Chapter 36

The Holy See was undoubtedly an extraordinary and special force on the Western Continent.

The glory of the Creator God shone upon all things in the world.

As servants of the gods and the beings closest to them, the Holy See possessed absolute authority and the right to handle certain matters.

Gadayat was a small country. To demonstrate its respect and reverence for the Holy See, it had specially built a towering, magnificent temple and a grand, imposing church in its royal capital, Kaies.

The church occupied an enormous area. Its walls were sturdy and thick, with semicircular archways and soaring domes... Its interior was decorated with exquisite murals and sculptures.

The front half of the church contained the central hall and prayer rooms where nobles and commoners came to pray each day, as well as more private rooms for mourning family members.

The rear half was an area only the church's clergy were permitted to enter.

Marco Case could only flee toward the back with Cyrus in his arms.

Fine relief patterns were carved into the corridor walls. The windows were set high up, but the stained glass paintings made the light dim.

The refracted light in the corridor created an atmosphere of mystery and solemnity.

Using the corners inside the church, Marco Case threw off the royal capital knights pursuing them relentlessly.

After waiting for the footsteps to gradually fade away,

he flashed into a room at the far end of the corridor with Cyrus in his arms.

Cyrus hurriedly struggled free and said, "You're injured."

Although he had been tucked under Marco Case's arm and was a little disoriented, he had heard the sound of a spear piercing flesh.

And there had been a distinct smell of blood.

Using the stolen weapon to support himself, Marco Case slowly leaned against the wall and sat down.

A knight's spear had pierced his back. Blood soaked through his robes, and his brow was tightly furrowed as he endured the pain. At Cyrus's words, he gave a bitter smile. "I'm old. My movements aren't as nimble anymore. Otherwise, I definitely could have taken you out of the church."

"Why did you save me?"

Cyrus looked puzzled, his gaze complicated. "By doing this, you've become Bass Riches's enemy..."

Marco Case shook his head. "If I don't stand with him, then I can only oppose him."

"How could I watch a child like you be killed before my eyes?"

"Besides, I could never agree to let Bass Riches become king. He plotted all of this and arranged for the murder of the prince and the entire royal family. His crimes are grave..."

"Bass Riches simply has no right to ascend the throne."

He said slowly, "Moreover, Bishop Bolton was involved as well. He violated the Holy See's sacred will. That is disrespect toward the Creator God."

"Thank you," Cyrus said sincerely. The situation earlier truly had been dangerous for him.

Marco Case had saved him.

Noisy, chaotic sounds continued drifting over from somewhere far beyond the room.

Someone had broken into the church, so there were not many knights pursuing them.

Just as Marco Case was about to respond, his expression suddenly froze. He raised a finger to his lips and silently indicated: They're back.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor again, caused by the armor they wore.

Marco Case quietly opened the door a crack and looked outside.

The room they had hidden in happened to stand at the intersection with another corridor. The moment they stepped out, their whereabouts would be exposed.

And the three knights searching for them were checking each room...

Marco Case could not help tightening his grip on his weapon. The pain in his back made him incredibly alert. He knew there was no way he could take Cyrus away now.

Therefore, he would go out alone to lure away the knights and let Cyrus hide here...

However, just as Marco Case was about to rise, a pair of small hands forcefully pressed down on his shoulders. The strength was so great that he paused involuntarily, and the strength he had painstakingly gathered instantly drained away.

Before Marco Case could react, Cyrus pulled a gold coin from his clothes and quickly tossed it through the crack in the door toward the far end of the corridor...

The gold coin clattered against the wall on one side of the corridor, immediately drawing the attention of the three knights.

The instant they turned their heads,

Cyrus slipped out through the crack in the door and ran in the opposite direction.

Marco Case only managed to hear the nearly inaudible words Cyrus left beside him—"Don't go out. I'll lure them away."

If Marco Case went out again, he would definitely die.

Cyrus could not allow an innocent person to die for him.

He could only take a gamble.

Walker, you had to break into the church faster...

Fortunately, he had trained alongside Ferdinand and Walker in Visas.

Cyrus darted through the corridors at incredible speed, relying on his small size and agility to evade them.

Of course, the knights' heavy armor also restricted their movements to some extent. That was why Cyrus was able to put some distance between them in a short time and successfully lure the three men elsewhere.

But having short legs was a problem.

Cyrus's strength was quickly running out as well.

He panted, almost able to smell the cold, sharp scent of weapons.

Light streaming in through the high windows struck the tip of a spear, then flashed brightly past Cyrus's eyes. He instinctively narrowed his eyes, thinking, This is bad.

Sure enough, in the next instant,

a piercing, oppressive chill swept toward Cyrus's neck, making the hairs on his body stand on end as an intense sense of danger rose within him.

He wanted to dodge.

But he had already missed the timing and could no longer evade it in time.

