Shel recalled, "Mr. Monroe was formidable. I later heard he fought that monster for half an hour. Hundreds of relentless enchanted slashes drained its regenerative power before he finally ended it."

Nameless asked, "And you, Mr. Shel? Were you in danger back then?"

Shel: "I chased those black-robed figures. Though they had no mounts, they ran swiftly. I caught up near a woodland clearing, tried to intercept them—but pushed too far ahead and got isolated. Those Sacred Body Cultivation Society mages wouldn’t listen to reason. They just shouted nonsense like, ‘The HolySee’s lapdogs could never grasp our grand cause,’ then attacked me with spells.

"So I killed them all."

*****

Shel couldn’t remember his actions clearly. He only recalled lying beside a forest at dawn’s first light.

His memories were fragmented—he’d charged too far ahead, surrounded by the black-robed mages after getting separated.

They spouted typical villainous drivel before unleashing fire, lightning, and ice spears at him. Some even chanted spells, transforming into hulking three-meter giants wielding warhammers.

His warhorse was smashed to pulp under their assault.

In desperation, he slipped into frenzy again. After a savage slaughter, he left them all dead.

As he severed the last mage’s neck, Hilna and the Holy Knights finally arrived.

Seeing Shel’s bloodshot eyes, Hilna knew he’d lost control. She hastily struck his head with a soul shock spell—preventing him from attacking the knights too in his rage.

"You’re awake, Teacher?"

Shel found himself pillowed on Hilna’s supple thigh. Exhaustion still clung to him. "Didn’t I tell you not to follow? Were the others captured?"

"No... Teacher, you killed them all." Hilna forced a smile, unable to bear the grisly corpses. She gently stroked his forehead. "But don’t worry—none of us were hurt."

By the time Monroe arrived, dawn had broken. Everything was over.

No prisoners survived. But notes scavenged from the mages’ bodies and broken ritual tools dug from the castle ruins revealed their identity: the Sacred Body Cultivation Society.

"Monroe sighed. "The Sacred Body Cultivation Society... This was my oversight. Everyone, rest up. Seal this woodland. Contact nearby churches. Inform the HolySee—we’ll be busy."

"The Sacred Body Cultivation Society?" Hilna supported her teacher, distracted. "The outlawed heretic mage faction?"

Monroe: "Madmen who dream of surpassing the Heavenly Father to become creators. They think they can forge ‘new humans’—only to birth monsters. Like cockroaches, impossible to exterminate. That Baron Plafatin was likely corrupted by them. He tried using a towel soaked with my sweat to steal my power... and became that grotesque thing."

"Lord Monroe," Hilna pressed, sensing tension in his tone, "you’ve dealt with them before?"

"...Yes. Long ago." Monroe’s reply was curt.

A Holy Knight interjected: "I recall, Lord Monroe—wasn’t your earliest commendation from the HolySee, three centuries ago, for fighting these very heretics?"

Monroe slowly turned to the knight.

"Where did you hear that?" His voice was flat.

The knight froze, unnerved. "I—I read it in the HolySee’s commendation archives. My colleagues and I... we admired you. The earliest recorded award was for the campaign against the Society’s founder. Your name was on the list—is that incorrect?"

Monroe stared until the knight shivered.

"Correct. I built my name crushing those madmen." He said no more.

Later, local church clerics arrived. The Duke, sobered, brought troops belatedly. The real trouble began.

Heretic mages operating near the HolySee’s heartland? A corrupted noble infiltrating the Duke’s court? A plot to ambush a Sword Saint sent by the Papacy? The scandal warranted excommunication for the entire Duchy’s nobility.

Why were heretic mages in this peaceful realm? How long had the Baron conspired with them? Was the Duke involved? How to report this to His Holiness? What punishment awaited the nobles...

Each question was a crisis.

The HolySee formed a temporary committee, dispatching a Cardinal Bishop to investigate.

Hilna, Shel, and Monroe endured endless interrogations. They questioned the Duke, interviewed the Baron’s subjects, cross-examined neighboring lords, and compiled reports.

What should have been a two-week assignment trapped them for two months.

Only when spring warmed the land did the exhausted group receive the Cardinal’s permission to return to the City of Glory.

The city bloomed with new life. Shel and Hilna sighed in relief—they could finally rest in their quiet home after months of chaos.

Their only worry: the Divine Academy’s term had begun. Their delayed studies would require grueling catch-up.

But Monroe faced harsher consequences.

*****

Two days after returning, Pope Saint An IV summoned Shel.

A letter sealed with the Pope’s crimson wax emblem arrived via Papal Guard:

*"Shel, I’ve reviewed your and Hilna’s conduct on this mission. Your performance was exceptional. Come to the cathedral immediately—I wish to speak with you both."*

Past meetings occurred in discreet chapels. This summons came from the Papal Office inside Glory Cathedral itself—and required Hilna’s presence too.

