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The Four Eastern Stars Ventures into the Labyrinth, While the Masked Boy Leaves – Part 05

Since Marius was over a decade older than Selyse, romantic involvement seemed unlikely. Besides, there hadn’t been any hints of Selyse getting romantically involved with anyone since Serika joined the Four Eastern Stars, and even before that, according to what she’d heard from Sophie.

Sophie, born into a family of clergy, had begun her training as a cleric from a young age. Sara had been living as a wanderer, but fortunately she hadn’t veered into the path of evil and had chosen the life of an adventurer.

Serika had heard snippets about the past of these two, but Selyse seemed reluctant to divulge her own history.

Selyse began her adventuring career first, then met Sophie, and subsequently Sara. Since Sophie belonged to the Church, she was more being lent to the party.

When Serika first met her, Selyse had already adopted an air of elegance reminiscent of nobility. But apparently she wasn’t of noble descent. If Selyse were initially from a noble lineage and had fallen from grace due to certain circumstances, she would likely behave more discreetly, but she always carried herself with confidence.

“You’re a woman of many mysteries!” Serika remarked.

Selyse chuckled. “Do you distrust those with secrets?”

“Not at all! I’d trust you with my life!”

Selyse was taken aback by Serika’s straightforwardness. “That’s… quite an honor. Hearing that from you in particular means a lot to me.”

“I’m sure Sara and Sophie feel the same way!”

The two glanced over, curious about the conversation.

“I know. Thank you. I’ll make sure not to let you down,” Selyse said. “Shall we press on? We have a mission to accomplish.”

“Yeah! Let’s wrap this up quickly! And then—”

Just as Serika was about to add “we can head back to Japan together,” she remembered the complication with executing the spell for crossing worlds.

“Ugh, seriously! It’s one headache after another!”

Serika’s frustration echoed through the expansive cavern.

---

Out of the blue, an ominous mountain had appeared in the distance, visible through the impeccably polished glass.

Deep within the holy city of Agiapole, nestled within the Tower—though resembling a castle, it was referred to as a Tower since a clergy possessing wealth and military was not a good look—was a spacious chamber devoid of decorations, save for the imposing table that dominated its center. Crafting such a table would require a hefty sum.

Presently, the table was littered with an array of documents as priests convened for a meeting.

“Currently, the roads are open, but wouldn’t it be wise to warn merchants about the lurking danger of monsters?”

“If we do that, prices might shoot up. Inflation is already rampant due to the Einbiest army’s presence.”

“We don’t have plenty of reserves, though we’re gradually accumulating more.”

“It’s a good thing we have plenty of confiscated assets. A blessing in disguise. Even if prices soar, we can redistribute to the citizens.”

“But that wealth isn’t inexhaustible. Either way, we must soon announce the closure of the roads.”

Not long ago, these sincere, honest, and earnest individuals had been sidelined by corrupt archpriests and clergy.

Confiscated assets referred to the wealth of those exposed and punished for their corruption.

As for the actual punishments—many were executed.

Pope Luvain had carried out these actions. The catastrophe of the Accursed Toxin was brought about by the orders of the previous pope, leading to the invasion of the Theocracy of Bios by the Confederacy of Einbiest and further demands for hefty reparations from the Kingdom of Ponsonia and the Quinbrand Empire. The assets amassed by the punished individuals had all been seized, and despite the considerable amount, it seemed destined to be depleted for payments to various countries and to alleviate inflation. And yet it still didn’t seem enough.

“If I may,” Luvain said.

“His Holiness is about to speak,” his attendant announced.

Instantly, the meeting room fell silent. Even now, Luvain wasn’t accustomed to this special treatment. It made his skin crawl, and at times, left him queasy.

The former pope and the archpriests surrounding him had likely grown accustomed to this special treatment, accepting it as a natural thing. It might even lead one to perceive themselves as a special entity and regard ordinary citizens as inferior and insignificant. Was this sentiment the primary catalyst behind resorting to such a cruel poison as the Accursed Toxin? Luvain found himself pondering these thoughts from time to time.

