TBR CH63

Chapter 63: Deep Gray Sea Mist

A vast expanse of white.

Tar’s red pupils, like glass beads, moved slightly, and thus everything in the cell came into view. It had to be said that the Holy See, even after a thousand years, had no creativity. This place was less like a cell and more like a monk’s ascetic chamber, or rather, there was nothing to distinguish between the two.

His hands were locked behind him with rings forged from mithril. The sharp spikes inside the rings were deeply embedded in the demon’s skin. The visual effect was simply thrilling. A portion of the deep black blood had already dried, while another portion was still flowing freshly with his movements. Just looking at it was excruciatingly painful.

The guards carefully watched the demon’s every move.

However, Tar was practically motionless. Since being captured, the demon had not said a single word to them. He sat quietly on the only chair in the room, his long, ink-black hair covering his face and, at the same time, his eyes.

Was he thinking of some blasphemous trick? Or was he thinking about how to break free from the impossible-to-escape cage?

…Underneath the drooping strands of hair.

The God’s eyes deepened, scarlet slowly creeping into them. The physical pain was insignificant to him. And at this moment, he was sitting in the exact same posture in a cell of the Holy See, unable to send a single word to the outside world, deprived of the power to resist—at least on the surface. And then, fate headed towards an unfathomable darkness.

With just a flick of his fingertips, he could destroy everything before him.

Tar’s sharp nails did not tremble in the slightest. This was a stage. Everyone had their own role. The curtain had not yet been drawn. And what he was playing was not a god, absolutely not a god.

Was he playing a demon?

No, the face of the demon was also blurry. The story only needed one to be saved.

He thought: What an uncreative script.

Rewinding time by a few hours, Satha was still lingering outside the door.

But the powerful devil was also helpless against the formation the Bishop had set up with great effort. So he turned and left, but before leaving, he sent a signal to someone else. The demon had clearly overheard everything, which was effortless for a god.

Tar sat on this side of the door, the room quiet and safe.

He let out an almost inaudible sigh.

He had guessed that there would eventually be such a day. The delayed progress had finally made the Holy Son, who had devoted himself to the God of Light, make up his mind. The plan against Tarksius was restarted. Fortunately, the demon at this time was weak and ignorant, with only his hiding and escaping skills worthy of vigilance.

And there was Edwin, who locked him up tightly like a treasure.

He had guessed there would be such a day. Thinking back now, today was indeed a very good choice. Most of the Church’s attention was on the charity banquet. Edwin would be away from the room for a period of time, longer than on other days.

Noah was not stupid. He had made a prudent plan, with reasons for absolute success.

Demons were good at hiding, but Noah’s system could accurately locate him, making it absolutely impossible for him to escape.

The demon lacked strength. If he were to face them head-on, the powerful Holy Knights could completely subdue him.

And the final, final obstacle.

The Bishop’s strength was higher than everyone in the temple. The defenses he had set up could even block an unstoppable devil. The demon was very safe inside, like a pearl preserved in a sealed box.

But…

The formation Edwin had set up had a fatal flaw, which was that the formation originated from Light.

The power of Light originated from the grace that seeped through God’s fingers. And the Holy Son had coquettishly sought favor from the God of Light, finally obtaining a string of beads blessed by God. All magic based on the power of Light, in his hands, would be vulnerable.

The peerlessly beautiful Holy Son was used to lurking behind the scenes. This time, he still did not act personally. By his side, the captain of the Holy Knights watched him obsessively, his eyes full of love. No matter what the other said, he would probably carry it out without hesitation.

He wore boots as shiny as silver and stepped onto the steps of the white tower.

And Tar had heard their footsteps in advance.

Even when they were very close, the demon still sat in place, thinking about something in a daze. Beside him, the black book eagerly flapped its pages, the words messy, falling like snowflakes. The World Consciousness was reminding the Dark God to make the right choice—the Holy Son had finally placed his bet on the young demon again. This meant Tarksius could finally complete the mission he had been absent from for a long time.

Only by getting close to him could he have the conditions to expose and destroy him.

