Valethia, the grand holy city, stood as the absolute spiritual heart of the empire, and the sacred sanctuary where Saint Solenne normally resided.
Walking through the grand, sunlit corridors of the main cathedral was Prince Damien. Clad in his immaculate white and gold royal regalia, he looked the absolute part of a benevolent, chosen savior. Beside him, was Kael, the ex-hero, his lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead like an obedient ghost.
As Damien passed, young nuns and lower priests pressed their hands together, bowing deeply while whispering in awe of the first prince’s blinding charisma. Damien turned to them, offering his signature, exceptionally warm smile. But beneath that perfect mask of princely virtue, Damien’s mind was a swirling vortex of pure rage.
He approached the grand mahogany doors of the High Sanctum, where Archbishop Malakai stood waiting, his holy robes rustling against the polished floor.
"Your Imperial Highness, Prince Damien," the Archbishop greeted, offering a respectful bow. "To what do we owe the honor of your sudden visit to Valethia? The grand ritual is not scheduled until the prophesied rebirth of the Demon King."
Damien maintained his gentle, benevolent expression, though his knuckles whitened slightly beneath his silk gloves. "Archbishop Malakai, I come on an urgent matter regarding the upcoming summoning. As you know, the ritual requires the unique, divine mana of the Saint to anchor the hero's soul safely to our empire's matrix. Without her blessing, the summoning could fluctuate, or worse... my siblings might find a loophole to interfere."
Damien paused, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his warm smile. "I wish to speak with Saint Solenne immediately. Where is she?"
Archbishop Malakai swallowed hard, looking incredibly nervous. "Actually... Saint Solenne is no longer present here."
Damien’s brows instantly furrowed. A twitch of disturbance cracked his calm facade, though he forcefully maintained his steady tone. "What?"
Sweat beaded on the Archbishop's forehead. "Yes, Your Highness. A week ago, she received a silent oracle from the Goddess-"
Before the old man could even finish his sentence, Damien’s composure snapped. He stepped forward aggressively. "What?! And she dared to depart without reporting it to the Royal Family?!"
The Archbishop shrank back, thoroughly terrified by the prince's sudden outburst. "Y-yes, Your Highness..."
Realizing he had let his mask slip, Damien took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair, forcing his breathing to stabilize as he masked his erratic emotions. But inside his mind, a twisted, chaotic torrent of thoughts erupted: 'Ah, Solenne... are you trying to avoid me? You can't, and you won't. I will hunt you down... Oh, Solenne, I hate you so much, yet I love you. I will make you mine. You belong to me.'
Suppressing the madness, Damien looked back at the trembling priest. "Then where is she headed?"
Malakai hastily answered, desperate to appease the royal. "She stated she was heading toward the northeast. She did not provide a specific location because she herself did not know the exact spot of the anomaly. However, rumors have begun to spread that she has been spotted in various towns along the way. I suppose she is visiting every city across the Valerius continent to investigate."
Hearing this, Damien's warm, princely smile flawlessly snapped back onto his face. "Thank you for the valuable information, Archbishop."
Seeing the prince calm down so quickly, Malakai let out a quiet sigh of relief, completely fooled once again.
Long ago, the words of the Saint were absolute, holding the highest authority in the land. But over the years, the insidious influence of the Royal Family had been steadily gnawing away at Valethia's sovereignty. Through careful manipulation and political pressure, the crown had successfully conquered seventy to eighty percent of the Valerius Empire's total authority, leaving the once-mighty church to bow under the shadow of the throne. Separation of powers? What a joke.
Damien then left Valethia to begin his search for the Saint, setting out to personally visit every single city in the northeast to track her down.
Inside the moving carriage, isolated from the world, Damien stared out the window and murmured to himself. "Ah... I wonder, how can I make Solenne genuinely like me?" He watched the scenery roll past the glass. "If I become the Emperor, will she finally obey me? No... Solenne’s position itself is almost on par with the Emperor. The Emperor and the Saint are practically a package deal. But I truly wonder, how has she not fallen from grace? So many people fall once they reach the top; they begin to taste power and authority, and it corrupts them. But you, Solenne... you are completely different. You are still as pure as ever."
A dark, twisted sense of arousal flushed through Damien’s expression. "You are my white lily, Solenne. The harder you are to catch, the more it makes me crave you. But... if I somehow lose my patience, do not blame me for doing things the hard way."
He spoke his madness aloud without a single care. The carriage was reinforced with an invisible magical barrier that rendered it entirely soundproof, ensuring that the royal guards and the coachman outside could not hear a single word of the dark murmurs escaping the prince's mouth.
Growing bored of his own thoughts, Damien shifted his gaze to the silent figure sitting across from him. A cold calculation brewed in his mind. 'Kael... the previous Hero. He is the sole surviving summon from the previous party that fought alongside Father. They managed to survive and slay the Demon King, but I still have no idea how Father reduced him to this state. And then, one day, Father turned it into a challenge among us siblings stating that whoever won the wager would claim him as a bodyguard. A doll that completely, flawlessly obeys.'
Damien stared deeply into the hollow sockets of the former savior. 'Father... what kind of monster are you?'
"Kael," Damien spoke aloud, curiosity getting the better of him. "Do you truly have no hope left within you? I am simply curious."
Kael’s mechanical gaze snapped directly toward him. "Master, my body exists only to be ordered around by you."
Damien let out a heavy sigh, waving his hand dismissively. "No, that is not the answer I was hoping for. I mean, why... why are you even in this state?"
Kael froze. His vacant eyes drifted downward, a slight, unnatural tremor passing through his lips. "I... I just don't know."
Damien sighed once more, leaning back against the plush leather. "Well, whatever. As long as you remain absolutely obedient to me, we won't have a problem."
Inside his mind, however, Damien's suspicion only grew darker. 'What kind of terrifying trick did you pull, Father, to hollow Kael out like this? Even my own [Charm] spell cannot force a soul into this level of absolute, lifeless submission.'
Damien was remarkably powerful in his own right, even without Kael by his side. But as a deeply cautious and calculating man, he kept the broken Hero close as his ultimate precaution.
Following that brief, eerie conversation, the interior of the carriage fell into an absolute, suffocating silence as it sped toward the northeastern territories.