For Hilna, it was her first audience with His Holiness. Her anxiety was palpable.

Shel, more experienced, simply donned fresh robes and took a carriage.

Inside the circular office beneath a glittering dome, Pope Saint An IV sat robed in gold-threaded splendor, jewels glinting under the light. Before her knelt a figure in heavy armor—Monroe.

Both newcomers froze at the sight.

"Shel, Hilna—you’ve come. Good." The Pope gestured to chairs.

Monroe remained kneeling, head bowed, silent.

"What’s happening? Why is Lord Monroe kneeling?" Shel asked.

"Because he erred."

The Pope’s voice was calm. "He should have noticed the Baron’s corruption immediately and arrested him. At the very least, when challenged to duel, he ought to have let another accept while he observed. And when that heretic disguised as a servant offered him a towel—he should have sensed the trap. He did none of these.

"His instincts have dulled. Each lapse could have cost his life or sparked disaster.

"Monroe is a Sword Saint, but decades of comfort have made him complacent. He forgot—even routine duties hide lethal dangers. Never grow careless.

"This foolishness proves only one thing: he’s aged. At over three centuries old, it’s time he stepped down. Let him teach at the Divine Academy as an honored relic."

Monroe finally spoke: "Your Holiness, I was lax—but I’m not old. I’ll accept punishment. Let me prove myself anew."

"Then leave Glory City. Hunt the heretics. Execute every member of the Sacred Body Cultivation Society. No aid from the HolySee—only your own strength. Prove this pillar of the Church hasn’t rotted."

"Yes."

Monroe rose. For the first time, his broad shoulders seemed slightly stooped.

He met Shel’s eyes—a silent plea to care for Catherine—then departed. Shel wouldn’t see him again for a long while.

"Your Holiness, this—"

"It’s necessary, Shel. Monroe must reclaim himself through this hunt. Decades of ease and pride blinded him. He clung to past glory, dulled by routine... until he made this blunder." The Pope sighed. "I don’t wish him gone. But the HolySee needs a warrior—not a relic lost in nostalgia."

"Oh... I see."

"Rest assured, you two performed admirably. I’ve read the reports: Shel, you bravely faced a dozen fleeing heretics alone, delivering them to the Heavenly Father’s judgment. Hilna, your sharp eyes spotted the suspicious servant and warned Monroe. You’ve earned rewards.

"Shel, report to the Papal Guard tomorrow. I’ll arrange a pause in your Academy studies. Hilna, you’ve missed a month too. With Monroe gone, you’ll study under me directly. I hope an old woman’s lessons won’t disappoint you."

Both stood stunned. Realizing the honor’s weight, they bowed deeply in gratitude.

Hilna would become the Divine Academy’s first student ever tutored by a reigning Pope.

Seizing the moment, Shel requested: "Your Holiness, thank you for this trust. But I have one plea."

"Speak."

"In Ipoli—the Great Darksend Region, Hilna’s homeland—I have a student. I promised to visit within two years. It’s been over a year now. I wish to keep my word... and bring her to Glory City to study."

Hilna’s gaze flickered toward her teacher—complex, silent.

"You’ve just joined the Guard and already seek leave?" The Pope’s tone was unreadable. "Poor form, Shel. You have potential. Stay and grow within the HolySee. If you insist on fetching that girl, wait until knights rotate through Great Darksend Region—they can escort her."

"............" Shel stayed silent.

"Enough of this for now." The Pope’s smile turned enigmatic. "A child has been eager to meet you—come in."

"Hmm?"

Shel suddenly felt a sense of foreboding.

A beautiful woman in a black patterned dress, her golden hair flowing like silk down her back, peeked out from the office's side door.

When Shel's reflection appeared in her emerald eyes, a gentle smile graced her porcelain-perfect face.

She stepped out lightly. Under Hilna's shocked gaze, she walked to Shel, extended her rune-adorned arms, and hugged him tightly.

"Catherine?!"

"Well, the child's condition has improved. Her emotions are stable, and the curses on her are suppressed. This is thanks to you, Shel. No more locking her in that small room. I'll reveal her existence now. As a Papal Guard, you should visit her often."

Watching this woman so affectionate with Teacher Shel—and seeing Shel's obvious embarrassment—Hilna's eyes turned... complicated.

"Teacher Shel... this lovely lady... who exactly... is she... do you know her?" She leaned close, asking slowly in a low voice.

Her tone dripped with barely concealed hostility.

"Hilna, this is Catherine. Monroe's daughter. Shel's been helping care for her these past six months," Pope Saint An IV said calmly. "Catherine's case is special. At home, have Shel explain it to you."

Beside him, Catherine gazed tenderly, while Hilna glared coldly from behind. Shel felt utterly numb.