The Pope's Command

Eternal Theocracy, Twenty-Second Ring.

Iver lay quietly within the vampire-sucking black thorns, his eyes tightly shut and his face pale as a corpse.

He wore the Eternal Pope's black-and-red robes, making it look as though dark red roses had been scattered all over his coffin.

Unlike the "dedicated" physical body.

At this moment, Iver existed in a mode entirely different from his usual one—

His consciousness enveloped the entire giant tree... or rather, at this moment, Iver and the Theocracy had already become one.

—It was considerably better than the state he had initially imagined.

When Iver learned that becoming the Eternal Pope meant idling here, he had instinctively viewed the position as an inescapable prison. In other words, Iver had accepted the Most Holy Crown with the mindset of, Fine, fine, fine, I'll take your place in prison.

But judging from the current situation... being a temporary pope was unexpectedly rather enjoyable.

He seemed to merge with heaven and earth, transforming into wisps of breeze, moonlight, and torchlight as he gently touched every existence within the giant tree.

He transformed into a radiant golden spirit and appeared on the streets of the Third Ring. In reality, it was not his spirit that had appeared there—if his soul descended here with the power of the Most Holy Crown, the entire street would probably blaze with light as bright as midday in the darkness.

Iver now resided in the interlayer between the Material Realm and the Dream Realm.

This place was like the Fairy Kingdom. It belonged neither to the Material Realm nor to the Dream Realm. Here, Iver and everyone else were "not on the same layer." No one could see or touch him.

And with a mere thought, Iver could appear anywhere in any layer at any time. He