"If I remember correctly, World Serpent was originally a religion—a faith devoted to the god of Salvation."
Otto began pacing across the room, as composed and self-assured as he had been earlier before Jackal.
"To human believers, a god is the manifestation of will and authority, the embodiment of their own joy, the projection of their hopes. It is the extension of life's tension in pursuit of victory and happiness. Through action, they believe their lord will grant what they desire."
"Yes, that's right—the self. The true subject is always the self. Even those with a savior complex begin with the desire to realize their own value."
"To revere a god, to believe in power—at the very beginning, it is in fact to satisfy one's own needs."
He paused, then sighed softly.
"Indeed. To have faith is to have longing. Every believer begins with personal need, gradually 'evolving' into devout piety that forgets the self."
Then Otto's gaze shifted to Grey Serpent, a faint smile curving his lips.
"So, Mr. Grey Serpent—why not guess how many among World Serpent have already 'evolved'? And how many remain mere mortals still in the process?"
"You ascend to the pinnacle of your church's authority, yet cannot even guarantee your own survival. Tell me—how much disrespect will those 'mortals' begin to harbor toward World Serpent because of that?"
He lifted his chin slightly, a trace of arrogance entering his expression.
"Furthermore, your so-called salvation is far from visible. I understand what you are doing—but those passionate would-be saviors do not. And even if they knew, they might not understand."
"And clearly, Schicksal's salvation appears more evident. More righteous."
"Your doctrine is vague and intangible, devoid of visible action. Your supreme preacher stands defeated and captured, receiving no protection from his lord."
"—So tell me, will your believers continue hiding in the shadows, clinging to unrealistic ideals? Or will they selfishly bide their time, selling off an organization that cannot protect its own clergy nor openly achieve salvation—for a decent price?"
"Survival or death? Faith or betrayal?"
"No matter what—when you, unable to confront Schicksal, choose to abandon your own preacher, World Serpent will already be riddled with cracks."
Otto stopped walking. Placing his right hand over his chest, his voice rose and fell like one reciting an ancient hymn:
"When the tower of faith collapses—oh millennia-old servant of God—where will you hear the prayers of man?"
After a brief thought, he added with a smile:
"Of course, you could always use World Serpent's advanced technology to rewrite everyone's cognition. I would very much look forward to seeing you reduce my opponent from human to puppet by such means."
"…"
Grey Serpent took a step back. His face remained concealed in shadow, but the air around him no longer carried mystery—only caution.
"What does Schicksal want?"
After a long silence, the synthesized voice echoed again.
"What World Serpent can offer."
Otto answered immediately—without hesitation. A statement, not a question.
They held each other's gaze. The shadow spoke in fragments, as if considering and discarding possibilities, while Otto merely watched with a genial smile, patient and unhurried.
"…The Serpent will present a price satisfactory to Schicksal."
At last, as though unable to endure Otto's unwavering stare, Grey Serpent left behind a hurried sentence and fled swiftly through the door.
Otto did not stop him. Watching the retreating shadow, his eyes darkened slightly.
"Satisfactory to Schicksal? Or satisfactory to me?"
His voice was soft.
After all—
I am the most greedy man in this world.
Turning around, he found himself before the stored Scepters of Duat. He collected the remaining two and addressed Cecilia, who still maintained a combat stance.
"Relax, Cecilia. Grey Serpent will not return to humiliate himself."
"Mhm." Cecilia straightened, hands resting on Abyss Flower. "I think so too, Bishop."
"Oh?" Otto frowned slightly. "Did you strain your wound?"
"It's… mostly healed," she shook her head. "Just a bit unsteady when I shift my weight."
"Then lean on me." Otto stepped forward, allowing her to take his arm. "We can't very well have Schicksal's Saintess walking from London to headquarters using Abyss Flower as a cane."
A faint fragrance like lilies drifted from her.
Compared to her earlier innocence during amnesia, the Cecilia who had regained her memories carried a mature elegance—like aged wine unsealed after years, inviting one to savor its hidden bouquet.
Otto's nostrils flared ever so slightly. He narrowed his eyes in quiet contentment.
Of course he could construct a wheelchair—
But well… he was somewhat drained himself. Even Divine Keys were not omnipotent.
"Thank you, Bishop."
Cecilia did not think much of it. More than a decade ago, after they had played too recklessly, Otto had once supported her like this when she was mentally exhausted. It was only later that the distance between them gradually widened.
Her respect and admiration for him, however, had never changed.
That was why—even when his Honkai fission bomb had been about to take her life—her feelings had been no more than helpless resignation, a faint bitter smile. Not a trace of resentment had risen in her heart.
—And now, that helplessness had transformed into reverence and surprise.
The Bishop-brother had always treated her differently.
Even when she defied his will, the present Bishop had never regarded her as a disposable pawn, as he did others.
She understood his methods.
And precisely because she understood them, she was overjoyed by this unfathomable favoritism.
Cecilia dismissed Abyss Flower, stumbled slightly, and wrapped her hand around Otto's arm. She had not intended to rely on him too much—but when he tilted his head with a soft "Hm?" of inquiry, she smiled sheepishly and brought her other pale arm up as well.
The two walked slowly down the corridor. Otto deliberately slowed his pace so she would not struggle.
"Still planning to sightsee anywhere? I took a full month's leave from Amber."
"No need, Bishop." Cecilia stuck out her tongue playfully. "Four years of traveling—I'm already more than satisfied."
"Oh?" Otto lifted his free hand and tapped her forehead with practiced ease. "You've started teasing me now, have you?"
"I wouldn't dare." Her eyes sparkled with liveliness.
"As I told you when you had lost your memory," Otto said gently, "the road you needed to walk has already been walked. Where you go next is entirely your freedom."
"Freedom…"
Her gaze grew distant for a moment. Then, as if recalling something, sorrow flickered faintly within her eyes.
Unwilling to let that emotion reach the man beside her, she quickly changed the subject.
"By the way, Bishop—why did you explain everything so clearly to that intruder?"
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