“What are you worried about?”

The God finally raised his scarlet eyes and glanced at it. He was playing with the ruby hair tie in his hand. The hair tie had just been taken from his soft, long black hair. The Bishop had tied it himself this morning. “I don’t plan on breaking the contract for now. Hasn’t the Holy Son already set the stage? I’ll be the one to draw back the curtain.”

The black book finally quieted down a little.

The God was a little hesitant, a little reluctant. Even if he didn’t admit it verbally, it was indeed reflected in his actions. He had entered the torrent of time with his name hidden to resolve the matter of the Child of Destiny and the system. Now there was no reason not to withdraw.

So the World Consciousness didn’t understand his silence at this moment. Tarksius was a god. Gods were cold and arrogant, high and mighty. He knew what decision he should make at this time, otherwise he would be exposed.

Then it confirmingly arranged the rich colors of ink. “They will enter the room to capture you later. As Tar, you should have no ability to resist.”

The footsteps were almost silent. The Holy Knight was careful not to disturb the devil he was about to capture, but the demon in the room had already heard everything clearly.

He finally caressed the ruby hair tie, then hid the hair tie in his hand. This was the power of a god, so no matter what Noah had prepared, it couldn’t be found on Tar.

Then, before the World Consciousness could react, Tarksius walked towards the door of the room, easily stepping over those few defensive formations and into the corridor outside. The demon tilted his head slightly, staring in the direction where the knight was about to arrive.

The sound of flapping pages came from the room behind him.

The God curled his lips slightly. He knew that as a demon who knew nothing about the action, a demon who had a secret contract with the Bishop, he should not leave the room in advance, and didn’t even have the ability to leave the room.

But—

Edwin.

The Bishop would get everything he had longed for today. Tar had no interest in destroying all this. He knew how much unspeakable hardship and effort the other had put in for this.

He deserved all this.

Discovering the demon tamed in the Bishop’s room, this sounded like conclusive and unquestionable evidence to accuse Edwin.

So the God protected him.

He had untied the hair tie, so no one would recognize how similar that bright ruby was to the gem offered to Edwin some time ago. He had left the Bishop’s room. Just this could be explained in many ways. Although he had used the power of a god at the risk of exposure, at least Edwin would not be met with irrefutable suspicion in this matter. He would declare that he had no connection with Edwin. If necessary, perhaps he would sever their contract.

He had done these things with indulgence, deliberately ignoring the thought of how Edwin would feel after discovering his disappearance.

The days spent with the human were, after all, just a light dream. Gods easily got bored, and had tried countless times to make up their minds to leave. But for some reason, he always indulged his own little wish to stay, even if this wish was minuscule.

Humans always softened his heart. The road Edwin climbed was full of danger. He was often on the verge of breaking. Tarksius had found a reason for his stay. But, he had now obtained everything he wanted. Power would forge armor to protect him, firmly hiding the heart of an ambitious man.

Perhaps this was a good opportunity.

And Edwin always made the right choices.

When Edwin walked out of the room, all his emotions were forcibly shattered, kneaded into his bones, creating bloody wounds inside his body. But he had no expression, even colder than his usual self. All the emotions in the world seemed to turn to dust in his eyes.

It was not until he reached the end of the white tower’s stairs that he raised his eyes.

Fortunately, no one dared to look directly into his eyes.

There were some untouchable emotions in those gray eyes, not even Edwin himself could. He just temporarily put these emotions aside, pretending they didn’t need to be dealt with.

He was now very…

He was normal. As always. Edwin walked around a corner. The solemn white buildings of the church cast huge shadows, immersing him entirely. He walked past the Holy See’s rose garden. The red was like a spreading flame, stinging his eyes, leaving a little confusion in them.

He unconsciously clenched his hands, his fingers digging into his flesh.

Pain could give him a bitter clarity. He was now torn by a huge contradiction. Contradictory thoughts surged chaotically in his mind. He needed to be clear-headed. Clarity could give him the ability to properly handle matters one by one. And then, things might get better. Perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding, a problem that could be solved—

But clarity also told him, like a shadow hovering over his head. It was an intuition, but not vague. It was like an eagle diving in one direction, direct to the point of being sure it would catch a rabbit, with a rationalist’s coldness and clarity.

