Montillo, the Holy Son of Decay, lay on the ground staring up at the vast expanse of sky.
His eyes were wide open.
From the moment of his birth to every single event of every passing year and day, memories flashed through his chaotic mind, gradually bringing a stinging ache to the corners of his eyes.
Just moments ago, he had launched a surprise attack on two mafia grunts.
The next second, he was flat on his back.
A resounding slap had knocked him awake.
"Tsk."
Toriardo shook his hand. As a mage, delivering a barehanded slap stung quite a bit.
"Whose crew do you run with? You've got some nerve."
Toriardo could not help but feel a flicker of admiration for this fellow.
In all his years as a cardinal, this was the first time he had ever seen a Resurrection Church cultist seek death so aggressively.
Granted, the two of them were essentially the bottom two cardinals in current standing, but that still was not a level any mere Holy Son or Holy Maiden could just strike on a whim.
"Do you have any idea how much damage a heavy slap does to a person?"
Lanqi glanced down at the Holy Son of Decay as if unable to bear the sight, saying to Toriardo beside him.
"..."
Hearing Lanqi's words, the Holy Son of Decay finally felt his eyes turn red, an overwhelming sense of grievance welling in his chest.
"Who... who on earth are you..."
Having seen stars from the blow, his near-fainting mind finally began to turn. He recalled the two varieties of ancient radiance he had glimpsed right before being knocked down, and terror promptly seized his thoughts.
Those were without question Original Slates.
The Holy Son of Decay was all too familiar with that kind of luminescence; his mentor, Decay Cardinal Farmer, possessed the Original Slate - Corrosion.
And just moments ago, flashing briefly amid the wind and snow, that obsidian-like profound luster had surely been the Original Slate - Sealing, while the translucent silver had obviously been the Original Slate - Space.
Both were slates that only Cardinal Bishops of the Resurrection Church ought to possess!
"Just passing, well-meaning citizens of Brillda."
Toriardo thrust both hands back into his pockets, bending over to look down at Montillo.
"Di-Dimension Cardinal, Toriardo..."
Montillo clenched his teeth hard as he stared at the man.
"Lord Toriardo, th-this is a misunderstanding! I had no intention of offending you!"
He struggled to steady his composure as he begged for mercy.
The only person who could hold the Space Slate was that elusive, mysterious Cardinal of Dimensions, Toriardo—a cardinal rumored to have the mildest temper of them all.
Montillo was utterly baffled as to why the Cardinal of Dimensions was here, disguised as a mafia grunt!
This was as wretchedly unlucky as being struck by a meteorite!
"Excuse me, have you seen Nikolai?"
The gentler cardinal asked.
A black centipede brand crawled across his right cheek.
Just moments ago, Montillo's primary target had been him.
From Montillo's perspective, this man's mana had seemed quite weak, while Toriardo's mana had been utterly imperceptible, so naturally, he had intended to eliminate the one who posed some slight combat capability first.
Yet the moment Montillo's blow landed, he realized something was terribly wrong; he could not budge the man in the slightest.
Immediately after came Toriardo's spatial palm strike.
"Cardinal... of Passionate Love..."
The Holy Son of Decay trembled as he uttered the name.
Toriardo being a cardinal was one thing, but as for the fellow beside him holding the Sealing Slate, Montillo had heard about him from Decay Cardinal Farmer.
Over half a year ago, a replacement had occurred among the cardinals of the Northern Continent.
The fallen cardinal had been Askson, and the new cardinal was called Passionate Love. This Cardinal of Passionate Love had to be the new bearer of the Sealing Slate.
Anyone capable of killing Extinction Cardinal Askson was undoubtedly something far more terrifying than Askson himself.
"Nikolai is definitely in that shipping container area."
Unable to deduce what the two wanted, Montillo could only answer truthfully.
Right now, the two cardinals were the butchers and he was the meat on the chopping block; he could only pray that out of consideration for Decay Cardinal Farmer, they would spare his life.
Under normal circumstances, cardinals did not break the rules to slaughter the Holy Sons or Maidens of other branches.
Yet today, it was not the cardinals who had pursued him—he had initiated an attack on the cardinals! That completely changed the nature of the situation!
"I—I can help you capture Nikolai!"
Upon second thought, Montillo figured that these two cardinals had likely come to kill Nikolai as well. Nikolai had made far too many enemies with the Resurrection Church in Brillda recently. If he helped them capture Nikolai, they might let him off the hook.
"Huh? You want to capture Nikolai?"
Toriardo squinted his left eye and asked with disdain.