All those present were gaunt. Understandable, considering they had led modest lives and engaged in charitable endeavors like the saints of yore. But now, elevated in status, they all held positions above that of priests. Within Agiapole, priests wielded influence over the management of the vast city, and with the power to converse directly with the highest authority, Pope Luvain, many merchants sought to curry favor.

Perhaps some of these individuals will eventually grow accustomed to this special treatment.

Luvain believed that the nausea he felt was proof that he was still in the right mind.

“I believe we’ve finished discussing the major agenda. Therefore, I will now decide what we do next. First, regarding the budget allocation for the operation of Agiapole…”

As Luvain began to pronounce decisions on the matters demanding resolution, the priests listened with bowed heads, as if receiving a divine edict.

How long will these individuals truly remain as churchmen? Or perhaps, some of them have already started colluding with merchants. Feigning loyalty but secretly backstabbing.

Luvain harbored genuine trust in only a handful of individuals, so few that they could be counted on one hand. At the current state, it was easier to trust adversaries like Gerhardt, the Leader of the Confederacy, because of their common interests.

Why am I so paranoid?

He knew the answer.

The previous pope succumbed to the Accursed Toxin. It was an enhanced version concocted by the mad scientist Ranna, rendering existing medicines ineffective.

Silver Face was the one who poisoned the pope, but not with the intent to kill him. Silver Face had bestowed upon Luvain a higher level of healing magic capable of countering the enhanced version of the Accursed Toxin. While Luvain was unaware of the Soul Board, he had learned of the treatment from Silver Face, put it into practice, and knew he could cure it. And Luvain watched the previous pope suffer in his presence without doing anything.

The previous pope likely believed that Luvain had made every effort to treat him until the very end. Ultimately, Luvain knew that he himself was the embodiment of duplicity.

“That would be all. I hope everyone will endeavor to overcome this crisis.”

As Luvain concluded, a chorus of agreement filled the room. Luvain watched as everyone departed eagerly with a clear sense of purpose.

“…”

His gaze, unlike that of a leader gently observing diligent subordinates, bore the intensity of someone hunting for a thief who had stolen gold coins.

There were mountains of decisions to be made as the Church’s foremost figure, mountains of documents to process, and mountains of analyses to comprehend. The previous pope had divided these responsibilities to others—divided, to put it kindly, but in reality he dumped the work on them—and lightened his own workload.

But Luvain took on everything himself. The primary reason being there was no one he could rely on. At this rate, he would eventually collapse—both in terms of managing work and his mental well-being.

The rational part of my mind understands that.

He never thought he had such a human-like, fragile aspect to him.

“If only the issue of the Great Labyrinth could be resolved, things would be simpler,” he muttered to no one in particular.

On the table, Luvain’s hand had been resting on a written report concerning the Great Labyrinth of Runay-aas.

They had lost contact with Gerhardt. Adventurer parties had been dispatched from Ponsonia, thanks to the efforts of Leonie, one of the few clerics Luvain could trust. However, sending the adventurers didn’t guarantee a resolution to the dungeon issue.

He’s absent at times like these.

Occasionally, Luvain thought about the mysterious figure with the silver mask.

They shared no common interests, and he didn’t even know his true identity. Yet strangely enough, he placed his trust in him. If Luvain were to describe their relationship, it would be “co-conspirators”.

Reclining in his chair, Luvain let out a long sigh. He considered it an unfavorable habit to rely on Silver Face for everything. Very detrimental. He couldn’t effectively lead the Church with such a mindset.

But even so…

As an archpriest, Luvain had tirelessly served the Church without revealing himself. He had devoted every fiber of his being to the organization that the word “workaholic” would not be enough to describe him.

To Luvain’s own surprise, deep within his being lay someone that longed for Silver Face’s appearance.

Thinking about him momentarily frees me from all trivial constraints.

It offered temporary relief. A few minutes later, one of his attendants would arrive, hurrying Luvain to his next appointment. At that moment, Luvain would embody the ideal papal figure envisioned by the priests—solemn yet compassionate, as always.