This intuition told him that things would not get better.

He had just left not long ago, and then he suddenly began to think about the return journey.

This time, there was no one in the room waiting for him to come back.

He was normal. This was not the time to think about all this. No time was suitable, but at least not now. Edwin walked forward along the passage on the right of the Grand Sanctuary. The stone slabs were bright and clean, almost spotless. The believers who passed by would bow their heads respectfully and greet him. Almost everyone would revere him, because he held more in his hands than anyone else.

…But there was no one waiting for him to come back. Edwin began to feel he might be sick. He was now cold and hot, lacking perception of the outside world. Tar would always make him a cup of scalding tea, then hold him tightly with a bit of blame. For this, he would always delay for a while before using Light magic to heal himself.

The last corner.

The building before him was majestic and solemn, the ivory-white eaves shining, carved with intricate and complex patterns.

Edwin walked to the main gate and reached out to knock, just as he had done countless times before.

He heard a “Please come in.”

Traces of the demon were found in the corridor in front of Great Archbishop Edwin’s room.

This news, along with the demon’s surrender, quickly spread upwards, and because it was too sensitive, it bypassed the protagonist of the event and was delivered directly to the Pope.

It was about a quarter of an hour after the news of Prince Angelo’s death had been delivered.

The old man with silver hair stared at the messenger for a long time. The successive news clearly made this person, who had already resolved to stay as far away from disputes as possible, feel uneasy. But his identity made it impossible for him to stay out of it.

“Send someone to ask the Great Archbishop to come over,” he finally said, the crown on his head shining brightly, very stable.

So it was now.

His Holiness the Church once again cautiously and without omission sized up the successor standing before him. There was nothing to fault in Edwin. This young man had the most impeccable ability. Perhaps he was born destined to be an extraordinary leader. When he drew the Tarot cards, the card God had assigned him was not the Pope, but the Emperor.

His gray eyes hardly seemed to be made of any material that existed in this world.

When he handled church affairs, these eyes had an incredible magic. Everyone couldn’t help but bow their heads piously and obediently before him, and even had to whisper praises of his piety in awe. And Edwin could make these eyes appear so cold, the inorganic pupils hardly moving.

This was the best disguise the Pope had ever seen.

His enemies would say that beneath the deep gray fog, countless blades were hidden, all dripping with blood. Being watched by such a gaze would make one’s blood run cold. The Pope was glad he had never directly met this gaze, because he lacked confidence in his own courage.

Under the Pope’s gaze, Edwin just stood quietly.

The supreme old man silently let a sigh escape his lips, because he realized that even at this moment, the young man before him had not revealed a single flaw. He finally chose to show his friendly attitude. “Edwin, my child, please come to my side.”

This was not his most favored successor, but the other candidates had all been defeated in the competition with the Bishop. The Pope knew he was not the one who could make the choice.

Edwin walked closer silently, but still maintained a distance that was in line with etiquette.

Was there truly an existence in this world that could get close to him?

The air almost stagnated. This conversation was decided in a hurry and seemed untimely. The Pope suddenly felt for a moment that his worry was superfluous. Why bother with a special reminder? The Bishop was the smartest person he had ever seen. He was just an unlikable old man. What he said was not original and could be predicted.

“I think you have already heard about the demon,” the old man said, coughing. His health had been getting worse recently. “Of course, I know this is not your fault. It might be an accident, or a frame-up. My child, I think you need not worry about this matter. The God of Light will make his own judgment.”

Saying this much was almost enough.

The Pope was thinking whether he should stop here. Then he could ask his serving priest to bring him a white towel and cough syrup. The constant coughing had damaged his heart. But this time, when he looked up at Edwin, the old man’s shrunken head suddenly stopped moving, stock-still.

This was the only time he had seen Edwin show such a look.

