Wu Fangzheng tapped the table, silencing the entire conference room.

He was the Church’s strongest mage besides the Pope. That granted him the second-highest authority.

Everyone knew releasing the Dark Lord was a bad deal. The Church always steered things to their advantage. They weighed whether this would drive the Hero away.

And whether swapping the Dark Lord for the Hero was worth it.

“We should discuss this later,” Wu Fangzheng said slowly. “The key is the upcoming public trial. I suspect they might strike.”

“You mean the Twelve Demon Commanders?” The Pope’s voice was slightly hoarse, not fully recovered.

“Hmm.” Wu Fangzheng nodded. “News of the Dark Lord’s capture has spread through the Royal Capital. The Twelve Demon Commanders must have heard it by now, regrouped or not.”

“But we’ve enforced strict regulation of powerful beings,” a dark-skinned, short Archbishop countered. “Strong individuals must verify their identities before entering the city.”

“No.” Wu Fangzheng shook his head. “Before the Dark Lord emerged, the Demon Generals stayed low-key. We only know of demon cult activities in the Western Regions—secretive and elusive. Some might already hide in the Royal Capital.”

“No way…”

“Anything’s possible.” Jun Xingsan spoke calmly. “I’ve recalled the Four Knights. Only the Holy Grail Knight hasn’t arrived. I’ll send the Sacred Knight to oversee the trial.” He added, “I fear not their strength. I fear ‘strong’ ones with no real power.”

“You mean Zero?”

“During the last Hero vs. Dark Lord war, the King died in his palace. No Battle Aura or magic barriers triggered, yet a steel needle pierced his brain. He was no ordinary Battle Aura user.” Jun Xingsan waved it off. “Forget that. With the Five Knights guarding, no number of attackers worries me.”

“What about the Dark Lord’s execution?” Lott asked cautiously.

---

Perhaps the Princess before me was truly innocent. To her, the Church symbolized salvation—love and peace.

“If we don’t suppress the Dark Lord, what happens?” I asked curiously. Was he really that hated?

“Many might die,” she guessed. “Books paint him greedy and evil. But even without him, people die daily.”

“Why? Disease? Plague? Natural disasters?”

“Starvation.”

Her words clenched my heart. Seeing starved people always hurt me, even believing life and death were natural. “Famine? Not enough food?”

“No.” She clutched her chest, her pained expression genuine. “Food’s plentiful, but not everyone gets enough. Maybe they’ll reach the heaven in the scriptures—a place without hunger or pain. Sigh… do you think heaven exists?”

“Maybe.” I forced a bitter smile. Her hopeful gaze made me hesitate to say heaven was unreachable for mortals. Only two types entered it: the utterly wicked or saints. Unless you were a well-connected person like me.

That place was hell’s special branch, managing reincarnation. The ideal heaven people dreamed of didn’t exist.

Ordinary souls probably just lost their memories and reincarnated.

“Ahem.” I cleared my throat lightly. “A question—should I ask who holds power here? The Pope or the King?”

“Well…” Her eyes lowered. “My father the King fell ill last year. The Church treats him, but his condition worsened recently. I have no brothers, only a sickly younger brother… So the Church handles state affairs. They’ve always cared for the royal family.”

“Sorry…” I’d touched a sore spot. But an illness lasting a year felt suspicious. I had a hunch the Church was involved.

Her words confirmed she was truly a Princess. The Church ruling so peacefully—I had to admire their maneuvering.

I didn’t want or have the power to join this political fight. I only gathered needed information.

Earlier, I learned the Church worshipped Ginawei, the Goddess of Prophecy, focused on relief and counseling.

Like religions in my old world, it offered faith and stress relief.

But in a kingdom like this, purity was unlikely. Such a massive organization almost certainly had shady dealings.

“…And they say the Pope is kind-hearted. He runs orphanages and personally trains young girls as mages and missionaries, spreading kindness and teachings…”

Pfft! I nearly spat blood and collapsed to the ground in an orz pose. So the Pope… he’s a lolicon! Red Alert! Red Alert! My decency’s under threat!

No wonder the Church didn’t punish me harshly—maybe the Pope, being a lolicon, couldn’t bring himself to do it. But then he could frame me anytime… I pictured a middle-aged man waving. Ah! My eyes!

“What’s wrong? Unwell? Should I call the royal physician?” She hurried to stand and help. I quickly rose. This Princess was… too trusting. Well, not all bad.

“By the way, what do you think of the Hero?” I changed the topic after catching my breath.

“I’m not worthy of him.” The Princess replied without hesitation.

“Pfft!” Another mouthful of blood. Princess, you’ll give me internal injuries! That’s not what I meant!

She sprang up, stepped over, and squatted to lift me. “You’re unwell. Let me take you to the royal physician.”

“It’s fine.” I waved her off. “Just lost my balance.”

Worried I’d fall again, she held my left hand and sat beside me. Her palm was slightly sweaty, soft and comforting.

Her hair carried a gentle lavender scent, intoxicating and persistent. I pinched my nose to ease the tickle.

Sitting this close to a stranger—as a Princess, she had zero caution.

“So why do you think you’re not worthy of the Hero?”