It seemed this Holy Son of Decay was thoroughly bent on causing trouble today.
"Not only did you attack us, but you also want to seize a police officer? Do you have no concept of the law?"
Lanqi exclaimed in astonishment.
"...Aren't you... aren't you here to capture Nikolai?"
Montillo's heart turned completely cold. His trembling, contracted pupils fixed on the two as he asked.
"I already said we're well-meaning citizens. That means we're here to help Officer Nikolai catch bad guys. Didn't you just walk straight into our crosshairs?"
Toriardo scoffed.
"A wonderful life walks hand-in-hand with the rule of law. Student, it seems you need to spend some time in prison reflecting on your actions. Assaulting an officer is a serious violation of the law. You're lucky you ran into us, so we can correct you promptly."
Lanqi nodded with gentle sincerity.
The Holy Son of Decay asked his questions, and the two cardinals answered entirely to their own tune.
"Stop joking! How could Cardinal Bishops of the Resurrection Church help a petty secret agent chief like Nikolai?! Aren't you criminals yourselves?!"
The cardinals' answers echoed in Montillo's ears like incessant thunderclaps, threatening to churn his wrinkled brain into mush.
In his eyes at this moment, these two cardinals were more horrifying than any other.
They could not be killed—that was a visceral, physical terror; they could not be comprehended—that was a terror that obliterated logic and reason; and they refused to converse like normal human beings—that was a terror that severed all emotional sensibility.
Realizing there was no chance of escape and that he was completely alone in this plaza, dread and fury wove into bloodshot veins across Montillo's eyes.
Lanqi shook his head.
Seeing Montillo's glare, he reached into the inner pocket of his grey coat and produced a document issued by the Creti Empire—
[Certificate of No Criminal Record]
[Upon verification, Subject: Landry Washington; Nationality/Region: Creti Empire / Nyxasende Province / Karenr Town; Identification: Imperial Identity Document; No criminal record found.]
The footer was stamped with the official seal of the Capital Brillda Imperial Special Operations Division.
He proudly displayed it to Montillo, pointing at the text with his other finger, leaving everything unsaid.
"Stylin', brother. You actually got one of those issued?"
Toriardo remarked in surprise.
"Nikolai stamped it for me himself."
Lanqi tucked the certificate away, returning it to his pocket, and looked down at the Holy Son of Decay once more, his gaze silently asking: *Well?*
"..."
Montillo's throat choked up completely.
Don't be fooled by how gentle and decent this Cardinal of Passionate Love seemed.
He would kill you with a smile while speaking to you with utmost courtesy!
This kind was the most deranged type of cardinal.
Professor Landry... was the Cardinal of Passionate Love?
No one had noticed.
No one had realized such a terrifying figure had slipped into the Creti Empire.
"All right, Dean Tori, take this student away."
Dropping the mafia act, Lanqi clasped his hands behind his back and addressed Toriardo.
"Off to a youthful school-prison retreat, then."
Toriardo tapped his finger toward the Holy Son of Decay, who was suppressed and bound by the spatial barrier. A translucent vortex abruptly manifested before the immobilized Montillo on the ground, twisting and sucking his entire body inside.
On the snow-covered ground of the mafia harbor plaza, only a human-shaped indentation remained, while the Holy Son of Decay had vanished completely.
"Is this the supremacy of spatial magic?"
Lanqi was amazed by its convenience. He had never seen Toriardo use this move before.
It forcibly remanded Montillo into a prison space.
"It only works on enemies who have lost the ability to fight or willing allies, and the mana consumption isn't light. It's really just a utility storage spell for daily life."
Toriardo held out his hands in explanation.
He had never been particularly adept at offensive spatial magic—it was simply his nature—whereas utility magic came naturally to him.
Spatial magic was inherently an aptitude that relied purely on innate talent, with virtually no way to learn it from scratch.
"Between the seven of you great demons, you really can't scrape together a single main carry. You're all supports and healers,"
Lanqi remarked.
On the present-day Southern Continent battlefield, healers and supports among eighth-tier heroic units were exceedingly rare, yet among these demon realm veterans, one couldn't find a single pure damage-dealer like Lord of Blasphemy Melogas or Lord of Infinite Might Oglin.
"Actually, a demon's innate talents and traits are subtly reflected in their personality. It's probably precisely because our aggressiveness wasn't that high that we survived outside the warmonger faction,"
Toriardo explained, shaking his head.
"No wonder Hyperion is so good at running away. Her personality and talents are completely aligned."
