favor mean that he can be emperor?”

“Haha, don’t underestimate your influence,” Sharman said immediately, “if you favor someone, no one can definitely become the emperor, but if you don’t favor someone, I think that person can’t do anything.”

The bishop gradually understood Sharman’s meaning—unexpectedly in agreement with him.

“All the kings have devout faith, and it’s really difficult to choose among them, don’t you think so?”

The bishop chuckled softly from his nostrils, greatly inspiring Sharman. Sharman said, “Although Randes is extremely arrogant, I think he should respect you, even if he gets all the power of the entire continent.”

“Well, maybe.” The bishop said.

Sharman became more interested, “How could it be, how could you have any conflicts with him? Oh—sorry, how could I say that, I mean, these years, you and the king are not so close, really sorry, I tell the truth, bishop, forgive me, I can’t help but want to say what I think in front of you without any concealment.”

“It’s alright,” the bishop set down his coffee, “you just misunderstood.”

Sharman was slightly taken aback.

“Randes was baptized by me personally; he was my first disciple. Our relationship has always been inseparable,” the bishop said calmly, “Sharman, I know what you’re thinking. I’m not someone you can manipulate.”

Sharman’s face turned extremely ugly, and after a moment, he managed to say reluctantly, “Bishop, you must have misunderstood…”

“My lord Duke—”

A servant hurriedly interrupted, causing Sharman to turn his head sharply. His eyes swept over with severity, startling the servant, who stuttered, “The king is here…”

The bishop also turned his head.

Sharman immediately stood up. “I’ll go greet him,” he said to the bishop, “Do you wish to avoid or…”

“You may go,” the bishop replied calmly, lifting his coffee to take a sip. It was slightly bitter, and he furrowed his brow slightly.

Sharman rushed to the entrance of the estate to greet the king. The king was dressed casually and had few attendants. He ignored Sharman’s greeting, his face stern as he asked, “Where is the bishop?”

“Oh, you’ve come to see the bishop…” Sharman’s complexion turned pale. “He’s in the garden, having coffee.”

Leaning on his cane, the king passed by Sharman as if he were the true master of the estate, striding forward confidently. Sharman turned his shoulders back, watching the king’s figure. Even with his cane, the king looked elegant. Sharman glanced at the carriage at the estate’s gate and hurriedly followed him back.

The king walked quickly. For him, it wasn’t just a few hundred meters; it was years of endurance to get to today.

The estate garden was beautifully maintained, with pale purple and white hydrangeas piled behind benches. A strand of golden hair stood out conspicuously. Today, the bishop was rare in his pristine white clerical attire, making him appear even more noble and sanctified.

The king stopped in his tracks, his nervousness already dissipated or dispersed into his bones, blood, and breath. He couldn’t feel any emotion; he just watched the bishop from afar.

In public meetings like this, the king rarely looked directly at the bishop. He feared his gaze would reveal all secrets, including his feelings for the bishop and how he forced himself to hide those feelings in his heart.

The bishop heard footsteps—the distinct sound of a cane hitting the ground, approaching rapidly, then suddenly stopping.

He had won the victory of war and was about to embark on true unification. So why did he come looking for him so urgently? Was it to propose the next step of cooperation, like Sharman, to confirm if he would still support him?

The bishop’s palm curled slightly on his knee.

No, that’s not it.

Another voice in the bishop’s heart was very clear.

He did not come for this. Achieving ideals was important, but his urgent visit would only come from one thing—

“Bishop.”

The king’s voice was courteous, surrounded by servants; he had to be.

Upon hearing his call, the person on the bench seemed to tremble slightly, whether it was his illusion or not, the bishop turned his face, his profile appearing in the king’s view. The king whispered, “I would like to invite you to the palace for some matters.”

It was an invitation that seemed calm enough that no one could sense anything unusual.

It had been years since the king had invited him like this, out of nowhere.

He still succumbed.

The bishop felt the joy of victory surging in his heart. Was this joy only for victory? He avoided thinking about it.

“I am in conversation with Duke Sharman,” the bishop said nonchalantly, “Is there something urgent you wish to discuss?”

The king lifted his cane and took a few steps forward, suppressing his full passion. “I…”

“Your Majesty.”

