Chapter 111: The Pope
Scarlett stared at the skeleton behind the desk, its fingers moving in a mechanical blur as it processed paperwork. She wanted to ask for an update, but the words felt like they were stuck in her throat.
Beside her, Kula's stomach let out an ill-timed, hollow roar.
The skeleton didn't pause. It picked up a document, slammed a seal down, moved it to the next pile, and repeated the cycle. Finally, Scarlett couldn't take the silence anymore.
"Um... excuse me... is there any news?"
The skeleton didn't look up. "Wait with patience. Or cancel the commission."
Scarlett bit her lip and went silent. Their entire life savings—two gold crowns—had already been submitted as an advance. If no one accepted the contract, the money would be refunded, but their plan to save their sister would turn to ash.
Time bled away. The atmosphere in the lightless room became increasingly oppressive. Mona had already fallen asleep against Eris's shoulder, letting out rhythmic, tiny snores.
Just as Scarlett felt hope beginning to flicker out, the skeleton stopped moving. It tilted its skull, staring at the four conscious succubi. It picked up their mission form and slammed a chibi-skull seal onto the parchment.
"Discounted contract: Accepted."
"It... it was accepted?" Scarlett gasped, unable to believe her ears.
"Correct." The skeleton scrawled a few characters on a fresh sheet of bone-parchment and slid the agreement across the table. "The contract is now binding. Tomorrow at dawn, assemble outside the East Gate. Your escort will manifest of its own accord."
"Who took it? Can we meet him?"
"Access denied. Your clearance is insufficient," the clerk replied, returning to its endless mountain of bureaucracy. "Per the agreement: the escort shall reveal themselves only when necessary. At all other times, you are to ignore their existence."
With that, the skeleton ceased all sound. The five succubi shared a look of bewildered joy before slowly filing out of the Shadow Guard headquarters. The heavy door clicked shut behind them.
"We did it!" Kula cheered, nearly tackling Scarlett in a hug. "We're gonna eat! I mean... we're gonna save her!"
"Finally, some progress..." Chloe let out a sigh of relief.
"Stay sharp," Eris warned, her eyes narrowing. "You get what you pay for. A discount escort is a risk."
"Who cares!" Scarlett waved a hand dismissively. "As long as it's a subordinate of That Personage, there won't be a problem! That's the credit of the Empire talking! Let's get back and pack!"
Inside the Succubus Apartment.
"Kula! I told you, no smoked meat!" Scarlett yelled, trying to wrestle an oil-paper bundle from Kula's grip. "This is a rescue mission, not a picnic!"
"It's emergency rations! What if I starve on the road?!" Kula shrieked, hugging the meat with the strength of a dying woman.
In the corner, Mona was stuffing her favorite pillow into a backpack, yawning. "I need to be able to nap... even in the Theocracy..."
Eris was meticulously checking a nondescript dagger, testing the edge with her thumb, while Chloe stuffed various flavored star-candies into every available pocket.
The Next Day, Dawn.
Outside the East Gate of Iron Fortress, a biting wind swept across the stone. The five succubi, wrapped tightly in thick wool cloaks, stood huddling together and stomping their feet to keep the blood flowing. The gates were open, and the morning flow of merchant caravans and pedestrians cast curious glances at the cluster of horned girls.
Minutes turned into an hour. The sun had crested the horizon, yet the promised escort was nowhere to be found.
"Did we... get scammed?" Kula whispered, her stomach beginning its morning protest.
"No," Scarlett said firmly, though her eyes betrayed her doubt.
"Maybe he overslept?" Mona suggested.
Just as their patience reached its limit, a voice rang out without warning. It didn't come from any specific direction; it felt as though the sound had crawled directly out of their own shadows.
"Target confirmed. Succubi: Five units."
The girls jumped, clutching each other in a terrified huddle as they scanned the empty clearing. There was no one there.
"Who? Who's there?!"
"Your escort," the voice replied, laced with a sleepy, decadent laziness. "I am already within your shadows."
Scarlett looked down. Her shadow, stretched long by the morning sun, looked perfectly ordinary.
"Per the agreement: I shall intervene only when a lethal threat beyond your capabilities manifests. At all other times, assume I am absent." The voice paused. "Move out."
With that, the presence vanished. The girls stood in a daze.
"That... that's our guard?" Kula asked, pointing at the dirt.
Mona nodded blearily. "Seems... a bit sketchy."
"Let's go," Eris said, taking the first step. "Regardless, we've already paid. There's no turning back now."
Scarlett gritted her teeth and followed. She prayed those two gold coins weren't just a donation to the wind.
The Holy Empire of Gusteko, The Holy City.
Inside the Great Cathedral of Rostarn, murals of the Genesis stretched across the vaulted dome. The Pope, clad in robes of pure white and gold filigree, sat upon his throne. His face was a mask of unreadable stone. Below him, twelve Cardinals stood in a rigid, solemn vigil.
One elderly Cardinal stepped forward, bowing low. "Your Holiness... the Rite of Divine Punishment has ended in failure."
The result was already known to everyone in the room. They had mobilized the collective Faith accumulated by the Empire over centuries, attempting to invoke a Divine Strike to wipe the Undead Empire from the map. The result had been a minor energy storm over Evernight and a massive wave of mental trauma for the participating priests.
"However..." the Cardinal continued, his tone shifting. "We did not come away entirely empty-handed. At the moment the ritual collapsed, we captured a thread of power leaking from a temporal rift."
He opened his hand. A sphere of flickering, pale light hovered above his palm. The space surrounding it distorted with a subtle, nauseating ripple.
"This is... the power of Time," the Pope's voice echoed through the hall.
"Yes, Your Holiness. According to our analysis, this energy is sufficient to support a one-way transmission. We can send two souls back into the past."
A graveyard silence filled the cathedral. To reverse time. To strike at the root of the error.
"The price?"
"The absolute annihilation of the two souls," the Cardinal replied. "They will be erased from all timelines. No reincarnation. No afterlife. To change destiny, a total sacrifice is required. Furthermore, the energy is too weak to carry anything beyond the second tier of power."
Silence. Long and heavy.
"We require two volunteers," a Cardinal known for his fanaticism remarked. "Two warriors possessed of the purest faith, willing to offer everything—including their very existence—for the sake of the Empire."
"They cannot be Holy Knights, nor high-ranking clergy," another added. "Their disappearance would cause too much friction. we need two... unremarkable souls."
All eyes converged on the Pope. He closed his eyes as if seeking council from the Heavens. Finally, he reopened them.
"Their objective?"
"To return to the past, locate the Sovereign of Evernight, and terminate him while he is at his weakest."
The Pope rose from his throne, descending the steps. He approached the sphere of temporal energy, reaching out to brush its cold surface.
"Search among the death-row inmates of the Inquisition."
"Search among the desperate ranks of the adventurers."
"Find those driven mad by their own piety."
The Pope's voice filled every corner of the sanctuary.
"In the name of the Spirit, we shall correct this broken world."
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