Not pain, not hatred, but confusion. His confusion was as light as fog, quickly passing through his eyes. Unless one was an old man like the Pope who had seen countless human emotions, one would not be able to capture this emotion.

How could it be—

The old man could not hide his shock.

Edwin noticed his shock and of course also knew that his one and only emotional slip had been spied on by the old man. He knew the Pope already had his suspicions, which was why he had come to talk to him. So he said softly and concisely, “That is my fault.”

In an instant, the room became terrifyingly quiet.

Even if a needle fell to the ground, the sound would be clearly audible. The Pope had not yet recovered from the aftershock of his shock. The old man murmured, “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

Then, he suddenly tensed his face. Those eyes, which had already been submerged in old age and day after day, lit up again, emitting a terrifying light. He stared at Edwin and said, “You know what you have to do.”

Edwin did not speak. No, he wanted to overwhelm the momentum of the young man before him, but the Bishop’s strange and sharp gaze still made him lose. He knew he had not seen through the Bishop at all, and Edwin’s understanding of him was already enough to make him a specimen for an entomologist.

So, the Pope suddenly softened his tone. “The news has already been released. Of course, public opinion is mostly on your side, plus the demon was not captured in your room. But you understand, after the Angelo affair, only a fool would get involved with a devil. Now is a critical time. For the face of the Holy See, I believe you know what decision is the right one.”

The old man began to rack his brains for knowledge he could use. In his long life, he had also experienced several thrilling scenes. Ah, sacrifice, eternal sacrifice—

“If you need,” the Pope lowered his voice, “I have the secret art to break a contract here.”

His voice gradually faded into nothingness, because Edwin was looking at him as if looking at a pathetic being, or a piece of wood about to decay.

The Bishop lowered his eyes. He looked at the silver button on his chest. The button was decorated with a rose pattern. “I already know.”

This was a secret that had been kept for a long time. From the day the contract was made, Edwin had ordered his people to investigate the method to break the contract. It was a forbidden spell, but it just so happened that they had encountered an elf who had lived for thousands of years. So the second week, this spell appeared on Edwin’s desk.

He himself hadn’t thought it would be so fast.

But what was faster was his change of heart. He hadn’t been moved yet at that time, but he had already subconsciously wanted to keep the demon by his side.

The Pope finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Edwin looked at ease. As expected, he, this old bag of bones, shouldn’t have meddled in these affairs. The Bishop could completely withdraw from this final incident. Even the demon had not confessed him—of course, even if the demon had said something, it wouldn’t matter. He was originally an evil and lowly being.

The Church had just won a victory in its competition with the royal family. Victory needed time to be filled. Edwin had many things to do during this time. The Holy See only had one candidate for Pope left.

He would know how to make a choice.

Fatigue surged onto the Pope’s shoulders wave after wave. The old man was crushed by an irresistible weariness. He allowed Edwin to leave. The young Bishop’s footsteps were light and firm. The last glance was deep gray. Deep gray was enough to cover everything.

Edwin pushed open the door and walked out.

Then he realized he should go back. Back to his room. The room was cold and quiet, like the rooms he had seen for most of his life.

There was no one around. It was quiet in front of the Pope’s door. Their conversation was secret, so no one was allowed to get close.

The Bishop raised his hand.

He didn’t know why he was doing this, but the action felt very familiar to him. The sun was just right at this time. The bright and dazzling light spread on the ground like gold. All emotions had nowhere to hide under the sun.

A soft, damp touch came from his fingertips.

Edwin touched his own eyes, and then he realized he was crying, probably because the sun was too stimulating. All the tears were caught by his fingertips before they could flow out of his eye sockets, a wet trace.

This didn’t count as completely crying. He wasn’t crying.

He…

He thought of the demon covering his eyes from behind, and how the wet sea mist in his eyes had once wet Tar’s hand. Tar had curled his lips and told him, ‘You are crying. You need a hug.’ These thoughts made him feel panicked. He hadn’t had time to make a decision yet, any decision, but it was as if he had already made one.

And he ultimately had to make a decision.

Support me on Ko-fi