What an annoying thing—

The king turned abruptly. Sharman looked embarrassed. “Are you leaving? I particularly wanted to talk to you today.”

“What do we have to talk about?” The king said bluntly.

Sharman hesitated. “I have long wanted to confess my mistakes to you,” he glanced at the bishop, “I want to apologize sincerely in front of the bishop.”

The king pressed his lips together. “There’s no need.”

“I implore you,” Sharman frowned, “for the sake of our mothers and fathers.”

The king remained seated on the bench next to the bishop.

“Would you like coffee or tea?” Sharman asked respectfully.

The king glanced at the coffee cup in front of the bishop. “Coffee.”

Sharman nodded, then turned to the bishop. “I noticed earlier that you found the coffee a bit bitter. Shall I get you a fresh cup?”

The bishop remained noncommittal. Sharman picked up the coffee, nodded to the king with deference, and left.

The king’s expression was cold. After Sharman departed, he swung his cane outward, dismissing the servants.

Finally finding a brief moment of quiet, the king said, “The war is over.”

“Congratulations,” the bishop replied calmly.

“When this fall arrives this year, I believe you could become the pope.”

“It should be so.”

“I must thank you for your efforts in ending the war swiftly. Without you, I couldn’t have achieved my goals so smoothly.”

“It should be so.”

The king’s lips moved. In a very low voice, he said, “Eugene, our goal is about to be achieved, and our cooperation is coming to an end.”

“Yes,” the bishop lowered his eyes, “everything will be over.”

“I…”

The king struggled to articulate his thoughts more smoothly. He had prepared his words carefully, but he found himself simply taking a deep breath, catching a whiff of the bishop’s fragrance. In a low voice, he continued, “After everything is settled between us, will I be entitled to your fair treatment?”

The bishop’s eyelashes fluttered. “Afterward, there will be a new war between us.”

“No,” the king said, “I respect you as the pope and accept your rule.”

Finally, the bishop looked up to “see” the king.

Though he couldn’t see the king’s face, he could hear and sense the king’s demeanor at this moment—a transformed calmness. “I believe you will bring peace and tranquility to the entire continent.”

“This is not a personal judgment,” the king’s tone was solemn yet gentle, “Eugene, can you also look at me fairly?”

The bishop felt a strange sensation in his heart, indescribable. He wanted to leave, to run away if possible, but would that not be admitting defeat? Defeat? What was he conceding to?

“Coffee.”

The annoying spirit returned.

The king put away his warm demeanor, his face stern as he said to Sharman, “What do you have to confess to me?”

Sharman smiled ruefully, “I suppose you already know.”

The king showed no pretense either. “Since you know that I know, there’s no need to say more. I’ve already promised forgiveness, and the title of Duke and this estate attest to that.”

“I know your forgiveness, but I am still restless for the sins I have committed… Bishop,” Sharman earnestly looked at the bishop, “I ask you to witness my repentance for what I did to my brother.”

The bishop remained silent. The king frowned slightly, but did not stop Sharman’s lengthy discourse, which seemed like repentance but was actually accusation. The more he heard, the more uncomfortable the king felt. He exhaled through his nose and lifted the coffee cup from the table to his lips, but his arm was held back by the bishop.

“Your Majesty, please promise me a few things.”

Sharman’s torrent of words was interrupted. He looked nervously between the bishop and the king.

The king was also surprised. He glanced at Sharman and said seriously, “Please, go on.”

“I admit that you can bring peace and tranquility to this continent. I hope you can continue to do so.”

The bishop’s words surprised the king, who then looked at Sharman. To Sharman’s ears, it might be an ordinary statement, but to the king’s ears, the bishop undoubtedly admitted that he would judge him as fairly as he could! They will have a fresh start!

“I wish to become the sole Pope of the Auston Continent.”

“Of course.”

The king couldn’t wait.

“And one last thing, to protect this world, I won’t allow it to collapse.” Following the king’s arm, the bishop took the coffee cup from the king’s hand, gesturing towards Sharman. Sharman’s face turned pale without any blood, and the bishop said to the king, “I won’t owe you anything.”

This puzzled the king, and the bishop bowed his head and sipped his coffee.