Just then,

with a clang,

a curved blade swung in from nowhere and blocked the spear thrusting at Cyrus.

The two weapons collided loudly, making Cyrus involuntarily look up.

The owner of the curved blade was an exceptionally tall and muscular man. His entire body was wrapped in a long black robe without a single gap, and only a pair of cold, sharp eyes was exposed at his face.

Before Cyrus could react, he suddenly felt his waist tighten.

Then he was lifted up and carried away from the fight.

Cyrus instinctively tried to pull away the hand wrapped across his chest, wanting the person behind him to let go.

But he was immediately held even tighter.

The hand, with its long, well-defined fingers, turned and enveloped his small hand, firmly trapping it in its palm.

Although he did not know whether they were enemies or allies,

in almost the blink of an eye, the three knights who had been chasing him were all killed by the black-robed man. Blood flowed across the floor, spreading into ring after ring of crimson outlines.

The black-robed man sheathed his curved blade and approached respectfully, showing a submissive attitude toward the person holding Cyrus.

The person behind Cyrus did not pause, directly carrying him into a room in the corridor.

Once he saw what was inside,

Cyrus, who had been struggling fiercely, went still. His eyes widened slightly, and surprise appeared on his face.

Besides four other burly men dressed in the same black robes, Bishop Bolton and the acting bishop who had previously stood at his side were actually kneeling on the floor.

The two men no longer looked calm and composed as they had before Bass Riches.

Their faces were pale, sweat ran down the sides of their faces, and their expressions carried traces of fear and panic.

While Cyrus stood there in a daze, the person holding him placed him on a table in the room.

Cyrus was finally able to clearly see the person's face.

He had long black hair, with slightly curled ends, a handsome face, fair skin, and rosy lips.

Most striking of all were his beautiful, utterly captivating golden eyes. Countless streams of light seemed hidden within them, gathering all the splendor in the world.

They were actually golden eyes...

Cyrus was somewhat stunned.

At that moment, the man reached out and lightly tapped Cyrus's nose. A hint of laughter filled his pleasant voice. "You're quite strong. I nearly couldn't hold on to you."

Cyrus came back to his senses and immediately dodged away, asking warily, "Who are you?"

As he spoke, his gaze swept inconspicuously over Bishop Bolton and the acting bishop before he examined the person before him again.

Clearly, he was still a teenager.

He wore a plain black robe with no decorations, one that seemed utterly unremarkable. Yet its craftsmanship was exceptionally meticulous, and the fabric had clearly been carefully selected. It was likely very expensive.

This person's appearance was flawless, and the authority in his bearing did not lose to that of an adult.

Even a casual glance from him at the two bishops could make their bodies tremble, perfectly demonstrating what it meant to be scared out of one's wits.

Cyrus suddenly recalled the rumors Judas had told him about the current pope. He could not help forming a vague guess about this person's identity... but he did not dare confirm it.

Because the truth was too astonishing to believe.

Bishop Bolton and the acting bishop remained kneeling on the floor without daring to move. Their heads were lowered, and neither spoke.

Seeing the way the two of them behaved,

Cyrus fell silent and decided to behave himself for the time being.

After all, a wise man adapted to circumstances.

He was now a "wise man."

"Why aren't you speaking?" the man asked with a smile.

Cyrus said, "Thank you for saving me. If there's nothing else... may I leave now?"

He wanted to go. He wanted to leave quickly.

Segalot looked at his deliberately calm and obedient little appearance. His heart filled with delight, and he shook his head with a smile. "Not yet. It's chaotic outside. You'll encounter danger."

Cyrus thought that the danger here seemed rather great too...

Outside, people were shouting and fighting.

Yet this place seemed separated by an unrelated space. It was silent, but equally oppressive, enough to make one unable to breathe.

Segalot said, "How about we have a chat?"

Cyrus asked, "About what?"

Segalot said, "Tell me, what's your name?"

"...Cyrus Desinia."

"Aren't you going to ask my name?"

Segalot slowly leaned closer to Cyrus. His golden eyes shimmered with light, breathtakingly beautiful. He said softly, "It seems... you already know who I am."

Cyrus pressed his lips together. "It wasn't hard to guess."

Segalot smiled again. "What is my name?"

Cyrus opened his mouth. "Seg..."

At that moment,

a burst of commotion suddenly came from outside. Someone was shouting things like, "Search over here," "My lord," and "Where is he?"...

Cyrus heard a familiar voice, and joy immediately appeared on his face.

Segalot sighed softly and said, "The person who came to save you is here. Be careful when you go out."

Cyrus thought that perhaps he truly meant him no harm, so he thanked him again.

Segalot said, "Since you want to thank me, why not give me something?"

"What?"

Segalot slowly hooked a finger beneath the bird whistle hanging from Cyrus's neck and said, "This one."