Lanqi rested his chin in his hand, murmuring in thought.
"She'd be heartbroken if she heard that, meow..."
Boss Cat surfaced from Lanqi's shadow and chimed in with a retort.
Lanqi was now showing a tendency to treat everyone equally regarding his daily quests, attempting to break Talia's monopoly.
"By the way, what do you plan to do with the Holy Son of Decay now that he's captured?"
Toriardo asked Lanqi.
If this seventh-tier Holy Son were dumped at Abigail's place, Abigail would surely fly into a rage, hurling crates at him and throwing him out as well.
"Put him in the underground mafia palace. It's vacant right now anyway, perfect to use as a prison later, meow,"
Boss Cat suggested.
At present, their Silver Moon Restoration Society alliance only had three hidden bases available.
Excluding Abigail's place since it was frequently used as a meeting point, the remaining viable spatial barriers were either Landry's residence or the Brillda Mafia's underground facility.
It certainly didn't want a Holy Son of Decay locked up in the basement at home.
"That works. Who's going to interrogate him?"
Lanqi was confident they had plenty to discuss with the Holy Son.
However, the Poet of Great Love had been disobedient these past two days.
No matter how he summoned her, she refused to come out.
If he asked her to interrogate Montillo, she would probably go on strike as well.
To use the Poet of Great Love's power, he would have to ask Talia to fuse with her first, but Talia was hardly skilled at interrogation.
"Leave it to Iphatia. Interrogation is her specialty—as brutal as it gets,"
Toriardo answered.
"..."
Lanqi pondered for a moment.
He recalled that the first time he met Iphatia, she had been holding a scalpel.
Still, it was hard to imagine a harmless-looking little sister like Iphatia torturing an enemy.
"You're not much better yourself, meow! Remember Teacher Lan's 'Mummy-Making Class That Even a Three-Year-Old Can Understand' at the Sanctuary Scoundrels' Banquet?"
Boss Cat read Lanqi's thoughts and floated before him with a speechless expression.
After returning from the Northern Continent, it had caught up on everything at Ikerite Academy.
It knew very well what Lanqi had done during his first two Shadow Worlds.
By the time Boss Cat truly understood Lanqi, however, it was already too late.
The reason Lanqi and Iphatia resembled siblings went beyond one acting like an old headmaster and the other like a little sister; it was their shared brand of madness—the ability to commit acts against humanity with utter calm.
A greyish-white veil of snow enveloped the entire city of Brillda, like a massive sheet of felt absorbing every sound from the plaza before the mafia's Port Hassel Building. On this cold Moon God Festival, the white landscape returned to its undisturbed stillness.
The snowflakes, fluffy as cotton, drifted down gently onto the shipping containers, draping the bare sheet iron in a coat of silver.
"Nikolai, come on out. We're not enemies."
Toriardo glanced in another direction and called out loudly toward the container area.
Lanqi followed Toriardo's gaze.
Toriardo was, after all, a proper mage by trade; his mana manipulation and sensory perception were on an entirely different level from a summoner like Lanqi. Toriardo had likely discovered Nikolai's location long ago.
No answer came from the rows of shipping containers. Only the fine snow continued to drift, keeping visibility across the plaza before the Port Hassel Building blurred.
After a long while, Nikolai, clad in an imperial military overcoat, walked out from behind a distant container corner.
His coat, which was normally without a single crease, now bore several scorch marks.
Or rather, once he confirmed that the man was the Resurrection Church's Cardinal of Dimensions, hiding became utterly pointless.
At this distance from an eighth-tier cardinal, the other party could lock onto him with a mere thought.
He stepped before the two of them.
"Cardinal of Dimensions, why did you save me?"
Kestrel Nikolai showed no fear, maintaining the straight, unyielding posture of an imperial officer like a chess piece.
Far too many bizarre things had occurred today.
When he had fallen into a desperate plight earlier, he assumed he was as good as dead.
He could deduce one plausible reason for Barton Hall saving him:
That was, Mafia Boss Barton had always remained loyal to Imperial Princess Alexia, and therefore chose to aid Nikolai in that critical moment.
Yet a Cardinal Bishop like the Cardinal of Dimensions, whose mind was notoriously chaotic, had virtually no connection to the imperial military. If anything, the military and the Dimension Branch—a syndicate of grey-market merchants—had long maintained a mild hostility.
Even the fact that these two had been the ones to contact Barton over the comms was surreal.
What kind of world had this become, where a Cardinal Bishop of the Resurrection Church was an ally of justice?
Chapter 827