In the deepest part of the Divine Capital, at the headquarters of the Temple, lies an office.
The room was small, even frugal.
The four walls are bare bluestone, without any decoration, except for a divine emblem of the Six Great Gods hanging on the north wall, its silvery metal gleaming dimly in the candlelight.
An old oak desk, two chairs, and a bookshelf.
There were no books on the bookshelf, only rows of neat folders—these were the Slane Theocracy's confidential archives from the past six hundred years, recording the country's deepest secrets.
Cardinal Raymond Zarg Zach Lord sat behind his desk, his hands clasped on the table, his gray eyes gazing through the candlelight at the figure standing by the window.
Certain Death wasn't wearing armor.
She wore a white robe, and her long, black and white hair cascaded over her shoulders, obscuring her pointed ears.
A suit of silver-white armor leaned against the door, the spear-scythe "Charon's Guidance" lying horizontally beside it, its blade still gleaming with a dark purple light.
That was the Elf King's blood. She had already wiped it away, but some things can't be wiped off.
You mean...?
Raymond Zarg spoke, his voice hoarse yet calm, carrying the composure characteristic of someone long accustomed to high positions.
"The Elf King's 'Behemoth,' was destroyed in a single blow by that person?"
"It's not simply about annihilation."
Certain Death turned around, leaned against the window frame, and looked at the Cardinal with his heterochromatic black and white eyes.
"It's been erased; the spot where that spear of light pierced through has vanished as if everything has disappeared."
She paused, seemingly recalling the scene.
"That Behemoth is the Elf King's absolute trump card. Its physical defense has been enhanced to the extreme. Among the Magic Caster of the Slane Theocracy, none can inflict effective damage on it. Even if the entire Black Scripture mobilized, it would still take a great deal of time and effort to defeat it."
"But that person..."
Her fingers tapped lightly on the window frame.
"He used only one strike. It was a power I had never seen before. Golden light condensed into a long spear, which he hurled. The part of Behemoth that was struck vanished silently, like a pencil mark erased by an eraser."
Raymond Zarg's brow furrowed slightly.
"Then what?"
"Then the Elf King collapsed."
Certain Death's tone was calm, but the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, carrying a hint of mockery.
"That madman who called himself 'Supreme,' treated his subjects as tools, and women as breeding machines, didn't even have the courage to resist after losing Behemoth. He tried to escape, but the black-armored warrior cut off his leg, the silver-haired paladin pinned his hands down, and then..."
She paused for a moment.
He crawled on the ground, crying like a dog.
Raymond Zarg fell silent.
He looked at Certain Death, at the light gleaming in those heterochromatic black and white eyes—
It wasn't a feeling of pleasure or relief, but something she couldn't quite explain herself.
"And you?"
He asked.
"Did you make a move?"
"They made their move. I was the one who started it all, and even..."
There was no concealment Certain Death.
"I attacked him with that 'deadly' attack."
Raymond Zarg's pupils contracted slightly.
The strongest innate ability of Certain Death is the ability to use weapons to unleash the weapon's killer move.
She also didn't know that a full-scale attack could inflict instant death on anything, including the undead and inanimate objects.
This is one of the Slane Theocracy's greatest trump cards, and it's also the reason why Certain Death is called "Certain Death".
"He's not dead."
"Certain Death," he said calmly, but his fingers tightened on the window frame.
"He has some means of resistance. It could be equipment, a skill, or a trump card left behind by the Eight Greed Kings, just like the Downfall of Castle and Country of the Slane Theocracy."
Raymond Zarg finished speaking for her.
Certain Death nodded.
The room fell silent.
The candlelight flickered between the two, casting swaying shadows on the wall.
Raymond Zarg leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes staring at the ceiling, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.
"Certain Death."
"Um."
"If, and I mean if, you were to fight that person, what would your chances of winning be?"
Certain Death remained silent for a moment.
"Zero."
She said she didn't hesitate.
Raymond Zarg's fingers stopped.
"So low?"
"It's not low."
Certain Death shook his head.
No, there isn't.
She walked to the desk, sat down in the chair opposite Raymond Zarg, placed her hands on her knees, and straightened her back.
"Cardinal, you didn't see that scene. You didn't sense that person's presence."
Her voice was very low, so low that it sounded like she was telling a secret that only the two of them could hear.
He stood there, doing nothing and saying nothing. But the air in the entire hall changed. It was as if his victory was a given.
"Of course?"
"Right."
Certain Death nodded.
"It was as if it were his natural right to stand there. It was his natural right to destroy Behemoth. It was his natural right to kill the Elf King. It was his natural right to end this war that had lasted for over a hundred years."
She paused.
"It wasn't that he felt he should do these things, but rather that these things were simply his responsibility. It was a strange feeling; I've never felt that way from anyone else."
Raymond Zarg remained silent for a long time.
He lowered his head and looked at a document spread out on the table.
That was a detailed report submitted by Thousand Miles Astrologer about all of Higashino Makoto and Momon's actions during their time in the Slane Theocracy.
From the moment they entered the country, to their contact with the Black Scripture, to their journey to the Elf Kingdom, to their killing of the Elf King, to their return to the Divine Capital omelets—every detail was meticulously recorded.
Raymond Zarg has already watched it three times.
Each time he looked at it, he discovered something new.
For example, that person never actively displayed strength.
At the border checkpoint, he sent his maid to negotiate while he sat in the carriage.
Those counterfeit gold coins made with magic.
During his meeting with the Black Scripture, he let the Ninth Seat speak first, while he listened quietly.
On the way to the Elf Kingdom, he let Certain Death make the first move, while he stood aside and watched.
Even in his battle with the Elf King, he only made his move after he was Certain Death and on the verge of death.
This is not cowardice, nor is it caution.
It's not that it's unnecessary.
He doesn't need to demonstrate his strength, because he knows he is strong enough.
He doesn't need to make the first move because he knows he can handle whatever his opponent does.
He doesn't need to prove anything, because he no longer needs to prove anything to anyone.
"Player."
Raymond Zarg uttered the word in a low voice.
Certain Death stared at him.
Are you sure?
"Uncertain."
Raymond Zarg shook his head.
"But this is currently the most reasonable explanation."
He stood up, walked to the bookshelf, pulled out a yellowed file from the top folder, placed it on the table, and opened it.
The first page of the file is a hand-drawn portrait.
Six figures stood atop the mountain, overlooking the plains below. The art style was rough, but one could see that the six people radiated light, like gods.
No, they are gods.
The Six Great Gods who belong to humankind.
"The Six Great Gods."
Raymond Zarg's fingers gently traced the portrait.
"Six hundred years ago, they descended from the sky, imparting magic, establishing nations, driving out other races, and allowing humanity to gain a foothold in the northwest corner of this continent."
He turned the page.
The second page contains another portrait.
Eight figures stood on the ruins, surrounded by the corpses of dragons.
The art style is rougher than the first one, but you can see that the eight people are more flamboyant and arrogant than the Six Great Gods.
"The Eight Greed Kings. Five hundred years ago, they defeated the True Dragon Lords, changed the magic system of this world, and then died due to internal strife and lifespan constraints."
He turned the page again. The third page showed an even smaller portrait.
A solitary figure, holding a long spear, stood beside the corpse of the demon god.
The art style is simple, but you can see the weariness and loneliness in that person's eyes.
"The captain of the Thirteen Heroes. Two hundred years ago, he led the Hero to defeat the demon god, and then he died."