The king was eager to return to the palace and have a good talk with the bishop about how he had suppressed the love in his heart to rid himself of prejudices over the past few years. He wanted to hug him, kiss him and had planned a crazy thing to secretly propose to the bishop at the ceremony of his ascension to pope.

The king said to Sharman, “Enough, I want to go …”

Sharman fell to the ground, his eyes wide open in shock, panting heavily. The king frowned and looked sharply at him, “Don’t make such a detestable look. I said I forgave you …”

His shoulder slightly sagged.

The king stopped speaking in time, and the bishop leaned against him… He suppressed his heart and reached out to lightly embrace the bishop’s shoulder, saying, “The bishop is tired…” He turned his face, the warmth hidden on his face, instantly frozen when he saw the dark blood spilling from the bishop’s mouth.

The bishop’s face was pale, his eyelashes shading those blind eyes, and his blond hair lying on his cheeks, looking exceptionally gentle. The king was stunned, reaching out to lightly touch the corner of the bishop’s mouth, warm blood staining his fingers.

The king turned to Sharman, who was slumped on the ground, hands continually retreating back in fear, his eyes wandering between the bishop, the king, and the tabletop. The king also looked at the coffee cup on the table, the dark liquid seeming to gently sway in the sunlight, his mind blank.

“Eugene?”

The king softly called the bishop’s name.

The bishop’s face was peaceful, and his lips seemed to gently lift, smiling with satisfaction.

“Eugene?”

The king called again. He turned his side, and the bishop fell into his arms, the king embracing him, and the bishop lying in his arms.

“Eugene?” The king called again.

Everything around was extremely quiet, the bishop’s face resting on his chest, never so gentle before.

Vaguely, it seemed that there was something hard pressing against his body in the air, as if something was about to break out from inside him…

“To protect this world, I won’t allow it to collapse.”

A tearing pain in his chest, roaring in his head, breathing difficult, the flow of blood seemed extremely slow, he could hardly feel his body…

The king picked up the bishop, turned around and ran outside, shouting loudly, “Doctor, I need a doctor—” The king was at a loss and bowed his head suddenly to find that the bishop’s lips had quickly turned dark purple. The naturally disabled left leg suddenly felt a painful spasm. The king kneeled on the ground, his trembling hand stroking the bishop’s face, “Eugene, don’t be like this, Eugene, don’t punish me like this, I was wrong, I confess to you, forgive me, forgive me, God—”

*

The most respected Eugene Archbishop on the entire continent dramatically died on the eve of his ascension to Pope, and the murderer was Duke Sharman, who poisoned the coffee. There are rumors that Sharman wanted to murder his brother but killed the bishop by mistake.

In the religious trial, Duke Sharman was stripped of his identity as a believer and repented until his death, a judgment rejected by the royal court, and Sharman was sentenced to be hanged.

This was the only sentence that the Auston Emperor had defied the religious court in.

The Emperor of the Auston Continent showed great respect for religion, and after achieving complete unity, the scepter of the Pope was placed in front of the deceased Eugene Archbishop’s tomb, who had baptized the emperor. He was the only Pope in the entire continent, and the emperor’s respect for him exceeded anyone, even arranging his own tomb near the Pope’s tomb, not the royal tomb of Hacat.

The move was opposed by the royal family, but the emperor paid no attention to it and gave no reasons.

After the emperor’s death, most of the emperor’s letters and wills were published, and the answer was found in the text.

In a letter to the Chief Guard, Brune, his uncle and chief opponent of the emperor’s capricious behavior, the emperor wrote, “He is my lord, my god, my father. If I cannot sleep by his side for long, death will lose its final hope for me. Only by his side can I find peace…”

His consciousness gradually faded, and he felt his body becoming incredibly weak, his life force rapidly draining away. Landes could finally close his eyes, having fulfilled his mission to bring unity and peace to the world, and could now face death calmly.

Eugene.

I believe in God now. Will I find your figure in heaven? Or perhaps, little devil, will you await me in hell?

His white eyelashes trembled faintly.

“Boom—”

The entire earth seemed to tremble in response.

In the preparation room, lake-green eyes opened.

Volume Four: Stinky Gutter