Chapter 83: You Are My Friend

"Heh, let the legendary remain in legends. I have never been too interested in them," the Pope chuckled. With fingers glowing in white light, he flicked the ring at the end of the sword hilt, causing it to slip off. Just as the overwhelming dark aura from the hilt was about to surge outward, the sword hilt was already back inside the pouch, submerged once again in the waters of the Sunwell.

"Congratulations, Your Holiness," Bishop Inham suddenly said.

"Congratulate me on what?" The Pope looked at the Bishop with amusement. "For obtaining this hot potato?"

"No, I congratulate Your Holiness for not losing composure and reason under the allure of the sword hilt's aura, for not succumbing to its influence. Your Holiness' willpower has already surpassed that of the previous Pope."

"I have always been more interested in things that are tangible," the Pope remarked as he slipped the ring onto his finger, examining it with a faint smile. Compliments were always pleasant to hear, even for those with the deepest of reserves, especially when they were not untrue. "So, Inham, you have no interest in this item? As a member of Dehya Valley, are you truly unaffected when facing such a legendary artifact?"

"Not tempted at all," Bishop Inham said with a wry smile. "Every necromancer, upon receiving the mark of the Black Star, can sense the sheer terror contained within this sword from the depths of their soul. So, except for those whose minds have been completely consumed by desire or other distractions, no one is truly interested in becoming the so-called King of the Undead."

The Pope nodded. "That's for the best. This is nothing more than bait—to lure that boy here. To be honest, I really do want to meet him."

Before long, after Bishop Inham returned to Alrasia and only the Pope and Lancelote remained, Lancelote finally spoke. "Your Holiness, I believe it would be best to kill him."

As he said this, there was not the slightest trace of malice or ferocity on his face. It was as if he were offering a sincere piece of advice to a friend—calm, steady, righteous, embodying the very essence of a holy knight.

The Pope did not answer directly. Instead, he said, "Hmm, you almost made a move, didn't you? It's rare to see you display such open hostility toward someone."

From the moment he stepped into the room, Lancelote had maintained a certain distance from Bishop Inham—his stance, his aura, and his unwavering attention were all locked onto him. It was a posture of readiness, poised to strike at any moment. At such a distance, no mage could possibly survive an attack from a swordsman of his caliber.

Lancelote spoke in a deep voice. "Even if he wasn't the one who orchestrated that incident, the situation in Nigon has now come to an end, and the landscape is clear. Compared to his potential usefulness, I believe he poses a far greater danger. A man like him is best eliminated. In fact, I assumed Your Holiness would agree without question."

The Pope asked calmly, "Hmm, then where do you believe his greatest danger lies?"

Lancelote spoke in a deep voice, "The most dangerous thing about him is that he doesn't seem dangerous at all. No matter how you look at it, he appears to lack ambition, as if he truly needs nothing. He even seems quite useful. But somehow, I can't shake the feeling that he is extremely dangerous."

"Feeling..." The Pope narrowed his eyes, as if carefully contemplating the essence of this 'feeling' Lancelote described. Then, after a moment, he nodded. "Perhaps… but for now, we cannot kill him. We are on the verge of marching against Orford again, and Alrasia must be guided by him. His connection with Queen Catherine is our best means of controlling Alrasia. If he wishes to demonstrate absolute cooperation and submission to me, that suits me perfectly. Moreover, his Puppet Hawk is irreplaceable in terms of its strategic impact on the battlefield."

"Everything shall be as Your Holiness decides," Lancelote responded.

"And right now, it's not him or even Orford that we should be worried about, but this." The Pope pointed at the pouch resting on the table. "This bait is significant, yes, but it might be too tempting. I'm concerned that it won't just lure that boy in—it may attract others as well."

"Your Holiness means… Sandru and Agrenel? And the other necromancers?"

"It seems that boy was delivering the sword hilt to Morril, which means neither Sandru nor Agrenel wanted to get involved in this mess any further. However, this artifact is the sacred relic of Dehya Valley for hundreds of years…"

Even though Dehya Valley had dwindled in numbers, and even though its two acting guild leaders had withdrawn, any power or faction must still reconsider its actions when faced with the possibility of crossing a line that could provoke an extreme reaction.

The Pope gave a bitter smile and continued, "If I had a choice, I wouldn't want to hold onto this cursed thing. But there's no other way… According to the Puppet Hawk's surveillance, Orford has already deployed troops toward the Saundfest Mountains, seemingly preparing to mine there. The Tooth Tower has also allied with them, helping teach orcs magic and providing scrolls…"

"What? They're mining in the Saundfest Mountains? And those mages from the Tooth Tower…?" Lancelote's expression darkened. He understood exactly what it meant to mine magical gemstones in bulk and turn them into scrolls.

The Pope let out another bitter smile—one that only grew heavier. This man, who sat atop the pinnacle of power on the continent, now looked more like an old beggar drowning in debt. "As a mage, I can understand them. I can imagine what it must feel like to have a mountain of Star Eyes and top-tier magical gemstones placed right before you… But this means that once their scroll and magical item production reaches industrial scale, our situation will become dire.

"Can you picture it, Lancelote? Hundreds of Blazing Fireball and Thunderclap Bomb fired from the hands of orcs? That battlefield might be even more terrifying than a forbidden spell. And I assure you—it would be a far greater headache for us. That would be nothing short of the end of humanity…"

"So at this moment, that boy and the hilt of the Black Star are our trump cards. Whether I like it or not, I have no choice but to take this cursed thing into my hands."

"That boy and this hilt… are our trump cards against Orford?" Lancelote frowned, clearly confused.

"Exactly. Why else do you think I kept insisting that you bring that boy to me? I've told you before—I only care about things that are real." The Pope's voice was calm, yet resolute. "Ronis wanted that boy for the same reason. He's dead now, and as far as I know, I am the only person left in this world who understands the secret that Emperor Decken uncovered.

"Not even the necromancers are aware of what this sword truly does. No… even if they did, they probably wouldn't dare to use it."

The Pope let out a long sigh and patted the armrest of his chair. At this moment, he seemed utterly exhausted. "This throne is no easy seat to occupy… The highest position on the continent carries the heaviest burden."

"Your Holiness, don't worry," Lancelote said as he knelt on one knee. "No matter what enemies you face, no matter what happens—I, Lancelote, will protect you at all costs."

The Pope gazed at the Holy Knight before him, his expression softening into a genuine smile of relief. "That is why I trust you the most. Because I know—you are not truly loyal to me. Your loyalty belongs to everyone."

Stepping down from his throne, the Pope approached Lancelote and helped him to his feet. "You are not my subordinate. I could never deserve such a subordinate. You… are my friend."